You had to talk to the devil to cross paradise. A few years ago, when I determined to navigate the Congo River from its sources to the sea, a crazy 4,700 kilometers and several months through the heart of Africa, I immediately understood that vertigo would be my traveling companion. To achieve this, he had to cross areas infested with rebels, who controlled the roads along the river for hundreds of kilometers. They told me as soon as I arrived: to get through, I had no choice but to talk to him. I never knew his name but everyone referred to him as the boss . He was the one who dominated the vast region that opened above Kongolo, a small town in the east of the Congo that was also the door to the unknown: since the river from there was not navigable, the only way to move north was by dirt roads that plunged into a thick and tricky jungle. In a place like this, ambushes by guys dressed in rags, broken sandals and carrying an old kalashnikov in their hands were more than a possibility.
At first, the Boss asked me for a fortune to guarantee my safety, a euphemism for avoiding the threat of kidnapping. Since I’m not stupid enough to trust my life to money that, when it runs out, takes you to the slaughterhouse, I looked for a loophole in that dead end. I found it: after a while of chatting, I understood that a guy who controlled several gold and coltan mines, whose men charged tolls from anyone who passed through his land, didn’t care about a handful of dollars from a white journalist with the air of Livingstone. But he was interested in taking advantage of the silence. Finally he agreed to let me pass without paying a cent because, to do so, he had to inform all the units that covered the jungle that he had given permission to a European to pass through those broken roads the next day. My presence there, under a confidential agreement, reinforced his authority in front of his men. I remembered that silence in the jungle when, a few days ago, Laporta announced the vaunted best sponsorship agreement in history with Nike and slipped a million-dollar commission to a surprise intermediary, Darren Dein. The president explained that Dein will take home a good few million euros, paid between the brand and the club. Lately, it happens too frequently at Barça, also in Dani Olmo’s funambulist inscription: the institution uses understandable terms such as discretion or confidentiality to sabotage transparency. To the ordinary culés, who are unaware of the reality of these agreements under the table, we have no choice but to believe, accept with faith the blows on the chest of satisfaction from the Blaugrana Chief and let it pass without a word.
Like in the Congo, like in the jungle.
The same silence.
#silence #jungle #Xavier #Aldekoa
