From: Arona Ndiaye (firstname.lastname@example.org)
Date: Wed Jan 23 2002 - 17:19:46 MST
I indeed live in the Netherlands.
I was born in Paris, lived in France ( Normandy in the North: cows + rain +
more cows ... ) until the age of 8. My grandma who raised me, decided to die
one day while I was on holidays in Senegal ( most western point in Africa.
The capital is Dakar ). So I stayed in Senegal ( being a ping-pong ball
between my divorced parents: dad Psychologist, mum business woman ) for 13
years. My mum is half French/half Senegalese, her name is the name I bear.
According to my grandfather, my name ( NDIAYE) is directly linked to the
ruling family of kings a millennia ago. Tribe would be a mix of Wolof and
Serere and maybe Toucouleur. In 1994 I had my A-levels or the French
equivalent of it. I was 21, did not want to go to University. I first wanted
to cover the war in Rwanda as a photographer. Mum said: "Forget it". So I
went to London. Lived there for a few years. Very nasty car crash in 1996,
girlfriend was driving, her brother + g/f in the back. I am the sole
survivor. Right lung got 'slightly' damaged, part of my knees shattered.
Verdict: you'll live but we need to operate your lung; on the other hand,
you will never walk again. I laughed at them. Lung got fixed, got myself some
new cyborg(half) knees and went to spend some time with the mother of my g/f
in some huge castle in Scotland. Private nurse team etc.... Used to wait till
everyone was asleep, would roll in my chair (it's got wheels and you use one
when you cannot use your legs, dunno what it's called.... oh !!!! a
wheelchair =) to the pool outside and would throw myself in the water. 6
weeks later, I could feel below my knees again. Two weeks more and I was
standing up. By the end of 1997 I was given 18 months to live. Born premature
(5 month + 28 days ), 965 grams. Right lung stopped growing when I was 13 or
so. It so happened that my pulmonary capacity was decreasing in a constant
fashion. Doctors said: "by mid 1998 you'll need to carry oxygen supplies on
you. My then pregnant girlfriend swallowed 40 valiums: g/f gone, so was the
baby. Called a friend in Amsterdam: I'm loosing it. Can i pop ? Got there,
took the first job I could find: tech support for Palm Computing. Smoked 20
joints/day, spent my weekends with MDMA and Uk-Garage in clubs. Stopped all
medication and got ready to die hehehe. Hasn't happened yet. That's how I got
to Holland. If I bore some of you: apologies.
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