In the land of Yves

Busy weeks, our time back in Belgium. From one corner to the other, we immersed ourselves in what could become the land of Yves. More haste, less speed!

In Burkina Faso, thanks to the world wide web, we succeed to keep up with the politique politicienne of our home country. However, Belgian news seems to be more and more unrealistic to us: is the country really at a standstill because of community squabbling? Is the splitting up of an electoral district truly the most urgent national problem?

At the language border, where you enter the land of Yves, here at our side of the Scheldt river, but with facilities.

"Flat landscapes traversed by slow rivers under striking blue skies." This is how the francophone Mr. Onkelinx sees Flanders. And we were thinking that it didn't even existů

Rural Flanders.

Welcoming Wallony.

The Burkinese don't understand a bit of it, and we get the same feeling for ourselves. Since last June's elections, things get worse. A certain Yves, a Flemish farmer's son that doesn't look further than the clay of Ypres, sings the Marseillaise on the French speaking television and want to be Belgium's prime minister, but only for Flanders. He won the elections (in Flanders that is) and then he is allowed to impose his ideas to the rest of the country. Or?

Dark thoughts appear: is the end of Belgium near?

Loudly it is said that Belgians don't have anything more in common than the king, soccer and beerů

But what about Brussels, the pounding heart of Belgium?

On the banks of the river Dijle, we found an old bunker that has been transformed into a henhouse. Belgians are inventive, creative, sportive, original, full of fantasy, Dutch speaking, French speaking, German speaking, whatever speaking.

No, it is in its plurality and diversity that we love Belgium. Save us from Flemish unitarity. Long live Belgium.