Sometimes I think that talking about "Mal d'Afrique" is an offence to all those people who live in the places we Westerners have fallen in love with, and who suffer from the lack of a nutritious diet, specific care for their children and for the aches and pains of all ages, who have not been able to study and do not have the means to improve their lives.
But then I realize that the African sickness we take, this strange and incurable nostalgia, the desire to stay in this continent, must be a starting point to get closer to their way of being serene, to accept this life and all that they receive from God, in the name of a freedom that is no longer the physical slavery that they have suffered for centuries and centuries.
Instead, we have not learned anything, we have not been able to enjoy the tranquility of the post-war period, we have undertaken a desperate race to grab the best, ending up swallowing ourselves with useless things. How it ended in fifty years in Italy is under the eyes of all.
Are we happy? 
Are we realized?
How many are living the life they really want to lead?
Here, however, I see many people who if only they had a more efficient health care, would not complain about anything, because they take their lives for what it is, and with their rhythms do not stress.
That's what Mal D'Africa is to me, to understand that they are right.