When my anxiety becomes very acute, like a sharp and pointy object (even though I am not a cutter per se), phrases get stuck in my head. "Matata am Kongo" is a novel that used to sit on my parents' shelf when I was little. And even though I devoured everything else related to the fabled Dark Continent, I never read it. In my feverish, stomach virus-induced delirium, Matata has become a mantra. It serves as an anchor to keep my mind from spinning. I googled it and it's available on amazon.com for 200 plus euros. That's $400! In the meantime, it will keep its dark allure and as long as I keep saying it, Milan will not have to go to the hospital for dehydration. It's got magic voodoo powers.
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