Baboons, beer drinkers, bee-eaters, bunji jumpers

I reclined with a weary smile plastered to my face. I was headed “home”; that is back to my aunt and uncle’s house in Cape Town.  I had survived my first true taste of the wilds of Africa, the last adventure being our white water rafting experience. I had rafted 17 of the most challenging rapids in the world, only having to portage around one of them. Despite a brief solo trip  into the water while out on the river, I had fallen in love with the experience. All but the 750 foot incline that we had to scale to walk out of the gorge. They say it takes an able-bodied person 20 minutes to walk up out of the gorge. It felt more like hours as my knocking knees threatened to give out on me. As I struggled up the vicious hill,  I watched the rafters run up the hill with all of our gear laden on them. I wanted to puke. I stopped to catch my breath and was chided and cajoled by Karel until I begrudgingly started back up the hill. I would have gladly lain down and given up in contempt of myself, were it not for his pushing and prodding.

“There is cold beer in the truck,” he stated as he walked up the hill away from me.

Motivation noted. I hated every step I took, but found the superhuman strength to carry on. Beer and shame were great motivators that day.

Now I grinned remembering the shakes that racked my body that afternoon and the many days that I had survived before that. I had seen baboons, beer drinkers, bee-eaters, bunji jumpers, crocodiles, Castle castles,  elephants, eagle-eyed guides, lechwe, lecherous men, lions, mongoose, mokoros, puku, pojte pots, rondavels, rapids, sable, samils, and of course vultures and Victoria Falls. The memories were strong in mind and would take a lot of elbow grease to remove from body. My liver begged for mercy and I thought that returning to the familial lair would placate its pleas. I wondered what the future would hold and longed for the bounce of the samil back. Perhaps I would reconnect with my high school chum over the upcoming holidays, I thought to myself. Images of myself exploring wineries, wandering down to Cape Point and scaling Table Mountain were all possibilities to be pondered. I had a month of my six-month adventure tucked proudly under my belt and anticipated all the potential moments to be. The hugs I had offered to my fellow drifters were warm around me, as I sailed into the future dreams of my African tale.

Say You're One of Them

"Say You're One of Them", by Uwem Akpan (© 2008, Little, Brown and Company)

Welcome friends to my book club pick for the month of April. This is the first published book by Uwem Akpan. It is a collection of short stories set in several countries within Africa. It has the distinction of being a 2009 Selection for Oprah's Book Club, as noted by the sticker on its front cover. It also won the Commonwealth Writers’ Prize for Best First Book, African Region, as well as being nominated for several other awards. Should mean it is good, right? Well, let's take a look...

"Say You're One of Them" is a compilation of short stories, as noted above. There are five stories in the pages of the book and the length of the stories range widely from the 12-pages of "What Language is That?" to 136 pages apiece for "Fattening for Gabon" and "Luxurious Hearses". While there are no hard and fast rules as to what constitutes length for a short story, Akpan stretches the definition to fit his niche. I personally would almost define the 136-page mark more a novella, but perhaps the 32-pages of "My Parent's Bedroom" and 34-pages of "An Ex-mas Feast" balance out the book as a whole. Why do I quibble on page count anyway, you may ask. Well, for myself and some others I have talked to about the book, unfortunately mid-way through the longer tales there were checks to see how much longer the stories were going to go on. I do not mind the short story genre, but there is something to be said about keeping a story moving that maintains the reader's focus on the action at hand versus page count.

As to the actual stories within the pages of Akpan's book, there is much to be said. Akpan was born in Nigeria and has lived in several places within the continent, including Zimbabwe and Nairobi, Kenya (where "An Ex-mas Feast" is set). All of the stories are narrated by children and the plights of these children are all fraught with grief. The first story "An Ex-mas Feast" opens with an eight-year old boy watching his family disintegrate before his very eyes. They live in a ramshackle shanty with his two parents who are unravelling due to alcoholism and substance abuse. His eldest sister at 12-years of age is a prostitute, with his 10-year old sister hot on the heels of her big sister's career path. Various other younger siblings illustrate the plight of a lack of birth control and the ravages of poverty. The baby is used as a pawn to build up coffers while begging. Their life is bleak and the twinge of hope that the 8-year old narrator brings to the story with the prospect of school, spins into the Ex-mas Night. The tale is poignant with its sorrows highlighting a big portion of suburban African life.

 No happiness is gleaned, as the book moves on. Inter-racial tensions are illustrated in their violent worst in the last three stories, often even skipping between family lines, as in "My Parent's Bedroom". Here a family is torn apart by the violence of ethnic tensions that pit Hutu and Tutsi peoples against each other. A mixed race family is at the center of the tale and the whirlwind that surrounds them. "What Language is That?" similarly separates along religious lines, this time dividing two little girls who are best friends, despite their difference of Muslim and Christian backgrounds. "Luxurious Hearses" follows a 16-year old Muslim youth with the distinction of being baptised at birth a Catholic, but living most of his life Muslim. When his country's unrest flairs along religious lines in bloody massacres, he is caught in the middle, with nowhere to turn. 

Akpan does not let the reader hope for a glowing ending for any of his characters. He has seen much of the underbelly of humanity in his years on the continent. The starkness of his tales and dramatics that he uses to illustrate the ills of the children in central Africa leave one nothing, but despair. Even in "Fattening For Gabon", where violence is not the mainstay of the story, the children's plights are no better. This 136-page tale introduces a small measure of wealth to a 10-year old boy living with his 5-year old sister and uncle. The children's parents had died of AIDS and were being taken care of by Fofo Kpee, their uncle. The wealth that seeps into their world in the form of a new nanfang (motorcycle), stereo and more food is slowly seen to be nothing more than bribery. Dreams of wealth entice the children, as their uncle's arrangements are anything, but sincere. Another sad tale that the reader must stumble through, especially as much of the narrative is written with local dialogue. I understand that this gives authenticity to the story and more simple innocence to the children, but I have to say that this is where pages were counted by myself. Where Akpan wants to portray the children with child-like wisdom, I felt perhaps he could have edited the story down some to keep the story flowing better. That being said, I have not been nominated for a Guardian First Book Award, Hurston/Wright Legacy Award or Los Angeles Times Seidenbaum Award for First Fiction. And Oprah hasn't knocked on my door recently either.

So if you are interested in African literature and can steal your heart to the trials and tribulations that ensnare so many of the young from that Continent, then this book is worth a read. I found it difficult to get through the language at times, but applaud Akpan at highlighting the fact that more needs to be done in so many of the ravaged corners of our world. In our fear, anger and ignorance we light the torch. The little ones get lost along the way...

Six

To have and to hold;
  -you were always mine and true


For better or for worse;
   -lovers spats seemed never to reach "I've had enough". That's got to be better...


For richer or for poorer;
   -never rich, but never poor. You lived life with an eye to our future wealth


In sickness and in health;
   -keeping my end of the bargain cost me much,
         but I would do it again in a heartbeat despite sickness


To love and to cherish from this day forward;
   -so many memories that I hold fast that the word love does not give justice to


Till death do us part.
   -That's where they got it wrong. 
       Death does not part us, aside from in body. 
          Your soul watches over me; I feel its presence eternal.
             Your gifts keep on giving with little hands that grow daily
                 Long, long after we both are no more than dust in the wind 
                    the glow that we formed will still fill the ethers with loving grace

Happy Anniversary to you my dear sweet man. My road it wavers, and yet carries on. Your footprints hover inches above mine and I am blessed. Love eternal to you~

Garden Guise

She wandered through the garden checking for new growth and dreaded weeds. Growth gave her heart a leap. Weeds gave her drive and purpose. When she was in a garden she existed. She was confident and sure. Never afraid of choice; to divide and conquer. It was when she stopped that she lost her path.

~~~~~

OK,  I am jumping onto the bandwagon that you are all  pulling along. So Mr. G-Man, here is my first attempt at a Friday Flash 55.  And in case anyone was wondering, yes I spent the day puttering in the garden :)

Greek styles

   Oh I am feeling fine today! It being Thursday, I have my regular dinner party this evening with N,D & E. It is always a great evening for a bottle of wine with friends and a play date for the kids. Tonight, dinner is at my house. So "hmm, what to cook?", I asked myself early in the week. Requests for french toast went out for the kid"s table. Duly noted and I will oblige. For the adults though, we try to pick foods that we figure the little ones will not appreciate as much as ourselves. Sometimes we serve up the easy fair of burgers to please everyone, but this week I am trying something different. 

It started with parsley. 

Then an onion got chopped. 

Out to the garden for some oregano. 

   Rummage through the cupboards for the olive oil, salt and pepper. Sorry, no freshly squeezed lemons today. The lemon juice comes from a bottle from the fridge. And the recipe calls for Worcestershire, so in it goes (yeah, I am using a recipe. I never do, but am making an exception today). What else? Oh, don't forget the garlic. Lots of garlic. Now that is freshly pressed and I even grew the garlic myself. I am down to the end of last year's crop though, so maybe not as much garlic as would otherwise go in. We are amongst friends though, so no need to make enemies with over-powering breath. 

  Now where are we? Yes, the meat. Can you guess what the menu is yet? The ingredients are all mixed together in one container and the meat cubed and thrown into a bowl. Oh, this is going to be good. The critter of choice today is pork, despite suggestions of lamb from the recipe. I just do not appreciate the fluffy little baa-baas. My house, my decision. 

   So, pull the sleeves up and prepare to get dirty. Let's mix 'er up! Oh, doesn't that look good! Well, maybe not to you vegetarian folk out there, so perhaps I will throw some tofu on the grill for you. I play that way too and there is some handy, so why not. Well now, we have to let all that goodness soak in. Marinate, if you will.

Tum-te-dum

Beginning to salivate.

Perhaps I should go do something while I wait.

Cut the grass?

Spread grass seed?

Mop the floor?

Ah, I have waited long enough!

Let's get these bad boys on skewers!

And voila!

We have souvlaki. 

Accompaniments will be greek salad a la Nancy, rice, tzatziki and  pita bread.

And of course some wine.

There is lots, so don't be shy about wandering by.

The grill should be fired up by around 6:45.

Enjoy.