Dance of the Jakaranda

Dance of the Jakaranda by Peter Kimani, © 2017, Akashic Books

What better time than the holidays for travel. That is exactly what I got when I picked up Dance of the Jakaranda by Peter Kimani over the holidays. I was whisked off to Africa for a look at Kenya during the years of British colonization and its subsequent independence.

Dance of the Jakaranda opens in the Great Rift Valley in 1901. The first train chugs along the newly built railway linking Nakuru and Mombasa with Reverend Turnbull and Master on board. In second and third class, the rest of the people who broke their backs building the rail line are on board—blacks and browns alike. Class might separate them on the train, but their lives are intertwined and a collision course is inevitable.

Kimani looks at the peoples who shaped a nation in his newest novel. The story follows Babu Salim, an Indian technician, Ian McDonald, the colonial administrator sent to oversee the building of the railway, and Richard Turnbull, a preacher intent on leaving his mark on the African people. The novel delves into the tumultuous race relations between the many people who shaped it. Broken dreams leave their mark and change the shape of history for not only themselves, but the many people who come after, including Babu's grandson Rajan.

We all have faults, but some leave a bigger impact than others. Should the British have tried to enforce their will in shaping a nation, regardless of how many lives were lost and cultures corroded? Can we condemn people for self-serving behaviours, despite the good that invariably comes along with it? Is it ever that easy when the backlash can be as heavy-handed as the original infractions? I think not, as Kimani steps into the minds and hearts of all his characters, regardless of the colour of their skin and decisions they have made, be they good or ill.

Thank you to Akashic books for another book that has me thinking long after the last page is turned. May we all learn the lessons that come from the mistakes we make. 

Editing Africa

For those of you who read this blog back when I regularly contributed excerpts about my travels through Africa, I want to thank you today. Just as it was a long process to write the story, it is a long process to edit it. It has all taken much longer than the original 10 months that I was gone for, but every time I step back into the tale, I am transported. And the encouragement that I received from you then, feeds me every time I push words around on the page today.

So, I just wanted to let you know that I have not given up the tale. There are 244 pages and counting, with new subtitles and potential pictures to be added. I am determined to see this project through to the end once more. I wandered through Zimbabwe today celebrating birthdays with friends, adding a little here and taking a little away there. And YOU my readers were with me.

Thanks.

And now, back to finishing the task at hand - dinner!

Add the pasta, and this will be a tasty treat

A Change in Plans

Mini Rock Hoppers

I realize that it is Monday. I should have jetted off to Africa to continue my saga. I have left you hanging, as I climbed up into the cab of another truck. What happened next? Well... I feel bad about it, but you are going to have to wait a little longer to see. It can't be helped. I spent almost four hours driving home from my sister's house (in what should have been a two-hour drive). I am still sluggish with tryptophan from the turkey, plus from chasing those four delightful kids you see up there around. So I am pooped and am going to bed.

I apologize, but thought perhaps I would share a video from a band that I am going to be going to see this coming weekend with Me. Haven't seen a concert in a while and I am stoked! So here is a little Iron & Wine for you to enjoy. I will have to get some writing done later, but right now its bedtime. Happy Thanksgiving Canada! Happy Columbus Day US!

Hello pillows. I hear you calling! I am on my way...

Playing the Enemy: Nelson Mandela and the Game that Made a Nation

Playing the Enemy: Nelson Mandela and the Game that Made a Nation;
by John Carlin
(© John Carlin 2008; Penguin Books, 288 pages)

"One Team, One Country"; the slogan that brought the 1995 Springboks to victory on the rugby field, and more importantly, brought a country back together again, united under a new colourful flag as ONE people. Not an easy feat, and one that took years to bring to fore, but done with a compassion and panache that only one man could manage; Nelson Mandela.

"Playing The Enemy" is a book about rugby, but as the story unfolds, it holds so much more. Not one to follow rugby myself, I wondered if this month's book club pick would hold much interest for me. By the end, I felt like I was there in the stands as the final game was played on June 24, 1995. I was on the edge of my seat rooting for the boks with all my heart, aware that this game was so much bigger than just a mere rugger game. This game, played on the world stage, was a key piece in the defining moment of healing wounded South Africa's national pride. Every breathe in the nation was held and every eye was keenly aware that the game played was more than sport, but in fact symbolic on so many levels. The triumph of the day was ecstatically sweet, but moreso a triumph over old ignorance, mistrust, and hatred.

The final game would not have held such importance though, if not for South Africa's long and sordid history with apartheid. In 1948 laws were put in place to legally separate the races. Black people were restricted in their movement around cities, and in their rights as a whole. As their restrictions mounted, violence escalated and trade embargoes were meted out by nations around the world in protest to the barbaric laws and policies in South Africa. The sanctions against South Africa even went so far as to ban their sports teams on an international field. The Africaans beloved rugby was grounded. 

One man watched from a jail cell, as his nation slowly collapsed under the weight of its oppressions. That man was Nelson Mandela.

Nelson Mandela was a high-ranking member of the African National Congress (ANC) when he was arrested in 1962 and convicted of sabotage. He was sent to prison at Robben Island off the coast of Cape Town, along with several other political prisoners, and remained there for the next eighteen of his twenty seven years of imprisonment. In the book, Mandela's tale is picked up in 1985, when he started the negotiations that began the process of liberating himself and his country. 

John Carlin skillfully relates the details of Mandela's struggles to bring his country together, united as one. Carlin paints a picture of the embattered humanitarian, learning about his captors and their world. The Africaans people begin as an anomaly, but through mastering their language, and learning more about them as a whole, Mandela recognizes that they are people too, scared and not unlike himself. Through skillful negotiations, he gently builds relationships with the white world, that ultimately leads to breaking down the walls and laws of apartheid. 

Well aware before picking up this book that apartheid existed and had ended, what I loved about Carlin's story was his mastery in bringing the human emotion to the story from so many viewpoints. As I poured through the pages, I learned more about the delicate relationships that Mandela crafted, and I found tears in my eyes more than once. So much pain existed in this war-torn country, but Mandela was able to bring the races together as one in a heartfelt victory for the entire nation. He allowed blacks, whites, and all people in between to let go of their hurts and embrace each other as brothers. With Carlin's words, I wept at their hard-won and very deserving victory. 

I leave you with the South African national anthem sung at the 1995 rugby game that brought a nation back together again, via the strong figure of Nelson Mandela. Thank you for sharing this story Mr. Carlin. I truly enjoyed it.

The Writing of an Adventure

Just over a year ago a thought crossed my mind for a story idea. It started like this;

   "Once upon a time, a young woman sat waiting for the call."

The story featured a young woman who was on the road to adventure. At the beginning she wasn't very excited about it. I wasn't sure if I would have anyone interested in her story either.

The first comment I received on the post was this though;

   Me said...

     You forgot to write: "To be continued..."

     You *are* going to continue, right? ;)


And continue I did.


Since that first warm reception, I went on to add 55 more excerpts to the story I began on February 12, 2010. While the story started in the style of a fiction piece, and a few wondered if this was a dream of mine, by the fourth excerpt I let my readers in on the fact that this was indeed a true story. In fact, the story was my own.


In case you haven't followed any of it, the story is of my travels through Africa several years ago. It took a few entries to test the water and see if my story was worth sharing, but it has been obvious to me that it has. Friends have been awed by my adventure, grossed out by the food I ate, and worried for my security in dangerous situations. Lovely visitors have thrilled me by sharing that my tale has been passed along to curious family and friends. Others have expressed jealousy at my far-flung adventures, wishing that they could claim the experiences as their own. I take it all as compliments and allow it to fuel the fire in my brain to keep the story flowing.


When I first started writing of my travels, the entries were sporadic. I began with a burst of writing, with excerpts three days in a row, then slowly tapered off. Some weeks I posted two days in a row, other times it would be almost two weeks between adventures. On average though, I continued my story about once a week.


In 2011, I decided to give myself a schedule for my tale. You see I was gone for ten months, so my story holds many adventures in its pages. Some particularly gripping tales have even required two or three entries to conclude a section of the tale. As of January, I decided that I would post once a week and selected Monday as a good day to fly across the world for a spell of African Adventure.


You know what I am personally loving about all of this though? Aside from the fact that the telling of the tale is helping to hone my writing skills, I am loving stepping back into this adventure. My wandering ways are like a pleasant dream from another lifetime ago. It is so hard to imagine myself as this girl sometimes, but indeed it was. Life has held many other adventures since then, many not nearly as pleasant, but many moreso. As I re-read the journals I kept during my wanders through Africa, I step right back into the pages of that life. This winter with wind howling outside my window, I have walked the African savannah, awed by the animals just outside arms reach. The dry African heat has warmed my soul, despite the deep-freeze outside my door. As soon as I open my journal to read a few sentences, I find myself smiling. I am no longer in this chair at this desk, but rather half a world away and gone more than a lifetime ago.


What I do have to thank you lovely people for though is your support in all of this. This story has been aching to be written for many years. I believe that I came home knowing that I would write of my adventures one day, but never guessed that it would take this long to come to fruition. I even started the tale several years back, but quickly lost the drive to continue. Finding this venue for my tale has been exactly what I needed though. I write in snapshots, filtered through my journals and through my life since then. I try to stay true to the tales, but know that small details can be added or removed not harming the telling of my story. The snapshots I capture within a blog post are perfect though. I can build drama, paint pictures and be informative, all within the confines of several hundred words. The pictures in my mind will always be mine, but in the sharing, they come alive all over again.

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...