Sarah Dunant - Sacred Hearts

This is a story about Character. Strength of Character to challenge the status quo as pitted against strength of character to accept the status quo. It is sobering that whatever side of the divide one finds oneself, one needs the strength of character to survive.

The book is set in the late 1500's  in St Catherine's convent in Ferrara, Italy when, it is said, one in eight women ended up in a convent for a variety of reasons but more for lack of dowry. (My first digression is to explain that in my culture, it is the man who must have enough cows for the dowry, ikhwe or lobola.)  Oftentimes, as unwilling brides, in protection of the family name, these unmarried girls, from elite homes, were incarcerated in convents to be married to Christ.  Reading the book, I was stunned about how so little I knew about the life of nuns despite spending eight budding years under the tutelage of nuns in convent schools - first, with the Loreto sisters and subsequently, with the Carmelite sisters - albeit at a different time, place and dispensation. From the recesses of my mind, I conjured up my headmistress, Sister Virginia and wondered whether she had joined the Carmelite order of her own volition or whether, like some of the Benedictine sisters in the novel, she too had simply resigned herself to a fate that she could do nothing about. I was not raised catholic, but the life of St Catherine's reminded me of the school, the constant prayers, the masses, the discipline, the refectory (we called it factory!), the confession, the exotic names of my school mates - Sebenzia, Perpetua, Inviolata... I recalled the prayer to the Virgin, seared into my mind, in both English and Luhya and which I faithfully recited neither understanding the language nor appreciating its meaning, but in which I often found solace.

M'rembe Maria, Witsule Ineema

Nyasaye ali n'nawe

Waebwa Tsimbabasi M'bakhasi

Na Yesu Omwana inda, waebwa Tsimbabasi

Maria Omutakatifu, okhusabir'efwe aboononi

Bulaano n'de inyanga yokhufwa, Amina

The book, about so solemn a subject, is intriguing in its style and prose..and even humorous and full of witticisms. It is a book devoid of male characters and principally tells the tales of the strong women who live, organise and manage the affairs of St Catherine's convent with the inherent politics that would exist in any society of people...even a godly one.  The nuns, conversas and novices exhibited the usual competition, jealousies and envy that exists in any human relationships. The novel reminds us that basically, we are human - hence flawed - and it is that humanity that creates in us, the need for a power greater than ourselves to whom we can reach out for penance, forgiveness and perhaps strive for perfection & redemption. Yet in between all this frailty, there is in the convent life, lots of love, beauty, determination, devotion and communion. The setting is mostly in one place - the convent and yet, despite the sameness of convent life, it does not bore because of the richness portrayed in its characters.

My best character is the Madonna Chiara. I admired her strength of character as Abbess. Her duty was to ensure that St Catherine's survived the upheavals and turmoils that buffeted both within and without the convent walls.  Her methods were not always conventional - but the end justified the means - for the good of the convent. We can learn a lot about leadership by carefully studying her closely. The central character however, is Serafina ex Isabetta who shook the very foundations upon which convent life was presumed. (I digress again to muse about the church's penchant for re baptising people. I do recall many a countryman seeing it fit - later in life - to drop some of their given names and have often wondered which of their names are written in the book of life.) So I was exceedingly amused when Isabetta pouts and says 'my name is not Serafina'. Serafina never took easily to her incarceration and demonstrated this by all means possible - rebellion, false piety, deceit, fasting, starvation, drama, threats, disorder, and whatever weapons she had in her armoury.  In the end, with the help of the Abbess - by unconventional means- she succeeded in finding her freedom and I do hope in so doing she found happiness...Perhaps another book on her life out of the convent may have helped shed light on whether the freedom was worth the struggle.

At the risk of judging the church, we must remember that for many young girls, this incarceration was a better fate or perhaps even the only fate...For example when Faustina's father died, with no family to protect her, the only chance open to her was St Catherine's convent as Suora Zuana.

Reading the book, I drew many parallels with the life as we live it today...including but not limited to the fact that many a time, to survive or even flourish & thrive, we resign ourselves to the cards that fate deals us.  There is much wisdom in Kenny Rodger's famous song, "that the secret to surviving is  knowing when to hold on and knowing when to throw in".  Or for those more spiritually inclined, we need to echo Reinhold Neibuhr, the American Theologian, by asking to be granted the grace to accept with serenity the things we cannot change, courage to change the things we can change and wisdom to distinguish the one from the other.

Aminatta Forna - The Devil that Danced on the Water

This is a daughter's memoir to her father, Mohamed Sorie Forna.  As I read the book, I pondered what I would rant about given its depth and feared that I would not do the memoir justice in a single rant. I couldn't help noticing many parallels with the life we live in, not only politically but also at a micro level in our organisations. This book about Sierra Leone from the Aminatta's perspective is a book about interrupted childhood bliss, about siblings and kinship, about unfulfilled dreams, misplaced hopes, broken families and failed promises.  It is a book about betrayal,  about international and local politics. Most of all it is a book about Africa..Oh beautiful Africa. 

I wondered what would tempt Aminatta to dig deep into the recesses of her memory to exorcise the ghosts that lay deep within. Wouldn't it have been easier to let sleeping dogs lie? I did not have much interest in Sierra Leone until I read the book, although my sister, working for an international NGO, was extremely vocal about blood diamonds, which it is said fuelled the eventual civil war in Sierra Leone.  The beauty of this book...is that most of it,  predates the blood diamonds saga but the problems are perhaps a precursor to the war that was to taint the face of Sierra Leone forever.  This is a book all Africans should read...not for its factual accuracy or otherwise...but for the present and the future.

I much prefer the exotic and romantic view of Africa. Of aunts by the thousands, galleries of uncles, of children, of traditions, of spirits that fly back to their ancestors when their owners die.  A poem that I read in my french class came to my mind quite unbidden...femme noire femme africaine, oh ma mere. That is the Africa that I longed for... Aminatta's book drew me because it is a book by an African...about Africa...in her context and perspective. 

My best character is Yabome Kanu Forna.  To me, she emerges as the silent heroine who is committed to children that are not her own in the best way that a woman can for children she has not carried in her womb - her husband's children - and builds an unbreakable bond with them that is to last decades even after his death by hanging. I am tickled that she is tough...orders the kids not to refer to her as 'Aunt' but 'mum'. I like Am and all her childhood shenanigans...After all she is writing the book very honestly from her perspective and would want us to understand her excesses, failures and strengths...what would her siblings say about those 10 years of their lives if they were to write it themselves?

Some people will find this book biased. Of course, it has to be biased. It is written through the eyes of a child as she witnessed her life evolving in the tumultuous years in Sierra Leone and seeking answers to questions by researching her past during her adulthood. Children often do not have answers to their experiences...they do not need to know...I am biased towards Mohamed Forna.  (I am sure my father would have loved the parallels and fallen in love with Mohamed Forna despite his human failings.) What is it about physicians that drives them to politics? What is it that beckons people, that they do not know when to stop even when heading to the abyss and carrying others with them?...What compels them to sacrifice their families for their own ambitions?  As I read the book, I wondered who were the wiser people...those who jumped ship for their families' sake, the turncoats who became informants, those who stayed in 'Salone', the ones who kept away, those who took sides, those who betrayed or those who turned a blind eye and refused to be tainted. Who are the people we should praise and emulate...the lone protesters like Amnesty International, those who played ball or the silent protesters who receded into their homes for the sake of their children and families?

It is said that the business of development intertwined with politics is indeed complex.  Although not the principal focus and somewhat mentioned in passing, the role of 'development' as promulgated by our global institutions of repute and foreign powers is interspersed in the book. (As I rant, one august institution was seeking a successor to lead it in the cause of alleviating the needs of poor countries).  I wonder how the candidates would answer to the suggestion that that the institutions did not stand out to be counted as Sierra Leone was going down the brink. I am all the more amazed that Aminatta, the last born child, would gather the courage, many years after the hanging of her father, to so boldly discuss what was perceived by many as a sham trial that led to his brutal death. I wonder what feeds the perception that Africa is ungovernable? As I read the book Mali and Guinea Bissau were embroiled in coups d'etats...oh Africa! Is it as Pa Roke mused, that before colonialism there was a system that 'worked' and this system had to be forcefully eradicated and replaced by an alien system that Africans just cannot adhere to?  Or is it, as oft quoted, that Africa's advancement is hampered because for many years people have made excuses about corruption or poor governance.  That  people have excused Africa's problems as the result of neo-colonialism or of the west being oppressive and self centered around its own interests. I shall not venture at this juncture to opine on this  difficult question as there are no easy answers...I can only wonder.

Reading the book...whatever religion we may believe in, I couldn't help imagining that humanity...not just Sierra Leoneans...have a lot to answer for, both in this life and in the life to come. 

However, when all is said and done...Africa is beautiful. This beauty is demonstrated by the bonds created through families and extended families, ties that bind us and cause us to look out for each other...the larger the better, carrying the family name into perpetuity despite the adversities.

Robert Harris - Imperium

Imperium, the Latin word for the power to command is a suitable title for this book. Reading it, I looked for clues on whether 'absolute power', as we understand it, corrupts.  Imperium is the fictional account of Cicero as told by his secretary and slave Tiro  and gives the reader an interesting view on the intrigues in the corridors of power in the great ancient Roman days. Although, being fictional, it has not subjected to the same rigour as would a true historical account and provides space for some sanitising on the life of Cicero. What is not debatable is that most of the characters in the book lived in those BC days and most of the events did take place. The book is an extremely easy read and I would advice it for any person who wants to dabble in politics or power of sorts.

As usual, I bought the book as I idled at Heathrow awaiting a flight and I was not disappointed.  It made me nostalgic of the good old days in my history class and I couldn't help but juxtapose the intrigues in the corridors of power in ancient Rome with power as it is practiced today. I noted many similarities both at organisational, country and world level which reminded me that human nature doesn't really change much even as civilisations come and go.  I recall a learning session, I once attended where we were so boldly  informed that the work place - even churches - of all shapes and sizes are power games and one must be politically savvy to survive. I wished I had lived in ancient Rome (as a RoMAN!) as life seemed quite exciting...If one was a man.  The feminists of this day and age may be enraged by the fact that women have been short changed in the book as the book is so devoid of women of any import...but I guess that was the order of the day.

I asked my two teenagers to read Imperium and they were both awed which surprised me, as we often do not meet eye to eye on what constitutes a good book. My saving grace was that my son loves History and my daughter wants to read Law. My daughter is in that idealistic stage that all youngsters go through where she swears that her wit would only be used to advance the cause of  the downtrodden. However, I cautioned her not to be too narrow minded and that, like Cicero, she may be called upon to prosecute the innocent, defend the guilty (after all the whole basis of law is that everyone must have a good defence) or even hold the power over the guilty. She may, in the course of her life, have to make deals with unsavoury people and take positions that may be against 'her own conscience' for the greater good.  Although my interest in law is peripheral - given my father's oft quoted saying that 'lawyers were thieves' - I, nonetheless, have strong views that one had better be a realist and an all rounded lawyer is one who is able to defend the indefensible, prosecute, sit in judgement and perhaps aid and abet as a juror.  Unfortunately, my daughter, like Lucius, presupposes that law, and the politics that goes with it, is a fight for justice whereas to the realist, like Cicero - it is simply a profession.

Mr Harris transports me, without much ado, to the years before Christ both in his expressions and in the history that he covers in the book in a manner that is not threatening. He leaves me with many a lesson in politics and in human & personal relationships. I found myself entranced and highlighting passages to quote on a rainy day when in need of something witty to say.  As I am neither a student of history nor politics, I did not concentrate on the factual accuracy of the book, although I couldn't resist researching on some of the events of the day. I am sure many a historian would call into question Harris' depiction of Cicero and the happenings of the time but I was more interested in the substance than the form.  As I read into the wee hours of the morning, I was quite enthralled by the apparent similarities with life as it is now and took a liking to all things Cicero.  I could not help musing what posterity will write about our day and age.  Will the "war against terror" be deemed an enhanced figment of a politician's imagination even as the pirates menace was assumed to be  a creation of Pompeii in his desire for purpose and sole command? As posterity ponders the plundering of resources and the scramble for Africa and other continents, will they opine that robbery and exploitation have always been the handmaids of civilisation and that nations did not acquire wealth without knowing how to drive a hard bargain?  When posterity analyses the Arab Spring or the Impact of the Cold War on resource rich nation states, will they conclude that, after all, domination at home was maintained or perpetuated by the proceeds of extortion abroad?

I learnt much from the wisdom  that so easily explained family and human relationships. The Cicero brothers, Pomponia & Quintus, Cicero & Terentia, Cicero & his slave Tiro, Caelius & his father and the myriad relationships that commingled with politics through out the book. Oh! How so similar to the relationships in our day and age. My best passage was 'that in a sphere of human activity in which friendships are transitory and alliances made to be broken, the knowledge that another man's name is forever linked to yours, however the fates may play, must be a powerful source of strength. The relationship between the Ciceros, like that of most brothers, I expect was a complicated mixture of fondness and resentment, jealousy and loyalty...'  This sole paragraph has helped me appreciate the relationships between my siblings & I.  I must confess that I couldn't resist quoting Tiro's explanation of Cicero & Terentia to a friend this very evening, that when two people have an argument, more often than not the argument is not about the subject matter they are quarrelling about but another subject matter all together.

My mother would love this book. I am tempted to buy her a copy for Christmas as I am certain Imperium will remind her of her hey days in the political circles of the Mumias constituency campaigns and the impact that politics had on herself, her family and her children. She may be surprised to learn that politics and the pursuit of elected office...no matter the time and place...has many constants.

The Sunday Nation - Oil Wealth

Since the announcement of significant oil deposits discovered in North Western Kenya, the press has waxed lyrical and sleepy journalists have rediscovered their skills as they analyse the repercussions of this announcement from a plethora of angles. This discovery has distracted the nation from the usual shenanigans and drama of the political class although of course I did not miss the allegation that a Minister, Permanent Secretary and others were unfairly involved - directly or indirectly - in the sale of Block 10BB - The block that holds some of the oil deposits for some USD 10M.  They had the wisdom and foresight...or was it being at the right place and the right time, to profit from the find? This reported misdemeanour has not deterred Kenyans of all persuasions, at this juncture, from debating the merits and demerits of the oil find and what it would mean for the nation state. As for me, I am amazed at the going prize of the land  and  (if wishes were horses) would have wished that by some stroke of luck, it had been mine. One can only muse about how much of the USD 10M has been reinvested into the economy in Turkana county and its environs before thinking about future profits can be made.


The inherent blessings discussed since the announcement was made are a myriad and are not limited to Middle Income Status, Global political powerhouse, New Job opportunities, Budget  Surpluses, Economic Growth and all manner of business opportunities including churches being built in Turkana county. The pessimists have cautioned and reminded us of some of the many vices plaguing other resource rich African nations which may be visited upon our beloved land namely further governance issues, runaway high level corruption, environmental degradation, self inflicted wars, violent  demands for secession and self determination, indolence of an otherwise hard working people, propping up of undemocratic regimes and a myriad of curses...God Forbid.  I would wager that sales of the most widely read papers in East Africa have shown a positive trend as Kenyans' interest in scholarly pursuits such as the future of their Nation state has been ignited by this discovery. I indeed have felt obliged to read most of the articles and rant about the find on the luxury of this blog.   I was particularly amused by a seemingly unrelated article in which the French ambassador complained about the inaccessibility of the Head of State. I initially thought that my Head of State might be resting from some untold of ailment (this type of musing on the Head of State's health was treasonable to imagine during regimes past and may have landed me in Kamiti Prison) but then remembered that there must be some jostling by world powers as a result of this innocuous find. Methinks that  Turkana county more specifically  (and by extension Kenya) would be better served by building schools, houses, hospitals, highways, airports, universities, cities, industries and allied markers of development  as a penance for years of neglect before jostling for investment opportunities. We might even explore how to water the desert so that the hard working people of Turkana county may continue in their cattle keeping hobby should they desire and their women explore other economic pursuits.

Might I be accused of being disingenuous in saying that I have a soft spot for Turkana County?  As a young girl my father gave me one of those tourist booklets on the El Molo. The El Molo being a tribe whose habitation lies somewhere on the shores of Lake Turkana....For their sake, I hope not too far from the oil deposits. A tribe that, I am certain, is not proportionally represented in the recently published diversity statistics of the Kenya civil service and I am sad to state that I personally do not count an acquaintance from Turkana County from all the people that I have had occasion to cross paths with in my otherwise varied life.  For some strange reason, my kid brother has spent some two years as a physician in Northern Kenya at the pleasure of the Ministry of Health and much to the chagrin of my mother.  Now that some prospects seem to have appeared in this backwater, we may have reason to celebrate. Perchance there might be some investments to consider in that county as I am sure that the people coming to exploit the newly found resources need some amenities for the long haul.

The native peoples who live around Turkana county are the most marginalised of Kenyan communities....by the design  of the economists who penned the infamous sessional paper no. 10 of 1965.  Apparently, the sessional Paper no. 10 of 1965 stated that to make the economy as a whole grow as fast as possible, development money should be invested where it would yield the largest increase in net output.  The bulk of the resources were to favour the development of areas having abundant natural resources, good land and rainfall, transport, power facilities and people receptive to and active in development  I have never had occasion to read the sessional paper but my interest has been roused by the oil find but for quite different reasons.

However, whilst I am tempted to demonise the economists who penned the sessional paper, I must recall that Jesus Christ in the parable of the talents indicated that those who have, would be given more and those didn't have, even the little that they had would be taken away from them. Our Lord might have been a carpenter but He prophesied on the economic theory that has marginalised Turkana county - and other unlucky people groups - since Kenya's independence. This theory is somewhat akin to the osmotic  theory where solvent molecules in the form of development resources move through the semi permeable membrane of the Nation State from low concentrated and less endowed regions to regions of high concentration and more endowment.   

Apparently one could only criticise the sessional paper No. 10 of 1965 to their peril and one so bold, albeit from the  safety of the Harvard corridors, was Barack Hussein Obama Sr. Being as he was from the low concentrated regions, of the Nyanza, he understood that this sessional paper would mean doom for some people groups and bliss for others. But no one cared to listen and as people judge his later life they should perhaps appreciate his disillusionment and the high prize he paid for not falling in line. This Sessional Paper No. 10 of 1965 is as incomprehensible as McNaughton's theories but has consistently been the basis upon which the nation was built and resources shared by subsequent regimes. It's no wonder that what grips the nation is the lack of diversity in the cake eating palaver. So before Michella Wrong muses on Kenyans oft quoted phrase "it is our turn to eat" she must at least analyse the travesties of the sessional paper no. 10 of 1965. I digress.

It is ironical that the oil has  "always" lay untapped (undrilled) in Turkana county and that somehow the economists who penned the much maligned sessional paper were not aware of it at the time. Had they had some foresight, perhaps, the capital would be located somewhere on the banks of the former Lake Rudolph  - initially named for crown prince Rudolph of Austria - as George W Bush would refer to it long after it had been changed to Lake Turkana. (I cannot recall why he felt compelled to refer to it but perhaps, being a Texan, it was the oil beckoning!). Now, I must pause to complain about the renaming of this lake in honour of Crown Prince Rudolph since I am sure it already had a good enough name(s) before the first Europeans recorded chancing upon it on one of their long wanderings through the East African wilderness. This lake is the world's largest permanent desert lake; the world's largest alkaline lake and the world's third-largest salt lake by volume.  Turkana county is home to violent winds and the government is belatedly investing in what is billed to become Africa's largest wind farm. 

Last but not least, it is also the cradle of mankind - perhaps even the Garden of Eden if evolution and creation were to converge.  The Leakeys who have a penchant for discovering skulls from eons past have discovered skulls in the area, unrivalled by those discovered next door in Olduvai Gorge....Makes me miss my history class!!  It boggles the mind that Turkana county and its environs was always an endowed area (only the economists were too blind to realise it).  Had the county received its  fair share of development resources it would be at par with the bastions of Central Kenya and the rest of the Rift Valley...But its not too late.

Since God in His wisdom has ordained that oil wealth suddenly be discovered  in the land of the Turkana and their immediate neighbours, all I can say is that there is karma and it is time for the native peoples of Turkana to eat.  Hopefully the rest of the tribes will allow them to eat in peace and when they have eaten their fill and are satiated, I pray that some crumbs shall fall off the tables, for the benefit of the rest of Kenya.

Condoleezza Rice - A memoir of my extraordinary, ordinary family and me

Condi's memoir is quite an interesting and easy read. I asked my daughter, who is an "A"level  student and wanted to go places to purchase it together with her other book "No higher honour".  Her schoolmates didn't have an idea who Condoleezza Rice was. I thought "what a shame, in this day and age...what do young ones read?". 

The book has given me a good basis to understand the period around the Jim Crow laws and the infamous  segregation and desegregation periods. My daughter, who wants to be a lawyer, has been wondering whether people must follow unjust laws. This is a million dollar question because there are no easy answers. Reading Condi's book made me realise that the answer to this question is not always black or white...sometimes it is grey.

On the lighter side, I could relate to the family's reaction on the mistake made on Condi's high school diploma by missing out one 'z' from her name.  The family was sufficiently irritated by the mistake on a name that had been painstakingly given by her mother, to promptly return the wrongly named diploma to the school for correction. (What was surprising is that they never got a response back until she was at the White House!!!) This reminds me of a question on Lucy Kellaway's blog in The Financial Times last week. A lady was mulling about taking on her husband's name because it was complicated whereas she had been endowed with what was, in her culture and place, an easier name - Smith.  In my neck of the woods, the very well meaning educationalists found it a pain pronouncing our names and to solve their problem, decided that we should be given names foreign to our tongues but which of course were easier for them to relate to.  To achieve their objective, they told well meaning congregations that some of our original names were "evil". At school, without the advantage of a baptism, the teacher took it upon herself (or himself) to provide a new name.  My considered view is that the apparent difficulty in a name depends on the culture, place, country, dominant language...such that one man's meat is another man's poison.  My friends and relatives could barely get round to pronouncing the Irish name that my father so well meaningly bestowed upon me and I have heard so many versions of it that grate against my ear.  I am sure that my father probably didn't pronounce it in exactly the same way as the Irish did but he got the spelling right ...Although common in Ireland and appears in the Oxford Advanced Learners' dictionary as a "common English" forename, I was recently amazed to learn that it is in fact a Greek given name meaning "fate".

Oftentimes, it is so difficult to get bureaucracies to amend mistakes they make on documents and one has to adjust to the unfortunate baptism even as Oprah did.  I noticed  a date of birth mistake on my son's GCE's certificate.  It irritated me to the core and I promptly informed the school. When they did not want to admit their mistake, I hit the roof and they thankfully asked me to return the wrong certificates for correction...I hope they amend them since I have no chance of serving at high echelons of any government.

In many ways, I like Condi.  I can relate her experiences to another recent post in The Financial Times on whether, in public organisations, one needed to be 'mousy' to succeed. People posted all manner of advice supporting this theorem.  I wonder what Condi would have said given her response at Stanford, to the surprise of her audience, that she would consult widely but at the end of day, she and the chancellor would make the ultimate decisions. She didn't do committees as committees don't make decisions!!!.  Working as I have done in large organizations, I am wont to agree that the best way to stall on something is to ask a committee to opine on it. 

In certain situations one has to be "bullish". Condi was a tough woman for her stature. In her whole book, I loved two expressions and I shall attempt to quote them verbatim. "You don't have the standing to question my commitment to minorities. I have been black all my life and that is longer than you are old"..."When you are the provost, you can have the last word"!!!! Woah!!! That hurts!!
 

On the one hand, she was really misunderstood and the book, I wager, was her medium of explaining herself  to her critics.  (At Stanford, although a respectable position for her age, gender and colour, the headlines about her were brutal and criticisms unrelenting.)  Whereas on the other hand, she appears to have had very loving parents, an enviable childhood and a tight family...almost unreal. (Yet, despite all that, she didn't see the need to perpetuate the lineage. It would be interesting to have a psychologist's opinion since the considered view is that people born into steady homes are more likely to want to perpetuate the institution.)

 

I enjoy the scholarly pursuit of reading people's biographies and autobiographies...no matter the person...as one often realises that one cannot always have it all.

Andrea Levy - The Long Song

I picked this rather entertaining book at Heathrow. I have read it twice and both times I couldn't help chuckling or  laughing at the humour  throughout the book. I marvel at how one writes such a humorous book about such a grotesque venture as slavery and its aftermath? Funnier still is the vibrant Jamaican English in which the tale is told. It makes me want to visit the West Indies for myself. When I think of July (an inappropriate name for someone born in a different month altogether!) recounting the tale...I can't help thinking of my mother. I can imagine her spinning a yarn like this, telling us of some time in her past. The book is told from the perspective of July, a grandmother, retelling events of a certain time and place in her past with such humour that leaves one laughing and guffawing.

As always when I read a book, I decide whom I like best. In this book I quite liked July (both in her youth and in her old age), her son Thomas and Robert Goodwin. Thomas doesn't talk for himself but we hear about him (as we do most of the other character's) through July. Almost as a proud mother gossiping proudly about her son but not wanting to seem to be doing so.

The experiment that was slavery was quite an interesting one and it begs further objective analysis. With hindsight, one wonders whether it succeeded or failed. One thing I hadn't quite given much thought was whether the abolitionists considered how the ex-slaves were going to survive without land and without money after emancipation.  Or did they just want to "tick a box...DONE". Compensation was given the slave owners but not to the slaves.  It was assumed that one day they would be slaves and the next day they would be wage earners.  What about those that did not want to continue working the fields? Inadvertently, the ex-slaves were set up for failure from the very start. In explaining her book, Andrea writes "those Island societies would not have existed today were it not for Britain and Britain would certainly not exist as it is today were in not for those Islands".  Were the Islands simply explored so that sugar could be provided for the sweet British tooth? (I descend from a sugarcane growing people and a tea growing country). Who thought about the idea? Where did the original inhabitants of Jamaica (Xaymaca - Land of Springs) disappear to? I have often wondered, without an answer, as to whether the exploration, the cane fields and the expoitation that slavery were really worth it.

Slavery created an interesting society with new rules. First there were the field and the house slaves. Then there was also the colours between black and white. Negro, Mulatto, Sambo, Quadroon, 'tente-en-el-aire' (suspended child) and white. With of course many other shades in between. Even in the white society there were different classes...the plantation owners, the abolitionists, the preachers, the overseers and others in between.

I learnt something quite interesting about labour vs capital from the 'strikes' that happened at the Unity Plantation. Reminded me of the recent hospital workers' strike in Kenya. The solution was to get the coolies from India (another experiment) to work on the Islands instead of the freed slaves who had had enough of the cane fields.  I presuppose that the people who benefited the most were those in the transport business. There was always something or someone to transport from some place or other.

I pitied Robert Goodwin who was as good as they came. Young and Idealistic but eventually disillusioned and depressed. I guess the fundamental mistake was that, his 'goodness' was not based on the equality of races but a need to be more humane to the lower breeds. Robert Goodwin and Thomas Kinsman both suffered a crisis of faith in completely different continents....both away from home. Master Goodwin, the white man, suffered his crisis in the West Indies and Mr Kinsman, a black man, in Britain. I can quite relate to them. 

In between reading the book,  I had interesting discussions with my children this weekend. So many years after slavery and with more understanding and globalisation, my teenage daughter said to me and I quote verbatim: "Another problem that I have come to notice here (Britain) is how people have such a silly outlook of Africa. All the TV's show are slums, sickness, people dying, drought, basically all the bad. You have to be the one to tell them 'Look I do not live in a slum, we live in houses, we own cars just like you do'. It gets so frustrating sometimes having to tell the story over and over again, but if only the TV's here started showing what Africa looks like, the good and the bad, we won't have to explain ourselves so much".  My son, like many men, doesn't have too many words in his mouth. His simple response to me was "Oh that...We face it all the time but as a guy, I simply brush it off".

Their remarks summed up why I enjoyed reading Andrea Levy's - Long Song.  That no matter how "inhumane" life was on the sugar plantations - pre and post slavery - (and no matter how "difficult" life is)....there is woven in between a story of joy, laughter and survival. For that, one can really be proud.

J California Cooper - Some People, Some Other Place

The author's name drew me to this book and I started referring to my own first name as J. when I bought it back in 2006.

The story is being told from the perspective of a child yet to be born. The yet to be born child was able to narrate about the life of his future ancestors and neighbours. It ended on 'Dream Street' at a location called 'Place'.  The book sounded simplistic I struggled to nail down a core theme. It transcends different generations and different continents. Sometimes the book sounded like too much of a sermon with reference to Jehovas' Witnesses which sort of grated against the story. But thinking about it, in times of desperation, we need something or someone to hold onto.

For me, it is principally a story of women. A story of eventual triumph. For Ha and her daughters, For Eula Too, For the symbiotic Rita and Iris friendship, For Earle, her painting and her man...Even the 'bad' Lona could go back to school. It is just as well that I finished re-reading the Book on March 8th 2012 - The UN international women's day.

I liked Eula Too (people marvelled at her strange name)...Her earlier life was hard but even she had had her dreams...delinked from her mothers and also from Elizabeth Fontzl. In some way, I felt that my life and hers were similar....Thinking that life was only about helping people with handouts. That is a  poor substitute for 'love' as her sister told her.  Reminds me of when my sister told me '....J, you are not God...to solve everybody's problems'.  My sister's view was that only God was able to lift his people from the Sisyphus like struggles that made living in this world a misery. My best character is Earle...Eula Too's younger sister. She didn't have a very prominent role in the book and she was what one would call 'a supportive character' - the voice of my conscience. My worst character was Jewel...the very ungrateful child. The character I pitied the most was Elizabeth Fonzl...Many of us end like her...with nothing to hold on to despite what we think are apparent successes...Afraid to be alone.

The book is so full of misery, aloneness, loneliness, heartbreak, sadness, unmet targets and broken dreams among its very  many characters, whether it be Eula, Eula Lee, Iowna,  Beth Fontzl, Eula Too, Burnett, Maureen, Rita, Ha, Henry Lee, Lona, Mrs Green, Mr and Mrs Heavy, Jewel.....But there are also those who eventually survive. Dream Street sort of reminds me of Miguel Street....Set at another time and place. About the lives of different people on a street all alone in their own way.  Is that really the way of life?

Family is strange and the same despite being separated by continents and generations. Mr Burnett mused that his family loved him in equal measure to the money he had; Rita's sister loved Rita's money that bought the house she lived in but wouldn't allow her in the house when she eventually needed it because she sold her body to earn the money that bought that house; Elizabeth Fontzl's mum didn't seem to love her yet Elizabeth wanted that love so badly. Eulalee's dreams were held down by her many children who spawned off her. Ha's father (back in China) hadn't thought much of her as she could not work the fields - a boy child would have been better - and eventually sold her for a bag of beans. Henry Lee didn't care for her daughters. Henry Lee's cousins didn't think much of him. Lona didn't like her son Homer and almost ran over him with her car.

Bon Fete de Femme!!! Festa della Donna!!!