A peaceful Sunday morning turned chaotic for Azizi as he was brought to the emergency room. He was in agony, bleeding, and had huge bite marks on him, mostly on his arms and legs. He claimed it was a Boerboel that attacked him, but the doctors doubted the validity of his story due to the size of the wounds.
Meanwhile, the police received an anonymous tip suggesting that a wild animal might be on the loose in the city after having bitten someone. The tipster provided the police with the address of an apartment in Langa, Cape Town. Upon arrival, the police heard a menacing growl coming from inside through the front door. Eager to investigate, they made their way to the apartment next door, grabbed a drill, and started making tiny holes in the wall to peek inside. To their shock, they were met with the unexpected sight of a 200-kilogram African lion lounging in the Langa apartment. The pressing question was: How on earth did the king of the jungle end up there?
Back to Azizi, a 31-year-old part-time driver for a ride-sharing company who had a strong love for animals. He went to the extent of illegally acquiring an infant Cape baboon and a lion cub from an exotic animal trainer in Cape Town and bringing them to live with him in his government-subsidised apartment in Langa. Azizi already had a ball python named Sly living with him in his apartment, and now he also has a Cape baboon and a lion. What could possibly go wrong?
When Azizi acquired the Cape baboon, it was unwell, leading to a short life span. Sadly, the baboon passed away shortly after, but the lion cub survived. Azizi named the cub Shiba and raised him in his apartment, providing him with his own room, a sandbox to play in, and transitioning him to solid food. Their bond grew strong, making them the best of friends.
After two and a half years had passed, Shiba had outgrown his cub days. He had transformed into a 200-kilograms king of the beasts, yet he still resided in that government-subsidised apartment with Azizi and Sly. Azizi supposedly fed him 8 to 10-kilograms of chicken daily, considering his massive size. Lions sure do have an appetite!
If you thought a man and a giant lion sharing an apartment was a recipe for disaster, you wouldn't be alone. However, against all odds, everything was actually going perfectly well.
It was a regular day until Azizi encountered a stray house cat lingering right outside his doorstep. Driven by his affection for animals, he welcomed the cat into his home, adopted him, and lovingly named him Shadow. To ensure Shadow's comfort, Azizi arranged a special room for him, away from Shiba.
After about three weeks, Azizi and Shiba were playfully wrestling, their usual way of playing together. Suddenly, Shadow emerged from his room, and Shiba, catching a glimpse of him, immediately switched into wild animal mode. He sprang into action, pursuing Shadow relentlessly around the place in an attempt to capture and eliminate him. Azizi quickly reacted by positioning himself between Shiba and Shadow, only to end up being tackled by Shiba. Azizi held onto him tightly to prevent him from going after Shadow, but that's when Shiba latched onto Azizi's neck, then his arm, and finally clamped down on his knee, refusing to release his grip.
Azizi found himself in a precarious situation when his knee ended up in the mouth of an African lion. The tense standoff lasted for two long minutes before Shiba decided to release him. Feeling remorseful, Shiba quickly sought refuge in the bathroom. In great pain, Azizi was forced to dial for paramedics, who quickly transported him to the hospital. It was then that he fabricated a story about a Boerboel attack, worried that they would uncover Shiba and take his lion away.
Back at the neighbour's place, the police officers gazed through the hole they had created in the wall and were startled to find a fully-grown lion lounging inside. "Yoh, yoh, yooh!" the officers exclaimed in disbelief. Now, they needed to brainstorm a strategy to safely remove this 200-kilograms beast without becoming its next meal.
A police officer rappelled down the building with a tranquillizer gun in hand. Upon reaching the apartment window, he glimpsed Shiba inside. Taking aim through the bars, he fired a dart, striking Shiba on the shoulder.
Shiba's reaction was clear: he was not happy with the situation, leading him to get angry and charge at the window, repeatedly slamming against it. Fortunately, Shiba eventually succumbed to the tranquillizer, and the police were able to safely remove both Shiba and Sly from Azizi's apartment before relocating them. As expected, Azizi was taken into custody.
Charged with reckless endangerment and keeping wild animals without the proper permit, he was convicted and handed a fifteen-month prison term after a court hearing.
Sly, the ball python, was rehoused in a snake sanctuary in Cape Town, and Shiba was moved to an animal sanctuary in Paarl, where he had the opportunity to run and play with other big cats, including lions.
Until the age of nineteen years and four months, Shiba lived in that location, a significant lifespan in lion years. Sadly, he eventually passed away from natural causes.
Shadow was never seen again.
"Now that I knew fear, I also knew it was not permanent. As powerful as it was, its grip on me would loosen. It would pass."
Dance, dance!
With the muse of Africa;
Tap, tap!
With the rhythm of Africa;
Moving your body and,
Moving your steps;
To the sounds and cultures of the various tribes in Africa.
Dance, dance!
To the rhythm of Africa;
Tap, tap!
With the movements of the muse of Africa;
To a continent of nature's muse,
To a continent of multi-languages,
To a continent full of colours!
Fron North, South, East and West;
Come to Africa and see things for yourselves.
Rhythm of Africa,
Rhythm of various customs and cultures,
Rhythm of the various countries in Africa,
Rhythm of the animals,
With the beauty of nature as seen around.
Dance, dance!
Dance with the steps and shake your body;
To the rhythm of Africa touching your heart and soul.
Tap, tap!
With the movements of the muse of Africa;
Rhythm of Africa!
With the muse of various races in Africa;
Expressing their cultures and customs to the muse of the rhythm of Africa.
LIFE is like a guidebook, offering insights on navigating through the highs and lows, twists and turns, and obstacles we encounter. It is filled with warmth, understanding, and valuable lessons that illuminate the joy found in simple moments. This book teaches us to embrace a life brimming with tranquillity, joy, and courage.
A deserving recipient of the 2016 Goodreads Choice Award. Discover Amanda Lovelace's captivating poetry collection, divided into four parts: The Princess, The Damsel, The Queen, and You. Unveil the author's journey through life in the first three sections, with the final part offering a heartfelt message to the reader. Dive into this poignant book, delving into themes of love, loss, grief, healing, empowerment, and inspiration.
A comprehensive account of South African history explores the time frame spanning from 1852 to 1918, emphasising key moments that impacted the diverse population of South Africa from the era of four distinct states to the era of unity and beyond. Engaging narratives showcase the complexities of our society, illustrating the struggles of forging a unified community from our varied cultures and people. The central theme of the title recurs consistently.
This poetry book is filled with all things sunshine without ignoring the storms. Pain is real. Anxiety is real. Depression is real. Hardships in life are real. I hope when you pick up this book you feel heard and comforted. Even if it doesn't seem like it right now, your sun will rise once again.
From a small city-state in the early 1600s, the Kingdom of Dahomey grew to be a significant force in West Africa two centuries later. The expansionist plans and dualism where every male role has a female counterpart of its rulers were well-known. This led to the growth of women as royal guards, elephant hunters, and, ultimately, warrioresses, who had a significant impact on society. Up to the end of the nineteenth century, Dahomey's kings relied on the agoji, a group of fierce and fearless warrioresses, to protect their country. French invasion in the area was resisted by King Bhanzin and his elite agoji soldiers, but they were eventually defeated by the superior weaponry of the adversary. Despite Dahomey's conversion to a French colony, the women defenders' legacy lives on in the country's history.
"There is an enemy. There is an intelligent, active, malign force working against us. Step one is to recognise this. This recognition alone is enormously powerful. It saved my life, and it will save yours." -- Steven Pressfield
Doris Lessing, a 2007 Nobel Prize winner in Literature. This is her best collection of African Stories. It includes every story Doris Lessing has written about Africa - The Old Chief's Country; The four tales about Africa from Five; The African stories from The Habit of Loving and A Man and Two Women; and four stories featured only in this edition.
"Ubuntu is very difficult to render into a Western language. It speaks of the very essence of being human. When we want to give high praise to someone we say, "Yu, u nobuntu"; "Hey, so-and-so has ubuntu." Then you are generous, you are hospitable, you are friendly and caring and compassionate. You share what you have. It is to say, "My humanity is caught up, is inextricably bound up, in yours." We belong in a bundle of life. We say, "A person is a person through other persons." It is not, "I think therefore I am." It says rather: "I am human because I belong. I participate, I share." A person with ubuntu is open and available to others, affirming of others, does not feel threatened that others are able and good, for he or she has a proper self-assurance that comes from knowing that he or she belongs in a greater whole and is diminished when others are humiliated or diminished, when others are tortured or oppressed, or treated as if they were less than who they are."
In the fight against neoliberalism, rural movements have gained prominence as crucial social forces. From Brazil and Mexico to Zimbabwe and the Philippines, these movements, with differing political ideologies but a shared foundation of dispossessed peasants and unemployed workers, have utilised tactics like land occupations to stand up against the neoliberal state.
Across three continents - Africa, Latin America, and Asia - this book compiles a set of original investigations on the latest rural social movements.
Why It's So Hard for White People to Talk About Racism.
With clarity and compassion, Robin DiAngelo allows us to understand racism as a practice not restricted to "bad people." In doing so, she moves our national discussions forward.
"If sharks were men," Mr. K. was asked by his landlady's little girl, "would they be nicer to the little fishes?"
"Certainly," he said. "If sharks were men, they would build enormous boxes in the ocean for the little fish, with all kinds of food inside, both vegetable and animal. They would take care that the boxes always had fresh water, and in general they would make all kinds of sanitary arrangements. If, for example, a little fish were to injure a fin, it would immediately be bandaged so that it would not die and be lost to the sharks before its time. So that the little fish would not become melancholy, there would be big water festivals from time to time because cheerful fish taste better than melancholy ones.
"There would, of course, also be schools in the big boxes. In these schools, the little fish would learn how to swim into the sharks' jaws. They would need to know geography, for example, so that they could find the big sharks, who lie idly around somewhere. The principal subject would, of course, be the moral education of the little fish. They would be taught that it would be the best and most beautiful thing in the world if a little fish sacrificed itself cheerfully and that they all had to believe the sharks, especially when the latter said they were providing for a beautiful future. The little fish would be taught that this future is assured only if they learnt obedience. The little fish had to beware of all base, materialist, egotistical, and Marxist inclinations, and if one of their number betrayed such inclinations, they had to report it to the sharks immediately.
"If sharks were men, they would, of course, also wage wars against one another in order to conquer other fish boxes and other little fish. The wars would be waged by their own little fish. They would teach their little fish that there was an enormous difference between themselves and the little fish belonging to the other sharks. Little fish, they would announce, are well known to be mute, but they are silent in quite different languages and hence find it impossible to understand one another. Each little fish that, in a war, killed a couple of other little fish, enemy ones, silent in their own language, would have a little order made of seaweed pinned to it and be awarded the title of hero.
"If sharks were men, there would, of course, also be art. There would be beautiful pictures in which the sharks' teeth would be portrayed in magnificent colours and their jaws as pure pleasure gardens, in which one could romp about splendidly. The theatres at the bottom of the sea would show heroic little fish swimming enthusiastically into the jaws of sharks, and the music would be so beautiful that to the accompaniment of its sounds, the orchestra leading the way, the little fish would stream dreamily into the sharks' jaws, lulled by the most agreeable thoughts.
"There would also be a religion if sharks were men. It would preach that little fish only really begin to live properly in the sharks' stomachs.
"Furthermore, if sharks were men, there would be an end to all little fish being equal, as is the case now. Some would be given important offices and be placed above the others. Those who were a little bigger would even be allowed to eat up the smaller ones. That would be altogether agreeable for the sharks, since they themselves would more often get bigger bites to eat. And the bigger little fish, occupying their posts, would ensure order among the little fish, become teachers, officers, engineers in box construction, etc.
"In short, if sharks were men, they would for the first time bring culture to the ocean."
We are the miracles that God made
To taste the bitter fruit of Time.
We are precious.
And one day our suffering
Will turn into the wonders of the earth.
There are things that burn me now
Which turn golden when I am happy.
Do you see the mystery of our pain?
That we bear poverty
And are able to sing and dream sweet things
And that we never curse the air when it is warm
Or the fruit when it tastes so good
Or the lights that bounce gently on the waters?
We bless things even in our pain.
We bless them in silence.
That is why our music is so sweet.
It makes the air remember.
There are secret miracles at work
That only Time will bring forth.
I too have heard the dead singing.
And they tell me that
This life is good
They tell me to live it gently
With fire, and always with hope.
There is wonder here
And there is surprise
In everything the unseen moves.
The ocean is full of songs.
The sky is not an enemy.
Destiny is our friend.
What is Africa to me:
Copper sun or scarlet sea,
Jungle star or jungle track,
Strong bronzed men, or regal black
Women from whose loins I sprang
When the birds of Eden sang?
One three centuries removed
From the scenes his fathers loved,
Spicy grove, cinnamon tree,
What is Africa to me?
So I lie, who all day long
Want no sound except the song
Sung by wild barbaric birds
Goading massive jungle herds,
Juggernauts of flesh that pass
Trampling tall defiant grass
Where young forest lovers lie,
Plighting troth beneath the sky.
So I lie, who always hear,
Though I cram against my ear
Both my thumbs, and keep them there,
Great drums throbbing through the air.
So I lie, whose fount of pride,
Dear distress, and joy allied,
Is my somber flesh and skin,
With the dark blood dammed within
Like great pulsing tides of wine
That, I fear, must burst the fine
Channels of the chafing net
Where they surge and foam and fret.
Africa?A book one thumbs
Listlessly, till slumber comes.
Unremembered are her bats
Circling through the night, her cats
Crouching in the river reeds,
Stalking gentle flesh that feeds
By the river brink; no more
Does the bugle-throated roar
Cry that monarch claws have leapt
From the scabbards where they slept.
Silver snakes that once a year
Doff the lovely coats you wear,
Seek no covert in your fear
Lest a mortal eye should see;
What's your nakedness to me?
Here no leprous flowers rear
Fierce corollas in the air;
Here no bodies sleek and wet,
Dripping mingled rain and sweat,
Tread the savage measures of
Jungle boys and girls in love.
What is last year's snow to me,
Last year's anything? The tree
Budding yearly must forget
How its past arose or set
Bough and blossom, flower, fruit,
Even what shy bird with mute
Wonder at her travail there,
Meekly labored in its hair.
One three centuries removed
From the scenes his fathers loved,
Spicy grove, cinnamon tree,
What is Africa to me?
So I lie, who find no peace
Night or day, no slight release
From the unremittent beat
Made by cruel padded feet
Walking through my body's street.
Up and down they go, and back,
Treading out a jungle track.
So I lie, who never quite
Safely sleep from rain at night--
I can never rest at all
When the rain begins to fall;
Like a soul gone mad with pain
I must match its weird refrain;
Ever must I twist and squirm,
Writhing like a baited worm,
While its primal measures drip
Through my body, crying, "Strip!
Doff this new exuberance.
Come and dance the Lover's Dance!"
In an old remembered way
Rain works on me night and day.
Quaint, outlandish heathen gods
Black men fashion out of rods,
Clay, and brittle bits of stone,
In a likeness like their own,
My conversion came high-priced;
I belong to Jesus Christ,
Preacher of humility;
Heathen gods are naught to me.
Father, Son, and Holy Ghost,
So I make an idle boast;
Jesus of the twice-turned cheek,
Lamb of God, although I speak
With my mouth thus, in my heart
Do I play a double part.
Ever at Thy glowing altar
Must my heart grow sick and falter,
Wishing He I served were black,
Thinking then it would not lack
Precedent of pain to guide it,
Let who would or might deride it;
Surely then this flesh would know
Yours had borne a kindred woe.
Lord, I fashion dark gods, too,
Daring even to give You
Dark despairing features where,
Crowned with dark rebellious hair,
Patience wavers just so much as
Mortal grief compels, while touches
Quick and hot, of anger, rise
To smitten cheek and weary eyes.
Lord, forgive me if my need
Sometimes shapes a human creed.
All day long and all night through,
One thing only must I do:
Quench my pride and cool my blood,
Lest I perish in the flood.
Lest a hidden ember set
Timber that I thought was wet
Burning like the dryest flax,
Melting like the merest wax,
Lest the grave restore its dead.
Not yet has my heart or head
In the least way realized
They and I are civilized.
No end of story has been told, several legends have been born; tiny runnels have wiped out into the Nile; massive water courses had gorged the Indian and the Atlantic.
Africa is the native land of all mankind species, our cherished fatherland is the continent of Africa; you are always welcome to Africa.
Jewels are found in the stain atop, pure beauty is found in our hearts; giving hope with full-blown vision.
For many people of the world, Africa is time and again seen through a spare monocle, purified curtain abodes of indigence, deprivation, illness, dearth, and blues.
Yes, we have our threat, it's true, but we are a people of physiques, resilience and faith; African elevation comes alive as a cloud nine.
Africa is a continent of countries, clans, of peoples; each with its olden days, its voice, its rainbows; its bounty of rituals, the diversity of its arts; and the charm of its civilization.
Africa is a nook of titanic conceivable of chow that is appetizing, fervent and sweet; Africa is not a spot of shadows, but a distance of light of a nightmare and opportunity; Africa is not a hole of pity, but a place of influence and self-respect.
We are the offshoot of a proud continent, Africa is where the sun steps up and bents with a scorching effulgence; making it a place where every day is a sunny season.
Dance, dance!
With the muse of Africa;
Tap, tap!
With the rhythm of Africa;
Moving your body and,
Moving your steps;
To the sounds and cultures of the various tribes in Africa.
Dance, dance!
To the rhythm of Africa;
Tap, tap!
With the movements of the muse of Africa;
To a continent of nature's muse,
To a continent of multi-languages,
To a continent full of colours!
Fron North, South, East and West;
Come to Africa and see things for yourselves.
Rhythm of Africa,
Rhythm of various customs and cultures,
Rhythm of the various countries in Africa,
Rhythm of the animals,
With the beauty of nature as seen around.
Dance, dance!
Dance with the steps and shake your body;
To the rhythm of Africa touching your heart and soul.
Tap, tap!
With the movements of the muse of Africa;
Rhythm of Africa!
With the muse of various races in Africa;
Expressing their cultures and customs to the muse of the rhythm of Africa.
Africa Africa Africa!
Oh the once mighty and heroic Africa
Why has thou grown so cold?
Why has thou remained thus numb?
A fremd is here in thy enclave
Battling thy home without mercy
And battering thy all in thy all
Before thy very eyes, oh Africa!
Thy peace is stolen
And fear injected in thy veins
With thy activities all at halt
All by same unwelcome visitor.
Thy hands are caged
And thy mouth silenced with mask
While thy children die in numbers
Before thy very eyes, oh Africa!
Hunger is dire in the land
Yet thy children are home and docked
For the fear of the fremd
And thou dost nothing.
Thou keepest quite, oh Africa!
In the midst of all these
Waiting for the Whites to solve thy puzzle
And the world to come to your rescue.
When hast thou grown lazy, Africa?
Where are thy ecumenic powers?
Where are thy roots and thy foods?
What happened to thy herbs?
Why art thou dependent on the Whites?
Why hope on them for solution?
Why look akimbo, oh Africa?
Can't solution come from thee?
Are thy bushes there in vain?
Thy creatures and powers to create
Africa, recall thy deeeds in the past
And mights and beauty in the days of old.
Arise, oh Africa, to save the world
For a fremd has trapped the earth
And the key with the earth remains
Arise oh Africa, and find ye the key.
Arise, Africa, Arise
Leverage thy powers and flowers
The world is waiting for your
Arise, oh Africa, arise
Africa, Our Africa
Africa of Green and Black, of colors in between
Africa of people, of love and light, from within
Africa of ethnics and languages, of long told history
Africa of cultures and traditions, a rich tapestry.
Africa of strife and victory through colonial time
Africa of struggle through imperial crime
Africa of war, both tribal and civil
Africa of peace, condemning evil
Africa of hope, freedom and liberation
Africa of growth, of change and innovation
Africa of then: men, women - slaves to capture
Africa of now: men, women - reclaiming our valor!
I am sorry
I am sorry that I am seen as inferior
I am sorry that I walk around real loud and oh so proud.
I am sorry that I stand out,
I stand out because I am different
Uxolo bhuti for being myself
For standing up for myself,
For fighting for my rights
Uxolo bhuti for wearing a dress
For wearing something that you might define as revealing
I, as intombi find this dress appealing
Ke maswabi that your imagination ran wild and left you aroused
Your thoughts, your actions
Are you proud
Are you proud that you left my dignity dead and my spirit without a chance to rise
Tshwarelo mama afrika
Your children have no love for each other
Your children are dancing with knives just for clout
Ringing their neighbours necks just for selling bread at half price
Some of your children are crying without a voice
Some of your children are left with scars that are not seen, without choice
Asseblief ma
Ek weet jy is kwaad
I know it hurts to see the gifts that you gave us flow like the fluent Tanganyika and into the rich man's mouth
I know it hurts to see the spirit of Ubuntu replaced by the spirit of Izita
Asseblief ma, retshwarele
I know it hurts that you're beginning to rifts apart like modern day families disconnecting
You're ripping apart from small Djibouti, down to vibrant Maputo
We all see that
We live in a patriarchal society where we find ourselves apologizing for being female,
And where smashing makes you alpha male
We all smell
The gunpowder over all the Chlorofluorocarbon emissions
We all smell the iron in the blood of the victims
Mothers and Fathers
Sisters and Brothers
We miss their presence as we see them disappear
We miss the safety of our hometowns
We need not a teaser nor a knife to feel safe
All we cry for is change
Nothing more
Nothing less
Just change
Pot of love,
Dot with life!
Spot of peace,
Hot like the sun;
Love Brewed In The African Pot!
My identity,
My continent,
My Country,
My land,
Love Brewed In The African Pot!
Mama Africa,
Africa! Africa!
My identity,
The Colour of my Skin,
The muse of life,
The muse of my mind,
Africa! Africa!
Cultures and Traditions,
My continent,
My Country,
My land,
My identity,
Love Brewed In The African Pot!
Mama Africa,
The continent of my birth,
With the muse of my mind to the world so sweet!
Poetry,
Way of life;
Presenting my works to the world,
From Africa!
Being an African,
Born and raised in Ghana,
My identity,
My life,
Love and art!
Love and life,
Peace and joy!
Mama Africa,
Africa! Africa!
Mama Africa,
Love Brewed In The African Pot!
With the fragrance of life and the romance of nature;
The beauty of creation,
The Harmony of life,
Mama Africa,
The Symphony of the truth!
With righteous morals;
Africa! Africa!
Mama Africa,
The colours of life,
With the aroma of creation;
Love Brewed In The African Pot!
Don't cry for me Africa
Because I will never let you out of my mind
I hear your voices people of Africa
I hear your cries people of Africa
I see pain in your eyes people of Africa
It is hard to describe what you people of Africa are going through
Poverty strikes you all people of Africa
Don't cry for me Africa
Because I will keep you in my prayers people of Africa
Power to the people of Africa
People of Africa lift your spirit higher
Lord is the light and truth people of Africa
The Lord sends you a message from his heart to you people of Africa
He said because I love you
I will answer your prayers
I hear your prayers
Don't cry for me Africa
Because you have a friend that is the Lord
People of Africa continue doing the Lord's work
Make a wish people of Africa
The people of Africa are looking at the Lord face to face
Lord here is no paradise
We dream a little dream said the people of Africa to the Lord
The People of Africa Pray that the Lord will give each other strength every day
Don't cry for me Africa
Save the people of Africa
Strengthened the people of Africa each day
Because I'll be there in your dreams people of Africa
The people of Africa tells The Lord how much they love him
Don't cry for me Africa
Lord comes when you are ready people of Africa
Feelings you have for your Lord People of Africa
And I know you will never let it die
Nothing but flowers the people of Africa will plant in the sea shore for the Lord
Don't cry for me Africa
The people of Africa needs hope to heal there land
The Lord rose up on you people of Africa
Don't cry for me Africa
My heart will go on
Once I close this door of the ship I will sail across the Atlantic Sea
Bitterbessie dagbreek
bitterbessie son
'n spieel het gebreek
tussen my en hom
Soek ek na die grootpad
om daarlangs te draf
oral draai die paadjies
van sy woorde af
Dennebos herinnering
dennebos vergeet
het ek ook verdwaal
trap ek in my leed
Papegaai-bont eggo
kierang kierang my
totdat ek bedroe
weer die koggel kry
Eggo is geen antwoord
antwoord hy alom
bitterbessie dagbreek
bitterbessie son
Believe you can, and you're halfway there.
"One of the sayings in our country is Ubuntu - the essence of being human. Ubuntu speaks particularly about the fact that you can't exist as a human being in isolation. It speaks about our interconnectedness. You can't be human all by yourself, and when you have this quality - Ubuntu - you are known for your generosity. We think of ourselves far too frequently as just individuals, separated from one another, whereas you are connected and what you do affects the whole world. When you do well, it spreads out; it is for the whole of humanity."
What To Read Next?
Girls at war and other stories
An assortment of Chinua Achebe's short fiction, composed north of twenty years and drawn from scholarly diaries and magazines.
Expert In All Styles
Echeruo has good ear. Regardless of the tale they tell, his stories are filled with heart, wit, and beauty, and his characters are expertly drawn.
Whale Caller
Experience a captivating narrative of love and jealousy in the enchanting coastal village of Hermanus, where the Whale Caller watches over the majestic creatures with reverence.
An African Story
"The pioneers in my family went to Rhodesia just before the Boer War in 1896, travelling on one of the first trains to Bulawayo. My father and uncle left home in 1928 going up to Northern Rhodesia to work on the copper mines. My grandfather opened up new gold mines in Penelonga and built the house at Manchester Gardens in the Eastern Highlands of Rhodesia. He ranched, mined, gambled and raised a family of five boys and a girl in an Africa that was very wild and primitive. My great grandfather was born in England, travelled in the Wild West of America before ending up in Cape Town where his daughter married my grandfather and travelled north. My mother arrived in Africa from England in 1936 under the auspices of the 1820 settlers club and travelled up to Northern Rhodesia where she met my father. My friends and I went to boarding school in Lusaka and many of us went on to achieve great things in life. The mining towns of the Copperbelt and the many old characters that lived in Rhodesia form a large part of the backdrop of my life. My wife, on an impulse, accepted a job with the copper mines in Zambia in 1968 as a young girl. She knew many of the characters in these stories and knows how likely the unlikely tales are. Out of all this comes a wealth of reality and myth that cannot possibly go untold."
Kingdom of Dahomey: A Brief Overview from Beginning to the End
The Kingdom of Dahomey, a West African kingdom that ruled for more than 300 years. It's the land of cannibalism, voodoo, brutal kings, beauty, and cruelty. This incredible story is unknown to many of us.