----------
The young sharing with their elders.
26 March 2011
25 March 2011
24 March 2011
22 March 2011
21 March 2011
sharpeville
A half century ago, police officers massacred 69 black South Africans in the township of Sharpeville, where protesters had burned the passbooks that the white-led apartheid government required them to carry at all times.The Sharpeville police mowed protesters down, shooting most in the back. No accountability. Nobody to turn to, in South Africa or abroad. The heavens told black South-Africans they were alone. "You're alone." And so they were. Many fled into exile, and Lesotho started having its first waves of South-African refugees, mostly from the PAC movement, which had organised the protests.
But survivors of the massacre here are tired of telling their stories: They are wondering when the change they thought they were fighting for 50 years ago will come to Sharpeville.
Residents in recent weeks have set fire to tyres in the streets to protest the lack of basic services such as electricity and running water.
"Our lives started changing with Nelson Mandela's release, but people are still financially struggling and finance is still in white people's hands," said Abram Mofokeng, who was 21 when officers opened fire on the protesters, shooting demonstrators including women and children as they ran away. Mofokeng still bears the scar where a bullet entered his back.
[source...]
We called them ma-PAC, the prefix signifying more than one, some, several, many. They played rugby at a football pitch in Motse-Mocha near the Setsoto stadium, a strange sport to us, 7 years old and staunch football players/fans. South Africa had just flipped the world a bird and got away with it. It would do so again in 1976 in a repeat performance that became Apartheid's last straw.
It's been a long time coming, but change is gonna come, sang Sam Cooke about America. He could have been singing about South Africa, or the world, even. For what is baffling is how Sharpeville 1960, Soweto 1976, King's and X's murders, the Civil Rights movement, Mandela's 27 years in jail, not to mention the thousands tortured and killed in South Africa, and tortured and lynched in America, what is baffling is how these have not entered the minds of all and instructed them on the evils of discrimination and segregation in all its forms. That is truly baffling to me.
It is also amazingly stunning that all these things happened and almost no one got punished for it, no international hunt for the wrong-doers, no motivation to see them "brought to justice," as George Bush the son would say about so many who had committed so less. Today is a day to remember and to know why it should be remembered, today is a learning day. To me it is also a bitter day.
Listen: "A Poem About Sharpeville"
What is important
about Sharpeville
is not that seventy died:
nor even that they were shot in the back
retreating, unarmed, defenseless
and certainly not
the heavy caliber slug
that tore through a mother’s back
and ripped through the child in her arms
killing it
Remember Sharpeville
bullet-in-the-back day
Because it epitomized oppression
and the nature of society
more clearly than anything else;
it was the classic event
Nowhere is racial dominance
more clearly defined
nowhere the will to oppress
more clearly demonstrated
what the world whispers
apartheid with snarling guns
the blood lust after
South Africa spills in the dust
Remember Sharpeville
Remember bullet-in-the-back day
And remember the unquenchable will for freedom
Remember the dead
and be glad.
© Dennis Brutus
19 March 2011
17 March 2011
15 March 2011
14 March 2011
Happy birthday, Geoffrey!
Geoffrey Philp has written a children's book, Grandpa Sydney's Anancy Stories, a novel, called Benjamin, My Son, books of short stories, Uncle Obadiah and the Alien as well as the more recent Who's Your Daddy, and five poetry collections, among them Exodus and Other Poems, Florida Bound, hurricane center, xango music, and Twelve Poems and A Story for Christmas. Geoffrey blogs at http://geoffreyphilp.blogspot.com and teaches English at Miami Dade College.
He also teaches poetry to me and to his many readers, and I'm glad today to celebrate him, and wish him a happy day of birth. Happy birthday, ntate.
A few other links:
Warner Woman: Version
(For Edward Baugh)
She came, they say, wearing a dress as red
as the dirt of the countryside, and stood
at the crossroads of Matilda’s Corner
shaking her fists at the mansions
on the hills. “The Spirit descended on me
to speak these words to the nation,
for they have wandered in paths
that I have not taught them.
For I have heard the cries of widows
and orphans in the streets, but the wicked
who fear neither flood nor famine,
and have built their fortresses, their walled
communities and garrisons have said,
‘Who is there like us to judge us?’
But thus sayeth the Lord of Hosts,
‘Kingston, O Kingston, how I would have loved
to have gathered you to my bosom
the way the sea caresses the shore.
But you have preferred storm and hurricane.
So I say, woe to you for you have slaughtered
my children, the old, and the crippled.
Woe to you for you have stoned and exiled
my prophets. Woe to you for your have defrauded
the homeless and the poor.” Then she ripped
her dress in two, spat on the asphalt three times,
and then, ran like a horse without its rider,
back up to Long Mountain, up into the darkness
gathering around the tops of the trees
with the smell of rain around their roots.
© Geoffrey Philp
A few other links:
Warner Woman: Version
(For Edward Baugh)
She came, they say, wearing a dress as red
as the dirt of the countryside, and stood
at the crossroads of Matilda’s Corner
shaking her fists at the mansions
on the hills. “The Spirit descended on me
to speak these words to the nation,
for they have wandered in paths
that I have not taught them.
For I have heard the cries of widows
and orphans in the streets, but the wicked
who fear neither flood nor famine,
and have built their fortresses, their walled
communities and garrisons have said,
‘Who is there like us to judge us?’
But thus sayeth the Lord of Hosts,
‘Kingston, O Kingston, how I would have loved
to have gathered you to my bosom
the way the sea caresses the shore.
But you have preferred storm and hurricane.
So I say, woe to you for you have slaughtered
my children, the old, and the crippled.
Woe to you for you have stoned and exiled
my prophets. Woe to you for your have defrauded
the homeless and the poor.” Then she ripped
her dress in two, spat on the asphalt three times,
and then, ran like a horse without its rider,
back up to Long Mountain, up into the darkness
gathering around the tops of the trees
with the smell of rain around their roots.
© Geoffrey Philp
13 March 2011
12 March 2011
JoAnn says I should go read "The Bell Curve".
You, JoAnn, say: Africa's share of world trade is only 3% compared with over 7% in 1948. Most of that trade comes from South Africa and African oil and gas producers. Crude oil comprises more than half of Africa's exports. In two-thirds of Sub-Saharan African (SSA) countries, one or two products account for at least 60% of the country’s total exports. Only 3 African countries are in the world's top 50 exports — South Africa (39th), Algeria (42nd) and Nigeria (43rd). Africa's share of global FDI is a mere 3%. South Africa and Nigeria account for 54% of Sub Saharan Africa's GDP. 45% of SSA's population live in extreme poverty (compared with 41% twenty years ago) — this is the highest of any continent. And a further 30% live in moderate poverty. Life expectancy in SSA is 47 compared with 69 for East Asia and 78 for developed countries.
According to surveys, African countries are the most difficult in the world in which to do business. Access to finance, infrastructure, institutions and skills are the most severe constraints cited by entrepreneurs. African countries have the highest levels of corruption. Africa has a large number of failed states. (Everything you say I quote from this comment)
Rethabile says: I'd like to rebut you with a "so?" -- or with Mr Tladi's poem, The Sophisticated Skinhead. Especially the last stanza. But no, I think I'll reply to you directly, although I know from the arguments you put forth to prove that I am stupider than you are (I'm guessing your tan isn't very groovy), that you haven't read the post you commented on, nor the other commenters' remarks.
You can bring as many statistics as you want, and I may even agree with many of them, it still doesn't prove that white people or yellow people are smarter than black people. Unfortunately for you, there's history, things have happened that have had a major influence on how the world's populations fare today.
You want me to read The Bell Curve? Guess what, I have. And apart from its logic being flawed and non-inclusive, it's a dumb book. I want you to go read any book by Naomi Klein; to go read any book by Tim Wise.
(Don't worry, they're both white).
A meteor was the "slavery--colonisation--jim.crow--unfair.trade.practices--you.name.it" of dinosaurs. Think about that for a moment. Africa has the largest number of failed states. Well, dinosaurs have the largest number of dead individuals, in fact just about all of them are dead. If you apply your argument to this fact, what does it mean? Dinosaurs had more of which hormone? A lesser brain than whom? Statistics? I'll give you statistics.
You say that "To some extent, Africa is the continent of lost hope. Most African countries seemed to be a much better starting position 50 years ago than the East Asian economies. While Asia exceeded all expectations, Africa dashed its hope. Biology is the great determiner of how or whether one orders one's life and delays gratification for greater, long-term gain."
Rethabile says: How much biology do you know? And is it from The Bell Curve? Or it is perhaps from de Gobineau, who "questioned the belief that the black and yellow races belong to the same human family as the white race and share a common ancestor"? (3). Reading your comment tells me you have nicked copiously from both Richard Herrnstein (author of The Bell Curve) and Arthur de Gobineau (crazy 19th centuryscientist quack). Here's some of what de Gobineau says, from link 3 above:
You say: "IQ, testosterone and the sizes of the different parts of the brain, are genetic for the greatest part. Relatively low IQ and relatively high testosterone compel individuals to aggressive activity with little to no fore-planning. The different races are biologically different, and this includes IQ and internal chemistry (testosterone, etc.)."
Rethabile says: You have no idea how wrong you are. You just don't know what you're talking about. First off, I beg you to understand that I do not want my skin to be white. What I'm about to say is the plain truth. I'm happy being black, but any other colour, what difference would it make (except perhaps to enjoy better priviledges)?
You (if you're white, which you probably are) and I are the same. We are the same species. We are homo sapiens sapiens, come out of Africa eons ago. Our ancestors (yours and mine) include both Lucy and probably the Sahelanthropus tchadensis Toumaï. We are the same as a white pigeon and a grey one are the same. Black Africans have been shown to be closer genetically to white Europeans than to Australian aborigenes. Colour is superficial. A silver alsatian and a gold alsatian. A dapple-grey mustang (Equus ferus caballus) and a brown one. A red Volkswagen beetle and a pink one. I mean, what the hell are you talking about, JoAnn?
Genetics in fact proves the opposite of what you say (we're different). Genetics shows that people are the same all over the world. I do not know why anybody would expect the opposite.
Have you heard of stereotype threat?
You say: "Read the Bell Curve and check out 'IQ and the Wealth of Nations'."
Rethabile says: No, thank you. I've read one and I'm not interested in reading the other.
You say: "Caucasians do not have the highest, overall IQ of the three major races. Mongoloids (Asians) hold that claim. I postulate that the higher success of Caucasians versus the other races is due to their relatively higher average IQ’s in combination with a testosterone level higher than Mongoloids, and significantly lower than Negroes. This allows for a high level of fore-planning, and delayed gratification, and adequate, but not overpowering assertive/aggressiveness.
Rethabile says: IQ is another trap. And please stop using the word "races" so liberally. It implies that there are several human races. But the truth is that we're "the only living species in the Homo genus of bipedal primates in Hominidae, the great ape family" [source]. Now back to IQ.
IQ doesn't mean anything as to the intelligence of a human being per se. It means something as to the intelligence of a human being in a white, occidental, colonialist setting. OK, I got carried away, but there's ample reason. I meant to say "in an occidental setting." Put me in your environment and give me your tests, I'll do badly. I'd like to see you or your smartest white person in my black environment with my black tests.
According to surveys, African countries are the most difficult in the world in which to do business. Access to finance, infrastructure, institutions and skills are the most severe constraints cited by entrepreneurs. African countries have the highest levels of corruption. Africa has a large number of failed states. (Everything you say I quote from this comment)
Rethabile says: I'd like to rebut you with a "so?" -- or with Mr Tladi's poem, The Sophisticated Skinhead. Especially the last stanza. But no, I think I'll reply to you directly, although I know from the arguments you put forth to prove that I am stupider than you are (I'm guessing your tan isn't very groovy), that you haven't read the post you commented on, nor the other commenters' remarks.
You can bring as many statistics as you want, and I may even agree with many of them, it still doesn't prove that white people or yellow people are smarter than black people. Unfortunately for you, there's history, things have happened that have had a major influence on how the world's populations fare today.
You want me to read The Bell Curve? Guess what, I have. And apart from its logic being flawed and non-inclusive, it's a dumb book. I want you to go read any book by Naomi Klein; to go read any book by Tim Wise.
(Don't worry, they're both white).
A meteor was the "slavery--colonisation--jim.crow--unfair.trade.practices--you.name.it" of dinosaurs. Think about that for a moment. Africa has the largest number of failed states. Well, dinosaurs have the largest number of dead individuals, in fact just about all of them are dead. If you apply your argument to this fact, what does it mean? Dinosaurs had more of which hormone? A lesser brain than whom? Statistics? I'll give you statistics.
...a total of 16% of Americans accept real evolution—purposeless and unguided by God. That’s up from 9% in 1982, and may be a real trend. Still, it’s dispiriting to realize that fewer than one in six Americans accepts evolution in the way scientists accept it.(1)The writer above goes on to say that "acceptance of evolution is positively correlated with level of education; here’s the table from the Gallup survey. Still, only one in four Americans with a postgraduate degree accepts real, unguided evolution". So, is that due to education and exposure, or to levels of testoterone in the blood? Here's another stat.
"About 1 in 4 Americans can name more than one of the five freedoms guaranteed by the First Amendment (freedom of speech, religion, press, assembly and petition for redress of grievances.) But more than half of Americans can name at least two members of the fictional cartoon family [The Simpsons], according to a survey.(2)You have failed to ask yourself the fundamental question of why so few African countries are rich, but especially and more telling, why so many "developed" countries are. As a result, I refuse to address each of your statistics singly.
You say that "To some extent, Africa is the continent of lost hope. Most African countries seemed to be a much better starting position 50 years ago than the East Asian economies. While Asia exceeded all expectations, Africa dashed its hope. Biology is the great determiner of how or whether one orders one's life and delays gratification for greater, long-term gain."
Rethabile says: How much biology do you know? And is it from The Bell Curve? Or it is perhaps from de Gobineau, who "questioned the belief that the black and yellow races belong to the same human family as the white race and share a common ancestor"? (3). Reading your comment tells me you have nicked copiously from both Richard Herrnstein (author of The Bell Curve) and Arthur de Gobineau (crazy 19th century
"[He] believed the white race was superior to the other races in the creation of civilized culture and maintaining ordered government. However, he also thought that the development of civilization in other periods was different than in his own and speculated that other races might have superior qualities in those civilization periods than in his own. Nonetheless, he believed European civilization represented the best of what remained of ancient civilizations and held the most superior attributes capable for continued survival. His primary thesis in regards to this theory was that European civilizational flowering from Greece to Rome and Germanic to contemporary sprang from, and corresponded to, the ancient Indo-European culture, also known as 'Aryan'."
You say: "IQ, testosterone and the sizes of the different parts of the brain, are genetic for the greatest part. Relatively low IQ and relatively high testosterone compel individuals to aggressive activity with little to no fore-planning. The different races are biologically different, and this includes IQ and internal chemistry (testosterone, etc.)."
Rethabile says: You have no idea how wrong you are. You just don't know what you're talking about. First off, I beg you to understand that I do not want my skin to be white. What I'm about to say is the plain truth. I'm happy being black, but any other colour, what difference would it make (except perhaps to enjoy better priviledges)?
You (if you're white, which you probably are) and I are the same. We are the same species. We are homo sapiens sapiens, come out of Africa eons ago. Our ancestors (yours and mine) include both Lucy and probably the Sahelanthropus tchadensis Toumaï. We are the same as a white pigeon and a grey one are the same. Black Africans have been shown to be closer genetically to white Europeans than to Australian aborigenes. Colour is superficial. A silver alsatian and a gold alsatian. A dapple-grey mustang (Equus ferus caballus) and a brown one. A red Volkswagen beetle and a pink one. I mean, what the hell are you talking about, JoAnn?
Genetics in fact proves the opposite of what you say (we're different). Genetics shows that people are the same all over the world. I do not know why anybody would expect the opposite.
Have you heard of stereotype threat?
You say: "Read the Bell Curve and check out 'IQ and the Wealth of Nations'."
Rethabile says: No, thank you. I've read one and I'm not interested in reading the other.
You say: "Caucasians do not have the highest, overall IQ of the three major races. Mongoloids (Asians) hold that claim. I postulate that the higher success of Caucasians versus the other races is due to their relatively higher average IQ’s in combination with a testosterone level higher than Mongoloids, and significantly lower than Negroes. This allows for a high level of fore-planning, and delayed gratification, and adequate, but not overpowering assertive/aggressiveness.
Rethabile says: IQ is another trap. And please stop using the word "races" so liberally. It implies that there are several human races. But the truth is that we're "the only living species in the Homo genus of bipedal primates in Hominidae, the great ape family" [source]. Now back to IQ.
IQ doesn't mean anything as to the intelligence of a human being per se. It means something as to the intelligence of a human being in a white, occidental, colonialist setting. OK, I got carried away, but there's ample reason. I meant to say "in an occidental setting." Put me in your environment and give me your tests, I'll do badly. I'd like to see you or your smartest white person in my black environment with my black tests.
Modern genetic studies, published as "The History and Geography of Human Genes" (Luca Cavalli-Sforza, Paolo Menozzi and Alberto Piazza), divides humanity into four major ethnic regions, African (Khoisan), Caucasoids (Basque), Mongoloids (American Indian) and Australians (Aborigine) (Time, No. 3, 1995). With fossil evidence these recent findings confirm the African origin of humanity. Africans have the greatest genetic distance from the rest of humanity, showing that on the human family tree, the split from the Africans occurred before the other branches. Australian aborigines are genetically the most distant from the Africans.(4)Rethabile says: Where does that leave your colour argument for the greater, whiter (or yellower) civilisation (except in tatters), JoAnn? But wait, let me quote somebody else, because I just know you read neither my original post nor the ensuing comments, a post you commented on. Here goes:
What is intelligence, anyway? When I was in the army, I received the kind of aptitude test that all soldiers took and, against a normal of 100, scored 160. No one at the base had ever seen a figure like that, and for two hours they made a big fuss over me. (It didn't mean anything. The next day I was still a buck private with KP - kitchen police - as my highest duty.)
All my life I've been registering scores like that, so that I have the complacent feeling that I'm highly intelligent, and I expect other people to think so too. Actually, though, don't such scores simply mean that I am very good at answering the type of academic questions that are considered worthy of answers by people who make up the intelligence tests - people with intellectual bents similar to mine?
For instance, I had an auto-repair man once, who, on these intelligence tests, could not possibly have scored more than 80, by my estimate. I always took it for granted that I was far more intelligent than he was. Yet, when anything went wrong with my car I hastened to him with it, watched him anxiously as he explored its vitals, and listened to his pronouncements as though they were divine oracles - and he always fixed my car.
Well, then, suppose my auto-repair man devised questions for an intelligence test. Or suppose a carpenter did, or a farmer, or, indeed, almost anyone but an academician. By every one of those tests, I'd prove myself a moron, and I'd be a moron, too. In a world where I could not use my academic training and my verbal talents but had to do something intricate or hard, working with my hands, I would do poorly. My intelligence, then, is not absolute but is a function of the society I live in and of the fact that a small subsection of that society has managed to foist itself on the rest as an arbiter of such matters.
Consider my auto-repair man, again. He had a habit of telling me jokes whenever he saw me. One time he raised his head from under the automobile hood to say: "Doc, a deaf-and-mute guy went into a hardware store to ask for some nails. He put two fingers together on the counter and made hammering motions with the other hand. The clerk brought him a hammer. He shook his head and pointed to the two fingers he was hammering. The clerk brought him nails. He picked out the sizes he wanted, and left. Well, doc, the next guy who came in was a blind man. He wanted scissors. How do you suppose he asked for them?"
Indulgently, I lifted by [sic] right hand and made scissoring motions with my first two fingers. Whereupon my auto-repair man laughed raucously and said, "Why, you dumb jerk, He used his voice and asked for them." Then he said smugly, "I've been trying that on all my customers today." "Did you catch many?" I asked. "Quite a few," he said, "but I knew for sure I'd catch you." "Why is that?" I asked. "Because you're so goddamned educated, doc, I knew you couldn't be very smart."
And I have an uneasy feeling he had something there (5).
11 March 2011
9 March 2011
7 March 2011
Zambesi Paen 1995
mhembwe Shona word for 'duikers' (small antelopes)
Mwari Shona supreme god
vanhu Shona word for 'people'
Our old imported craft (Ah! but it knows
how to get through) insinuates its way
through driftwood logs their goggle eyes
(such legerdemain!) closed yes but still
waiting on time. Laden it ploughs past sleek-
skinned hippopotami who fan their fat
backsides claiming rights on this Grand River.
A snout submits a yellow yawn methodical
and wide. Why what sharp teeth you have! This from
some wit aboard. Nervy chuckles invade
luxuriant gallery forest green.
Everywhere else in this enormous stone
house Mwari's land is thirsty dry as bone.
Mhembwe perish in droves. Vanhu old and
young die as well but sovereign states
are sovereign and the price extorted by
an evil commonweal is fealty
or death. We reach and tie up at the dock
to rubberneck. There's nothing here but there
is everything. Leaves leap about the sky
strung by their tails. Moulting streams soar and flap
into the bush. Lianas dart tough tongues
to rope the heavens in lasso the clouds.
The trapped sky belches hawks but not a spit
of rain. On the bank frantic apes with eyes
perfect as wounds polished by worms extend
imploring arms in baleful port de bras
twirl wobbly pirouettes leap for leftovers flung
at water that laps still as before time.
"Once" says the guide "We all swam here, reptiles
and all. But now they take what falls in as
fair game." He smiles. We fail to grasp his wry
significance. The vessel turns downstream
towards torrents named after the tubby queen
that pour imperial gallons down a monumental scarp.
Headlong in the slim gorge next door
manic sauteurs bungee jump in
to plunder air all that's still left.
Trippers disgorging hurl bile on the waves;
gigantic haunches shrug the vomit off
as sacred crocodiles in camouflage
submerge and falcons roaming keep time in the sky.
© Pamela Mordecai 2010
----------
Pamela Claire Mordecai (born 1942 in Kingston, Jamaica) is a Jamaican writer, teacher, and scholar and poet. She attended high school in Jamaica and college in the USA, where she did a first degree in English. A trained language-arts teacher with a PhD in English, she has taught at secondary and tertiary levels, trained teachers, and worked in media and in publishing.
Mordecai has written articles on Caribbean literature, education and publishing, and has collaborated on, or herself written, over thirty books, including textbooks, children’s books, and four books of poetry for adults. She has edited several anthologies. Her poems and stories for children are widely known and have been used in textbooks in the UK, Canada, the USA, West Africa and the Caribbean. Her short stories have been published in journals and anthologies in the Caribbean, the USA and Canada.
Mordecai has lived in Toronto, Ontario, Canada since 1994, but the Caribbean experience continues to be the focus of her writing.
[source...]
----------
Other work by Pam here and elsewhere
Mwari Shona supreme god
vanhu Shona word for 'people'
Our old imported craft (Ah! but it knows
how to get through) insinuates its way
through driftwood logs their goggle eyes
(such legerdemain!) closed yes but still
waiting on time. Laden it ploughs past sleek-
skinned hippopotami who fan their fat
backsides claiming rights on this Grand River.
A snout submits a yellow yawn methodical
and wide. Why what sharp teeth you have! This from
some wit aboard. Nervy chuckles invade
luxuriant gallery forest green.
Everywhere else in this enormous stone
house Mwari's land is thirsty dry as bone.
Mhembwe perish in droves. Vanhu old and
young die as well but sovereign states
are sovereign and the price extorted by
an evil commonweal is fealty
or death. We reach and tie up at the dock
to rubberneck. There's nothing here but there
is everything. Leaves leap about the sky
strung by their tails. Moulting streams soar and flap
into the bush. Lianas dart tough tongues
to rope the heavens in lasso the clouds.
The trapped sky belches hawks but not a spit
of rain. On the bank frantic apes with eyes
perfect as wounds polished by worms extend
imploring arms in baleful port de bras
twirl wobbly pirouettes leap for leftovers flung
at water that laps still as before time.
"Once" says the guide "We all swam here, reptiles
and all. But now they take what falls in as
fair game." He smiles. We fail to grasp his wry
significance. The vessel turns downstream
towards torrents named after the tubby queen
that pour imperial gallons down a monumental scarp.
Headlong in the slim gorge next door
manic sauteurs bungee jump in
to plunder air all that's still left.
Trippers disgorging hurl bile on the waves;
gigantic haunches shrug the vomit off
as sacred crocodiles in camouflage
submerge and falcons roaming keep time in the sky.
© Pamela Mordecai 2010
----------
Pamela Claire Mordecai (born 1942 in Kingston, Jamaica) is a Jamaican writer, teacher, and scholar and poet. She attended high school in Jamaica and college in the USA, where she did a first degree in English. A trained language-arts teacher with a PhD in English, she has taught at secondary and tertiary levels, trained teachers, and worked in media and in publishing.
Mordecai has written articles on Caribbean literature, education and publishing, and has collaborated on, or herself written, over thirty books, including textbooks, children’s books, and four books of poetry for adults. She has edited several anthologies. Her poems and stories for children are widely known and have been used in textbooks in the UK, Canada, the USA, West Africa and the Caribbean. Her short stories have been published in journals and anthologies in the Caribbean, the USA and Canada.
Mordecai has lived in Toronto, Ontario, Canada since 1994, but the Caribbean experience continues to be the focus of her writing.
[source...]
----------
Other work by Pam here and elsewhere
- Yarn Spinner
- To No Music
- Yellow Girl Blues
- Interview on Poéfrika
- Pam Mordecai books on Amazon
- Pam's blog
4 March 2011
Happy birthday, Miriam Makeba!
Miriam Zenzi Makeba was born in Johannesburg in 1932. Her mother was a Swazi sangoma and her father, who died when she was six, was a Xhosa. Her professional career began in the 1950s with the Manhattan Brothers, before she formed her own group, The Skylarks, singing a blend of jazz and traditional melodies of South Africa.What I personally remember of Miriam is the voice, and the way she was beloved. My folks listened to her at the same time as they listened to Jim Reeves (go figure), and the two form the basis of my pre-teen musical heritage, together with my mother singing around her chores, around her cooking, singing Sesotho traditional songs or Miriam's Xhosa songs: The Click Song, or Khawuleza. Beautiful woman. Happy birthday to her.
In 1959, she performed in the musical King Kong alongside Hugh Masekela, her future husband. Though she was a successful recording artist, she was only receiving a few dollars for each recording session and no provisional royalties, and was keen to go to the US. Her break came when she starred in the anti-Apartheid documentary Come Back, Africa in 1959. When the Italian government invited her to the premier of the film at the Venice Film Festival, she decided not to return home. Her South African passport was revoked shortly afterwards.
Makeba then travelled to London where she met Harry Belafonte, who assisted her in gaining entry to and fame in the United States. She released many of her most famous hits there including Pata Pata, The Click Song (Qongqothwane in Xhosa), and Malaika. In 1966, Makeba received the Grammy Award for Best Folk Recording together with Harry Belafonte for An Evening With Belafonte/Makeba. The album dealt with the political plight of black South Africans under Apartheid
[more...].
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2 March 2011
Gary Soto's "Making the News"
It's not right to burn newsprint,
The stink of ink in the air,
But I have to crumple at least a few pages
And strike a match in the fireplace-
The bad years go up in a question mark of smoke.
Or should I make confetti from the sports section,
Or shape a dunce hat from the business page-
I, the investor in rubber bands
That shot me in the foot.
Or should I cut out coupons-
Two cans of soup for the price of one.
Or, for a laugh, should I spread open the comics
On the kitchen table and string a macaroni necklace,
The playground craft I could master.
I choose smoke and fire,
The sting in my eyes on this January day,
And poke a wreath of newspaper
Until it crackles with a steady fire.
Let's air out the square and oval rooms.
Let's wave at a dog frolicking on the lawn.
Let's hear children and the tap of rain on a tulip.
Let's welcome the new resident to our house,
His handshake strong from the clasp of so many.
© Gary Soto
[source...]
The stink of ink in the air,
But I have to crumple at least a few pages
And strike a match in the fireplace-
The bad years go up in a question mark of smoke.
Or should I make confetti from the sports section,
Or shape a dunce hat from the business page-
I, the investor in rubber bands
That shot me in the foot.
Or should I cut out coupons-
Two cans of soup for the price of one.
Or, for a laugh, should I spread open the comics
On the kitchen table and string a macaroni necklace,
The playground craft I could master.
I choose smoke and fire,
The sting in my eyes on this January day,
And poke a wreath of newspaper
Until it crackles with a steady fire.
Let's air out the square and oval rooms.
Let's wave at a dog frolicking on the lawn.
Let's hear children and the tap of rain on a tulip.
Let's welcome the new resident to our house,
His handshake strong from the clasp of so many.
© Gary Soto
[source...]
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