Poetry
Behind the Scenes
By Josh Jacques
Waves of apathy reverberate through the air
The uncaring nature of the average student
Is present on the face of everyone you pass
The oblivious nature of humanity is within everything you see,
Beautiful girls tricking their minds into distorting their bodies,
Lying to their families through faked smiles
About what really goes on in the darkness of their rooms.
A boy sits in a classroom, wishing to be alone.
Throughout the day, person after person
Throwing small punches or slaps,
Laughing because he doesn’t fight back.
How could they know why he won’t raise his fists
Why would he? Standing up is pointless
All they see is this performance of living life happy,
Smiling and holding passing grades.
This shadowed curtain hiding them from behind the scenes
Back where depression and sadness grasp the reins
And they are pulling them too tightly
Racing him endlessly around a dusty track
Until he wonders, why fight? Why ask for help?
His best friend secured on a hospital bed,
Taunts and little jabs about the scars on her wrists
Driving her to yet another suicide attempt.
Just add another pill to her routine
Make sure her head is reeling too much to load a gun.
Make her hand too shaky to press a knife to her wrist.
Propel her life into a downward spiral
Making it more miserable than it was,
Before she overdosed on the very medicine they gave her.
The violence we hear of
Is purely from gleaming blades and the flashing barrels of guns,
Gangsters and drug lords in big cities causing chaos.
But the fears of this chaos are nothing to the fears hidden behind the scenes
The fear of a voice or a fist.
Driving you to the point of thinking; how could death be worse than this?
By Josh Jacques
Waves of apathy reverberate through the air
The uncaring nature of the average student
Is present on the face of everyone you pass
The oblivious nature of humanity is within everything you see,
Beautiful girls tricking their minds into distorting their bodies,
Lying to their families through faked smiles
About what really goes on in the darkness of their rooms.
A boy sits in a classroom, wishing to be alone.
Throughout the day, person after person
Throwing small punches or slaps,
Laughing because he doesn’t fight back.
How could they know why he won’t raise his fists
Why would he? Standing up is pointless
All they see is this performance of living life happy,
Smiling and holding passing grades.
This shadowed curtain hiding them from behind the scenes
Back where depression and sadness grasp the reins
And they are pulling them too tightly
Racing him endlessly around a dusty track
Until he wonders, why fight? Why ask for help?
His best friend secured on a hospital bed,
Taunts and little jabs about the scars on her wrists
Driving her to yet another suicide attempt.
Just add another pill to her routine
Make sure her head is reeling too much to load a gun.
Make her hand too shaky to press a knife to her wrist.
Propel her life into a downward spiral
Making it more miserable than it was,
Before she overdosed on the very medicine they gave her.
The violence we hear of
Is purely from gleaming blades and the flashing barrels of guns,
Gangsters and drug lords in big cities causing chaos.
But the fears of this chaos are nothing to the fears hidden behind the scenes
The fear of a voice or a fist.
Driving you to the point of thinking; how could death be worse than this?
Reflection: My growth as a poet through this project
Through the process of writing my poem, I have gone through multiple drafts. In the earlier drafts it was poorly written, and without much thought put into it. I had made a cliché poem about bullying and violence with a rhyme scheme that controlled the entire poem and didn’t let it flow. Then I rewrote my entire poem. I spent more time on it and put more emotion into it. After a few critiques, I had a poem that I was proud of and that had an aspect of originality that helped to give it a deeper meaning of what people will drive us to do.
One change that I made to my poem in the progress from first to final draft was to include personal experience. In the early draft I had included lines that while had good imagery, were also repetitive and cliché, such as: “In this battleground full of strife, Day after day, what a terrible life.”
I felt like it needed to be changed first of all because I didn’t think it made for powerful work, and then in a group critique I was told that it really needed to be changed. In the final draft; rather than talking about physical violence, I wrote about the mental violence and strain brought on in school and throughout life. “Taunts and little jabs about the scars on her wrists. Driving her to yet another suicide attempt.”
Another change made in fixing my poem was removing the rhyme scheme. Early in the making of my poem I had included a rhyme scheme that made the poem into short meaningless lines with a very forced rhyme scheme. “And move, just try to avoid him but you are grabbed, the future must be dim Nabbed by him and his Neanderthal resembling chums thrown into the dirt like a beggar begging for crumbs”. Removing this rhyme scheme made it so that I could expand the vocabulary usage in the poem. It also enabled me to make the poem longer and have more meaning than just something written to have a rhyme scheme. I made this change when advised to do so by my critique group. I believe that it made the poem have more meaning and sound less cheesy.
In the original draft, ending the poem I had “In this battleground full of strife, day after day, what a terrible life.” In the final draft instead of having these lines I wrote an entire stanza saying the same thing but more in depth. The violence we hear of, Is purely from gleaming blades and the flashing barrels of guns, Gangsters and drug lords in big cities causing chaos. But the fears of this chaos are nothing to the fears hidden behind the scenes, the fear of a voice or a fist. Driving you to the point of thinking; how could death be worse than this?” I think that this paragraph broadened the meaning of the poem greatly, and rather than ending it with two lines that were poorly thought out I ended it with a powerful stanza.
Through the process of writing my poem, I have gone through multiple drafts. In the earlier drafts it was poorly written, and without much thought put into it. I had made a cliché poem about bullying and violence with a rhyme scheme that controlled the entire poem and didn’t let it flow. Then I rewrote my entire poem. I spent more time on it and put more emotion into it. After a few critiques, I had a poem that I was proud of and that had an aspect of originality that helped to give it a deeper meaning of what people will drive us to do.
One change that I made to my poem in the progress from first to final draft was to include personal experience. In the early draft I had included lines that while had good imagery, were also repetitive and cliché, such as: “In this battleground full of strife, Day after day, what a terrible life.”
I felt like it needed to be changed first of all because I didn’t think it made for powerful work, and then in a group critique I was told that it really needed to be changed. In the final draft; rather than talking about physical violence, I wrote about the mental violence and strain brought on in school and throughout life. “Taunts and little jabs about the scars on her wrists. Driving her to yet another suicide attempt.”
Another change made in fixing my poem was removing the rhyme scheme. Early in the making of my poem I had included a rhyme scheme that made the poem into short meaningless lines with a very forced rhyme scheme. “And move, just try to avoid him but you are grabbed, the future must be dim Nabbed by him and his Neanderthal resembling chums thrown into the dirt like a beggar begging for crumbs”. Removing this rhyme scheme made it so that I could expand the vocabulary usage in the poem. It also enabled me to make the poem longer and have more meaning than just something written to have a rhyme scheme. I made this change when advised to do so by my critique group. I believe that it made the poem have more meaning and sound less cheesy.
In the original draft, ending the poem I had “In this battleground full of strife, day after day, what a terrible life.” In the final draft instead of having these lines I wrote an entire stanza saying the same thing but more in depth. The violence we hear of, Is purely from gleaming blades and the flashing barrels of guns, Gangsters and drug lords in big cities causing chaos. But the fears of this chaos are nothing to the fears hidden behind the scenes, the fear of a voice or a fist. Driving you to the point of thinking; how could death be worse than this?” I think that this paragraph broadened the meaning of the poem greatly, and rather than ending it with two lines that were poorly thought out I ended it with a powerful stanza.
Globalization
Op-Ed:Josh Jacques
The Discordant Reality of World Music
Globalization, the entire world available to us at a moment’s notice. The speed and reliability that we expect in today’s world. But when does globalization’s expanding and combining go too far? Throughout North America and Europe what is referred to as “World Music” is becoming more and more popular.
Many see world music as a good thing, it spreads other cultures’ music throughout the world. It also spreads money to the economies of other countries, and it gives jobs to musicians throughout the world. While to an extent this is correct, it is far more complex, and deceitful.
The expansion of globalization and western music is destroying traditional music.
In the introduction to Bob White’s Rethinking Globalization Through Music he states: “Yet today, listening to the various forms of music being marketed under the label ‘world music,’ something appears to be different about this historical moment. From our current perspective, world music gives the impression of opening our ears to a vast realm of cultural and political possibilities but at the same time seems to usher in vaguely familiar forms of cultural expansionism and exploitation” (Rethinking Globalization Through Music, White).
This speaks of “world music”, rather than increasing the wealth of other countries and their musicians, it is being used to give companies in the west a huge profit. Throughout the history of globalization there have been repeated incidents of exploitation such as sweatshops in India paying their workers very low wages to give us what we want cheaper.
Throughout the world, many talented musicians are being ignored or forced to change due to their traditional styles. Then even after they make those changes they are given very little of the returns from their efforts. The producers and labels take larger cuts than the actual artist, the one putting all the effort into it.
A music theorist in 2006 wrote: “If we segregate "world music" off to a special section, and run it through special cross-over arrangements to make it smoother and remove some of the rough edges, we're killing it” (“Pilgrimage to Parnassus”).
World Music is giving musicians throughout the world a chance to make a living. While this is true, it is also forcing these musicians to change their style of music from something traditional to something westernized to sell to a European and American audience. Music companies, producers, and labels, have been changing the styles used, the types of instruments, rhythms removing the rough edges and unique styles. They are committing these atrocities towards the music, just so they can make more money.
CBC News states: “Illegal music downloads remain a problem worldwide, particularly in potentially huge markets such as Russia, India, and China” (CBC news). While the Internet as a whole seems to be just a way of sharing your own culture with people who may as well be on another planet, it also gives these strangers power over these musicians own music. Their own creations. Those few worldly artists can have their music pirated for free hundreds of times a day, or possibly even claimed by a third party.
On the other side of world, America and other western cultures are producing music that spreads instantly throughout the world. This music is becoming the norm throughout other cultures. Rather than even caring about their traditional music, all that can be heard in many countries is westernized music. Not only is western music being spread, but American news. For instance, according to an interview with Nikki Shull, a woman who lived in guinea in the early 2000’s; popular conversation topics consisted of things such as “Is Tupac really dead?.”
For these world famous artists it is not necessarily talent that gets them there. Endorsement by the western world because of your money is an instant ticket to outshining the incredibly talented musicians scattered throughout the world, not just the west.
In the world of the internet, liking western music is something of a social norm. The societal pressure that spreads to anyone with internet access can crush the spirit of non-mainstream traditional artists, even those who do live further west. Using modern technology is the only way to make money in this day and age A Nielsen and Billboard Report states “Digital music purchases accounted for 50.3% of music sales in 2011. Digital sales were up 8.4% from the previous year, while physical album sales declined 5%” (CNN).
Music is something that truly shapes the mind of the younger generations. American youth listens to One Direction and Taylor Swift, but what do other teens listen to? And how easily could their own ethnic backgrounds be lost if their music was forgotten through a lack of traditionality?
Word Count: 780
Works Cited
Irving, R. M., "The Globalization of Music: Origins, Development, & Consequences, C1500– 1815." Talks.cam :. Cambridge University, n.d. Web. 04 Feb. 2014.
NEW YORK (CNNMoney) -- The times They Are A-changin'. For the First Time in History. "Digital Music Sales Top Physical Sales." CNNMoney. Cable News Network, 05 Jan. 2012. Web. 12 Feb. 2014.
"Pilgrimage to Parnassus." : The Problem with "World Music" N.p., n.d. Web. 05 Feb. 2014.
Shull, Nikki. Telephone interview. 02 Nov. 2013.
"What Is World Music? (Stokes, Globalisation and the Politics of World Music)." YouTube. YouTube, 17 Sept. 2013. Web. 04 Feb. 2014.
White, Bob W. "Rethinking Globalization through Music." Http://www.academia.edu/. N.p., n.d. Web. 2 Feb. 2014.
"World Music Network." – Home. N.p., n.d. Web. 31 Jan. 2014.
"World Music Revenue Inches Upward despite Online Piracy." CBCnews. CBC/Radio Canada, n.d. Web. 10 Feb. 2014.
.
Project Reflection: Globalization:
For this project we were required to choose a topic that interested us and had to do with globalization. The topic I chose was the effect of globalization on traditional music. We then went through an extensive research process to find as much information as we could on our topic; then we started work on the rough draft of the Op-Ed and ideas for our Political Cartoon. After completing our rough draft of our Op-Ed, we started work on our political cartoons which had to include a number of things, and had to be based on our topic. Then after our 2nd draft of the Op-Ed had been submitted, we continued on to finish our cartoons, and finish our final draft of the Op-Ed piece.
Through this project I learned a great deal about globalizations effect on traditional music. It made me think about what a huge impact consumers have on musicians throughout the world. How musicians are forced to change their styles and traditional music due to people in other countries. Also I learned of the shocking amount of people who support this slaughter of traditional music.
My first draft of my cartoon was very rough and unrefined. The lines were sloppy and the idea was not clearly visible. Then i had a group critique of my cartoon and throughout my next two drafts I refined greatly, added more people and detail, then for the final draft I used ink and color and I was happy with the final product.
The writing that I did for this was different than most of the writing I have done in the past, it was opinionated, and I had to be completely biased against the other side of the argument and make the reader believe what I am arguing. It was difficult for me to form one solid opinion. This is something that I can easily use later in life, both in high school and college.
The Discordant Reality of World Music
Globalization, the entire world available to us at a moment’s notice. The speed and reliability that we expect in today’s world. But when does globalization’s expanding and combining go too far? Throughout North America and Europe what is referred to as “World Music” is becoming more and more popular.
Many see world music as a good thing, it spreads other cultures’ music throughout the world. It also spreads money to the economies of other countries, and it gives jobs to musicians throughout the world. While to an extent this is correct, it is far more complex, and deceitful.
The expansion of globalization and western music is destroying traditional music.
In the introduction to Bob White’s Rethinking Globalization Through Music he states: “Yet today, listening to the various forms of music being marketed under the label ‘world music,’ something appears to be different about this historical moment. From our current perspective, world music gives the impression of opening our ears to a vast realm of cultural and political possibilities but at the same time seems to usher in vaguely familiar forms of cultural expansionism and exploitation” (Rethinking Globalization Through Music, White).
This speaks of “world music”, rather than increasing the wealth of other countries and their musicians, it is being used to give companies in the west a huge profit. Throughout the history of globalization there have been repeated incidents of exploitation such as sweatshops in India paying their workers very low wages to give us what we want cheaper.
Throughout the world, many talented musicians are being ignored or forced to change due to their traditional styles. Then even after they make those changes they are given very little of the returns from their efforts. The producers and labels take larger cuts than the actual artist, the one putting all the effort into it.
A music theorist in 2006 wrote: “If we segregate "world music" off to a special section, and run it through special cross-over arrangements to make it smoother and remove some of the rough edges, we're killing it” (“Pilgrimage to Parnassus”).
World Music is giving musicians throughout the world a chance to make a living. While this is true, it is also forcing these musicians to change their style of music from something traditional to something westernized to sell to a European and American audience. Music companies, producers, and labels, have been changing the styles used, the types of instruments, rhythms removing the rough edges and unique styles. They are committing these atrocities towards the music, just so they can make more money.
CBC News states: “Illegal music downloads remain a problem worldwide, particularly in potentially huge markets such as Russia, India, and China” (CBC news). While the Internet as a whole seems to be just a way of sharing your own culture with people who may as well be on another planet, it also gives these strangers power over these musicians own music. Their own creations. Those few worldly artists can have their music pirated for free hundreds of times a day, or possibly even claimed by a third party.
On the other side of world, America and other western cultures are producing music that spreads instantly throughout the world. This music is becoming the norm throughout other cultures. Rather than even caring about their traditional music, all that can be heard in many countries is westernized music. Not only is western music being spread, but American news. For instance, according to an interview with Nikki Shull, a woman who lived in guinea in the early 2000’s; popular conversation topics consisted of things such as “Is Tupac really dead?.”
For these world famous artists it is not necessarily talent that gets them there. Endorsement by the western world because of your money is an instant ticket to outshining the incredibly talented musicians scattered throughout the world, not just the west.
In the world of the internet, liking western music is something of a social norm. The societal pressure that spreads to anyone with internet access can crush the spirit of non-mainstream traditional artists, even those who do live further west. Using modern technology is the only way to make money in this day and age A Nielsen and Billboard Report states “Digital music purchases accounted for 50.3% of music sales in 2011. Digital sales were up 8.4% from the previous year, while physical album sales declined 5%” (CNN).
Music is something that truly shapes the mind of the younger generations. American youth listens to One Direction and Taylor Swift, but what do other teens listen to? And how easily could their own ethnic backgrounds be lost if their music was forgotten through a lack of traditionality?
Word Count: 780
Works Cited
Irving, R. M., "The Globalization of Music: Origins, Development, & Consequences, C1500– 1815." Talks.cam :. Cambridge University, n.d. Web. 04 Feb. 2014.
NEW YORK (CNNMoney) -- The times They Are A-changin'. For the First Time in History. "Digital Music Sales Top Physical Sales." CNNMoney. Cable News Network, 05 Jan. 2012. Web. 12 Feb. 2014.
"Pilgrimage to Parnassus." : The Problem with "World Music" N.p., n.d. Web. 05 Feb. 2014.
Shull, Nikki. Telephone interview. 02 Nov. 2013.
"What Is World Music? (Stokes, Globalisation and the Politics of World Music)." YouTube. YouTube, 17 Sept. 2013. Web. 04 Feb. 2014.
White, Bob W. "Rethinking Globalization through Music." Http://www.academia.edu/. N.p., n.d. Web. 2 Feb. 2014.
"World Music Network." – Home. N.p., n.d. Web. 31 Jan. 2014.
"World Music Revenue Inches Upward despite Online Piracy." CBCnews. CBC/Radio Canada, n.d. Web. 10 Feb. 2014.
.
Project Reflection: Globalization:
For this project we were required to choose a topic that interested us and had to do with globalization. The topic I chose was the effect of globalization on traditional music. We then went through an extensive research process to find as much information as we could on our topic; then we started work on the rough draft of the Op-Ed and ideas for our Political Cartoon. After completing our rough draft of our Op-Ed, we started work on our political cartoons which had to include a number of things, and had to be based on our topic. Then after our 2nd draft of the Op-Ed had been submitted, we continued on to finish our cartoons, and finish our final draft of the Op-Ed piece.
Through this project I learned a great deal about globalizations effect on traditional music. It made me think about what a huge impact consumers have on musicians throughout the world. How musicians are forced to change their styles and traditional music due to people in other countries. Also I learned of the shocking amount of people who support this slaughter of traditional music.
My first draft of my cartoon was very rough and unrefined. The lines were sloppy and the idea was not clearly visible. Then i had a group critique of my cartoon and throughout my next two drafts I refined greatly, added more people and detail, then for the final draft I used ink and color and I was happy with the final product.
The writing that I did for this was different than most of the writing I have done in the past, it was opinionated, and I had to be completely biased against the other side of the argument and make the reader believe what I am arguing. It was difficult for me to form one solid opinion. This is something that I can easily use later in life, both in high school and college.
Africa Imperialism: Creative Historians
Josh Jacques
Historical Fiction Piece The 'Progress' of Democracy
The trees were slowly swaying in contrast to the din and chaos of the city around them. The crowded streets, writhing with the masses of people, wearing clothes that they could find that were inexpensive; shirts from countries that she had never heard of were present among the crowd. There were several vehicles present on the street also, motorbikes and old worn out foreign cars. The chanting of the protestors roared off in the distance. The smell was dusty and full of exhaust. The sound of police sirens came through the street on the other side of the capital. The side of the building next to her seemed so worn and dirty that she could almost feel the dirty, sandy, texture between her fingers. She turned around and ran into a man who was much taller than her. He turned and began shouting at her in French. She apologized and continued walking. Eventually she got to the market.
“Fatoumata!” one of her favorite vendors that she had known since she was a child called out to her from a nearby stall. She smiled and began walking towards his booth. The market was extremely crowded and she had to fight through thick groups of people to get to him. She could see different types of meat hanging behind him, beef, and chicken mainly. Both were delicacies that she could barely afford. The fruits and vegetables in front of him were sorted into baskets; mangoes, papaya, and other various types. “How is your family?” he asked.
“Very good” she responded, “and yours?”
“They are all well. What would you like today?” He was always quick to do business, never one for small talk. After she was done with her shopping, she began walking back to her home in Conakry. She passed a few of the new brick houses with tin roofs that the wealthier people lived in, in a few there were wires going into them, giving them electricity. Every now and then in these places she would see someone with white skin, but she was told they were only there to try to make money off of the bauxite mines. She made it to her husband’s groups of huts, and she went into her own where two of her children slept. Just as she pulled out her groceries the Asr call to prayer echoed loudly through the city. She pulled her prayer mat over to her from the other side of the hut as did almost every person in all of Guinea.
▫▫▫
It was finally sundown. Abdoulaye finished pulling himself out of the mine to begin the trek back to his hut. He was filthy, covered in red dust from the bauxite he had been mining since he was able to work. It was hard work; his arms and legs were tired from standing all day swinging a pick and drilling. He was happy when he could see the glowing fire inside of one of his wife’s huts. He could smell the frying plantains. His stomach growled thinking of the food.
After his dinner he stood up and walked towards his hut; he heard something behind him, so he turned. He sighed, it was only Nattari, his second wife, singing to her child in her hut. He walked into his hut and laid down on his cot. For a while he gazed at the straw and clay roof, then slowly, he drifted off into a dreamless sleep.
▫▫▫
Fatoumata and Abdoulaye never really had anything special other than parents that decided they would be married, but Nattari and he had actually been in love when they met. Fatoumata had always been envious of Nattari even though she knew she shouldn’t be. She remembered her own wedding. It had been a huge event and she had been very excited. Everyone was dressed up in traditional clothes for the wedding. It lasted all day and well into the night. There was so much music and dancing and then after all of that food was spread everywhere. It was magnificent. There was ginger and hibiscus drink passed around everywhere, along with fried sweet potatoes, plantains, and many other types of food.
. The next morning after she had tended to her children, Fatoumata heard a very loud commotion outside of their compound. She hurried outside to see what it was about and saw soldiers marching through, many of them carrying machine guns. A lot of them were carrying valuables or women. She saw a man run up to a small group of soldiers that had surrounded a woman, and one of them turned and shot him. Suddenly, she saw one of Nattari’s children walking out towards the soldiers. Nattari ran towards the child and grabbed him, hurrying him back towards the huts. Then a soldier grabbed her. The little boy screamed at her to come back and started running towards her. Fatoumata grabbed the boy and held him back as his mother was carried off. They both watched in horror as Nattari tried to get out of the man’s grasp, but couldn’t. She looked back at them and saw Fatoumata holding the boy out of harm’s way. Fatoumata was relieved that Nattari had seen that her son would be safe. Finally, the soldiers had all passed, with them went Nattari. She wiped the eyes of the little boy and gently placed him in her hut with her own children. Unlike many of the wives of other men, Nattari and she got along very well, especially with each other’s children, so she was very upset about the incident. She had heard of the soldiers stealing women and food, but this was the first time she had actually witnessed it. She would be afraid of the soldiers forever after that.
▫▫▫
Abdoulaye walked into the compound and immediately realized something was wrong. He looked into Fatoumata’s hut and saw her sitting with her children, and Nattari’s boy. All of their faces were tear stained. She explained to him what had happened, the soldiers coming through, destroying and stealing, then taking Nattari with them.
▫▫▫
Over the next few months, Fatoumata watched as Abdoulaye broke down. He was incredibly depressed about Nattari. He began drinking heavily; he would come home from work tired and worn out. Whatever she did he seemed not to really care, as long as she did as she should as a wife and did not cross him. One day she accidently burned his food and he beat her for it, something that was not uncommon, but he would not have beat her for anything so simple as burning food before the incident. He liked to keep to himself in his hut all the time, leaving Fatoumata to raise three children by herself. He barely even talked to them, and when he did it was very brief and usually it was a request for them to run some errand for him. He would spend a lot of his money on alcohol, which made it harder and harder for Fatoumata when she would make her trips to the market. Her firstborn, a girl, eventually began to accompany her on these trips. At first her daughter found it very difficult to maneuver the crowded streets even with her mother by her side, but eventually grew accustomed to it; Fatoumata even started letting her bargain every now and then. Soon suitors began appearing, and before long, they paid a young man’s family for him to marry her. Then her son set out to work for himself. And finally Nattari’s son moved on. Abdoulaye kept working until he was too weak to work. She hoped and hoped that he would turn back into the man that she used to know, but she knew in her heart that things could never be the same.
Historical Fiction Piece The 'Progress' of Democracy
The trees were slowly swaying in contrast to the din and chaos of the city around them. The crowded streets, writhing with the masses of people, wearing clothes that they could find that were inexpensive; shirts from countries that she had never heard of were present among the crowd. There were several vehicles present on the street also, motorbikes and old worn out foreign cars. The chanting of the protestors roared off in the distance. The smell was dusty and full of exhaust. The sound of police sirens came through the street on the other side of the capital. The side of the building next to her seemed so worn and dirty that she could almost feel the dirty, sandy, texture between her fingers. She turned around and ran into a man who was much taller than her. He turned and began shouting at her in French. She apologized and continued walking. Eventually she got to the market.
“Fatoumata!” one of her favorite vendors that she had known since she was a child called out to her from a nearby stall. She smiled and began walking towards his booth. The market was extremely crowded and she had to fight through thick groups of people to get to him. She could see different types of meat hanging behind him, beef, and chicken mainly. Both were delicacies that she could barely afford. The fruits and vegetables in front of him were sorted into baskets; mangoes, papaya, and other various types. “How is your family?” he asked.
“Very good” she responded, “and yours?”
“They are all well. What would you like today?” He was always quick to do business, never one for small talk. After she was done with her shopping, she began walking back to her home in Conakry. She passed a few of the new brick houses with tin roofs that the wealthier people lived in, in a few there were wires going into them, giving them electricity. Every now and then in these places she would see someone with white skin, but she was told they were only there to try to make money off of the bauxite mines. She made it to her husband’s groups of huts, and she went into her own where two of her children slept. Just as she pulled out her groceries the Asr call to prayer echoed loudly through the city. She pulled her prayer mat over to her from the other side of the hut as did almost every person in all of Guinea.
▫▫▫
It was finally sundown. Abdoulaye finished pulling himself out of the mine to begin the trek back to his hut. He was filthy, covered in red dust from the bauxite he had been mining since he was able to work. It was hard work; his arms and legs were tired from standing all day swinging a pick and drilling. He was happy when he could see the glowing fire inside of one of his wife’s huts. He could smell the frying plantains. His stomach growled thinking of the food.
After his dinner he stood up and walked towards his hut; he heard something behind him, so he turned. He sighed, it was only Nattari, his second wife, singing to her child in her hut. He walked into his hut and laid down on his cot. For a while he gazed at the straw and clay roof, then slowly, he drifted off into a dreamless sleep.
▫▫▫
Fatoumata and Abdoulaye never really had anything special other than parents that decided they would be married, but Nattari and he had actually been in love when they met. Fatoumata had always been envious of Nattari even though she knew she shouldn’t be. She remembered her own wedding. It had been a huge event and she had been very excited. Everyone was dressed up in traditional clothes for the wedding. It lasted all day and well into the night. There was so much music and dancing and then after all of that food was spread everywhere. It was magnificent. There was ginger and hibiscus drink passed around everywhere, along with fried sweet potatoes, plantains, and many other types of food.
. The next morning after she had tended to her children, Fatoumata heard a very loud commotion outside of their compound. She hurried outside to see what it was about and saw soldiers marching through, many of them carrying machine guns. A lot of them were carrying valuables or women. She saw a man run up to a small group of soldiers that had surrounded a woman, and one of them turned and shot him. Suddenly, she saw one of Nattari’s children walking out towards the soldiers. Nattari ran towards the child and grabbed him, hurrying him back towards the huts. Then a soldier grabbed her. The little boy screamed at her to come back and started running towards her. Fatoumata grabbed the boy and held him back as his mother was carried off. They both watched in horror as Nattari tried to get out of the man’s grasp, but couldn’t. She looked back at them and saw Fatoumata holding the boy out of harm’s way. Fatoumata was relieved that Nattari had seen that her son would be safe. Finally, the soldiers had all passed, with them went Nattari. She wiped the eyes of the little boy and gently placed him in her hut with her own children. Unlike many of the wives of other men, Nattari and she got along very well, especially with each other’s children, so she was very upset about the incident. She had heard of the soldiers stealing women and food, but this was the first time she had actually witnessed it. She would be afraid of the soldiers forever after that.
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Abdoulaye walked into the compound and immediately realized something was wrong. He looked into Fatoumata’s hut and saw her sitting with her children, and Nattari’s boy. All of their faces were tear stained. She explained to him what had happened, the soldiers coming through, destroying and stealing, then taking Nattari with them.
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Over the next few months, Fatoumata watched as Abdoulaye broke down. He was incredibly depressed about Nattari. He began drinking heavily; he would come home from work tired and worn out. Whatever she did he seemed not to really care, as long as she did as she should as a wife and did not cross him. One day she accidently burned his food and he beat her for it, something that was not uncommon, but he would not have beat her for anything so simple as burning food before the incident. He liked to keep to himself in his hut all the time, leaving Fatoumata to raise three children by herself. He barely even talked to them, and when he did it was very brief and usually it was a request for them to run some errand for him. He would spend a lot of his money on alcohol, which made it harder and harder for Fatoumata when she would make her trips to the market. Her firstborn, a girl, eventually began to accompany her on these trips. At first her daughter found it very difficult to maneuver the crowded streets even with her mother by her side, but eventually grew accustomed to it; Fatoumata even started letting her bargain every now and then. Soon suitors began appearing, and before long, they paid a young man’s family for him to marry her. Then her son set out to work for himself. And finally Nattari’s son moved on. Abdoulaye kept working until he was too weak to work. She hoped and hoped that he would turn back into the man that she used to know, but she knew in her heart that things could never be the same.
Art Piece
FRIED PLAINTAINS
3-4 large plantains (or very unripe bananas)
2-3 cups of vegetable oil
salt
This tasty snack is sold in small amounts for pennies all over West Africa. In Conakry, Guinea, vendors slice the plantains lengthwise. In NZerekore (the Guinean forest) however, the plantains are sliced into 1/2 inch thick rounds. Feel free to try both versions. With adult supervision, heat oil until very hot in a fry pan or electric fryer. Put a little salt on plantains and fry until done. The thin lengthwise-sliced plantains will be a deep yellow and should be crisp. The thicker rounds will be brownish and crisp on the outside. The inside of the rounds should not be crisp. Store in paper bags for class.
Another version of the recipe, called Loco in southern Guinea, is to slice large chunks of plantains into a good amount of palm oil in a pot. Add onion and 2 maggi cubes to the browned plaintain and saute.
GINGER DRINK
This tastes just like the stuff you get in little bags - it's delicious. It's kind of a lot of work but it's very good and refreshing.
6 c -Boiling water
1 c Ginger root;fresh, peeled & -grated
1 c Sugar
2 ts Cloves, whole
Cinnamon sticks
1/2 c Lime juice, fresh or lemon juice
1 c Orange orange
8 c -Cool water
Pour the boiling water over the grated ginger root, sugar, cloves and cinnamon in a large nonreactive pot or bowl (enamel, glass or stainless steel). Cover and set aside in a warm place, in the sun if possible, for at least an hour. Strain the liquid through a fine sieve or cloth. Add the juices and water. Set aside in a warm place for another hour or so. Gently strain the liquid again, taking care not to disturb the sediment at the bottom. Store in the refrigerator in a large nonreactive container. A glass gallon jar or jug works well. Serve warm, chilled or on ice, either as is or diluted with water or sparkling water. A squeeze of fresh lime juice in each glass of ginger drink is nice.
3-4 large plantains (or very unripe bananas)
2-3 cups of vegetable oil
salt
This tasty snack is sold in small amounts for pennies all over West Africa. In Conakry, Guinea, vendors slice the plantains lengthwise. In NZerekore (the Guinean forest) however, the plantains are sliced into 1/2 inch thick rounds. Feel free to try both versions. With adult supervision, heat oil until very hot in a fry pan or electric fryer. Put a little salt on plantains and fry until done. The thin lengthwise-sliced plantains will be a deep yellow and should be crisp. The thicker rounds will be brownish and crisp on the outside. The inside of the rounds should not be crisp. Store in paper bags for class.
Another version of the recipe, called Loco in southern Guinea, is to slice large chunks of plantains into a good amount of palm oil in a pot. Add onion and 2 maggi cubes to the browned plaintain and saute.
GINGER DRINK
This tastes just like the stuff you get in little bags - it's delicious. It's kind of a lot of work but it's very good and refreshing.
6 c -Boiling water
1 c Ginger root;fresh, peeled & -grated
1 c Sugar
2 ts Cloves, whole
Cinnamon sticks
1/2 c Lime juice, fresh or lemon juice
1 c Orange orange
8 c -Cool water
Pour the boiling water over the grated ginger root, sugar, cloves and cinnamon in a large nonreactive pot or bowl (enamel, glass or stainless steel). Cover and set aside in a warm place, in the sun if possible, for at least an hour. Strain the liquid through a fine sieve or cloth. Add the juices and water. Set aside in a warm place for another hour or so. Gently strain the liquid again, taking care not to disturb the sediment at the bottom. Store in the refrigerator in a large nonreactive container. A glass gallon jar or jug works well. Serve warm, chilled or on ice, either as is or diluted with water or sparkling water. A squeeze of fresh lime juice in each glass of ginger drink is nice.
Reflection
For this project we were required to write a historical fiction piece about a certain country in Africa. The country I chose was Guinea. Before the writing we researched the country a lot and then we interviewed someone who has lived in that country. My interview was very informative and i enjoyed it very much.
Of the literary elements we studied the one that i think i did well with was the historical integration. in guinea they were, and still have been, dealing with terrible military harassment even worse than what i touched on in my story. "Fatoumata heard a very loud commotion outside of their compound. She hurried outside to see what it was about and saw soldiers marching through, many of them carrying machine guns. A lot of them were carrying valuables or women. She saw a man run up to a small group of soldiers that had surrounded a woman, and one of them turned and shot him. Suddenly, she saw one of Nattari’s children walking out towards the soldiers. Nattari ran towards the child and grabbed him, hurrying him back towards the huts. Then a soldier grabbed her. The little boy screamed at her to come back and started running towards her. Fatoumata grabbed the boy and held him back as his mother was carried off. They both watched in horror as Nattari tried to get out of the man’s grasp." That was a very important part of my story.
I really felt like i struggled with character development and plot. i don't feel like i spent enough time developing the plot or the characters and i didn't do very well in those. If i do it again i will spend a lot more time developing these things.
One of the revisions i made to my story were details about the soldiers coming in. originally i hadn't made it nearly as gruesome then i watched some things about the soldiers there and was able to add a lot. Another revision i made was the marketplace. In the interview i conducted i learned how everything looked and what the greeting is.
Of the literary elements we studied the one that i think i did well with was the historical integration. in guinea they were, and still have been, dealing with terrible military harassment even worse than what i touched on in my story. "Fatoumata heard a very loud commotion outside of their compound. She hurried outside to see what it was about and saw soldiers marching through, many of them carrying machine guns. A lot of them were carrying valuables or women. She saw a man run up to a small group of soldiers that had surrounded a woman, and one of them turned and shot him. Suddenly, she saw one of Nattari’s children walking out towards the soldiers. Nattari ran towards the child and grabbed him, hurrying him back towards the huts. Then a soldier grabbed her. The little boy screamed at her to come back and started running towards her. Fatoumata grabbed the boy and held him back as his mother was carried off. They both watched in horror as Nattari tried to get out of the man’s grasp." That was a very important part of my story.
I really felt like i struggled with character development and plot. i don't feel like i spent enough time developing the plot or the characters and i didn't do very well in those. If i do it again i will spend a lot more time developing these things.
One of the revisions i made to my story were details about the soldiers coming in. originally i hadn't made it nearly as gruesome then i watched some things about the soldiers there and was able to add a lot. Another revision i made was the marketplace. In the interview i conducted i learned how everything looked and what the greeting is.