Like in Most of Literatures of the Empires there is Racism in Joseph Conrad’s  Heart of Darkness

 The Saturday Nation in Nairobi has been intermittently publishing discourses about Joseph Conrad the author of Heart of Darkness. On 15^th January 2017, it published a page-long article about Chinua Achebe and Joseph Conrad, the article was written by Mr. Ilosa, the article pointed out that Chinua Achebe conned the world by misleading his readers to  believe that Joseph Conrad’s Heart of Darkness is all about European racism against Africa.

The writer, Mr. Ilosa was writing about Achebe’s paper under the title, An Image of Africa: Racism in Conrad’s Heart of Darkness, published in the literary Journal of Massachusetts Review in 1977.Unfortunately, this Ilosa only reacted against the title of Achebe’s paper without careful reading of the paper as well as the book Heart of Darkness which Achebe was writing about. The fact is that there is palpable racism in Conrad’s heart of Darkness. This is a fact which Dr. Suindu has pointed out even though Caroline Mwende in her recent rejoinder contradicts by saying that Conrad was a friend of black people only writing to show the colonial brutality that Europe visited on Africa. No, Mwende was not right.

A proper Analysis of Joseph Conrad’s Heart of Darkness

First, Conrad’s Heart of Darkness is a collection of four short Stories-Outs Post of Progress, Karain, Youth and then Heart of Darkness. All these stories share common themes and style of language. The most common themes are-European imperialism, European chauvinism, white superiority, racism against non Europeans,poverty,savagery,forced labour,slavery poaching of wood and elephant tusks, steam-shipping, superiority of the English race, violence, brutality, river Congo, Indian ocean and so forth.

Out of all, Conrad was so much keen on using his characters like Kurtz and Marlow to communicate the idea of European Superiority over other races and superiority of English culture over other European cultures.

When you read an introduction to the Heart of Darkness by Cedric Watts, cases of racism in the book are clearly pointed out. Watts show that Conrad uses his characters to perpetrate English racial insolence on other Europeans as at the same he justifies colonial violence and rampage by the Europeans against other races. In fact Watts makes a remark about Conrad in the Introduction to the Heart of Darkness by saying that Rudyard Kipling justified colonialism in a polite way, but Conrad did it in a cruel way.

Understanding Conrad’s Writing

The reason why Conrad took this offensive and artistic position is attributed to three misfortunes in his childhood life-Russian brutality on Poland where Conrad was born, absence of formal learning given that Conrad taught himself English, living as well as working as a migrant labourer in London. These three demeaning social experiences shaped Conrad into intellectual sycophancy to English culture and capital by attacking other cultures that would compete with Britain in an imperial-cum-colonial scramble for world resources. This is so because Josef Conrad was born Józef Teodor Konrad Korzeniowski to polish parents in Poland. Russia annexed Poland, and then his family ran to Britain as refugees. He joined the British merchant marine and later was granted British nationality in 1886. Though he did not speak English fluently until his twenties, he was a master prose stylist who brought a non-English sensibility into English literature. The virtue which earned him recognition as a British writer.

It is not only Conrad that is unique to this social problem of being an intellectual migrant, literary history show that  there are also very many other writers that have been affected by migration into intellectual sycophancy to the host culture and capital. For example, Gunter Grass was born in Danzig-Poland and Frantz Kafka was born in Czech both succumbed to Teutonic intellectual culture, Just the same way V S Naipaul and Salman Rushdie both born in India are now recognized as British writers, or the way Olaudah Equaiano the author of Equaiano’s Travel was taken as a slave from Igbo in Nigeria but now included as a British writer in the Longman Anthology of British Literature.

Conrad’s Heart of Darkness as an Influence to Literary Personas such as Chinua Achebe

It is true Achebe accepted to be over-influenced intellectually by Conrad to an extent of adapting the title of his book Arrow of God by playing around with the title of Conrad’s book Arrow of Gold. Criticism against Achebe in this regard has it that as a professor of literature he was not to degenerate himself to this extent of compromising originality of thought and creativity. However, Achebe argued away this perceived failing in his paper about Conrad by arguing that  his focus was not about Conrad as a writer but about Conrad as a capon copy of European attitude towards other societies during the heydays of imperialism. Similar arguments are made by Achebe in his later works like Hopes and Impediments; The Education of a British Educated Child, Troubles with Nigeria, There was a Country and also in his collection of essays under the title Morning Yet of Creation Day.

However, it is not only Achebe that got over-influenced by Conrad but many other good writers in the likes of; F. Scott Fitzgerald, William Faulkner, Ernest Hemingway, André Malraux, Eric Blair alias George Orwell, Graham Greene, Gabriel Garcia Márquez, John le Carré, V. S. Naipaul, Philip Roth and J. M. Coetzee. Evidently, the themes addressed by all these writers touch on racism, imperialism and brutality of man in power over a man in powerless station.

It is acceptable that, Achebe in his paper was able to show the actual pockets of racism in Joseph Conrad’s Heart of Darkness. This paper is free online and can be read against the text of Conrad as presented in the Out Post of Progress and also in the novella Under Western Eyes to establish Conrad’s proclivity towards worship of the British brutality over other societies. Thus Mr. Ilosa was technically wrong; I encourage him to read Achebe’s paper, Conrad’s short Stories and Novels again.

It is also important to note that it is not only Conrad that ridiculed humanity of black people. Most of the literatures of the empires denigrated black people. Some did it intentionally as a way of justifying colonialism, but others were doing so out of ignorance. Rudyard Kipling is known for his theory of black people as a Whiteman’s burden, V S Naipaul has been openly irritated by Africa and black men even though he comes from Trinidad a country which has black and Indian citizens. His books; In a Free State, Mimic Men and Islamic journey are a testimony of his dislike for black people. In Sir Vidia’s Shadow, a biographical novel about V S Naipaul  by Paul Theroux, it is narrated that when Wole Soyinka won Literature Nobel Prize in 1986 V S Naipaul condemned the Swedish Academy for pissing on literature. It is also narrated in the same book that Naipaul’s detest for black people made Dereck Walcott to react by scowling at him as ‘V S Nightfall’ given the evidence of darkness in Naipaul’s heart as evinced in his writtings that openly derogate black people. Conrad, Forster, Naipaul and Rushdie share same emotional weakness when it comes to use of a novel as a tool of good inter-racial relations. Their writtings did not recognize the natives of Africa. For example, there is short story written by Salman Rushdie in the Longman Anthology of British Literature under the title Zulu and Chekov. The story is plainly open that a black man is slow, not mentally gifted, a potential home-sexual, relying on the brawn, having no language but instead ever breaking English language.

Literature and Culture

Historically, Western or European intellectual heritage has to be forgiven for its failure to understand a Black man. It was Aristotle who said that slavery is the gift of Nature. Reading Alexander Pushkin’s biographies by Hughes Bareness and Henri Troyat confirms that the Grandfathers of Leo Tolstoy is the one who bought an Ethiopian slave from Turkey who was to become grandfather of Alexander Pushkin. And of course this is the key message in Pushkin’s Boris Godunov. Karl Marx looked at Africans as savages that benefitted from blessings of colonialism. In his Meinekempf Adolf Hitler declared Africans as sub-humans, Gunter Grass presented a witch as a black person in the Tin Drum.

Prophet Muhammed owned Bilal a black man as his slave, even though Bilal had converted to Islam. James Watson is on record for declaring an African as not intelligent. In the Memoirs an auto-biography of Barbara Bush, it is narrated that Barbara and George Bush once shared an apartment with a black man and his wife.  The black man and his wife were qualified oil mining engineers. They were that type of black people that are somehow brown in the skin. When Bush’s mother paid a visit, she wondered what was going on, she was told that the black neighbors are a couple and qualified engineers. Bush’s mother was not convinced. She only rationalized it away that let Bush and Barbara stay there for a while before moving, furthermore those two blacks are a little bit brown like Indians.

Edward Said in both the Orientalism as well as Culture and Imperialism argues that a novel is not a peasant affair, that it is a bourgeoisie creation. It is meant for preserving bourgeoisies culture as it perpetrates bourgeoisie culture over the subaltern cultures.  And of course it is true, going by a simple historical analogy, you find that the British society has produced more novels than any other society and it is the most imperial society given the number of domestic and overseas colonies it held. Charles Dickens as often given this British picture. In the Little Dorit, even also in the Great Expectations.

Because Joseph Conrad’s Heart of Darkness was written  under the influence of the broad culture of European imperialism, it befits a digression for this paper to make a pique at wiles of imperialism as crusaded through literature. This pique is hinged on the reality that knowledge of the novel as an imperial outfit can also give victims the idea of using the novel as a counter-imperialist outfit. This is the knowledge which inspired Nuala Ni Dhomnail to take a cultural front in attempt to save Irish Culture from claws and spurs of Cultural Darwinism. She writes poems in Irish, she helped to establish a publishing firm for Irish literature, she has talked of Irish Software and Irish Orthographies as the basic requirements for survival of Irish Literature. Reading her Pharaoh’s Daughter and also the Corpse Who Sat up and Talked back you get implication that literature has a community it serves and a community it betrays. All communities have moral duties to appreciate and uphold their literatures.

By; Alexander Opicho,

(From Lodwar, Kenya).

The post A Literary Analysis of Joseph Conrad’s Heart of Darkness And Its Influence On Chinua Achebe. appeared first on Creative Writing News.

Book title: Fabiola

Author: Musih Tedji Xaviere

Publisher: Maryland Printers, Bamenda

Year published: 2017

Number of pages: 221

Where I got it: https://www.amazon.com/dp/B073WY8XCH

             https://www.smashwords.com/profile/view/xaviere

Why I read it: I was intrigued by the idea of reading an African YA novel

When I read it: 2017

Review written by:  Eric Ngea Ntam (PhD)

The first few lines of Musih Tedji Xavière’s Fabiola immediately draws a reader’s attention towards the pattern of child development at school. The novel can be aptly described as a bildungsroman in progress because it presents the nine-month development of Fabiola, the protagonist. Xavière’s setting, characterisation, themes, style and point of view come along with the physical and psychological growth of Fabiola, all of which culminate in a verisimilitude of the lived circumstances that those familiar with boarding life would fit their own experiences into.

The term bildungsroman (coined in 1819 by German philologist, Karl Morgenstern and later legitimated by Wihelm Dilthey in 1870 and made popular in 1905) is a German word succinctly defined as a “novel of formation” or described as “the coming-of-age novel”. A bildungsroman generally revolves around a sensitive protagonist poised for the achievement of a goal. Its plot is thus tailored to depict the hurdles, the aide and the near or complete achievement of the hero or heroine. The less than twelve years old Fabiola goes through this trajectory for an academic year and emerges a largely reformed [my emphasis], at least at her age, bildungsroman protagonist.

A careful reading of Xavière’s Fabiola reveals a plot knitted to portray the psychological and moral growth of Fabiola from child to youth or semi adult. This is evident in the setting or choice of the school, St Francis Girls’ Vocational High School (GVHS) Bafut. As an all-girl institution, Fabiola has to intermingle with her kind for a psychosocial awareness of both her sex and gender. The young Fabiola is modestly accompanied to school by her mother and are both given a hand by the taxi driver to offload her belongings (Ch. One, p. 2).

The ancient appearance of the campus is proof of its having churned out a myriad of the great ladies of all walks of life in the society. The senior who is on hand to check and usher Fabiola to the St Clare dormitory, as her counterparts do to the other foxes, is just one of the budding ladies GVHS is preparing for the global society. Fabiola is immediately put in a psychological battle the moment she sees a difference between the seniors and the foxes. The seniors’ appearance does not in any way correspond to the dictates of the school prospectus. In fact: “What fascinated Fabiola most about these girls was the grace with which they carried themselves. She envied them, their refinement, and somewhere in the back of her mind she wanted to be just as beautiful and just as curvy one day” (Ch. One, p. 3). In this yearning lies the trigger that sets our protagonist in motion.

The protagonist grows from child to semi-adult

The protagonist in a bildungsroman is often a sensitive person who is looking for answers and experience. Fabiola’s quest to understand her environment is facilitated by her meeting Yvonne, a onetime primary school mate: “What were the chances that she would end up in a place like this, thousands of miles away from home with someone she had spent almost every day of her childhood with? Though Yvonne’s company, just like Helen’s to Jane Eyre at the Lowood School in Charlottë Brontë’s Jane Eyre, lightens the burden of loneliness, it nevertheless stops the introspective Fabiola to watch with stifled emotion the departure of her mother through the oxblood coated bars of the school after having promised to come and see her again on Visiting Day.

Henceforth Fabiola is supposed to be strong in order to gradually achieve her youthfulness or near adulthood. Her entire first term is full of intimidating, if not shocking, surprises. This begins on day one of her arrival at GVHS. and include the chaos perpetrated by the foxes in the St Clare dormitory, the abrupt and harsh instructions and nightmarish tails from Ngala Geraldine (Dorm-cap), harassment from Atabong Atem and crew, Senior Nahbila Laura’s compelling lessons on using cutlery adequately in the manner of established women or ladies, insults (Grandmami-face) from three unknown girls, among others lead to the conclusion: “… boarding school was a direct contrast to the reverend sisters’ campaign promises at her old school” (Ch. Five, p. 26).

The struggle, which continues with routine activities such as getting up at 5am and bathing under strict supervision with cold water in order to get ready for morning mass, tidying up individual bunks and spaces, sweating, stumbling and falling on the hill leading to church, adhering to Senior Limnyuy and Bessem’s assigned portions for regular maintenance, learning new vocabulary such as ‘clad’ and ‘mop’, holding one’s own cup, tea spoon and cutlery when going to the refectory, eating stale bread, unpleasant combination of cooked garri and okro soup, weevil infested corn-chaff and beans, and compulsory siesta all combine to form part of the heavy cross Fabiola must shoulder on her way to experience.

Fabiola observes that some students have complementary snacks (chocolate, tins of sardine, Ovaltine), which they either supplement with or take as alternative for what the ‘refecto’ provides.  She further learns that GVHS is a religiously inclined school because it engages in the endless battle between God and the devil, consequently the girls are urged to inculcate constant prayer as a modus vivendi. It amazes Fabiola that most tribes are stigmatised for either their abnormal behaviour or phonological renditions. She finds it absurd and a taboo when girls like Agatha talk back to the captain.

A tip of the iceberg of what awaits her in the months ahead comes when the foxes are made to pay a visit to the Up-campus. Fabiola comes to understand that GVHS has two campuses and that there are many students and levels in the school than she earlier thought. The St Francis Children and Adult Home (SAFRACAH) Street unravels another hidden connection between school and the outer world. Her keen observation makes her figure out that she could easily fight starvation by sneaking out early enough to buy accra and other snacks.

The arrival of the rest of the school on 9 September begins the real ordeal and set the pace for the rising action of the novel. All the ten dormitories are inhabited and typical boarding experiences become manifest. For example, Fabiola records that there is a desperate search for ‘Smalls’ by the supposed ‘Bigs’, there is outright confrontation that almost result in flexing of muscles between Yvonne and Atem, but for her timely intervention which is followed by a ‘Mami cry-cry’ insult at her from the dreaded Atem. Fabiola’s courageous interference which evokes “I cannot believe this” from Atem portrays the survival of the fittest attribute Fabiola has quickly imbibed as the way out. She even goes further to warn Atem: “We are not afraid of you. Touch any of us and we will report you.” This offensive temperament not only brings out the hidden rebel in Fabiola, but also speaks of the courage and mature personality that is already being built in the hither to docile girl. As a matter of fact, the scary Atem is left with no option than to shake her head and turn away.

Stresses of self-identity continue to develop. Unlike other girls who are being cajoled and won over by Bigs, Fabiola waits until when she desires one. Though Joan, her acquired Big, is recommended to her by Yvonne, this is only after Fabiola’s wish to have one. She timidly but courageously moves up to Joan and requests her to be her Big – a demand Joan willingly grants.

The ritual of cutting of the foxes’ tails ushers Fabiola into the stark reality of the intimidation junior students must endure in the hands of seniors. The foxes are slapped and obliged to dance without music, as real foxes do. Coming on the hills of the cutting of foxes’ tails is the introduction night. This event gives Fabiola and her mates the opportunity to discover the extracurricular potentials of their school in domains such as choir, drama and dance. The courageous and imaginative skills of Hiris, a fox, who sings a sarcastic song to ridicule the senior students astonish everyone and provokes Sister Jude to laugh out her lungs, to the amazement and delight of Fabiola and the other foxes. This night draws the curtains on the empirical learning for a week and sets the green light for real academic business in GVHS:

“When she was certain that Fabiola was ready to go, she gave her a pat on the back, wished her good luck, and left” (Ch. Sixteen, p. 92) – these are the narrator’s description of the setting the ball to roll in Fabiola’s academic life by Joan, her Big. Ngam Fabiola from now on is left alone to climb the academic ladder. With Joan’s pat on her back, Fabiola hurries to be first Up-campus and scrambles for a well located seat in their classroom. Once safely seated the fight between the tallest girl in their class and a smaller girl animates Fabiola and her mate until Senior Laura’s timely arrival. The rush to be first Up-campus and the racing for seats in the classroom consciously or unconsciously drives home the fact that the attainment of education is also another battle that must be fought with all energy. In this battle, the inexperienced, like Fabiola, soil themselves and tend to wonder how the old-students maintain their immaculate look.

The typical first day experience of learning in a secondary school thrills Fabiola. The entrance of Mr Mokum Clement, the mathematics teacher, the confusion of which book to get out when instructed to take out mathematics books, the biting morning hunger that the baskets of bread presented for breakfast are unable to assuage, the mocking laughter of the foxes’ overflowing pleated black skirts and oversized pullovers that barely fit, the repeated introduction of each other as teacher after teacher enters the class with punctuated thirty minutes pauses, mark Fabiola. Nevertheless, Fabiola’s overall impression of being over-taught and the grip of hunger draw the difference between her former school and the secondary. This is the route to transformation. The routine of waking at 5.30am, taking a bath, going for morning mass, climbing the to the Up-campus, learning Mathematics, breakfast, more classes, trekking back Down-campus, lunch, siesta, another bath, evening prayer, night preparations (prep), and back to bed, characterize Fabiola’s stay in GVHS for the next two months, with expectations of seeing mama again on Visiting Day.

With classes now in full gear, Fabiola is obliged to come to terms with other activities and behaviours during and after school as well as on weekends. Tiredness and drowsiness during morning masses and night preps, the lurking of Mr Cane (the discipline master) around, ready to lash defaulters, cold nights, especially in the refectory, regrets of not having brought other items not mentioned in the school prospectus, coercing from Antoinette (Yvonne’s Big) to move her snacks to her trunk, little enmities between space-mates and bunkmates (ndang’a and mbong’o), indiscriminate punishment in order to fish out a culprit who commits an indecent act such as defecating in another girl’s bathing buckets (Hiris as a victim) (Ch. Seventeen, pp. 99-104), involvement in one activity after another on Saturdays, receiving special help and favours from a responsible Big such as Joan gives Fabiola, classroom mockery, nicknaming and stigmatisation of tribes, among many others are routine experiences and occurrences in GVHS.

The Fabiola becomes disillusioned (disappointed) as the new world does not match her shining hopes and dreams, but finally accepts, after painful soul-searching, the sort of world she lives in

The climax of the novel begins with the ‘warmsun’ or the period of extreme hunger in boarding schools. At this moment Fabiola realises that no girl, including herself, rejects or brags about not eating certain school meals such as cooked garri or crank-crank, meals they rejected when pockets were still full and supplementary snacks aplenty. Some of the foxes exchange toiletries such as toothpastes for bread, others begin to produce candy out of melted sugar by means of their spoons and candle light, Fabiola and Yvonne even go as far as deceiving Bapete, who brags of her riches because the prime minister is her uncle, and eat up her cookies in return for friendship that they later fail to give. Fabiola learns a lot about lies telling in the dormitory when Fusi, whom they constantly mock for wetting the bed, lies in their favour though truly she is aware that they duped Bapete: “‘Thank you,’ Fabiola said to Fusi once they were out of earshot, too relieved to ask why Fusi lied for them. Fusi acknowledges Fabiola’s gratitude with a nod and walked away.” (Ch. Nineteen, pp. 114-18).

Fabiola also observes that stealing is a common practice in their school. Personal belongings such as socks, pullovers, headscarves, white gowns, Bibles and hymnals, sandals, cutlery and even underwear are pilfered. Many cases of theft are reported to the dorm-cap who only threatens in vain. The effect of snatching away the pullovers is rampant influenza and related diseases, which Fabiola also has to cope with. Some of the robbers are caught and dismissed while others are never identified.

Warmsun also leads to the breakup of cordial relationship between Fabiola and Yvonne. Yvonne is no longer ready to share her trunk with Fabiola because their snacks have been completely done away with. Yvonne’s decision is taken by Fabiola with equanimity.

Despite Senior Laura’s reprimand and punishment of Asongwe Camela, Mbaku Veronica, Atabong Atem, Vegah Madeleine, Suh Antonia, Wiysahnyuy Hilda, Achu Tina and five others for visiting shops and secretly buying items from vendors at SAFRACAH Street, Fabiola still indulges in the same illicit dealing. She seems to have accepted that it is a context where survival depends on one’s smartness and not on the strict obedience of rules and regulations.

Fabiola resolves to use up the 2000 CFA franc note her mother gave her on the day they arrived GVHS. She leaves the dormitory alone early Tuesday morning and buys balls of accra for herself. This becomes an obsession until her money is completely used up (see a vivid description of her manoeuvre: Ch. Twenty-One, pp. 126 -7). It is interesting to note that her skilfulness in sneaking and buying whatever she wanted along the SAFRACAH Street is monitored and admired by Fusi, who opts to bring her own money so that they can be partners in crime.

Preparations to welcome parents on Visiting Day intensify. The generosity of the girls know no bounds a few days to Visiting Day. Those who still have some reserves empty their trunks in preparation for the new and fresh snacks their parents, especially mothers, would bring. Fabiola spends all she had jealously hoarded in the hope that her mother would replenish her purse and trunk upon her arrival.

It is Visiting Day. This marks the climax of Fabiola’s disillusionment and at the same the acceptance of her circumstance and the world secondary school introduces her to. The school mobilises in every aspect as the parents are awaited. Everywhere is kept clean and the students too look clean. Those who had scored good marks in the tests look forward to sharing the news with their parents. Parents come with goodies, sit with their daughters in small groups chattering and showing love and concern.  Fabiola is highly disappointed when at 5.30pm every parent who came visiting has left and the road ahead stares at her. Fabiola’s hysteria is only calmed by Sister Jude, who takes her to the office and a plastic bag containing a medium sized baked cake with frosting and a bag of candy – these become the girl’s own Visiting Day package (See Ch. Twenty-two, pp. 132-7). Mama’s failure to pay Fabiola a visit on a day when all other children enjoy the warmth of their mothers kills the child in her. The child is mother of the woman is a suitable responsibility she assumes. Though Fabiola overcomes this disheartening circumstance, resilience teaching her the trick, and returns to school even more determined to compete with Tang Asahmbom for the first position in class, she however “… she retreated into herself … and no amount of coaxing got her out of her shell.” (Ch. Twenty-three, p.138).

The rest of the term becomes child’s play. The young heroine ignores Ngum’s complaint that her own mother did not also come, she shows pride towards Dorm-cap’s plea that those whose parents came should donate food to the needy, she stands tall to see that she is not in the group of those who mess up the latrines because of overfeeding from their visitors, she continues to go to the refectory without any complex, the trekking for miles in search of water at Nkiwah stream owing to adverse drought does not bother her, with Ngum’s help she treats herself to a handful of palm kernels from a nearby bush, she even questions why an Anglophone Cameroonian as herself should study French, and above all she now boldly accompanies Ngum to sneak out of the way to school to get whatever they desired. With these resilient and questioning spirit, Fabiola writes her second and third tests and is ready to go home for the Christmas break.

The starvation that sets in before Rascal week is trifle to Fabiola. All she is interested in is to experience the unruly atmosphere that now characterises GVHS. During this week the girls get involved either in plotting, fighting, gossiping, quarrelling or loitering the school campus, looking for possibilities of getting palm nuts, avocado, guavas from nearby bushes in Bafut and even mocking at the gateman who dare to consider himself part of the staff of the school by constantly using the expression “We the staff.” Fabiola also observes that the threat of withholding one’s report card deterred many of the girls from certain exaggerated acts. Fabiola becomes involved in the activities marking preparations for Christmas, which entail drama, carol, reconciliation and general socials. She wonders if the reconciliations are actually genuine for, it seems to mean little to Atabong Atem.

The sledge harmer of dismissal, a dreaded punishment, befalls those who resort to excesses during the rascal week. For instance the exorcism manifested by Jesus-freak or Chukwunenye Nnednma earns her outright dismissal from Sister Jude. Khaki-night or the night of result declaration marks the end of Fabiola’s first three months in the secondary school. The entire school assembles in the refectory and results are read out. The last three and first three in each class come up to the stage for everyone to see them. Sihngum Monica 16/20, Ngam Fabiola 17.4/20 and Tang Ansahmbom 18.2/20 are the first three in ascending order in her class. The Bigs, whose Smalls make it in flying colours, are proud and shout out to let everyone identify them with their brilliant Small. Fabiola receives congratulations from Joan. It is with these results that Fabiola goes to bed ready to collect her report card the next day and depart for the village.

Closing day breaks with all students ready to depart from campus to various destinations. Fabiola receives her report card and as a big girl, whom she has become, does not bother about her mother’s coming to pick her up. With the help of Ngum, she boards a taxi to her uncle’s house at Foncha Street where she passes the night and leaves for Njinikom the next day to meet her parents.

Fabiola returns to school for the second term on January 4 a completely courageous heroine. She is indifferent happenings around her and only excited to begin classes. Total metamorphosis has had an effect on her:

It took a lot of self-loathing to admit it, but home wasn’t home anymore now that she knew she had somewhere else to be. The disconnection with her childhood friends had only grown, inasmuch as she tried reconnecting with her former self. Her friends did not understand why she felt the need to constantly conduct herself like a lady. They saw her conduct as pride, and frankly, she did not care that much about their opinion of her. (Ch. Twenty-seven, p.165)

Since ‘education’ is always crucial to the protagonist of a bildungsroman, in that it is part of the child’s maturation and preparation for impending adulthood, or in other words considering that the inner development and maturity of the protagonist takes place after his/her “education” in the new place, it is this newfound self-knowledge that signals the ultimate maturity of Fabiola. Fabiola’s drastic transformation has everything to do with both education and suffering. Her ability to withstand traumatic experiences catapults her into a class and psyche of her own. Little wonder therefore that the noise she hears on the reopening day of the second term means nothing to her, she simply waves “her way expertly through the horde”; her determination to uphold her parents’ pride suppressing any weak thought of escaping back home and the firm resolve to topple Ansah, urging her forward. Fabiola is no longer little Fa.

Major heroine feats displayed by the heroine include her journey all the way from Njinikom to GVHS Bafut unaccompanied, her not minding the extra work they carry out in preparation for Youth Day and school feasts, the ignoring of Yvonne’s fuss about her friendship with Ngum Winfrey, her courageous accompanying of Winfrey to frighten old-students chattering beside a fire behind the dormitory in the night and later reprimand of Winfrey for causing her to inflict pain on the students, her fierce refusal of Winfrey’s proposal that they should go into a video club on Youth Day, her not bothering much about her mother’s absence at the PTA meeting, her polite decline to leave her money with the school bursar, her ability to understand most terms like ‘curtsy’, changes brought in by the newly elected prefects do not affect her in any way, her contemplation on Women’s Day and what possibly happens on Men’s Day, her confiding in Yvonne that she has contracted sugar-sugar and being taught how to ‘pee like a boy’ by Yvonne and Winfrey, her interest in Sister Carine’s teachings about the ‘Self-esteem concept’, her unregretful spitting in Dorm-cap’s drinking water for calling her ‘red-face’, her being chased by a man with a gun when she accompanies Winfrey and other girls into a dark wild bush, her and Hannah’s peeping at “Mr Moses (the French teacher) and his—and Senior Jennifer, the labour prefect” and being warned by the teacher never to mention it anywhere, peeing in Antoinette’s buckets to punish her for highhandedness and insulting habit, and trying to mislead Ansahmbom on purpose in order to take the first position in class.

From this avalanche of courageous acts, it becomes clear that for only nine months, Fabiola experiences the good, the bad and the ugly. Not only is she aware of sneaking habits of young girls, she comes to understand the reasons why a woman must stand up for her rights, experiences the commonest female infection, observes a man caressing a young girl, devises strategies to revenge/avenge wrong deeds to her and struggles to manipulate her classmate in order to take the first position in class.

Separation from family and Home (usually from a small, provincial place, venturing into a much more complex place) because of desire to gain Self-identity

Fabiola can be said to have made a name for herself by the time we sing the Cameroon National Anthem on page 226 of this novel. She attains this partly because she courageously severs from her parents in search of education and also partly because she becomes engrossed within a complex setting. Though GVHS is a confined environment, it is however much more sophisticated than her primary school and quarter in Njinikom. This is so because it is a forum for budding intellectuals and the occupants come from different homes with varied childhood experiences. Fabiola needs just this kind of context in order to experience a dramatic transformation.

The protagonist returns home, reaches out and helps others after having achieved maturity

Armed with moral, academic and social experiences from GVHS, Fabiola arrives home again, but this time a transformed girl. Not only is she bold enough to ask her mother why she failed her on Visiting Day, she now helps the mother at home as well. Her anger against her mother is abated by the simple reason that she understands her mother had gone back to school. In fact Fabiola is now conscious of the demands of school. 6am the next morning meets Fabiola assisting her mother to bathe her siblings, assigning her siblings to different portions to clean and taking part in the tidying up of the house, ensuring table mannered eating and then imposing a compulsory forty-minute siesta for all. How quick the heroine puts theory into practice. Fabiola’s mother’s satisfaction is revealed in the pride with which she introduces her secondary school child to her colleagues. The rest of the holiday follows this routine and Christmas celebration is void of any exaggeration. But for the unfounded fear that nobody was to see New Year’s Day 2000, Fabiola shows no anxiety and so does the New Year’s Day pass and Christmas break comes to an end.

Fabiola’s reaching out and helping others is seen in her subsequent relationship with Winfrey. When Antoinette hurts Winfrey by spreading false rumour about her being dirty, her being infected with ‘cam-no-go’ and mumps, Fabiola gets very disturbed to see her friend in misery:

The last of Fabiola’s reserve crumbled when she saw Winfrey crying behind the classroom one afternoon. “Why are you crying?” Fabiola asked sitting beside Winfrey on the grass. Winfrey’s bravery was something Fabiola had come to rely on and seeing her reduced to tears by cruelty angered Fabiola.…

Fabiola chuckled. “Shut up! You don’t have mumps or cam-no-go” …

Winfrey regarded Fabiola carefully before abandoning the scepticism. She wiped at the remainder of the tears in her eyes and turned to gaze into space. (Ch. Thirty-four, p. 217).

As a true bildungsroman heroine, Fabiola must necessary reach out to help Ngum Winfrey to be or remain strong.

Is Fabiola an autobiography?

As to whether this novel is an autobiography, the answer is negative. An autobiography is the life story/history of an individual told by him/herself. Even if aspects of Xavière’s own life are embedded in the story, this comes indirectly. That Xavière adopts the third person omniscient point of view distances her novel from being autobiographical. The author’s preference is “an all-knowing narrator who is able not only to recount the action thoroughly and reliably but also to enter the mind of any character at any time in order to reveal [and even conceal too] his or her thoughts, feeling, and beliefs directly to the reader” (Murfin and Ray, 2003). The choice of this vantage point is also convincing because Xavière’s protagonist, fresh from a primary school in Njinikom might have only spoken Kom but would not have rendered the Banso accent, pronounce words in Bafut or relate the dormitory jargon and clichés adequately.

Xavière’s style is simple but very erudite. Instances of suspense, allusion, vivid description, flashbacks, irony, contrast, humour, to cite these, are numerous in the novel. Her delving into boarding school lifestyle and mannerisms helps the reader better understand the psyche of ex-boarders, especially the female sex within the global society.

Conclusion

The choice of the title of this review: “Bildungsroman in Progress” is justifiable. A bildungsroman ends with the hero attaining maturity by accomplishing what he or she set out to acquire – thus coming full circle. However, despite the fact that he/she has come full circle, the memories of the boy/girl that was at the beginning are perfectly suited to emphasize the man or woman that he/she has become. There is no doubt that Fabiola has changed drastically from the little girl who was led into the gates of GVHS by her mother to an independent traveller and introspective girl. For a period of just nine months remarkable transformation is noticeable as earlier indicate. However, that Fabiola is yet to rich full maturity by becoming one of the seniors or prefect in GVHS, perhaps also actually get involved in some of the other deeds she only hears or observes, and also the fact she is yet to return home as a full blown woman to bring total dynamism in her family in particular and Njinikom at large, qualifies the novel as an advancing bildungsroman. Xavière is therefore challenged to come up with a sequel to Fabiola in order to portray a full circle transformed Fabiola.

References

Abrams, M. H. and Geoffrey Galt Harpham, eds., A Glossary of Literary Terms, Ninth Edition, Boston, Wardsworth Cengage Learning, 2009.

Cuddon, J. A., The Penguin Dictionary of Literary Terms and Literary Theory, London, Penguin Group, 1998.

Murfin, Ross and Supryia M. Ray, The Bedford Glossary of Critical and Literary Terms, 2nd ed., Boston: Bedford/St. Martin’s, 2003.

Xaviere, Musih Tedji Fabiola. Maryland Printers: Bamenda, 2017.

About the Author

Eric Ngea Ntam holds a PhD in British Literature from the University of Yaoundé I. He undertook training as a secondary and high School teacher in the then Higher Teacher Training College (ENS) Annex Bambili (1998-2001) and the Higher Teacher Training College (ENS) Yaoundé (2007-2009) from where he obtained the Secondary and High School Teacher Diploma Grade I and Grade II, respectively. He is thus a teacher of English Language and Literature in English for sixteen years now. Eric Ngea Ntam is a former German Academic Exchange Service (DAAD) Scholarship holder. He is also the co-author of two books:  Learn English: Understand Climate Change and Majors in English. Dr Ngea Ntam is currently the Head of Service of Relations with the Business World at The University of Bamenda, where he also lectures literature in English as part time lecturer.

The post Musih Tedji Xavière’s Fabiola as a Bildungsroman in Progress: A Review By Eric Ngea Ntam (PhD) appeared first on Creative Writing News.

Let’s start off this poetry analysis with a brief summary of the rime of the ancient mariner.

“The Rime of the Ancient Mariner” was written in the 1700s by Samuel Coleridge.

In this lyrical ballad, a man going to his cousin’s wedding is stopped by an old, haggard mariner who tells him an eerie and paranormal story of how he made a dangerous mistake which triggered a series of strange events that ruined his life.

In other words, the title depicts what the poem means. The rime of the ancient mariner is a rhyme that portrays the journey of an ancient mariner. Rime refers to the frost that is often found on the periphery of ships and sails.

Symbols In The Rime Of The Ancient Mariner.

This poem is powerful in its writing, most notably, in Coleridge’s ability to make the normal seem unearthly and the unearthly seem normal.

The plentiful bizarre elements of the story are ordinarily presented with little explanation throughout the mariner’s monologue.

Meanwhile, aspects of everyday life, such as an albatross, rain, and the sea, are twisted into mystical and unnatural elements.

Coleridge especially demonstrates this on the sun and the moon. Throughout “The Rime of the Ancient Mariner,” Coleridge achieves different perceptions of the sun and moon as the situation and mood of the ballad changes using symbolism, imagery, and diction.

In this poem, the mariner stops and demands a wedding guest to listen to a story he has to tell. The mariner launches into a narration of how he was at sea with a ship of sailors.

As they embarked on their voyage, their ship moved rapidly over the water thanks to a powerful wind. Their smooth sailing was further reinforced by an albatross, a gentle seabird that guided the ship.

The Symbolism Of The Sun In Rime Of The Ancient Mariner.

While they were off to a swift start and are being overseen by a peaceful bird of good fortune, the sun is mentioned frequently in a positive context.

For example, when the sailors’ ship was being lowered, “The sun came up upon the left,/Out of the sea came he!/And he shone bright, and on the right/Went down into the sea./Higher and higher every day,/Till over the mast at noon—” (1. 7. 25-30).

The imagery here is strong and evocative. It creates the visual of a bright calm day; a day that would be ideal for sailing. The sailors, a group of superstitious people, also take this as good fortune and merrily set off on their journey.

The story in the rime of the ancient mariner takes a turn when the mariner, for unexplainable reasons, decided to shoot the albatross.

The moon is mentioned in the ballad for the first time in this line from the rime of the ancient mariner.

“Glimmer’d the white moonshine.’ […] With my crossbow/I shot the Albatross” (1. 19-18. 78-82).

It’s only a quick line. However, the fact that the first mention of the moon was right before the mariner shoots the albatross, an action that results in the disturbing events that follow, already surrounds it with negative connotation.

The next part of Samuel Coleridge’s lyrical ballad starts with, “The sun now rose upon the right:/Out of the sea came he,/Still hid in mist and on the left/Went down into the sea” (2. 1. 83-85).

This stanza is familiar because it is similar to the first mention of the symbolic sun. This repetition reflects how the sailors were, at first, unworried about the albatross’s death.

They believed that the albatross was bringing the fog and mist, so the mariner was praised for killing it. The normalcy of the above stanza, therefore, suggests that the sailors have the same attitude that they did in the beginning of their voyage.

The sailors are happy that the albatross is dead and their mood is visible in their surroundings: “Nor dim nor red, like an angel’s head,/The glorious Sun uprist:/Then all averr’d, I had kill’d the bird/That brought the fog and mist./

‘Twas right, said they, such birds to slay,/That bring the fog and mist” (2. 4. 96-102).

The sun is referred to with very strong diction here with words like “glorious” and the comparison to an angel, which also maintains the idea that the sun is similar to a guardian angel for the sailors.

Because the sailors think that the albatross’s death was a blessing, they believe that they are being watched by a deity who is providing them help and guidance.

Soon after, however, the sun’s diction begins to change . “All in a hot and copper sky,/The bloody sun, at noon,/Right up above the mast did stand,/No bigger than the moon” (2. 7. 111-114).

The breeze halts, and the sun starts growing too hot. The ship completely stops moving and the sailors begin suffering from dehydration. This sparks a new undertone for the sun.

It becomes more negative as it is the reason for the sailors’ newest conflict. The sun begins representing wrath in the rime of the ancient mariner.

Interestingly enough, when the sun is negatively transformed, it is compared to the moon. At this point, the sailors realize that killing the albatross was a mistake, and as punishment they hang the dead bird around the mariner’s neck.

While the sailors are slowly suffering on their idle ship, the mariner notices another ship surging their way.

“Almost upon the western wave/Rested the broad bright sun;/When that strange shape drove suddenly/Betwixt us and the sun./And straight the sun was flecked with bars,/

(Heaven’s mother send us grace!)/As if through a dungeon grate he peered/With broad and burning face” (3. 7. 173-180).

Given the mostly positive connotation of the sun so far, anything coming in between the sailors’ symbol of good fortune can’t be a good sign.

The imagery describes the new ship forcefully cleaving in between the sailors and the sun, and the mariner’s exclamation enclosed in parentheses further solidifies the dread of the situation.

Furthermore, because the ship is blocking the sun, the sun appears to be locked behind bars which creates an idea of hopelessness as it is suggested that the sailors’ guardian angel is unable to help them.

This makes more sense when it is revealed that Death and Life-in-Death are on the ship. Death is a greater power than an angel which is why they’re able to jail the sun.

Death and Life-in-Death are gambling over the lives of the ship’s crew. In the end, Death claims all of them, but Life-in-Death manages to win the mariner.

As soon as she declares that she has won, the sun vanishes,

The sun’s rim dips; the stars rush out:/At one stride comes the dark;” (3. 12. 200-201).

The abrupt dismissal of the sun can only foreshadow that worse is to come. Of course, with the departure of the sun, the moon enters.

Once Death and Life-in-Death have left, all the men on the ship who were claimed by Death turn to glare at the mariner before dropping dead.

“One after one, by the star-dogged moon,/Too quick for groan or sigh,/Each turned his face with ghastly pang,/And cursed me with his eye. […] With heavy thump, a lifeless lump,/They dropped down one by one” (3. 14-15. 213-220). The moon is now associated with death.

At this point, the mariner is alone on an unmoving ship with dead men at his feet and no idea what to do. He can’t pray, can’t sleep, and can’t go anywhere.

He laments about his situation,

“[…] Seven days, seven nights, I saw that curse,/And yet I could not die./The moving moon went up the sky,/And nowhere did abide:/Softly she was going up,/And a star or two beside –” (4. 9-10. 262-267).

Immediately after bemoaning about curses, the mariner mentions the moon. This further establishes the moon’s negative implications in the rime of the ancient mariner. It’s also noticeable in this stanza that while the sun is referred to as “he”, the moon is seen as female like Life-in-Death.

The moon is again mentioned in the next stanza. “Her beams bemocked the sultry main,/Like April hoar-frost spread;” (4. 11. 268-289).

In this simile, the moon is being compared to icicles traveling across the ocean. The diction here creates a powerful image of white, cold moonlight creeping on the water.

The icicle moonlight illuminates water snakes that live in the sea. The mariner watches these slimy creatures gracefully coiling in the water. Also, he observes how the moonlight shimmers on their scales.

Unconsciously, he blesses their beauty and, in that moment, the albatross’s corpse falls off his neck and sinks into the sea. The mariner’s punishment began when he killed an innocent animal for no reason.

This explains why he was forgiven once he showed kindness to other animals, realizing that there’s beauty in all of God’s creations. This is the first time the moon is perceived as positive in the rime of the ancient mariner.

Once the albatross is removed from the mariner’s neck, everything begins to change. The mariner is finally able to sleep. Also it thunderstorms with heavy rains that soothe his parched throat and baked skin.

While all this is happening, the moon is mentioned frequently. “And the coming wind did roar more loud,/And the sails did sigh like sedge;/And the rain poured down from one black cloud;/The moon was at its edge./The thick black cloud was cleft, and still/The moon was at its side:” (5. 7-8. 319-324).

The moon is now associated with good change and relief. As the rain pours down and the moon casts down it’s light, the dead men begin stirring.

Though this gives warning signals at first, it’s revealed that angels slipped into the men’s bodies to operate the ship:

“Beneath the lightning and the moon/The dead men gave a groan./They groaned, they stirred, they all uprose, […] The helmsman steered, the ship moved on; […] They raised their limbs like lifeless tools – /We were a ghastly crew” (5. 9-11. 330-341).

As creepy as that may be, it is a relatively good thing since the boat is now moving and angels are usually a positive sign. At dawn, the angels begin chorusing before departing from the bodies.

While the mariner talks about the beautiful heavenly sound, the sun finally comes back for a brief line:

“For when it dawned—they dropped their arms,/And clustered round the mast;/Sweet sounds rose slowly through their mouths,/And from their bodies passed./Around, around, flew each sweet sound,/Then darted to the Sun;/Slowly the sounds came back again,/Now mixed, now one by one. (5. 15. 351-358).

Though it’s hardly given a presence, the context is enough to wrap the sun in a positive perception and, at the same time, support that the situation is improving.

A few stanzas later, the sun is seen again in, “The sun, right up above the mast,/Had fixed her to the ocean:/But in a minute she ‘gan stir,/With a short uneasy motion – /Backwards and forwards half her length/With a short uneasy motion” (5. 21. 383-389).

The ship is now speeding forward at such a fast rate that the mariner is knocked out. Both are a blessing since the mariner gets more relief after being haunted by insomnia for the past week and he’s getting closer to home.

When he awakes later, he hears two voices discussing his fate. The conversation’s conclusion is that the mariner has paid penance, but still has more to meet.

He then wakes up, and speaks of the moon, “I woke, and we were sailing on/As in a gentle weather:/’Twas night, calm night, the moon was high;/The dead men stood together./All stood together on the deck,/For a charnel-dungeon fitter:/All fixed on me their stony eyes,/That in the moon did glitter” (6. 7. 431-438).

First, the moon is being connected to calm, smooth weather but then the moon seems to be continuously associated with the dead men. The dead men are given conflicting connotations since they are creepy but they’re also offering the mariner a way home. Finally, the mariner begins approaching home and he’s relieved, excited, and disbelieving.

One line in the rime of the ancient mariner reads, “The harbour bay was clear as glass,/So smoothly it was strewn!/And on the bay the moonlight lay,/And the shadow of the moon./The rock shone bright, the kirk no less,/That stands above the rock:/The moonlight steeped in silentness/The steady weathercock” (6. 17. 473-476). Now the moon is associated with home, joy, comfort, and relief which envelopes the moon in positivity.

The ballad ends with both the sun and the moon on positive notes, but they underwent many fluctuating perspectives to reach that point. The sun started off more positive while the moon was negative, but when the sun began falling towards the negative side, the moon rose to positive. Eventually, the sun also returned to having a positive connotation.

Their symbolic representations weren’t constant as well. The sun started out representing hope, safety, and a caretaker which shifted to wrath and repercussion. The symbolism later changed to hopelessness and the story then ends with the sun representing eagerness and home.

The moon also follows its own path of winding symbolisms. It began with heavily negative associations to death and curses. But then it began to depict repentance and progress which evolved into blissful relief and safety.

Coleridge was able to achieve these fluctuations using powerful diction, vivid imagery, and strong, meaningful symbolism. All this contributed to the mystical heart of the ballad and demonstrated that there is a touch of enchantment to everything, even perfectly ordinary things like the moon and the sun.

Now that we have read the rime of the ancient mariner summary. let’s take a look at the dominant themes in this rhyme. This analysis will be incomplete without the themes.

Themes in The Rime Of The Ancient Mariner.

Coleridge’s lyrical ballad explores the following themes and main ideas:

Religious piousness and philosophy.

This is clear in the symbols of Death and Life-in-death as well as Fate. The reader understands that there are consequences of taking the life of another living thing just for the fun of it. If you’ve been searching for the term ‘the rime of the ancient mariner themes’, you have your answer. Piety and the study of wisdom ae dominant themes in the rhymes of the ancient mariner. 

Flights Of Imagination.

The mariner clearly has an imaginative psyche capable of transporting the reader to another place. Coleridge uses this theme to convey the fact that imaginative storytellers can transport people out of unpleasant situations into a novel world.

The Theme of the Natural World and Maturity. 

The rime of the ancient mariner highlights the interplay between nature’s elements and human development. The albatross, the sun, the moon,  life and death all contribute to the growth and maturation of the mariner. His experiences with the sea and the elements of nature transform him into a wise storyteller.

You can enjoy an audio recording of the rime of the ancient mariner on BBC Radio 3’s poetry page.

Works Cited: 

Coleridge, Samuel Taylor. “The Rime of the Ancient Mariner (Text of 1834) by Samuel Taylor Coleridge.” Poetry Foundation, Poetry Foundation, www.poetryfoundation.org/poems/43997/the-rime-of-the-ancient-mariner-text-of-1834.

Author’s Bio:

Zainab Hassan is a teenager precariously balanced on the tottering bridge between high school and university. She has been a writer longer than she has been anything else and is hoping to nudge herself into the writing world. You can read her tips for writing a poetry analysis on creative writing news.

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Cyrano de Bergerac is a French play written by Edmond Rostand in 1897. It tells the story of Cyrano de Bergerac, a clever and talented cadet with an unfortunately large nose. This insecurity of his prevents him from confessing his love for his beautiful cousin, Roxane. Instead, he romances her through a proxy; he helps Christian, a handsome, but dim, cadet, in wooing her. This play first attracted attention for its rejection of literature norms and gradually became internationally beloved with its dramatic humor, heartbreak, and relatable themes of insecurity and unrequited love. Another interesting aspect, however, is its representation of Gasons, a French minority. Several characters, including the protagonist, are Gascons which compelled an exploration of how and why the Gascons are represented in Cyrano de Bergerac.

Gascony is a region in southwestern France that, for several centuries, was harshly discriminated against, mostly because many of them were Cagots. Cagots were a despised minority found in western regions of France, including Gascony. The Cagots were severely persecuted and segregated; for example, they could not use public fountains, sell food or wine, or marry non-Cagots. In addition, they were forced to live separately at the outskirts of towns and were “excluded from all political and social rights” (Hawkins, 2014).

The play does not mention that Cyrano is a Cagot, but because many lived in Gascony, most Gascons were treated with similar disdain. However, it is worth noting that a common Cagot stereotype was that they were ugly, often with strangely shaped facial features, like ears and noses. Cyrano is infamously known for his oversized nose so it is possible that he is a Cagot, but either way, being a Gascon was enough for him to be a minority. The play does also include other Gascon characters, notably the Count de Guiche, an antagonist of the story and a man of considerable power. He is also enamored by Roxane, but is already married, so he tries to orchestrate a wedding between Roxane and a viscount who would allow de Guiche to have an affair with her. Cyrano and de Guiche sharply contrast one another and they feel very different about their Gascon identities.

Cyrano is the ideal hero; he’s clever, humorous, theatrical, noble, and willing to do anything for other people’s happiness. He also shows to be sensitive and insecure and, while not entirely perfect, he is a sweet and sympathetic character. Cyrano embodies many typical Gascon qualities, like his pride and passion. He is unashamed about his identity and praises the Gascon spirit:

The bold Cadets of Gascony,

Of Carbon of Castel-Jaloux!

Brawling and swaggering boastfully,

The bold Cadets of Gascony!

Spouting of Armory, Heraldry,

Their veins a-brimming with blood so blue,

The bold Cadets of Gascony,

Of Carbon of Castel-Jaloux:

[…]

What, ho! Cadets of Gascony!

(2.7)

Of course, he is flawed; his pride, idealism, and selflessness do reach extremes as he refuses help and struggles financially.

On the other hand, de Guiche is quite the opposite. He shares Cyrano’s intelligence, but as a count, he is powerful and wealthy while also shrewd and treacherous. Moreover, he tries to be as Parisian as possible. He denies his heritage, to the point of concealing his accent and worming among the higher class to disassociate from his Gascon identity. A lot of his actions throughout the play are villainous, for example, he orders a hundred men to kill a drunkard for insulting him. Similarly, he sends Christian and Cyrano to war in anger after learning of Roxane and Christian’s marriage. He’s a “Gascon, yes—but cold/ And calculating—certain to succeed—” (1.1).

It’s noticeable how these characters make it seem like an unapologetic Gascon would have to be ugly and poor and the only way for a Gascon to be successful would be for them to completely disconnect from their identity. Consequently, it seems like Rostand included Gascons into his play for mockery, not representation.

Another perspective, however, says otherwise. A Gascon protagonist is already quite a statement, especially since he is likeable, and his predominant flaw is caring for others more than himself. De Guiche isn’t as instantly admirable, but Rostand does give him a chance to redeem himself. In Act 4, the cadets are resting between battles when Roxane shows up. De Guiche first insists that she’s unsafe and must go back. When she refuses, he decides to stay and fight for her sake, showing to be honorable and respectful. Interestingly enough, as de Guiche announces that he will fight, his accent wavers and, for a moment, he sounds like a Gascon, much to the other cadets’ delight.

DE GUICHE (proudly, with a light touch of accent on the word ‘breaking’):

I will fight without br-r-eaking my fast!

FIRST CADET (with wild delight):

Br-r-r-eaking! He has got the accent!

DE GUICHE (laughing):

I?

THE CADET:

‘Tis a Gascon!

(All begin to dance.)

(4.7)

This scene suggests a connection between the kinder side of de Guiche and his Gascon accent. The other cadets’ celebration further reinforces the idea that a Gascon identity is valued. By Act 5, a friendship has bloomed between Roxane and the newly titled Duke de Guiche. He has won her forgiveness and the two engage in companionable conversation. Additionally, his contempt for Cyrano has seemed to dull, in fact de Guiche claims to be jealous of him.

Ay, true,–I envy him.

Look you, when life is brimful of success

–Though the past hold no action foul–one feels

A thousand self-disgusts, of which the sum

Is not remorse, but a dim, vague unrest;

And, as one mounts the steps of worldly fame,

The Duke’s furred mantles trail within their folds

A sound of dead illusions, vain regrets,

A rustle–scarce a whisper–like as when,

Mounting the terrace steps, by your mourning robe

Sweeps in its train the dying autumn leaves.

(5.2)

De Guiche’s character has clearly undergone development as he seems to be a lot less materialistic, proud, and hateful as he willingly begs Roxane for forgiveness and is able to somewhat replace his disdain for Cyrano with admiration.

With the likeable main character and partially redeemed villain of his play being Gascons, Edmond Rostand provides rare positive representation for a minority. Several of Cyrano’s best qualities are typical Gascon characteristics, and there seems to be a correlation between de Guiche’s Gascon identity and the better side of his personality. Moreover, there are other characters in Cyrano de Bergerac that aren’t explicitly said to be Gascon, but it’s implied. For example, Roxane and Le Bret, two characters who are both very close with Cyrano. Roxane is Cyrano’s cousin and, at one point in the story, they recall shared childhood memories in Gascony which suggests she is from there as well. Similarly, Le Bret is Cyrano’s best friend and a fellow cadet, which implies that he too, is a Gascon. These two characters provide positive representation for Gascons too. Roxane is clever, eloquent, and very beautiful, a divergence from the common belief that Gascons are ugly. Le Bret is wise as well which encourages the impression that Gascons are intelligent since all four of Rostand’s Gascon characters are. In addition, Le Bret opposes many of the typical Gascon characteristics; he’s very rational and level-headed, a sharp contrast to Cyrano’s prideful and dramatic behavior. Consequently, Le Bret’s character as well as Roxane’s beauty entertains the idea that Edmond Rostand was also trying to combat Gascony stereotypes.

The question, however, is why? Why was Rostand trying to provide supportive representation for this minority? Cyrano de Bergerac was loosely based on the life of a real French man by the same name. That Cyrano was believed to have been a Gascon, but in 1862, before Rostand wrote his play, it was proven otherwise. Therefore, Rostand didn’t make his Cyrano a Gascon for the sake of historical accuracy.

The next idea would be that Rostand made several Gascon characters because he himself was a Gascon. This isn’t true either; Rostand was born in Marseilles and his family was from Provence, a southeastern France region. Further research, however, shows that Rostand did have ties to Gascony. “Traditionally, the entire Rostand family traveled to the village of Luchon for their summer vacations. Luchon was, at the time, a quaint village situated between Spain and Gascony” (Ledford, 2009). Luchon’s proximity to Gascony probably exposed Rostand to Gascon people and culture. Moreover, this is where Rostand met his wife (Ledford, 2009) which suggests he had an emotional connection to southeastern France and could have further influenced his decision to emphasize on Gascon representation in his play.

Cyrano de Bergerac, while well known for its famous love triangle story, is also admirable for its great strides in representation, especially for such a despised minority. By creating several Gascon characters with flawed but still likeable personalities, Edmond Rostand was able to build positive associations to the region he spent much of his early life in.

Zainab Hassan is a teenager precariously balanced on the tottering bridge between high school and university. She has been a writer longer than she has been anything else and am hoping to nudge herself into the writing world.

Works Cited

“10 Facts About France’s ‘Untouchables’.” Listverse, Listverse, 24 Dec. 2018, http://listverse.com/2018/03/29/10-facts-about-frances-untouchables/

Burgess, Anthony, and Edmond Rostand. Cyrano De Bergerac. Knopf, 1981.

Hawkins, Daniel B, and Daniel B Hawkins. “’Chimeras That Degrade Humanity’: the Cagots and Discrimination.” Academia.edu – Share Research, www.academia.edu/15057536/Chimeras_that_degrade_humanity_the_cagots_and_discrimination

Ledford, Traci Elizabeth. “The Ideal World of Edmond Rostand’s Cyrano De Bergerac: a Director’s Approach.” Baylor University, 2009.

Thomas, Sean. “The Last Untouchable in Europe.” The Independent, Independent Digital News and Media, 23 Oct. 2011, www.independent.co.uk/news/world/europe/the-last-untouchable-in-europe-878705.html.

The post Social Representation in Rostand’s Cyrano de Bergerac appeared first on Creative Writing News.

The Republic literary journal is currently accepting essays for its October/November 2019 issue,. This upcoming issue will focus on the theme: 60 Years of Chinua Achebe and the State of African Literature.

The editors are particularly interested in essays that focus on Nigeria and Africa. Essays can explore one or more of the following topics:

⎈ Chinua Achebe’s (re)imagination of Africa and/or what it means to read Achebe today;

⎈ Defining/locating the ‘African’ in African literature;

⎈ Language and decolonization (e.g. Who owns English?);

⎈ African literature within economies of cultural production;

⎈ Gender, sexuality and cultural disruption through writing;

⎈ Afrofuturism and African futures beyond crisis and dystopia;

⎈ The role of writers in the modern world; and

⎈ Broader historical and/or literary affairs.

 

Submissions guidelines:

Essays must be analytical and engaging.

Lectures, speeches,book reviews and reading list can serve as authoritative/definitive subject-matter guides to readers who may have limited knowledge on history and/or literature.

Word count:  1,500 to 5,000 words

First drafts are welcome

Deadline for submissions:  Sunday 25 August 2019.

How to submit your essay:

• All submissions must be sent via email
• Send all submissions as MS-Word doc attachments to submissions@republic.com.ng.

Payment:

Essayists whose work appear  in this issue will be paid. The price hasn’t been stated.

Forward all inquiries to:submissions@republic.com.ng

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I was born an orphan in Athens in the 1950s and was adopted by Greek Americans who had very strong bonds to Greece and, throughout my life, have reinforced those bonds in me. This helped me on my journey to learning the Greek letters and alphabets.

We have relatives in Athens, and on the Ionian islands of Lefkas, where Sappho dramatically flung herself from the cliffs of the majestic Cape of Lefkas to her death, and on Ithaca, home of the mythic Odysseus and the epic poem which charts his ten-year journey home.

It was exactly there, where my very own Greek Odyssey began, a trip planned with my cousin, Amy, and her family, with whom I had been separated by distance and time for many years. This reunion, after maybe 30 years, and our subsequent journey together would ultimately lead to two of the most delightful hours that I spend each and every week. On Monday.

The Role Of Fate In Making Me Begin My Journey To Learning The Greek Letters, Alphabets and Words.

My mother, at almost 90, had come into failing health, ending up in a hospital, when she visited us in California. My cousins had serendipitously gotten in touch and, as luck would have it, we all happened to be in the same part of the state.

As it turned out, this would be the last time they and she would see each other. But that reunion sparked a delightful, renewed, ongoing adult relationship as we are all now in our 60’s and have realized, more profoundly than ever, the double-edged sword of time, both its gifts and its limitations.

Our Plan To Return to Greece.

During one of our evenings out, laughing, eating, drinking wine and reminiscing about our childhoods, funny relatives, and our quirky delightful grandparents, a discussion about travel, emerged and one of us threw out the notion that we should go to Greece together and wouldn’t that be fun. Yes, wouldn’t it.

How often we say things like that. Dreaming about what could be, but they are mostly wistful notions that never come to pass. Somehow, though, the idea of our own return to Greece together, not only stuck but came to fruition.

Over months, we planned the trip and before we knew it, the six of us were chatting incessantly on a plane to Athens the following summer.

Our Trip To Greece.

We had decided to visit the home of our maternal grandparents, who were sisters and were as close as any two people could be. They were born and spent their early years in the coastal village of Vathy on Ithaca, a postcard-perfect place on a less-visited Greek island that you come to after navigating a narrow body of water flanked by barren walls of stone.

Turning a corner you enter a deep, horseshoe-shaped bay. You don’t expect anything to be there and you certainly don’t expect its beauty. The village sort of appears. Reveals itself. Like a mirage.

There is no airport, so the only way there is by boat, which, thankfully, limits the number of tourists to the precious, tiny island. When I went as a girl with my grandparents years before, we paid a fisherman to shuttle us there in his small fishing boat with our luggage from Lefkas.

Today you can hire a water taxi like we did this time. By boat, though, is a poetic way to connect to this place.

Our Spectacularly Big Fat Greek Family.

Our family was a tribe of matriarchs. It’s not that there were no men. There were, plenty, like my own grandfather, Dionysus (Dan he was called), who was full of Greek bravado and bluster, but it was the women, in this case, my grandmother who ruled, even though it seemed like the men were in control.

Like in the now cult classic, independent film, My Big Fat Greek Wedding, the line goes something like this: “The man is the head, but the woman is the neck and she can turn the head any way she wants.”

Such was the case in our big, fat Greek family, who descended from the Thomas clan in Vathy, Ithaca.

I had been to Ithaca before with my grandmother and another one of her sisters, but I was a teenager then and, predictably, not as aware and appreciative as I was on this trip. To share the experience with my cousin, whose grandmother was the closest of my grandmother’s siblings and had remained so throughout their lives, was, to say the least, very special.

We were charmed and moved and engaged with this place, thinking what it must have been like for them when they lived there as girls, growing up at the dawning of the 20^th century. We took pictures together at the harbor where they must have walked and played together and decided that on our next trip we would find their ancestral home.

How Hearing Greek Improved Our Knowledge of The Greek Letters, Alphabets, and Words.

Hearing Greek is so familiar and like the smell of a garlic-laden lamb roasting in the oven, a pot of avgolemono soup simmering on the stove, reminds me of home.

Speaking Greek and writing the Greek letters, however, was a struggle and we lamented the fact that we hadn’t taken our Greek lessons seriously as young girls and that our parents did not speak to us in Greek at home.

Writing the Greek letters at home was, of course, out of the question

Of course, my grandparents spoke Greek, as did my cousin’s grandparents. My parents spoke Greek. My mother was fluent and, actually, her Greek was absolutely pristine. My spouse, who was our translator, also speaks Greek, to precision. It was her first language. I couldn’t wait for her to teach me all the Greek letters and words she knew.

We, as kids, were required to attend Greek school, which was provided at each of our elementary schools in Gary, Indiana, and at our church, built not as much with religious intention and fervor than for cultural grounding and permanence in a new country far from the homeland.

We were the Greek diaspora of Gary, Indiana, making a new life. While assimilation was important, our heritage must be preserved and celebrated and our language, spoken.

Our Greek teachers were well regarded, widely known, and respected in the community, feared by we kids and beloved, all at the same time. After a long day at “American” school, we were relegated to another couple of hours learning the language of our people by teachers named Bafaloukos, Paraskis, and Halvadzis, all characters with their own special styles of teaching.

Kyria (Mrs.) Bafaloukos, the general, slapping the ruler in her hand to punctuate the reciting of our “alpha-VEE-ta” (the alphabet) as she paced back and forth in the front of the room. Kyria Paraskis, the sweet prodder, asking again and again for our attention, always patient and understanding.

And Kyria Halvadzis, the distracted, with a lilting, high-pitched voice, who often stopped a lesson to recite a poem (in Greek letters) that happened to come to mind. (In private lessons, she would often pull out her mandolin to sing a Greek folk song. Oh, that soaring vibrato of hers!)

These were a trying couple of hours. We were tired, restless children, learning grammar, reading aloud, writing unfamiliar Greek letters, reciting endless dialogues and poems, all before dinner, our bath before bed and the “American” homework that was still waiting.

Greek was mandated then, deemed a necessity by our parents, but, alas, we had absolutely no appreciation for what learning it meant.

As an adopted person, my relationship with Greece and Greek letters the language has always taken on a deeper meaning. The only thing I have ever known for certain about myself is that I was born Greek and that, as an infant, was relinquished to a public foundling home by my unwed, teenage birth mother in the center of Athens, the city of my birth.

To strengthen my connection, I have retained my Greek citizenship, something very precious to me. My adopted mother was very strongly connected to her father’s home on Lefkas and his family there, which included aunts and uncles and first cousins and now their children and grandchildren.

And so that became my family, too. Her identity became mine. Our island. Our ancestral village of Agios Petros (St. Peter). We cling to what we know. We learn to love. And I was taught to love that place and that Greek family.

The Book That Helped.

Our trip was glorious and we promised each other to return and to learn Greek letters as adults. And so, my quest began, in earnest, to find a teacher or a school in the Bay Area that would tutor me in Greek letters.

In the meantime, my relatives, who appreciated my thirst to deepen my connection to the country, Greek letters, and its language, sent a book so that I could begin to learn Greek “without a teacher”, which, of course, I dove into.

Things happen for a reason. Sometimes when you are focused on one thing or another, related other things somehow emerge that reinforce that which you have become interested in.

What I Learned In The Course Of My Research.

During my research, I happened upon a beautiful article by Daniel Mendelsohn, a writer for The New Yorker, about teaching The Odyssey to his students at Bard, his love for and knowledge of the Greek letters and language, and a trip he took with his aging father.

It was a cruise designed to experience and discuss the places where Odysseus stopped on his way back home to Ithaca. The cruise brought father and son closer.

In addition, the article that told the tale led me to his book, An Odyssey: A Father, A Son and an Epic, from which the article was excerpted. As Mendelsohn chronicled life with his dad and his getting older, my mother was also failing, falling into a deep, dark abyss of the mind, as dementia slowly erased her thoughts and her memory and of the Greek, she spoke so beautifully.

I called every church in the San Francisco bay area. Did they teach adult learners, Greek letters? Mostly no. One had classes that were already full.

The times didn’t work for my university schedule and my commuting hours. Berkeley taught Modern Greek for university credit, but again, the class times fell in the middle of my workday and conflicted with my own teaching schedule and work as the chair of my department.

One last call to a church at which my childhood friend, Father Ari, had been a priest. Unbeknownst to me, I had passed it every day on my way back and forth to Hayward, the city where my university resides and where I taught.

The Ascension Greek Orthodox Cathedral sits in the Oakland hills nestled on a hill just beneath The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-Day Saints. That is the structure you see as you wind up and down the 580, a mammoth, white, cubist structure that resembles a very fancy wedding cake, with a gold spire that rises to the heavens. It is illuminated at night.

You cannot miss it. Today it is a tourist attraction. The Mormons have opened it up for tours. But the Greek Orthodox Cathedral is there, too. Next door. Modest, simple, and understated in its beauty.

“We do offer Greek lessons to adult learners,” the woman in the office said on the phone, “and some are on Saturdays, too.”

Eureka, I said to myself, which happens to be a Greek word, by the way.  It is pronounced, EV-ree-ka, and means, I found it!

The Greek School.

I e-mailed the principal of the Greek school, whose name is Eftychia Kokkinidis. Her first name, literally means “happiness” and her last name means red or reddened. She is certainly happy and as upbeat a person I have ever met!

The red part? Well, she is passionate about Greek letters and Greece! She responded immediately to my query and I offered to come in, pay the tuition, and pick up my books, which I did so that very evening.

The view from Ascension is magical. On a clear day, you can see the city of San Francisco, perched at the tip of that peninsula, which juts out into the bay. The backdrop is the iconic Golden Gate Bridge which frames the city from that angle.

A lone white hearse, with a white casket inside, was parked at the entrance to the church. No one was around except for me and the body inside. It was not lost on me.

My mother had been buried just a few months prior. Her casket was also white and so was the hearse that carried her to her grave. I’d never seen either color in casket or hearse, except at Aretha Franklin’s funeral on television.

But my mother had chosen both for herself and I thought a sign? Mom? Was this her doing? To encourage me back to the Greek she loved and spoke so confidently?

I walked into the Education Center at Ascension where a Montessori School rents out the first floor. Greek school is on the second and I wandered down the quiet, carpeted hallway looking for anyone to assist or direct me.

In a classroom, with a u-shaped configuration of desks, a reddish-haired, bespectacled woman, with thick black glasses, was hunched over her book, wrestling with the pronunciation of a Greek word.

She looked up and seemed almost relieved to see me.

“Excuse me. I’m looking for Efy, please,” I said.

The man facing his student, his back to me, slowly turned in his chair, and said, “She is down the hall. You passed her office.”

I thanked him.

“Na-seh kala,” he said, which is loosely translated as be well and is a frequent phrase as you part with someone.

Efy. She is a bundle of energy. She darts here. And there. With every movement, her wavy brown hair, flops about her head and in her eyes, as she pushes it away. She is constantly in motion, like a humming bird in search of nectar.

On a mission. She is deliberate when she walks, someone who always seems to be somehow pacing ahead of herself. And she speaks to you in the most articulated Greek I have ever heard.

She is precise and slow in speech so that you understand every, single word she says to you in Greek. Yia-sas. Kalo-stee-nah. Maria, ee-sas-te? Cheers! Welcome. Are you, Maria? I am. I was. And so, began my introduction to Greek school as an adult.

I was going to wait to start, maybe until the next semester, because I had come in to this class a couple of weeks late, but Efy, insistent, said, “You must not wait.

You will be fine and pick up quickly. You have had some Greek lessons. “Ela tora”, come now. And so, my class would be Monday afternoons from 4 to 6 pm, beginning the following Monday.

I would attend on my way home from “American” school, before my dinner, before the evening news, the hot shower, and the few pages I routinely read before bed. It took me 20 minutes to get there. As a former news producer, I am conditioned to be on time, if not early, which was the case at Greek school.

Efy is from Crete, the farthest, southernmost Greek island from the mainland, and is almost a country unto itself. I have always referred to it as the Texas of Greece.

Our teacher is Efy’s husband, Dr. Alexandros Kokkinidis. He is from a village called Serres just north of Thessaloniki, in the very northeast corner of Greece, in a region called Macedonia, the name of which has been an historical point of contention.

Efy and Aleko. The two of them are yin and yang. He is calm, careful in word and thought. He walks with a particular gait, steady and certain, as he teaches, the tips of his fingers on each hand slid into the top of his trousers on either hip. He looks down, but not at you.

It is a particular gaze that would make sense once you knew more about him. Dressed like a college professor, sweater and oxford cloth shirt, he comes to class always with a coffee cup and his book. His face is malleable and kind, soft, with eyes that always seem to smile.

He is someone’s Pappou (grandfather in Greek). He just seems like he is. Aleko welcomed me as if I had started with the class. There was no getting comfortable with him. He made sure I was comfortable on contact. How Greek, I thought, as they are world-famous for welcoming the stranger.

The class progresses to actually starting up. Greek time.  Time to learn the Greek letters and alphabets. There is a slow flow to how we begin and the students, five of us in all, come in a particular order and sit in the same seats week to week.

I am there first, poised to start, having unpacked my books and pencils like a small schoolgirl wanting to show the teacher I was serious and a good student. I was never a good student, not until graduate school, but when I became truly studious, I was in the front row, early to class, and prepared.

The girls come in next. Two delightful 20 something sisters, originally from Ohio, whose father is Greek. They live together in Oakland and are pre-school teachers. Sweet and inquisitive, they sat next to me. Amelea was to my left. I would not forget her name. It was my mother’s. “Do they call you Amy,” I asked her. No, she said. Amelea. Her sister is Eleni.

Next to arrive is Colleen, a spirited 50 something. She was the woman I had seen when I first registered and she confirmed later that she was relieved to see me then and had hoped I would have joined, so she would not be the only student that day. Colleen is Irish and married to a Greek.

And finally, always arriving a little late, in a flurry and in great haste from his job as a librarian is Chris, who I’ll guess is in his 30’s. Married to a Cypriot, Maria, who speaks flawless Greek, they have two young boys, one of whom, Jonah, is also in Greek school at the same time as his Dad. Baby Orfeas is always in the arms of one of his parents or being rocked in his pram.

Greek is a language only spoken in Greece, but used by all of us, in some form, every day, and is the basis for so much of how we understand the meaning of words.

On my way home that night, I stopped to have soup and salad at the home of my colleagues and her wife, a delightful couple, whose company is always warm, welcoming, and extremely interesting.

They live just blocks from the cathedral and were interested in my lessons. Greek lessons! Learning the classics. Greek is a language only spoken in Greece, but used by all of us, in some form, every day, and is the basis for so much of how we understand the meaning of words.

Eileen, a professor of English, said, Mary, “have you read the recent article by Mary Norris?” I hadn’t.

It was called Greek to Me, The Comma Queen on the Pleasures of a Different Alphabet. I promptly got a hold of a copy and subsequently ordered her book, from which the article came.

I had a brief e-mail exchange with The Comma Queen herself and let her know, later, via Twitter, that the book was a delight to read. It was about Norris, herself a Grecophile, learning the language, loving the words, and experiencing the culture as she has traveled extensively throughout Greece.

Mary’s Twitter feed led to an incredible little find, called Greek Etymologies, also with its own feed on Twitter. Today’s word was “vee-o-LEH-ta,” which means violet, from the Italian violetta, diminutive of viola from the Latin, and the ancient Greek, ¨ion.

I know. It looks different in the ancient, but those Greeks also had a different looking word for it. It was first recognized in Odyssey 5 as the narrator describes Calypso’s meadows blooming with, you got it, violet.

Techniques For Teaching The Greek Language.

Aleko also infuses his lessons with the origins of Greek, making the learning experience interesting and richer. “This way of teaching is very powerful,” he explains. “The students become able to fully understand the meaning of what he or she is saying.

The words connect to the English language etymology and other languages as well. We go deeper into an historical network of communication. It’s very important for the development of our personalities and it helps the student better remember the lesson.”

The class is alive in that way. It is as kinetic as is Efy. As we get underway with her husband, she darts into the room, greets us and writes the name of the day of the week in Greek letters on the board with the date.

“Today is Monday,” she articulately says it in Greek. “It is the 4^th of February.”

She searches for a book and a particular marker. He lovingly shoos her from the class as he announces that our class is in session and that hers is waiting down the hall. We begin.

It is under the tutelage of this 41 year veteran of the Greek Navy that we learn Greek letters and words. He was an admiral. And he is also a doctor, a psychiatrist, by profession, who studied the mentality of men who spend days and months in submarines beneath the seas.

Diving medicine, he calls it. He was also a visiting professor of psychiatry at the University of California, San Francisco, which brought him to the area. His wife has been teaching at the Greek school since 1991, and she asked him to teach Greek to adults. Most teachers prefer the children, as it happens, instead of adult learners.

“They are more intimidating than children,” Aleko says, “but I enjoy all the questions they bring to the classroom.”

After one weekend in LA, I had returned to learning Greek letters and vocabulary the next day from a visit with a former colleague, who has built an amazing, state of the art production studio in what is now called Silicon Beach, which I toured with him as a guide.

I never knew that the very successful video tech nerd, Randall, was also an ancient Greek savant. An aficionado. He was passionate about it as a boy and lights up after I tell him that I returned to Greek school.

“Mary, you teach government and politics. Have you ever been to the Hill of Pnyx?” (Randall pronounces it Niks, as in Knicks. Nick, Nik, Knick.) The hill of the what, I ask? The Hill of the Pnyx, he repeats, his eyes wide with enthusiasm.

In a huge green sound stage with lime green walls, he is off to the races telling me stories about the legendary hill in Athens.

I learned all about the Hill of the Pnyx, I tell my colleagues when I return to Greek school.

“The Hill of the Pneeex,” Aleko pronounces it in Greek. “It is a very important place at the base of the Acropolis and is where democracy was actually born.”

“Its significance is cemented in the concept that all citizens are invited to participate in the governance of the community. Everyone and anyone can speak. A healthy democracy is predicated on our participation.” Aleko explains.

“If only we were like the ancient Greeks in terms of participation,” says Chris. “We wouldn’t be in the mess we are in today.”

I sense we are about to go off the rails. But I bring it back. “Chris”, I said, “guess what the platform is called from which the ancient speakers rose their oratory?”

Chris was born Jewish and, I knew, would appreciate that it is called the bema, pronounced VEE-ma in Greek. But in Hebrew it is bema, which is the altar in a shul. These ancient cultures, they are all somehow related, I think to myself.

Randall also taught me about the word ostracism, I told my classmates.  “Ha,” Aleko exclaims. “It is a Greek word!” (Who knew?)

From the Greek, ostratismos. In ancient Athens, citizens could nominate people whom they believed threatened democracy because of political differences or dishonesty. They would vote to ostracize such a near-do-well. The punishment? Banish them for ten years from the city. Ostracize literally means “judgement by shards.”

So, how did they cast their votes? Scratching the names on the shards of pottery, of course, because it was the cheapest material available. No chance for any ambivalent hanging shards there for the ancients! By a popular vote, the outcasts were ostracized from their Athenian brethren.

We continually interject questions as we read our Greek letters, vocabulary, conjugate our verbs, and recite our helpful dialogues. We practice writing and answer questions in our workbook. Each of us haltingly reads from the book as Aleko corrects and explains. It is the grammar that is most difficult.

The conjugation of the verbs and the articles that precede the nouns, making them either masculine, feminine, or neuter. Greek itself is so precise, deep, and rich.

As my mother used to say, the Greeks; they have a word for it. And they really do. But we press Aleko for more grammar. We want to understand how this is masculine and why this feminine and to master conjugating verbs, not just in the present tense.

“First, guys, you must do your homework. But you will get it. You will get it. As you use the language, you will better come to know it and feel more confident to use it.”

We press him for more information, more detail, more depth because there is a real desire in all of us to be good at it, to know what we are doing and why we are doing it.

Delighted, he bolts up from his chair and, uncharacteristically animated, says, “Guys, this is great that you want more! You have to know grammar. It is the roadmap and gives the language its precision.” He is no friend of Rosetta Stone or Babel or Duolingo. “They are superficial. Greek is not about merely replacing one word with another. It is about expressing the true meaning of what you are trying to say, communicating concepts beyond the surface.”

We seem such an unlikely group of individuals that, at the face of it, appears like it would not jell, but jell it has. And our Greek? It is getting better. Each of us has gotten better at it and we encourage each other as we read a phrase without stopping or conjugate a verb properly in the future tense.

Chris is our quirky class sage. He knows his history, both American and ancient, and he understands more than the rest of us, including from where certain words come and their historical significance.

His name in Greek is pronounced Chri-STO-fo-ros, meaning the robe of Christ or the clothes of Christ. He is also politically astute and is tapped in to the current state of politics in the country.

During breaks, and very quickly, before Aleko returns to the room, recites from Twitter, reading us the latest about Trump or the Mueller report or Kellyanne.

Occasionally, his wife will pointedly come into our class holding baby Orfeas. “I’m so sorry. Can you take him for a minute,” she asks. Chris does, as the Twitter interlude or our lessons, press on. Maria is juggling both kids.

Four-year-old Jonah is in the class for youngsters down the hall, but he comes in from time to time as well. “I love my Dad,” he once told the four of us, with absolutely no provocation. “I love you, too, buddy,” says Chris, whose heart had just melted. “You better go back to class.”

Our class ambles from the Greek language to the meaning of words to Greek history to a map of Greece. “Here is Santorini, also known as Thera,” Aleko points.

“It was a volcano that erupted and is now one of the most beautiful places in all of Greece. Very crowded, as you all know. Many have said it may be the lost city of Atlantis.”

“Atlantis Books. Do you know it,” Chris asks? We don’t. Chris tells us about a Vanity Fair article written about the bookstore and he and Maria, which I later dig up on the Web.

Atlantis Books has become a known entity on the island and was dreamed up by friends of Chris, who were vacationing on Santorini and couldn’t find books to read while on holiday. Wouldn’t it be cool if we opened a bookstore on Santorini, they asked each other on one of those magical ouzo-induced evenings looking out at the sea?

Yes, wouldn’t it. And that they did after one of them called his best friend, Chris, who was back in America, to ask if he would come to be a partner in building the bookstore. Santorini is where Chris met and later married Maria.

The bookstore was formerly someone’s home and overlooks the sea. Rumor is, in fact, that the story of the bookstore may be the subject of a possible movie to be made (Tom Hanks may be involved), but has yet to be granted the proverbial Hollywood greenlight.

In our room you can hear the youngsters down the hall reciting poems, singing songs and reading. They will occasionally wander in and out of our class, including Colleen’s precocious son, the six-year-old George, who also takes Greek lessons so he can talk to his dad and his yiayia (grandmother), who lives in Greece.

“I’m here so I can speak to my mother-in-law,” she says during a break. Colleen is from Livermore and now is a real estate broker. “It’s also time I learned something other than the bad words in Greek.”

My mother-in-law, she said, “was not happy I married her Greek son, until she found out I was going to give her a Greek grandson,” she quipped with a wry grin. “Mike and I met when I worked at Nordstrom’s. He came to this country from Greece to play basketball at Patten College in Oakland. He’s big.

Nothing fit him and so I found some larger shirts that he liked. He said if you find any more, let me know. Months later, I did and I called him. That’s how we got started,” she said. The couple has been together for 18 years.

The sisters from Ohio are pre-school teachers and run a nature play summer camp. They do most things together, including Greek school. They grew up with very strong Greek family bonds where they heard their father speaking Greek with his mother and siblings.

Their love affair with the culture and language began there, but was enhanced during a trip to Greece in 2018 when they visited their ancestral villages on the Greek island of Chios, a stone’s throw from Turkey, and another village called Cesme in Turkey, which was once home to many Greeks, including relatives of the Canaris sisters.

“It was so powerful to connect with our ancestry in that way. To stand on the land and bathe in the waters where my ancestors once stood and bathed was the most beautiful magic I have ever experienced,” said Eleni. “I want to become fluent in Greek,” she adds. “I always loved to hear it spoken by my father with his parents and other relatives.”

“There is no C in the Greek alphabet,” says Amelea. “Our last name should be spelled with a K, not a C. Yours, too, Mary, right?” Yes, mine, too. We discuss changing the spelling to reflect the actual Greek spelling. Kanaris not Canaris. Kardaras, not Cardaras.

Aleko tells me my name does have meaning. It does? Does it mean anything? I was delighted. It means “churn.” As in, a container in which butter is made. Think cow. Or goat. Were the Kardaras clan from the Peloponnese, dairy farmers? I wonder.

The sisters are contemplating a move north to Sebastopol where they hope to organize a pre-school and to be closer to nature. But it might jeopardize their lessons on Monday afternoons.

I think about how sad it would be if the class were to change. But it is certain to change in September. Chris and Maria got teaching jobs in Cyprus, which is her home and where her parents live. They are leaving the states in July. It’s time for her parents to get to know their grandsons.

Chris said they want their young boys to grow up on a family-friendly and relatively safe island. Colleen and her husband, Mike, will eventually return to his home in Thessaloniki, where she says she knows life will not be as materialistically-focused. “I know that Greece has its problems,” she said, “but I’d be lying if I said that the gun violence in schools in this country was not also part of our decision.”

My female colleagues, at the end of a luncheon to celebrate the end of the term, ask me about my lessons, which I explain are also ending for the summer.

We talk about reading the classics and why they are important. Eileen says, “Students have to know about Antigone! There is real value in Antigone for today!” Maria brings out a well-worn, rather hefty text of Homer’s Iliad and Odyssey, a book designed for young people, and published in the 50’s.

“I learned from this book and it was great because it explained something so dense and so deep, but for children. That was my speed and it was so much easier to digest and understand this way.”

I remember learning the Odyssey, I think, in high school, but contemplate reading it again, maybe from a child’s perspective. Wistfully I begin to think that the Odyssey and Greek lessons have helped each of us find our way “home” and we’ve learned that, like Odysseus, the journey is often not a straight line and could take some time.

Greek Students Meet For A Meal.

Our class meets for the last time, but not over books. Like any Greek worth his salt, we meet over food and drink and we inhabit a large corner booth at an Oakland eatery called Ikaros, named for the Greek island, Ikaria, which has been deemed a so-called “blue zone,” which now denotes a place where people live into their 100’s.

We are also saying goodbye to Chris and I am going to miss him. I have never been to Cyprus and I tell him I will visit. I will also make a point someday to visit his bookstore in Santorini, now rated one of the best in the world.

The pair of flaming saganaki’s come first and we order too much food as Greeks are wont to do. We present Aleko with some parting gifts, tokens of our affection and respect for him.

In his card, each of us has written in Greek letters. He is touched and begins reading aloud. As he does so, he inadvertently takes a pencil and corrects our grammar. To me he says, “Maria, it is not “se” here. It is “sas”.

To Eleni, he instructs her to use the word “mou” here before the verb. To Chris, “this needs to be possessive”. Ever the teacher, we are smiling at each other as he gives us one final lesson.

“Meet me in Greece this summer,” Aleko says in a Zorba sort of way, to all of us and to no one in particular as he sips his wine. The owner comes to the table to ask about the food.

The branzino, we tell him, was exquisite. He looks Greek and asks about us. Are we a family? Are we work colleagues? We are students of Greek letters with our teacher, we tell him.

He, surprisingly, is not Greek. He is a Palestinian, who has Greek roots and he proceeds to tell us the story about his family, some of whom were priests at a monastery in the north of Greece. The Palestinians have a history in Greece and we are intrigued by his story, but knew none of it. Aleko does.

Of course, he does. And he is familiar with the monastery about which George, the Palestinian owner, speaks. It is a fitting way to end this part of our journey. So much more to learn. It was Einstein who said, “the more I learn the more I realize how much I don’t know.” That is the truth.

I am on my way back to Greece this summer, for yet another odyssey, meeting my cousin again, this time on the island of Andros, my spouse’s ancestral home. Amy’s sister, Kathy, will join us this time.

And we will meet her neighbor, Stella, whose family is also from this Cycladic island in the Aegean, just a two-hour ferry ride from the port city of Rafina, near Athens.

On this next trip, I will be armed with much more verbal skill and an even stronger commitment to studying Greek letters, which has been such a source of joy these past six months.

Where I am Now In Learning The Greek Letters, Alphabets and Vocabulary.

Scrolling through Facebook this week, I came across a post from an elegant Texan, whom I am very fond of. In fact, I used to call him Tex. His name is actually Tom.

Always the professor, wherever Tom went, he was carrying a book or two under his arm. He teaches English and was a former colleague of mine. We taught at the same college.

He is a poet and lives in Cambridge, Massachusetts. That morning he had posted a photo, the cover of a book. It was The Iliad of Homer. It keeps coming back to this, in some form.

This was the English verse translation by Alexander Pope. Was Tom reading it? Teaching it? Someone I didn’t know had commented: “Thanks for the reminder.” I posted a heart without comment. But Tom replied.

“Given my love for Turkish poet Nazim HIkmet and general love of pluralism and democracy, I say this with caution, but also with affection: Are we not, at our most passionate, most creative, most articulate and perhaps even at our happiest, healthiest and best, ALL, in some way, Greeks?” Indeed.

Aleko would be proud.

Author Bio:

Dr. Mary Cardaras is a journalist, documentary filmmaker, professor and chair of the Department of Communication at California State University, East Bay in Hayward. In addition to journalism, she teaches about government, the media and democracy.

The post Greek Letters: How I Learned To Speak and Write Greek appeared first on Creative Writing News.

Research essayists at the graduate (Masters or Doctoral) level are invited to enter for the ongoing UN High Commissioner Refugee Essay Competition 2019. All essays must reflect the 2019 African Union’s Theme: ‘The Year of Refugees, Returnees and Internally Displaced Persons: Towards Durable Solutions for Forced Displacement in Africa’.

This competition is being organized by UNHCR and Addis Ababa University’s Centre for Human Rights (CHR-AAU).

According to the press release, the essay contest has been organized to:

commemorate the 50th anniversary of the adoption of the Organization of African Unity Convention Governing the Specific Aspects of Refugee Problems in Africa and the 10th anniversary of the adoption of the AU Convention for the Protection and Assistance of Internally Displaced Persons in Africa (Kampala Convention).

Deadline for submissions is 17:00 Addis Ababa time on 31 December 2019.

Illegibility

• Only graduate students in African Universities are eligible
• Writer must be knowledgeable in writing research essays
• Only one essay per entrant will be permitted.
• Entrant must be aged 18 or over;
• A national of, or ordinarily resident in, an AU member state
• Essay must be written in English
• Essay must be endorsed by a faculty member in your university.

Submissions Guidelines:

• Submission must be a research essay
• Word count:  3,000 words max (this includes any cover page, table of contents, footnotes, bibliography, etc…) t
• Essays must do justice to the topic of refugees and/or IDPs in Africa.

• Research may come from any relevant discipline (including but not limited to economics, geography, history, law, philosophy, politics or sociology), or may be interdisciplinary. The research may be theoretical, or it may incorporate empirical/field research findings.

Jury
An internal jury composed of UNHCR experts and CHR-AAU faculty will screen all entries. The most accomplished works will be forwarded to an expert jury composed of international experts.

How to apply for the UN High Commissioner for Refugees Essay Competition 2019

• Ensure that your essay is in PDF format
• Send your submission as an email attachment to

1. birhane.azaghe@aau.edu.et,
2. wondemagegn.tadesse@aau.edu.et
3. and ethadrau@unhcr.org

• All submissions must be emailed before the before 17:00 Addis Ababa time on 31 December 2019 deadline .

Other materials to include in your submission (both in the body of the email and in the PDF doc)

• Your full name;
• Your date of birth;
• Your phone number and email address;
• Your nationality or country of habitual residence;
• The name of the university where you are registered;
• Proof of registration; and
• An endorsement in PDF format of no more than 200 words written by a faculty
member from your university.

Entries will be judged based on the following criteria:

• Quality of writing;
• Quality of research;
• Timeliness and importance of topic; and
• Contribution to increasing understanding of forced displacement in Africa.

Prize/Awards
Winners will receive:

• A cash award of of $1,000 USD
• An opportunity to be published by UNHCR and CHR-AAU

Winners will be announced in May 2020.

The post UN High Commissioner for Refugees Essay Competition 2019 / How To Apply appeared first on Creative Writing News.

In the play, ​The House of Bernarda Alba ​by Federico Garcia Lorca, oppression, death, depression, and desire are recurrent themes that relate to each other.

The play, la casa de Bernarda Alba, also focuses on what happens when freedom and individuality are restricted. Almost all the characters in The House of Bernarda Alba fall into these major themes.

“Needle and thread for women. Whiplash and mules for men.” (Lorca 1. 1. 200-201), is a line that signifies the oppressive world that Bernarda Alba lives in.

In the eloquently written play, it is quoted often about how a woman must behave in society notably around men. For example, Angustias is given advice from her mother Bernarda Alba that she must not ask her fiancé Pepe el Romano what is on his mind. This is because a wife must appear calm on the surface despite the circumstances.

Oppression is the ultimate theme of the play,The House of Bernarda Alba, since it is what the predicament is centered around. At the opening of the play, Bernarda Alba’s second husband dies and Bernarda establishes that she and her daughters will be in mourning for eight years.

During these years, the girls are supposed to be doing needlework. This births a problem since they are not allowed to go outside or associate in any affairs. This is the first symbol of the theme of oppression besides the obvious patriarchy in Roman Catholic Spain.

Bernarda is restricting her daughters’ freedom. Eight years feel like an eternity for her daughters. Unable to bear the monotony and the isolation, they go insane later on in the play.

The house can be a representation of Bernarda’s twisted mind since it was inverted with a courtyard that was enclosed outside. This shows that Bernarda has a closed mind and does not want her daughters to leave even though the house tries to give false security of looking similar to the outside world when in reality it is nearly unattainable to have a connection with anyone beyond the house’s walls.

Another character that oppresses others is the servant, Poncia. When the beggar woman comes in front of the door asking for leftovers, Poncia justifies not feeding her by saying “Dogs are alone too, and they live”(Lorca 1. 1. 85). In conclusion, everyone is oppressing everyone in some way or another, especially the sisters who harass each other rather than loving each other.

Death is the second recurrent theme in the play, la casa de Bernarda Alba. It is as if Lorca added this theme because it had a powerful effect and meaning. The play began with a death and ended with a death in a literal sense and a metaphorical sense.

In the beginning, the audience is greeted with the characters dealing with the death of their father and at the end, the characters are dealing with the death of their sister.

Due to the suicide of Adela, the theme of death can also be associated with escape. It shows that Adela hated her life so much and was so drastically in love with Pepe that she would rather die than continue to live on.

In, la casa de Bernarda Alba, death is also symbolized with the black clothes the daughters wear throughout the day while the white clothes they wear is used to symbolize purity. In a metaphorical way, death is represented not only as a form of oppression but depression as well.

Martirio’s depression lurks and it causes her to wait around until her time is up, Poncia believes that giving into your natural sexual instincts leads to death, and Adela suggests that repression is the same thing as death. In my understanding of reading la casa de Bernarda Alba, the moral question I think Lorca was trying to bring up is, “How should we live our lives?” since we all are going to pass away someday.

Death creates a lot of stress in the household and the heat is a symbol that helps carries the theme of oppression. It refers to Bernarda’s oppression and frustration and expresses Bernarda’s dominance and fury throughout the play.

Heat is also a symbol of desire by the presence of fans and lemonade which the women are using to keep cool. In, la casa de Bernarda Alba, the symbol of heat can also represent the daughters going into heat or ovulation due to their anger at their mother as well due to their desire for affection.

For instance, the battle between Martirio and Angustias during Angustias loss of her boyfriend’s picture shows that she isn’t the only daughter who desires affection. Adela actually has intercourse with her sister’s fiance.

Overall the themes of oppression, death, depression, and desire were all relevant in the play, la casa de Bernarda Alba, in many ways.  All the aforementioned themes helped to tell the story of what happens in the house of Bernarda Alba.

This play also reflects Lorca’s life since he was a gay man living in a time where homosexuality wasn’t accepted as it is today. I believe his feelings are well expressed since there was a quote that said: “better never to lay eyes on a man, never to have seen one.”

The themes that are represented in la casa de Bernarda Alba are all connected to each other.

As an example, the play, the house of Bernarda Alba, shows how desire can lead to death. The daughters chase after someone who is not worth their time due to the fury that is inside them. This leads to one suicide, heartbreak, a loss of engagement, and an emotional split of the family.

 

Works Cited

 

Lorca, Federico Garcia, The House of Bernarda Alba. ​The Norton Anthology of Drama​.Vol. 2 J Ellen Gainor et. al. W.W. Norton & Company, 2018. 630-663

Bio: Kathryn is a freelance writer and blogger in the Asheville, NC area who enjoys the creative writing realm and is currently pursuing a degree in psychology and minoring in creative writing.

If you enjoyed reading this essay, you might be interested in reading these:

Writing Workshop With Chimamanda Ngozi Adichie: Learning To Write Like A Nobel Laureate At The Purple Hibiscus Creative Writing Workshop

As well as

How To Start A Novel: A Guide To Writing Bestselling Fiction.

Resonance: A Personal Essay on the 2018 Purple Hibiscus Trust Creative Writing Workshop

Photo by Reto Niederhauser on Unsplash

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