exiled

 Ngugi wa Thiong’o

It’s the birthday of author Ngugi wa Thiong’o (books by this author), born James Ngugi in Limuru, Kenya (1938). The 1960s were productive years for Ngugi. He produced his first play, The Black Hermit, in 1962 while still in college; in 1964, he published the first East African novel written in English. That book is Weep Not, Child, and it’s based on his family’s troubles during the Mau Mau Uprising. He published The River Between (1965) a year later, and A Grain of Wheat in 1967. Around this time, he changed his name to Ngugi wa Thiong’o to reflect his Kikuyu heritage, and he stopped writing in English.
He was sent to a maximum-security prison in 1977 for the overtly political play I Will Marry When I Want, and while he was there, he wrote Devil on the Cross (1980), the first novel in the Gikuyu language. He was denied paper, so he wrote the novel on prison toilet paper. In 1982, he was packing to return home from a book launch in London when he found out the Moi dictatorship in Kenya was plotting to kill him. He suddenly found himself an exile. “At first I would only use the word shipwrecked, not exile, to refer to my situation; shipwrecks end with rescue, right?” he later wrote. “I did not unpack the suitcase. Seven years later the suitcase was still packed.” He eventually settled in the United States and has taught at Yale and the University of California – Irvine. Four of his children are published authors.
In 2010, he published a memoir called Dreams in the Time of War about his childhood in a Kikuyu compound outside of Nairobi, and  Birth of a Dream Weaver: A Writer’s Awakening (2016). It’s about his university days in Uganda, where he found his writerly and political voice.

The Writer’s Almanac for Tuesday, January 5, 2021

How to be a healthy nurturer

self_caricature_jeanne

caricature of Jeanne by Jeanne

healthy requires putting self at the top of the list

working out every day with aerobic exercise

sleeping through 8 hours

communication with significant confidants

intuiting like a powerful woman

moving with the Sacred Spirit

active listening

reading all the non verbal cues

loving generously

with kindness

and JOY!

You Can’t Roller Skate with a Buffalo Herd

Queen Knees figure skates

You Can’t Roller
Skate With a
Buffalo Herd
Song by Roger Miller

You can’t roller skate in a buffalo herd
You can’t roller skate in a buffalo herd
You can’t roller skate in a buffalo herd
But you can be happy if you’ve a mind to
You can’t take a shower in a parakeet cage
You can’t take a shower in a parakeet cage
You can’t take a shower in a parakeet cage
But you can be happy if you’ve a mind to
All you gotta do is put your mind to it
Knuckle down, buckle down, do it, do it, do it
Well you can’t go swimming in a baseball glove
You can’t go swimming in a baseball glove
You can’t go swimming in a baseball glove
But you can be happy if you’ve a mind to
You can’t change film with a kid on your back
You can’t change film with a kid on your back
You can’t change film with a kid on your back
But you can be happy if you have a mind to
You can’t drive around with a tiger in your car
You can’t drive around with a tiger in your car
You can’t drive around with a tiger in your car
But you can be happy if you’ve a mind to
All you gotta do is put your mind to it
Knuckle down, buckle down, do it, do it, do it
Well you can’t roller skate in a buffalo herd
You can’t roller skate in a buffalo herd
You can’t roller skate in a buffalo herd
But you can be happy if you’ve a mind to
You can’t go fishing in a watermelon patch
You can’t go fishing in a watermelon patch
You can’t go fishing in a watermelon patch
But you can be happy if you’ve a mind to
You can’t roller skate in a buffalo herd
You can’t roller skate in a buffalo herd
You can’t roller skate in a buffalo herd
Source: Musixmatch

say “YES” to cartoons

JULIEROWAN-ZOCH

It’s the birthday of cartoonist B. Kliban

born in Connecticut (1935).

He once drew a cartoon in which a man is walking along the street with a walking stick and a cravat and shades, accompanied by two beautiful women,

while a policeman kicks people out of the way,

shouting, “Out of the way, you swine.

A cartoonist is coming!”
Poetry Almanac Jan 1,2021

New Year’s
by Dana Gioia

Let other mornings honor the miraculous.
Eternity has festivals enough.
This is the feast of our mortality,
The most mundane and human holiday.
On other days we misinterpret time,
Pretending that we live the present moment.
But can this blur, this smudgy in-between,
This tiny fissure where the future drips
Into the past, this flyspeck we call now
Be our true habitat? The present is
The leaky palm of water that we skim
From the swift, silent river slipping by.
The new year always brings us what we want
Simply by bringing us along—to see
A calendar with every day uncrossed,
A field of snow without a single footprint.

Dana Gioia, “New Year’s” from Interrogations at Noon, Graywolf Press. © Dana Gioia.

New Years Day and our God in the sky

GodInTheSky

She’s female

or male

or spirit or girl

or blonde or silver colored hair

no need of clothes

too pure and perfect to spurn

but burns to purify

cleanses all the strif

and stuff of chaos

like viruses unfolding in the air

shadows on the lungs

that take our brothers to the realm of spirit

where they move with the angels and ancestors

to praise His Everlasting Glory

and her ever ready love for all creation sent by Him

Her Sacred Spirit.

Alleluia!

a QUICKSILVER new year

SeventhMartialart

WhoIsQuicksilver

Skate Stick Blues

 

Balance in 2021

roll to right

wiggle

roll to left

wiggle

lift the arms

wiggle

bend the knees

dribble

shake the cheeks

dribble

bend the shoulders

swiggle

roll those wheels

swiggle into 2021!

the glory of God is a human fully alive!

11760146_10205678052603097_715962034304580725_n

It was on this day in 1831 that Charles Darwin set sail from England on the HMS Beagle. Darwin’s biology professor had recommended that he go on the upcoming voyage touring the Galapagos Islands and South America, but his father was against the dangerous trip. Darwin went anyway, and he explored the rainforests and was amazed by the plants and animals that he found. He returned to England, and he thought about what he had seen and developed his theory of evolution. In his book On the Origin of Species (1859), he wrote: “Probably all organic beings which have ever lived on this earth have descended from some one primordial form, into which life was first breathed.

There is grandeur in this view of life that …

from so simple a beginning endless forms

most beautiful and most wonderful have been,

and are being evolved.”

The Writer’s Almanac for Sunday, December 27, 2020

singing for Christ

Singing with the Angels

The Writer’s Almanac for Saturday, December 26, 2020


For Maia
by

Gary Johnson
A little girl is singing for the faithful to come ye


Joyful and triumphant, a song she loves,


And also the partridge in a pear tree


And the golden rings and the turtle doves.


In the dark streets, red lights and green and blue


Where the faithful live, some joyful, some


troubled,


Enduring the cold and also the flu,


Taking the garbage out and keeping the


sidewalk shoveled.


Not much triumph going on here—and yet


There is much we do not understand.


And my hopes and fears are met


In this small singer holding onto my hand.


Onward we go, faithfully, into the dark


And are there angels hovering overhead?


Hark.
 
“For Maia” by Gary Johnson. Used by permission of the author.

He will lead us home again…

The Writer’s Almanac for Friday, December 25, 202

Music on Christmas Morning
by Anne Bronte
Music I love—but never strain


Could kindle raptures so divine,


So grief assuage, so conquer pain,


And rouse this pensive heart of mine—


As that we hear on Christmas morn

,
Upon the wintry breezes borne.

Though Darkness still her empire keep,


And hours must pass, ere morning break;


From troubled dreams, or slumbers deep,


That music kindly bids us wake:


It calls us, with an angel’s voice,


To wake, and worship, and rejoice;


To greet with joy the glorious morn,


Which angels welcomed long ago,


When our redeeming Lord was born,


To bring the light of Heaven below;


The Powers of Darkness to dispel,


And rescue Earth from Death and Hell.


Now holy Peace may smile from heaven,


And heavenly Truth from earth shall spring:


The captive’s galling bonds are riven,


For our Redeemer is our king;

And He that gave his blood for men


Will lead us home to God again.

 
“Music on Christmas Morning” by Anne Bronte.

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