Saturday, November 28, 2015

Wife of the Gods by Kwei Quartey

I am learning so much about Africa while enjoying a mystery written by Kwei Quartey. The title is Wife of the Gods. I've been reading about a woman brought to trial by her brother in law. He takes his sister in law to a witch doctor. The accused woman's name is Akua. She is infertile. The decision is that the wife, Osewa,  has no womb because her sister has practiced bad magic upon her. It is decided by the witch doctor to have three chickens killed. If they die breast up, Akua will gain her freedom and not have the blame on her shoulder of her sister's childlessness.

I really became so upset with this part of the novel. I am sure the bloody experience destroyed Akua's mind and spirit. She is described as "writhing and screaming like a beast...frothing saliva." I wonder what it is like to see this happen when you have not grown up in this society's culture. I would feel totally helpless. I don't know if looking at a woman "feathered and bloodied" would leave me out of my right mind. How is it possible to learn without prejudice the practices of other countries and religions?

The novel is fascinating. Just had to write about this woman's experience. I also thought of the barren woman. Did this situation cause a breech between the sisters? Two women are emotionally hurt because of one man's impatience to wait for his wife's birth of a child.
Thank goodness, in our society we are not judged by whether we can have children, or are we?

Friday, November 27, 2015

Death Be Not Proud by John Donne

Death, be not proud, though some have called thee
Mighty and dreadful, for thou art not so;
For those whom thou think'st thou dost overthrow
Die not, poor Death, nor yet canst thou kill me.
From rest and sleep, which but thy pictures be,
Much pleasure; then from thee much more must flow,
And soonest our best men with thee do go,
Rest of their bones, and soul's delivery.
Thou art slave to fate, chance, kings, and desperate men,
And dost with poison, war, and sickness dwell,
And poppy or charms can make us sleep as well
And better than thy stroke; why swell'st thou then?
One short sleep past, we wake eternally
And death shall be no more; Death, thou shalt die.

Thursday, November 26, 2015

Books are my delight
like cranberry sauce and nuts
on Thanksgiving Day

Wednesday, November 25, 2015

Wife of the Gods by Kwei Quartey

"There were a few huts nearby, and Uncle was standing next to one of them talking to a neighbor. Noisy weaverbirds were building their upside-down, trumpet-shaped nests in the trees."

Voiced thoughts. Jungle dark ladder trees scrub stars
 above a listing wall where lies forked bones.     
 Isolated fear wild, laughing clowns slip 
 through a gate where stand four weary lions mad
 for dungeons bled by matadors from Spain.        
 Shepherd this one around hard, cold, clay floor   
 until the skin falls off dead arms and hands        
 meet along the beach before sweet music shouts 
 ole! deeply shielded castles sunk in sand.           
 Shadowed ghosts shake pink broken shells along  
 mind's waves with lying tongues of fortunes near     
 upon the crash of silver waves spooned lives
 drag wisdom's treasure chest pass shipwrecked souls
 waltz inside a ballroom marbled with glass.

Tuesday, November 24, 2015


What you have felt - real.
 I am not afraid to stand
 bravely beside you while
desert dust blows around.

I will brush your tears away
while you brush mine and
wait for the stillness of the
storm to push us toward a

sea dream of mirrors wet
and cold like rainbows. A
canteen filled with wine
rippled as a camel's skin.