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coconutnutmilk · 28 days

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The legend of Raitoburu

To read the story pf Raitoburu, you need to read this and then "Raitoburu", this is an introduction of the legend.

Not many living beings have attained creation itself, and not many saw it as first borns.

It burned yet it didnt

it was bright yet dark

it was confusion and clear at the same time.

It was life and death, fighting.

And just as their swords touched, it was me, it as me and my brothers, and the planets and the stars and galaxy.

It was creation.

There was no sound, but the rush of wild energy, the matter creating from such power and compressing due to the attraction, it was a a domino effect, smaller explosions as matter collided on others, creating and creating more energy.

Expanding the range of action until every geode found its place.

And then i felt.

At least i think, i didnt have a body, i was just a sentient light sphere, floating following the explosions, i dont think time passed during the process of creation, or maybe it did and it has.been billions of years.

But suddenly i started falling, attracted to the matter that getting closer made me understand just how small i was, becoming large, enormous, until i couldnt see the curve.

Falling into the lava, boiling, it was all lava, but it wasnt bad, cozy id say.

I kept still, not really knowing how to move, i could sense both Life's and Death's magic rushing and fighting in the thick matter, it was everywhere.

But after few moments, the energy slowed down, not running anymore, but walking.

The lava disappeared, it was all dark, warm still, but dark.

I tried to move but it was all like a dream, i had no limbs, i didnt have a head or a brain, i was a being, just there to witness the formation of history.

Suddenly i felt lifted, something lifting me like an invisible force, and it wasnt dark anymore, it was blue.

So blue, everything was of a deep blue, even the sky was blue, it was blue and cold, a new kind of energy made it self clear to the new view.

A brother of mine, perhaps paying a visit.

It was right there, close to me, and just like me they didnt have a body, or a voice, or a way to talk, they were there, with me.

Their presence kept coming and going away for few seconds, until i clearly saw something...moving.

It was small, so small, floating in the deep blue majestically, dancing with the same freedom i felt i had.

Was it my brother? No, their energy was somewhere else too, another even smaller, following the bigger one, singing too.

An ipnotic sound came from these two majestic creatures, a song, perhaps a way to communicate between them, they didnt need words, they just needed a melody to make the other understand their feelings.

It was beautyful.

So this is what my brother was, at least i have one of my brothers names in my non existent head.

Feeling.

Or Fel for short.

He seemed beautyful, these two creatures have his blessing, and even the smaller ones.

I like whales...

Just like few moments ago, my conscience was lifted, and just as if pushed by a rush of air, i found myself in...green?

Green, and brown, and yellow and purple...and...

And so many colors.

I looked around, finding myself small this time as wonderful towers of life showered me with thin, light green...leaves.

The wind made them tinkle, and the light played games on them, something i would never see again.

A rush of energy arrived with the sound of leaves moving, a sister...

And again, another creature, enormous, with beautyful giant...antlers, deep dark eyes that reflected the light, and it too had a smaller version of it self.

Smaller, weaker and full of life, holding ot its mouth a sweet and round peach, lowering its head to munch it easily as the older one sniffled the air, and turned over, looking at me

I could feel the energy, coming from its composure, it was so full.

Tho, i wasnt exactly in one place, and the...deer seemed to have noticed, feeling a presence yet not understanding where it was, it looked around, its previous calmness and joy disappeared, making the young one nervous, they both looked around before clopping away.

Guess Prosperity wanted to say hi.

And just as before, i was taken away from the force, this time traveling thousands of miles, the paesage becoming darker in tones, colder, less...lively.

And the energy, a black, dark one stung my...nose? Did i have a nose? Well, no, but i could sense the stunginess.

The view was unpleasent, an infinite space, flat with no trees of living being, with only a giant vulcan, a vulcan that straripated with energy, a thick coat that mafe it impossible to live in the surroundings.

I tried to get closer to the vulcan, the lava was redish, more that what lava was supposed to be, in fact, it wasnt lava nor magma, it was...blood?

It was my sister's blood.

Now lets stop the drama and talk for a moment.

How come all my brothers and sisters get to have complete control over their powers but im still just a floating conscience??

My sister even has a physical body! I dont have that! Im a sphere of light that gets pushed around by some superior force (here, Realish snickers)

Ok, lets get back to the story.

The blood boiled as something stood in the middle, small, dipped in the red blood.

A tiny, weak sprout.

How was it possible? A small, imponent life, in the middle of the violent energy.

Raw energy in large amounts is able to kill armies of titan...titans.

And that was it, i felt, in the lava and then in the ground under it, keeping the fall at a speed that shouldnt be possible, finding myself in water for few seconds, perhaps an underground tank, except it was holy water and it was under a vulcan.

I was in the ground again, going faster and faster, falking until without changing direction the feeling of fall changed to lift, i was now getting lifted, still surpassing the laws of physic, and i was in the blue again.

The feeling stopped, i was there, completely emmobile, unter the water which's pressure would have crushed towns, what exactly is a town? Whatever.

And just as i looked around, i noticed i could look around, and suddenly, i could move, and shape, and see clearly

I started feeling the water on my skin, which still had to form.

I wasnt a sphere anymore, the tour was finished, i was now awakeninv much later than my bros.

But the shaping stopped until i had the form of an unfinished puppet.

I had nothing, no eyes, no ears, no mouth nor hair.

Then i remembered, the blue alla around me was beautyful, but i didnt want to get confused in it, and my skin became whatbi wanted it to, a light blue, like the clear sky.

The bright peach, that nourished the animals, their lively colors, and just like that, my hair were fluffly, short a Pink Peach.

Those antlers looked cool too, yea ill add them too.

But all those creatures, they became like that after time, time that i rushed as by floating around hundreds, no, thousands of years passed.

And im looking like this because i want to, its wrong.

Yet what could i do? Remain a sphere forever? Of course i had to shape myself.

And just like that, i was there, with a body this time, light blue skin, that covered my 30 meters tall body...

Right...

I looked up and reached for the surface of the water, and just as my hand got out, i used the suface as a floor, supporting myself as i got out and walked of the ocean (yes, like jesus, exactly)

It felt weird, but just being able to walk, for a secomd i thought my brother was there because a rush of excitement coursed through my veins, woah...i even had veins.

I had a toned body, just in the norm, my hair were definetly the rebel style, and huge antlers that looked drawed due to the ornaments on them, and i had eyes, giant, deep eyes that stared back as i looked at myself in the water, i had a huge smile and a small, compared to my face, squared nose, all shades of blue making swirls on me, until i realized something.

I was naked.

Oh me, i felt my face becoming hot, as hot as blood, i wanted to cover myself but i didnt have anything...no.

I could just, shape myself some clothes right?

I looked around, noticing just how much mass i had, i was a titan, every movement felt heavy, not to me, but to the air, like i knew exactly how much i weight.

No one was around, except for the countless miles of water, and some extremely small fishes.

I closed my eyes and just concentrated, hoping to activate some change settings option, until i felt something.

A white and gold garnment around my waist, only one sleeve, leaving half my chest exposed, nothing much.

The garnment felt down my legs with two lateral cuts and several heavy golden chains at the sides, holding the pieces together.

Ok, that felt more comfortable.

I sat on the water, making waves but ignoring them, i was covered, i just needed to understand exactywhat happened.

Time seemed to have stopped rushing it self, everything was going a normal speed.

Everything i saw happened for real, all thatwas there, or at least it was there few years ago.

But i didnt feel knew, everything around me wasnt new to me, ive already saw all that, i felt kinda recycled.

Of course it was only a matter of time before a new memory made me understand.

I was a human, in a very far reality, and i was the definition of general.

Not too high, not too short.

Not too kind, not too much of a jerk.

Had few lovers, nothing much, except for the last one.

A...uhm...a guy named...

I scratched my head trying to remember his name, it all seemed so distant, like if my past life was a dream.

------

The chapter was actually much longer than this but my phone is stupid and instead of saving it posted it without the continue, so have this unfinished confused God.

Good evening, Good night, good morning and good afternoon.

#giant #giant tiny #tiny #gianttiny #gt angst #macro #micro #god #reincarnation

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theshatterednotes · 2 years

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Ghanaian author Ayi Kwei Armah

#Ayi Kwei Armah #Armah #Kwei Armah #Kwei #Ghana #Ghanaian #Sekondi-Takoradi #Gold Coast #1939 #1930's #1900's #2000's #The Healers #The Beautyful Ones Are Not Yet Born #author #literature #Ghanan #Two Thousand Seasons

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dark-academia-quotes · 2 years

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“The sand looked so beautiful then, so many little individual grains in the light of the night, giving the watcher the childhood feeling of infinite things finally understood, the humiliating feeling of the watcher's nothingness.”

- Ayi Kwei Armah, The Beautyful Ones Are Not Yet Born

#dark academia vibes #dark academia aesthetic #dark academia #dark academia quotes #black dark academia #academia aesthetic #books and literature #classic literature #art #aesthetic #donna tartt #the secret history #light acadamia aesthetic #ayi kwei armah #ayi kwei armah quotes #the beautyful ones are not yet born #the beautiful ones are not yet born

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theartistsedit · 4 years

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#Ayi Kwei Armah #The Beautyful Ones Are Not Yet Born #Frida Orupabo

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l0stinadaydream · 3 years

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IWBYS music video | interpretation - pt2 ↳ art parallels

«Images also help me find and realize ideas. I look at hundreds of very different, contrasting images and I pinch details from them»—Francis Bacon

First of all, this is my personal interpretation. I’m not in the director/band minds so these are just the associations I made while watching the video. Secondly, English is not my native language so... sorry for any mistakes.

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- Francis Bacon , Self Portrait

- Venus of Milo || R.Mapplethorpe, female torso

- R.Mapplethorpe, Untitled (Self-Portrait) || Alexander Charles Guillemot, Mars and Venus Surprised by Vulcan

- David Bowie - Rebel Rebel ( @ TopPop )

- R.Mapplethorpe, Ken Moody with shoe

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1.)

When I saw the scene of Damiano pressing his face against the glass my mind went directly to Francis Bacon‘s paintings (and to Ana Mendieta‘s series of “Glass on body imprints” [x] ).

It’s an image meant to ‘disturb’ us and I see the use of this ‘’visual shock’’ as a challenge to our perception. It make us look at something we know in a different and altered way. And, at the same time ( with the lipstick put messily on his lips before he smears it against the glass and take it off with his arms), it can be seen as some sort of critcism on 'beauty canons' .

2.)

Thomas posing on a black background with black gloves to give the illusion of missing arms ( wearing the “Venus in chain” leather belt ) is a clear reference to the Venus of Milo. One of the most famous sculpture ever and an universal symbol of beautyness and sensuality.

( another reference, since they used a lot of his shots as inspiration, could be Mapplethorpe’s "female torso”).

3.)

The net in symbology means ‘ to be trapped in something’ and, I believe, this ‘something’ in our case can be:

- society’s chains: what we are told to be since we are born, the roles that are forced on us, social constructs in general etc. (Ethan and Thomas being almost naked = true self )

A similar concept is expressed by Mapplethorpe in one of his earliest works, a collage that represents 'his being mentally and physically victim of cultural and psycholgical torment'.

- our passions: desire becoming obsession, being entangled in an intense, toxic or wrong relationship/situation ... succumbing to lust and its consequences ( like in the myth of The Net of Vulcan*).

_____

* [ the god Vulcan, after being informed of his wife’s (Venus) infidelity with Mars, fashioned a net ‘so fine to be invisible and yet so strong to be unbreakable’ and set it on their bed to catch the pair and expose them to the others gods. ]

4.)

Everyone thought about Madonna as Madame X but, when I saw the eye patch, I immediately thought about David Bowie’s look during this performance of “Rebel Rebel” in 1974.

(The song is about ‘a boy rebelling against his parents by wearing makeup and women's clothes’ and it speaks of young people desire to release their own individuality and uniqueness.)

5.)

During an interview with the director it was specified that the scene with Ethan holding the red shoe is inspired by one of Mapplethorpe's shots and, while we can just see it as a hint to that specific fetish, the red high heels can also represents desires in general.

And, in fact, the director also said that he decided to insert a red element in (almost) every shot to represent a point where the ‘desires‘ the song talk about would be channelled in.

_____________

#måneskin #maneskin #maneskinedit #damiano david #ethan torchio #thomas raggi #iwbys video #mine:iwbys interpretation #mine: må #mystuff

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newsstoryoftheweekblog · 2 years

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NEWS STORY OF THE WEEK 22/4/22 - the Queen’s platinum jubile book list

‘The Big Jubilee Read list

1952-61

The Palm-Wine Drinkard – Amos Tutuola (1952, Nigeria) The Hills Were Joyful Together – Roger Mais (1953, Jamaica) In the Castle of My Skin – George Lamming (1953, Barbados) My Bones and My Flute – Edgar Mittelholzer (1955, Guyana) The Lonely Londoners – Sam Selvon (1956, Trinidad and Tobago/England) The Guide – RK Narayan (1958, India) To Sir, With Love – ER Braithwaite (1959, Guyana) One Moonlit Night – Caradog Prichard (1961, Wales) A House for Mr Biswas – VS Naipaul (1961, Trinidad and Tobago/England Sunlight on a Broken Column – Attia Hosain (1961, India)

1962-71

A Clockwork Orange – Anthony Burgess (1962, England) The Interrogation – JMG Le Clézio (1963, France/Mauritius) The Girls of Slender Means – Muriel Spark (1963, Scotland) Arrow of God – Chinua Achebe (1964, Nigeria) Death of a Naturalist – Seamus Heaney (1966, Northern Ireland) Wide Sargasso Sea – Jean Rhys (1966, Dominica/Wales) A Grain of Wheat – Ngũgĩ wa Thiong’o (1967, Kenya) Picnic at Hanging Rock – Joan Lindsay (1967, Australia) The Beautyful Ones Are Not Yet Born – Ayi Kwei Armah (1968, Ghana) When Rain Clouds Gather – Bessie Head (1968, Botswana/South Africa)

1972-81

The Nowhere Man – Kamala Markandaya (1972, India) Tinker Tailor Soldier Spy – John Le Carré (1974, England) The Thorn Birds – Colleen McCullough (1977, Australia) The Crow Eaters – Bapsi Sidhwa (1978, Pakistan) The Sea, The Sea – Iris Murdoch (1978, England) Who Do You think You Are? – Alice Munro (1978, Canada) The Hitchhiker’s Guide to the Galaxy – Douglas Adams (1979, England) Tsotsi – Athol Fugard (1980, South Africa) Clear Light of Day – Anita Desai (1980, India) Midnight’s Children – Salman Rushdie (1981, England/India)

1982-91

Schindler’s Ark – Thomas Keneally (1982, Australia) Beka Lamb – Zee Edgell (1982, Belize) The Bone People – Keri Hulme (1984, New Zealand) The Handmaid’s Tale – Margaret Atwood (1985, Canada) Summer Lightning – Olive Senior (1986, Jamaica) The Whale Rider – Witi Ihimaera (1987, New Zealand) The Remains of the Day – Kazuo Ishiguro (1989, England) Omeros – Derek Walcott (1990, Saint Lucia) The Adoption Papers – Jackie Kay (1991, Scotland) Cloudstreet – Tim Winton (1991, Australia)

1992-2001

The English Patient – Michael Ondaatje (1992, Canada/Sri Lanka) The Stone Diaries – Carol Shields (1993, Canada) Paradise – Abdulrazak Gurnah (1994, Tanzania/England) A Fine Balance – Rohinton Mistry (1995, India/Canada) Salt – Earl Lovelace (1996, Trinidad and Tobago) The God of Small Things – Arundhati Roy (1997, India) The Blue Bedspread – Raj Kamal Jha (1999, India) Disgrace – JM Coetzee (1999, South Africa/Australia) White Teeth – Zadie Smith (2000, England) Life of Pi – Yann Martel (2001, Canada)

2002-11

Small Island – Andrea Levy (2004, England) The Secret River – Kate Grenville (2005, Australia) The Book Thief – Markus Zusak (2005, Australia) Half of a Yellow Sun – Chimamanda Ngozi Adichie (2006, Nigeria) A Golden Age – Tahmima Anam (2007, Bangladesh) The Boat – Nam Le (2008, Australia) Wolf Hall – Hilary Mantel (2009, England) The Book of Night Women – Marlon James (2009, Jamaica) The Memory of Love – Aminatta Forna (2010, Sierra Leone/Scotland) Chinaman – Shehan Karunatilaka (2010, Sri Lanka)

2012-21

Our Lady of the Nile – Scholastique Mukasonga (2012, Rwanda) The Luminaries – Eleanor Catton (2013, New Zealand) Behold the Dreamers – Imbolo Mbue (2016, Cameroon) The Bone Readers – Jacob Ross (2016, Grenada) How We Disappeared – Jing-Jing Lee (2019, Singapore) Girl, Woman, Other – Bernardine Evaristo (2019, England) The Night Tiger – Yangsze Choo (2019, Malaysia) Shuggie Bain – Douglas Stuart (2020, Scotland) A Passage North – Anuk Arudpragasam (2021, Sri Lanka) The Promise – Damon Galgut (2021, South Africa)’ (Sherwood, 2022).

REFERENCE

Sherwood, H. (2022) 'The God of Small Things to Shuggie Bain: the Queen’s jubilee book list', The Guardian 18 April [Online]. Available at: https://www.theguardian.com/books/2022/apr/18/the-god-of-small-things-to-shuggie-bain-the-queens-jubilee-book-list (Accessed 21 April 2022).

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gravalicious · 4 years

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In 2002, I was speaking with Saidiya and we did an interview in a journal called Qui Parle, and I was telling her a story about teaching at Khanya College in Johannesburg. I was teaching Ayi Kwei Armah’s The Beautyful Ones Are Not Yet Born to students between the ages of 18 and 25. Remember that these are students who had been politically active members of Cosatu, and members of ANC Youth League. They thought that tomorrow whenever tomorrow was going to be, in two or three years time — they believed that tomorrow we would be triumphantly rolling down the streets of Pretoria in Soviet tanks having commandeered the entire country. I was telling them about the day after Kwame Nkrumah was overthrown. The Beautyful Ones Are Not Yet Born is a novel about neocolonialism and its operations through the centres of the civil service. Throughout the novel, what is described is the social death of the people in Ghana and the ways in which we go from colonialism to neocolonialism with a Black face. The students were very angry with me, because I was saying to them that this is a novel that dramatises Frantz Fanon’s chapter, “The Pitfalls of National Consciousness”. This is a novel that tells you what happens if you don’t push all the way for communism; this is a novel that tells you what happens if you don’t line the apartheid generals against the wall — or at least give them life without parole. ([Fidel] Castro tried to tell this to [Salvador] Allende, who wouldn’t listen — and we know what happened there.) In a way, this is a novel that tells you what happens when you go through a TRC [Truth and Reconciliation Commission], an unethical exercise in which revolutionaries must atone as well as fascist security officers; then you give Black people the vote without the return of their own land or control of the means of production. It tells you that you will find yourself in a dystopic universe in which Black people are poorer than they were than during colonialism. You get a flag-n-anthem nation where corruption is rife. But the students’ rejoinder to me was, “That is West Africa; that is a West African experience, but we in South Africa are going to take all the money from the Oppenheimers. We are going to redistribute the wealth and have a glorious future that does not look like that novel.” I must tell you, Zama, that they were seduced by their rejoinder; I too was seduced by it. When, in 2002, I recollected this classroom experience to Saidiya Hartman, I told her that Black South Africans have a better psychic space than Black Americans, because they have their genealogy, they have their languages, they have their burial sites and so they don’t suffer the psychic despair that African-Americans suffer from. Saidiya said to me that that is not true. At that time I was a graduate student and she was my adviser. She said to me that she is very suspicious of the idea that the African does not share the same depressive personality as the African-American.

Frank Wilderson

Zamansele Nsele - Part I: ‘Afropessimism’ and the rituals of anti-black violence (24/6/2020) [Mail & Guardian]

#afropessimism #neocolonialism #exceptionalism #ghana #south africa #anti-blackness #interview #frank wilderson

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anime-academia · 4 months

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Reading List 2024

[ ] The Starless Sea (Erin Morgenstern)

[ ] Fiela’s Child (Dalene Matthee)

[ ] Before the coffee gets cold (Toshikazu Kawaguchi)

[ ] Before the coffee gets cold Tales from the Café (Toshikazu Kawaguchi)

[ ] The Taming of the Shrew (Shakespeare)

[ ] Hamlet (Shakespeare)

[ ] The Snows of Kilimanjaro (Ernest Hemingway)

[ ] War and Peace (Leo Tolstoy)

[ ] The Mimic Men (V. S. Naipaul)

[ ] Far From the Madding Crowd (Thomas Hardy)

[ ] The Goldfinch (Donna Tart)

[ ] Land of Milk and Honey (C. Pam Zhang)

[ ] Half of a Yellow Sun (Chimmamanda Ngozi Adichie)

and books from last year that i still need to finish because moving is very disruptive

Lancelot (Giles Kristian)

Shades (Marguerite Poland)

The Beautyful Ones Are Not Yet Born (Ayi Kwei Armah)

The Name of the Wind (Patrick Rothfuss)

Never Let Me Go (Kazuo Ishiguro)

The Little Town Where Time Stood Still (Bohumil Hrabal)

Jigokuraku (Yuji Kaku)

#asra reads #reading list 2024 #bookblr #studyblr #gradblr

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alexsfictionaddiction · 4 years

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Review: The Death of Vivek Oji by Akwaeke Emezi

I know that I’m always on to a winner with an Akwaeke Emezi novel, so I was delighted when I was approved for their new release. However, I wasn’t quite prepared for how much of a stomach punch it would be.

One afternoon in southern Nigeria, Kavita opens her front door to discover the naked body of her dead son on the doorstep, the whole family is forced to contend with not only their unimaginable grief but the notion that they never really knew their beloved child.

The story is told after Vivek’s death through first person accounts from Vivek in the afterlife and Vivek’s cousin Osita as well as third person perspectives from Kavita and Juju.

Vivek was raised by an overprotective Indian mother and a largely absent Nigerian father. Throughout adolescence, Vivek struggles with episodes of dissociation and blackouts. The self inside is not the same as the self that the world sees, so of course Vivek grows up stifled and lost.

‘Some people can’t see softness without wanting to hurt it.’

Vivek finds freedom in friendships with the daughters of the Nigerwives (foreign women who are married to Nigerian men). These girls allow Vivek to express their genderqueerness in a safe, understanding environment. Vivek’s relationship with Juju is incredibly complex, layered and so beautiful. Juju is coming to terms with her own sexuality but she is undeniably in love with Vivek, as is Vivek’s cousin Osita. There is a scene in the second half of the book that had me sobbing, as Juju and Osita deal with their grief in a way that is so unique to them and unbelievably heartbreaking.

One very small detail that says so much is the mentioning of Vivek hiding things in a copy of The Beautyful Ones Are Not Yet Born by Ari Kwei Armah, a Ghanaian novel about a man fighting the pressures of African society to push him to corruption. When you know that Vivek was killed because of a non-conforming gender and queerness, their love for this book becomes hugely poignant. Vivek had hope for the future of queer Africans, refusing to bow to the pressures and restrictions of Nigerian society, and this legacy is something that ripples through those who loved Vivek.

Motherhood is another very strong theme in the novel. Kavita is so desperate to hold on to her boy that she becomes determined to solve the mystery of what happened to him. This, of course, leads her to discovering the truth about who her child was. We all know mothers like Kavita. The over-anxious, helicopter mothers, who are besotted with their children but who project their own expectations as to who they are, in such a way that they fail to see or accept their children’s true selves. Kavita’s last act for her child told me that despite all of the unaccepting ingrained attitudes of her society, she finally saw Vivek.

Vivek’s discovery of happiness and the strength it takes to put that above the intense fear of being killed is incredibly inspirational. I felt that perhaps Vivek was some kind of otherworldly being, who patently didn’t belong in this society, sent to teach other outsiders that the true self is always beautiful and should never be hidden. This method of storytelling always touches my heart and Emezi does it beautifully.

The prose is unlike any other. It’s so stunning, evocative and sensual that it completely captivates the reader. I finished the book with a strange concoction in my mouth that tasted like both sorrow and hope. I knew that Osita, Juju, Elizabeth and even Kavita had learned so much from knowing and loving Vivek. That Vivek’s story and message would reshape their minds and change the rest of their lives. Yes, Vivek died in the most tragic, heart-wrenching way but it wasn’t for nothing and their spirit is still very much alive.

Masterfully written, extremely powerful and compulsively readable, The Death of Vivek Oji is a vital, urgent read for today.

#the death of vivek oji #akwaeke emezi #literary fiction #lgbtq #book review #review #books #bookworm

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