Harmattan: A Philosophical Fiction (Insurrections: Critical Studies in Religion, Politics, and Culture)

We all event qualms and anxieties after we stream from the identified to the unknown. although our success in lifestyles might rely on checking out limits, our faintheartedness is a reminder of our desire for safeguard and our know-how of the dangers of venturing into alien worlds.

Evoking the new, dust-filled Harmattan winds that blow from the Sahara to the Gulf of Guinea, this e-book creatively explores what it capability to be buffeted via the unexpected and the unknown. Celebrating the life-giving strength of individuals, areas, and powers that lie past our tested worlds, Harmattan connects existential energy to the act of resisting prescribed customs and wondering acquired notions of fact. on the book's middle is the fictitious tale of Tom Lannon, a graduate pupil from Cambridge college, who continues to be ambivalent approximately pursuing a traditional existence. After touring to Sierra Leone within the aftermath of its devastating civil conflict, Tom meets a author who is helping him discover the probabilities of renewal. Illustrating the truth that definite facets of human lifestyles are universal to everybody despite tradition and historical past, Harmattan remakes the excellence among domestic and international and the connection among wisdom and life.

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In reality, coated teeth dishes had already been put on the desk within the parlor, and as we sat down contrary one another Ezekiel enjoined me to devour my fill. “You can use the spoon,” he acknowledged, as though he was hoping i'd decline the choice, “or you could consume like me, along with your palms. ” Ezekiel then referred to as for water to scrub our palms. i attempted to mimic the way in which he spilled water from the teeth mug onto the palm of his hand and rubbed his arms jointly earlier than shaking them dry over the cement flooring. yet in spite of everything I needed to use either palms, even if I knew the left shouldn't ever come into touch with meals. Hungry as i used to be, I chewed the gristly items of red meat and swallowed the parboiled rice with no urge for food. My brain was once swarming with questions i couldn't convey myself to ask—about his marriage, the place he was once really residing, no matter if he was once engaged on a ebook, and what Cosmega had implied approximately his cash coming from diamonds. And, as Bala’s youngest spouse, Mantene, shuffled out and in of the parlor, first with a mug of ingesting water, then with hard-boiled eggs, “a present for the whiteman,” i wished to invite Ezekiel how she had misplaced her arm. however the warfare, like every little thing else that day, used to be past my clutch, past my energy to place into phrases. regardless of my dumbness, Ezekiel did volunteer one piece of data as we sat that night at the porch at Bala’s condo: he was once investigating the RUF’s transformation right into a political celebration. He desired to recognize even if it used to be attainable for the men who had taken up fingers and lived within the bush for thus a long time to reenter civil society. whether or not they will be permitted again and below what stipulations. “Many of them are the following among us,” he acknowledged gravely. “You will meet them. The very ones who helped ruin this village . . . ” yet i used to be not listening. i used to be taking into account the younger males who had accosted me in Alikalia and thinking about what they'd performed through the struggle. first and foremost gentle, mist streamed during the barred window of my room. I lay on my again, palms in the back of my head, having a look up on the rafters and the tin roof. A chicken crowed. there have been voices within the lane after which the grating sound of a steel bucket being set down outdoor my door. while I peered out, the parlor used to be empty. I carried the pail of scorching water out into the yard, the place a half-circle of elephant grass mats safe the latrine from prying eyes. The latrine itself used to be a deep gap, surrounded by way of a small cemented sector the place one squatted to shit. The stench from the outlet used to be nauseating. yet I instructed myself i'd get used to it. I needed to get used to it. I refused to permit any eager for domestic comforts to force me from this position. I stripped bare and stood at the asymmetric patch of concrete, rushing water over my shoulders and scrubbing each inch of my scrawny physique. The physique of a student, i assumed. I felt uncovered and ugly. i wanted i used to be black. i needed there has been a way i may combination in with the environment and disappear from my very own gaze. I ate breakfast at the entrance porch with Bala ensconced a couple of ft away, an aluminum kettle in a single hand and a security razor within the different with which he used to be carefully raking his chin and jowls.

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