An edition of Not now, sweet Desdemona (2006)

Not now, sweet Desdemona

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Last edited by BabeRuka
January 6, 2013 | History
An edition of Not now, sweet Desdemona (2006)

Not now, sweet Desdemona

  • 0 Ratings
  • 0 Want to read
  • 0 Currently reading
  • 0 Have read

Not now sweet Desdemona is the story of Africa’s colonization retold in the imagery of a traditional African man losing his homestead to a modern Christian woman. Rich in poetry and songs, it’s a fusion of literature, history and philosophy and its style is a cross between okot p’Bitek’s songs and Thus Spake Zarathustra.

Publish Date
Language
English
Pages
139

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Edition Availability
Cover of: Not now, sweet Desdemona
Not now, sweet Desdemona
2006, Netmedia Publishers Ltd.
in English

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Book Details


Published in

Kampala

Edition Notes

Series
No
Copyright Date
2006

Classifications

Library of Congress
MLCS 2008/00327 (P), PR9402.9.R85 N68 2006

The Physical Object

Pagination
139 p. ;
Number of pages
139

ID Numbers

Open Library
OL17034388M
ISBN 10
9970411690
LCCN
2008346704
OCLC/WorldCat
237325644

Excerpts

I went to the home of my past,
Those sky scrapers of whiteness
Planted in a row like a parade of soldiers,
Waiting to kill who?
The homes of my ancestors looked beautiful like sepulchres outside, Yet inside, like the mouth of the sepulchre.
They were dark as a hungry yawn longing to swallow me.
The dead bones looked like teeth glistening white,
Deadly like the agape jaws of the Dracula
hungry to drink my blood and add me as a collection of teeth.
Owls sang the sad song of the dead,
Inviting the dead to join the dead man’s culture
whose door was opened in grey wrappings
like the hair of my granny,
Of silver mesh that hid darkness, a predator’s net
That was decorated with the carcasses of the feasted.
That home of my past beckoning,
Calling me in a hungry jealous yawn,
Was populated by highways of bushes
Where only the serpents dreaded not,
And black jacks longed for lifts.
Its silence, deathly cold, yet urging:
“Come my son, come join us.
Come join as we feast on the alive.
Come hide in death, come my son!”
In that eerie moment of deathly doubt
Wisdom of life from above illumined in me
Like lightning in a dark storm,
And I saw the dead mourning for the living dead,
And the living dead mourning for their dead pasts
Their heads hidden in ash like ostriches in sand
Their rivers of sorrow nourishing dead plants
As the dead danced on their exposed behinds
To their wails of sorrow laughing at them!
I saw all this in wisdom and as fast as my legs brought me,
I ran from my dead past, to my living future.
Page 6, added by BabeRuka. "I choose it simply because it is the beginning of the book!"

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January 6, 2013 Edited by BabeRuka Edited without comment.
January 6, 2013 Edited by BabeRuka Edited without comment.
January 6, 2013 Edited by BabeRuka Added new cover
January 6, 2013 Edited by BabeRuka Added new cover
December 11, 2009 Created by WorkBot add works page