I am the proud owner of Mandela's  Other Children by Baba Galleh Jallow.
 
The package came in unassuming and  perforated paperboard about 2 inches 
thick. I did remember from Wasteland's  notes that each unit was about 100 pages 
thick so I was surprised. I could not  wait to open the package, all the while, 
consumed with sepulchral trepidation  for the ire of the jittery. It looked 
like the paperboard my bank cheques used  to come in, and a temporal delight 
overcame me. Alas, there are four of them,  slender yet comprehensive. I turned 
one, page by page, to the penultimate  chapter; Forty-one. On Page 97. Indeed 
there are 101 pages. 101  dalmatians. The papers are amply thin of the finest 
parchment. This will keep  well in my library. The covers, front and back, are 
laminated with  protective coating of the brightest hue. It will keep well in 
my moisture-laden  library, confidently disposed to fend off the erstwhile 
cobweb. I will dust my  library often and it will be in good company.
 
I will read it over darjeeling tea.  Before that, and prior to Galleh's 
express written permission, I may not share  any part of it electronically, 
graphically, or mechanically. Save to share my  original impressions. My uncle, my 
associate, and my estranged friend will all  be delighted when they receive 
their copies soon, with a care package from  theirs truly. The front page reminds 
him of a sojourn of a sojourn in  Casablanca. We had come upon a dilapidated 
collection of calligraphy and compass  on abstract nautical images. There was 
no anchor but a life raft lay abandoned  on the bow. He surveyed it with 
endless peer and gaze. A broad smile  augmented that gaze. The spine tells me it 
belongs with the J's but I have more  room at the M's. I relocated my daughter's 
inline skates. Now I have room at the  beginning of the J's. I have not read 
it yet. I will read it over darjeeling.  Meanwhile I will have my printer 
enlarge and reproduce the front cover to be  taken to the framer. There is a place 
above the fireplace where I must scan  as I exit the creaking of the beams and 
trusses of the  Farmhouse. 
 
I thank Wasteland express for their  efforts at sustainable publication.
 
Haroun Darbo. MQDT. Almutawakkil.  Demure but alluring anagram. hellaG, much  
obliged.



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