Gambia-l, Here is another excerpt from my story. Again, these excerpts are randomly selected. * She: a ravishing beauty, tall, chocolate colored, and stoutly built. Her eyes resembled that of a cat's glowing in the dark. Her knock-kneed, shapely legs, revealed much to be panted when she wore a dress that fell below the knees. Her skin wore a lot of charm, soft, delicate, and sensuous: it made people to remark constantly "you have a beautiful skin." Her hair grew long, black and curly, and rested supinely just over her neck. Her face, round and smooth, like a pancake, radiated an angelic look that seemed out of the ordinary. She was a flower so gorgeous, the nectar that attracted the bees; sometimes one wondered if she was not the bride of a genie. Neneh, notwithstanding all her qualities of beauty, that allured most men to her like a magnet, became quite indifferent to her appeal. If she had willed, she could have married herself to rich and famous people; she could have possessed any man she hungered. But, she was so downright ordinary. She could adorned herself in the wardrobe of opulence, instead, she glimmered in less expensive fabrics, and quenched in her own natural poise. She didn't need to see herself in a mirror; she mirrored herself in the devastating looks that men flung at her. She was fiercely determined, like a tigress; rudely ambitious and painfully strong-willed. She resolutely persevered to achieve her goals that belied the cool, calm and collected personality that stubbornly refused to give in to her challenges. Her memory was photographic, remembering every minute detail, every occurrence, event or circumstance, that built, demolished, rebuilt her life, like ants crushed in the sand tirelessly building and rebuilding their palaces. She dreamed of living in her own romantic world, replete with candlelight dinners in an exquisite hotel restaurant; a cruise voyage that drifted slowly to an imagined Caribbean island; holiday resort and beaches, and once in a while having fun in a night club or Casino. But, her youthful innocence snatched away from her, she filled the cup of these experiences only in her dreams. She married in her teens, only after completing a junior secondary education. Neneh bore children at a tender age, as tender as the cradle of her puberty; and she adored her children unsparingly. She grew to love her husband, Samba, passionately. She was obstinately faithful, unrestrainedly loving, and consummately caring. "Darling, are the children awake?" Samba asked Neneh. "I want to part with them before I leave." He had just returned to his house, in the other side of the compound, after bidding farewell to his father. "It is almost daybreak, I can wake them up," his wife calmly responded. She trudged slowly into the children's bedroom, and diligently as a dove roused them from their sleep. Her eyes swollen, as if stung by angry bees, she had cried most of the evening. Only God, and only God, knew how long her husband would be away. "Are all your clothes packed?" she asked "I don't have much to take with me. I have given away most of my clothes," he replied. "Napa, come and say bye-bye to Papa," Neneh said. He leaned on the frame of the bedroom door, rubbing both his eyes with the back of his two hands. He rushed into his father's open arms. Samba hugged and kissed him fondly. He was only four years old. "Where are you going, Papa?" he whined. "I am going away for a while; I will be back soon. You take care of your mommy, will you?" He clutched on to his father very tightly not wanting to let go off him. His father rocked back and forth with him, whispering his favorite songs on his ears. "Lo-lu, Lo-lu," Samba called. Her daughter emerged from the bedroom, walked dejectedly into his father's arms. She had been too inconsolable when she learnt that her father was going away. The look in her face, even though she just woke up from her slumber, was as pitiful as a hungry beggar on the sidewalk. She couldn't understand why her father had to travel to some strange place, and left them all behind. Now she would be left with only her mother and other siblings: her brother and baby sister. Lolu was nine years old. She was cute, shy and sharp like a razor. Most people contended that she was too intelligent for her age. She had her mother's eyes, the big, bluish pupils that seemed to flash like a light bulb in the dark. Her legs were long, skinny and knock-kneed. She held a lot of promise, masked like a false face, in that she relished warmly going to school. She would wake her mother up very early in the morning to prepare her for school. Samba nurtured a cherished relationship with his daughter. He always amused in the stories she told him whenever she came back from school. She shared with her father every little secret she had. "Papa, you know what happened in school today?" She mischievously, giggling, whispered in her father's ear. "The teacher asked that we work out a math problem on the board. No one in the class could get the answer except me." She then smiled gleefully. "Well done, Lolu. You did a great job. That reminds me: when I was much older than you, I remember a day in school when I was the only one in the class who could answer the questions from our geography teacher. I sat alone in the class as a hero, while the rest of the class 'monkey-danced' on the school courtyard." She then laughed uncontrollably. When Lolu and her father shared those close moments, Neneh always watched admiringly as the affection between them unfolded like a ripened flower bud. Neneh and Samba dated for a while before they finally married. Samba had known her as a child, going to her compound constantly on errands. Their families shared the same street in Banjul, separated only by few compounds. How many times, had Samba walked barefooted into her compound, and went behind her grandmother's slanted, rhun-palm supported 'keringting' house, with gaping holes covered with old clothes from which the cement plastered walls had fallen. The center of his attraction was the pigeon cage owned by her older brother. Samba was a classmate of her older brother. When Samba needed a wife, he had not looked far. The young woman he barely noticed as a child, had grown up a tastily water melon to be gulped thirstily. The cultural taboos, like dried salted fish, dictated whom people should and should not marry. He remembered vividly his experience with Cordu, and reckoned that a society that glorified the era of the nobility, the griot and the goldsmith, being class stratifications, had no mercy for people who defied such arrangements. Even Neneh's stunning beauty had to be ascribed as a reincarnation of the bride in a spirit world. Lolu, however, did not wait for her parents to get married. She was born a little less than a year when they started to date. By now all the children had waken up except the sleeping toddler. Samba walked into the bedroom where his twelve months old daughter slept soundly. He knelt at the foot of the bed, lowered his head closer to the face of the sleeping child, and kissed her as softly as a pillow, on the forehead. "Oh! my cute little baby. I love you, my pretty, sweet little baby," he chanted. He tearfully looked at his daughter, a peaceful package of joy in that crib, and restraint himself from crying aloud. Was it right that he had to leave his family to make this journey? Had he compromised his family for his social activities now deemed political? If he stayed he knew what would happen to him. Those who saw him as a threat would only be too happy when they reduced him to a scum. He would not willingly be their prey. He confronted his wife in the living room. He opened his arms like a dancing butterfly, and Neneh eagerly fell into his warm embraced. They kissed: deeply and tenderly. They both cried silently. They flatter each other effusively. "My heart overfill with tears of joy, although I part with you with such scented sorrow," Samba said. "My eyes fill with contentment, and gratitude that I sweetly harbored for you. You are the oasis of my love, from where I drew my strength and comfort. I love you." "I love you too, Samba. I love you so very much. I derived the greatest pleasure caring for you. May God sustain our love, and deliver us from the wagging tongues who want to tear our love apart," Neneh reverently said. She had a very good character, and exhibited all those traits in the enduring years she had married Samba. How many times, had she sat in an empty house, while Samba trod the dusty streets of Christekunda, organizing and mobilizing. How many times, had she borne the silence of the night, while Samba stood in a classroom with gaping windows and a hurricane lamp in a corner, teaching some illiterate adults how to read and write. How many times, had she yearned for his laughter, while he was out there on some social crusade she could hardly fathom. And, how many times, had she sat by the roadside, doing some petty trading to supplement the family income. She wore the cloak of patience, draped mournfully over her firm body. She stood steadfastly behind her husband in his most difficult moments. When they could not provide for the family for any given day, she would quietly ran to her mother's compound and borrowed rice and fish money. When the hardships became so overbearing, she had to resist the temptation to look at other men who persistently wooed her. They tried to exploit her marital problems and offered her financial help. But, with fortitude and resilience, and with the cunnings of a fox, she had carried on her daily hurdles silently. She refused to accept help from anyone other than her immediate family members.... Rene NB: Does anyone know the equivalent word or translation in English for "Keringting". ---------------------------------------------------------------------------- To unsubscribe/subscribe or view archives of postings, go to the Gambia-L Web interface at: http://maelstrom.stjohns.edu/archives/gambia-l.html You may also send subscription requests to [log in to unmask] if you have problems accessing the web interface and remember to write your full name and e-mail address. ----------------------------------------------------------------------------