Poetry brainstorm

Repetition
Line length
Stanza length
Images
Diction
Sounds
Alliteration
Rhyming
Rhythm
Meter
Tone
Voice
Point of View
Foreshadowing
Oxymoron
Onomatopoeia
Imagery
Hyperbole
Paradox
Assonance
Consonance
Metaphor
Simile
Personification
Narrative
lyrical
Sonnet
Haiku
Epic
Syntax
Grammar

Differences in Writing Styles throughout African Short Stories

Throughout this novel, the diversity in writing styles is diverse to say the least, it's a microcosm of the writing styles of Authors from all across Africa. It ranges from the playful storytelling and humor of an African Folktale to the Detailed and deep characters from stories such as Minutes of Glory.


Although the writing style's of the many authors in this book are evident and clear, I'm still confused on the way in which I'm going to emulate them. Certainly there are obvious things such as point of view, use of metaphors and similes, etc. But I don't want to create a different version of the stories already written. I want to make my own story as though the author I chose to emulate had written it himself.

in-class discussions

I honestly think that my participation, as far as in-class discussions, has improved quite a lot over the course of our second quarter.
Sep 28: I spoke seven times where the person who spoke the most spoke 10 times. I'm not too sure if these tally marks are color coded, but if so, I'm doing a lot better with the variation of what I'm talking about in class.
Oct 6: I've spoken quite a bit according to this chart, but I've also tuned out some, so that's always disappointing.
Oct 18: There aren't that many comments from me here, but when I do talk, I talk at length.
Oct 20: This chart makes the class look exceedingly equal when it comes to discussion, and maybe we were that day, but I'm still proud that I talked at least 8 times here.
Oct 24: I'm the one who charted this day, but I still talked quite a lot in comparison to some of the class.
Oct 31: I only spoke once during this class, I'm really quite surprised because I remember this discussion more than any of the others, but at least I talked once.
Nov 4: I spoke quite a lot on this chart, and at length too. At least 9-12 times in the class.

Foreigner

 Right now, I've been told to talk about a place where I feel like a foreigner upon my arrival. Truth is though, I feel like a foreigner wherever I land. I've got 3 passports, 3 identities, and none of them fully realized. I've lived in both Nigeria and London. I'll start off where I feel the strangest.
Arriving at the Murtala Mohammed airport in Lagos, Nigeria is truly unimaginable unless you do it yourself. The second you step off the plane, you're blasted by the smell of sweat and humidity. No longer walking, as if wading through the air to the passport check and baggage claim. My family, although arab, can easily be mistaken for American or English. Most of the people there can't tell the difference. Stepping outside after the baggage claim, there are about 300 people waiting in a crowd. Now I'm not the thinnest person, and being white is enough to get screamed at. A few of the people waiting outside will scream out, "Oyibo" which literally translates to 'boiled chicken'. It's what they call anybody as light skinned as my family. The worst I've ever gotten was when I was in the 6th grade. I was walking out with my mother, looking for my dad, who was there to pick us up. All of a sudden though, a man who clearly had no money, home, or true belongings ran up to me and poked my stomach while laughing. He walked away singing, "Oyibo Orobo", which everyone knows means 'boiled chicken swollen stomach'. My brothers just laughed and my mother had hardly noticed but I wasn't surprised considering how I must've looked. As it turns out the place that felt the most alien to me was also where I spent the first 10 years of my life. 

Discussioins

Throughout the course so far, I've spoken only a few times during each discussion. I have been absent twice and although it may seem as if I have spoken very little, I always try to make my comments in the discussion relevant and very substantial. My worst habit though, by far, is that I never reference the book when I'm speaking. I talk about certain parts or things that are said but never with a direct page mentioned when I talk. The only other thing that I do that I should try to fix is my lack of keeping track with people when they mention specific pages or quotes. I've improved throughout my time at ASL and just recently have been mentioning parts of the book in my quotes, so hopefully by the end of the year I'll be speaking regularly and with purpose.

Tradition or Belief?

In Chinua Achebe's novel things fall apart, the village at the core of the book is heavily religious just like all of the 8 other villages surrounding it. There's a part of the book where the entire village goes to the playground to watch people's trials where they must ask their ancestral spirits who's right, who's wrong, or what they should to fix the problem. There are 9 ancestral 'spirits' that come and sit, ready to judge people. I'm curious right now whether the village people truly believe that these are spirits, or if they simply hold it as a custom for the men of their justice system to dress themselves and play the role of an ancestral spirit. IT says clearly in the book. Chinua Achebe describes the spirits' arrival as a terrifying spectacle, but later goes on to mention how people had recognized akonkwo in the crowd but kept it to themselves. "Okonkwo's wives, and perhaps other women as well, might have noticed that the second egwugwu had the springy walk of Okonkwo. And they might also have noticed that Okonkwo was not among the titled men and elders who sat behind the row of egwugwu. But if they thought these things they kept them within themselves." So now I'm left wondering what it is that the people actually believe. It seems taboo to speak against the religion, yet it seems impossible for them to beliieve that the people holding the trials are truly spirits.

Parent/child

The passage we read today in class was about the wrestling festival that the entire village goes to by their sacred cotton tree. Filled with strong imagery, the passage reminded me of a festival that takes place in my mother's home village of Miziara, in Lebanon. It's the festival of St. Charbel, a hermit who lived close by, in the town center. It's the biggest local event of the year and almost the entire village will either go to the town center or gather their entire families in their homes. At midnight all the eldest people of the village go to the Church of St. Charbel, right by the square, to attend a mass given by a relative of St. Charbel. This wrestling match in Lebanon immediately reminded me of my village tradition because of the social gathering, the separation of older people, and the religious aspects that both of them hold.