saw a roadside dentist while crushing prior records. jim croce's you don't mess around with jim reinterprets the king is dead, long live the king!
toured shahidul alam's drik gallery, his writings in the 2019 chobi (photo) mela (party) photobook, last two mine. others obtained at boi (book) mela
read sembene ousmane's ensemble cast of west african railway revolt along the dakar to bamako line, god's bits of wood
at the moment the eyes of the body closed, the eyes of the mind were opened
this business of the help we've been getting from outside. i don't understand it. the support from the french unions, for instance. you have europeans who have come all the way from up there, just to break the strike, and then there are other europeans who send us money to go on with it. don't you think it's odd?
you will all die of hunger. this strike is a war of eggs against sones
'there is no water,' ramatoulaye repeated. 'we couldn't even bathe the dead'
'she is dead,' she said, 'and i am living. and everything i did was done so that she and her baby would not die of hunger. what will her family say?'
'they will understand,' mame sofi said. 'they will know that it was the will of god. no one can live beyond this hour, and it is not you who are responsible.' she had turned to the man who had brought the horse and cart. 'do you know where the compound of n'diayene is?' and when he nodded, she said, 'take us there.'
as the little group formed to retrace the path the crowd had followed just an hour before, ramatoulaye went over to alioune, who was one of the men who had stayed with the cart.
'alioune,' she said, 'it can't go on. if you won't put a stop to it for your own sake, then do it for us. we can do no more, and there are too many dead'
alioune lowered his head. 'we must wait for the results of the meeting at thies...perhaps tomorrow...'
'lord,' he had said, 'oh lord who loves me, i am alone on the only road i know. having suffered as much as i have, i am still at the beginning of suffering. does this mean that i am damned? lord, what are you doing for me? you do not prevent the wicked from doing as they will, nor the good from being crushed beneath the weight of their misery, and by your commandments you stay the arm of the just man when he would lift it to repair the evil. do you really exist, or are you just an image? i don't see that you show yourself anywhere. lord, you are a god of goodness, and you have given me your grace; is it i who have failed? forgive me, and help me, lord, for i am hungry, i am very hungry. do something in my behalf, oh lord, for i am hungry, i am very hungry. do something in my behalf, oh lord who loves me, for i am worthy of your help'
cradling the baby gently in her arms, she asked, 'is she pretty - my little adama?'
penda looked at the sickly girl, whose eyes exuded a yellowish pus.
'she is a beautiful girl,' she said
the herculean boubacar
the women don't wait to have one before they're pregnant with another
the baby came out all right, but i had nothing to separate it from the woman's body, nothing at all. do you know what i did?..well, i did it with my teeth. that was the only thing i had, so i did it with my teeth
'it isn't serious,' she said. 'it's just the heat. she'll have to inhale some urine.'
'all right, some of you sluts go and piss!' penda cried
bernadini put his foot on the old man's neck, like a hunter posing for a photograph. 'just look at how well he prays,' he said. 'he's a real saint, this one'
happy is the man who does battle without hatred
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