My Friend, Uzo by Darlene Jones

provided by D. Jones

Let me introduce you to Uzo

I don’t remember how we met. Uzo reminds me that he was surfing Wordpress looking for authors, found my blog, and read some of the posts about Mali. He made a comment, I responded and a new friendship was born.

Uzo is a young Nigerian with a blog. He lives in Asaba, Delta State (South-South Nigeria), one of the oil producing states in his country. I’m an older Canadian with a blog. I live a world away (in so many respects) on Vancouver Island, Canada.

Uzo writes novels. I write novels. Uzo writes in English, which is not his first language. As he says, “English is quite a vast language. Every day is a learning process for me.”

We begin by talking about books. We both like Chimamanda Ngozi Adichie. I’d read Half a Yellow Sun. He told me about Purple Hibiscus. Here’s what he had to say about that book. “Purple Hibiscus is a wonderful story. Adichie did a marvelous job there from the first person pov. Kambili's account is so real and reflects the life of a rich, caged Igbo child-woman during one of the military regimes in Nigeria.”  We’re both anxious to read Americanah.

Uzo says, “I’m a no-good writer. I'm just a wannabe like you guys call it.” On the contrary, Uzo is a powerful writer. Here’s a sample.

Although the Liberian war is now over, I cannot wish away the memories. There are nights in my sleep when I still find myself dressed in army uniform, AK-47 ready. On these nights I hear the voices of parents calling their children; others joking, shouting: “Where’s your bunker?” The air cracks and I hear the sounds of diving jets and stuttering LMGs. Fire, blood, bullets and bodies everywhere. Things soon simmer to normal as danger passes. People fill the streets, young boys and girls going on various errands. Then he appears in a blood-stained enemy uniform. His oily dark face is teased with abandon. He’s about to aim his rifle at me. In my dreams, he dies in different ways. I’m his killer. Something tells me that he is my son. But I’m too afraid to believe it.

I’m not a professional editor, but I’ve offered to help Uzo with his English as he’d be drained if he had to pay an editor, so files are sent back and forth. I’m careful not to tamper with the uniqueness of his voice.

Only the eyes that moved swiftly would see the legs that desperately sprinted across the farms and pathways. Thereafter thoughts would arise if the runner was after something, or rather, was the prey.

Beautiful, right? And yes, my life, as a person and as a writer, is richer for having met him. That’s the beauty of the Internet.

Here’s what Uzo has to say about himself on his blog. (I don’t like the harmattan season either when the West African trade winds blow incessantly from the Sahara.)

1. I love the game of Scrabble a lot. And I’ve won a big-money competition in that regard lately.
2. I love the smell of the air immediately after a cold, long rain. It’s so refreshing!
3. I don’t like the harmattan season.
4. Music. Highlife music takes me to a different place entirely. It’s a gift to W. Africa.
5. I want to learn how to speak Hausa and after that Swahili.
6. I usually write with my right hand. But can also do so with my left…and it’s legible too.
7. I still watch a lot of cartoons and can’t do without my PS3!
8. Biscuits–I’m addicted.
9. My favorite time of the day is very early in the morning for all the right reasons.
10. I’ll get my dog friend a partner once I publish my first book. Well, that’s more like a promise.   In the meantime, he can woo those around him.
11. I still have most of my childhood toys and comics with me.

Uzo’s blog: http://85degrees.wordpress.com

For more from Darlene Jones, check out these links: www.emandyves.com and Amazon Author Central.

Thank you for taking the time to read this post. Click below to share your Reactions and more. See you next time, Toi Thomas. #cursescanbebroken

Going to Mali by Darlene Jones

provided by D. Jones

Many years ago a young girl left the safety of Canada for adventure in Africa. This was in a generation when young girls didn’t go anywhere on their own and certainly not to the “the dark continent.”

I was that young girl and going to Mali demanded that I adapt to:

·         A different climate. I exchanged the snowy cold of Alberta winters for the arid Harmattan winds of the Sahara. I certainly wasn’t prepared for the force of the heat that pressed on me as I stepped off the airplane. Over the days and weeks that followed I learned how the heat saps your energy until you feel that you can barely drag yourself around. A person who shall remain nameless said that the Africans were lazy. This person lived in an air conditioned house, drove an air-conditioned car, and worked in an air-conditioned office.

·         A different culture. I very quickly packed away my mini-skirts and wore a pagne, the rectangle of cloth that women wrapped around themselves to be a skirt. I hired a house-boy – sounds degrading, but the $8 a month I paid him supported a family of seven. (My salary was about $140 a month and that was ample to live on.) I learned the proper greetings that came before any exchange whether it be buying a stamp or fruit at the market. I learned to bargain. The list goes on.

·         A different language. I spoke French, but not fluently so I had to work at perfecting that. I also tried to learn a little Bambara, the most common local language. My students put me to shame. They could speak four or five local languages, had learned French (the official language of the country), and were studying English (I was their teacher) and German in school.

But above all, I had to adapt to time travel, for most Malians lived the way they always had. Modern conveniences consisted of basic items such as kerosene lanterns and little else.

I brought home with me a love for Mali, the Sahara, and Malians that burns as brightly now as it did then.

It was the plight of Malians that inspired my novel series. Since I couldn’t wave a magic wand to make life better in Mali, I chose to do that fictitiously. I wrote my books to entertain, but also with the hope that readers would see the world in a broader perspective. I hope that doesn’t make my books sound preachy, because they’re not intended to be, but I don’t think I could have written them in any other way given my experiences in Mali. The wide warm smiles of Malians stay with me always. I hope that warmth and positive outlook is conveyed in my stories.  

For more from Darlene Jones, check out these links: www.emandyves.com and AmazonAuthor Central.

Thank you for taking the time to read this post. Click below to share your Reactions and more. See you next time, Toi Thomas. #cursescanbebroken