Word: mudding
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Linus Kwame Dehof a mud hut. His parents divorced before he reached school age, and it was his father--a bricklayer and farmer--who raised him. Kwame means Saturday, the day he was born; Linus is his Christian, or colonial, name. At school, in the lush hills of the Volta region--an area that was colonized by the Germans but later came under British rule--the young Kwame sang God Save the King and saluted the British flag. "That's the training for discipline," remembers Kwame...
...roads into Kars, the hamlet becomes a world unto itself. Beneath this white veil, Ka is brought into Ipek’s family circle and new love blossoms between the old friends. Yet we’re told, “Veiling as it did the dirt, the mud, and the darkness, the snow would continue to speak to Ka of purity, but after his first day in Kars it no longer promised innocence...Instead, the snow spoke to him of hopelessness and misery.”Inside white, then, is darkness, and inside darkness, white.In this world, the live...
...HOPE AND FRUSTRATION Linus Kwame Deh was born on the floor of a mud hut. His parents divorced before he reached school age, and it was his father - a bricklayer and farmer - who raised him. Kwame means Saturday, the day he was born; Linus is his Christian, or colonial name. At school, in the lush hills of the Volta region - an area that had originally been colonized by the Germans, but later came under British rule - the young Kwame sang God Save the King and saluted the British flag. "That's the training for discipline," remembers Kwame, now 72. Along...
...roof, fished in the water tank under the ceiling and crawled under the floor. Darkness had long descended on the city when they decided to dig up the garden. They switched on the terrace lights and started digging. The damp, ash-covered lawn was trampled into a sea of mud; all the flower beds were dug up, and spades were sunk into the earth around the shrubs. They even pulled plants out of their pots. But they found nothing, for nothing was there to be found. In the end, physical exhaustion got the better of their revolutionary zeal. But they...
...centuries-old mud brick shrine of Abu Feisal, more than a hundred men push into the tiny prayer room. Outside, the temperature is below freezing, but inside the air is thick and pungent with the heavy scent of perspiration. A small microphone is turned on, and a middle-aged man with a face creased with grief began chanting a mournful dirge. The penitents, sitting in rough circles, begin to pound their chests in a powerful rhythm amplified by a hundred chest cavities. Deep and as resonant as a heartbeat, the sound gradually changes tenor as thin cotton shirts split with...