Russia Revolution

http://prezi.com/zuzb6d4xun9w/the-real-traitors/

                       Cry, the Beloved Country

          

          Alan Paton’s great description of the land of South Africa deeply reflects his pride towards South Africa. The first book starts with rolling grass and flowing water; in which Paton abruptly stops and emphasizes death in the land. Alan wants to his readers to see the pain he is feeling for his land. The white men come and push them down this symbolic hill, which as the people cry in agony. In Book II we just see the rolling grass with flowing streams.

          In the beginning of Book I, Paton’s choice of words incorporates good from evil, life from death, light from dark. Paton describes the hills as “Green-covered and rolling, and they are lovely beyond any singing of it. If there is no mist, you look down on one of the fairest valleys of Africa. On its journey from Drakensburg to the sea; and beyond great hill.” From the text, there is a sense of paradise and everlasting happiness; but Paton halts this happiness with, “The great red hills stand desolate, and the earth has torn away like flesh. The lightning flashes over them, the clouds pour down upon them, the dead streams come to life, full of the red blood of the earth. Down in the valleys women scratch the soil that is the left, and the maize hardly reaches the height of a man. They are valleys of old men and old women.” (13) Paton’s use of the color red symbolizes death in the land. The blacks of South Africa are the ones in the desolate red hills. Paton shows that they are not wealthy where they are under the white man; as the German philosopher Karl Marx said” The rich get richer and the poor get poorer”.

          Book II is similar with the “grass- covered and rolling” but doesn’t go into the dead streams and earth torn land. Paton doesn’t go into those details to demonstrate the white man’s view. The white men that are foreign to the country, see the land that is the blacks, and take it. They sit on top of it not seeing the bottom or just not choosing to. Paton poured his heart into those paragraphs, to put emphasis on that he lost something that was his. Paton cherished his land, he cherished his wealth, he cherished in life knowing that he would be well; but it was taken from him.

          “We know that we do not get enough, kumalo says. We ask only for those things that laboring men fight for in every country in the world; the right to sell our labour for what it is worth, the right to bring up our families as decent men should.”(218) Even though Paton uses john kumalo as the voice, Patons indulges himself into the voice of john with compassion. Paton uses the words like “laboring men” and “fight” to show his benevolence for the freedom of all of Africa, not just South Africa.

          Alan Paton’s pride for South Africa is shown throughout the book in several passages. Paton shows us his feelings toward the white man. As the country of South Africa once said “Cry, the beloved country”

 

Moms oak Bread Grilled cheese

                                          Moms Oak Bread Grilled Cheese
                  2 peices of oak Bread
                  2 slices of PepperJack cheese
                  1 slice of butter
            Spread butter on both peices of bread
            make sure you you cook till brown

I awake early on a breezy Saturday morning; even though I am in side I can smell the dew of the early morning. Then it hits me; the wondrous smell like no other of Oak Bread. I unplugged my phone from my charger and run down the hall into the kitchen. I hear the song “Blurred Lines” coming from my mom’s Jawbone.

“What’s the occasion?” I ask.

“Nothing really” she says with a wink.

            I shrug it off and sit down at my table. I plug in my headphones and open Netflix so I can get in a few episodes of “The Walking Dead”. I get to watch 2 or 3 episodes when see my mom says;

                        “It’s ready!” my mom says over the music

             I immediately jump from my seat and run to my mom. With me “canny” and all, I slip on a towel that fell of the counter. You hear the SMACK echo throughout the house. My mom is rolling on the floor laughing. I eventually start to laugh when get over the fact that I hurt myself.

            When I grab my plate, I go and sit down. I pray and dig my mouth deep into the sandwich, letting my mouth melt in to the white silky cheese. My mouth suddenly feels like it has begun having a party; my taste buds dancing to the beat of the chewing of my mouth.

            My mom has the strangest look on her face.

                        “What?” I ask

            She laughs and says nothing.

            About 2 to 3 hours later, my dad is home and she gathers me and my sisters in the living room. They look very happy.

            My dad says” Kids, we have a surprise, your mother is Prego”

            My sisters scream with joy. I hug my ma an dad and tell them congratulations.

            I cheddar known. That was cheesy...

changin the world with a short story

Changing the World from a Short Story Imagine looking outside, and seeing a very old man, with muddy wings. Your child has been deadly ill. You’re not sure what to do, so you put him in your chicken coop. They at first, think he is an angel from the heavens. If he was this distinct angel from the heavens above, don’t you think he should have been treated like the most high? This distinct individual was treated like a circus act! I understand that he is a stranger, but this poor family knew he was in pain. They were too. Their child was about to die, but to leave him there to rot with the maggots; they should have had more sympathy. Throughout the story, the being goes through traumatic stages. He is laughed at by people all around the world. He is literally alone. As these months go by, the child recovers from his illness. The was poor family, is now living in a mansion; but they still show the old man no love. The child nourishes and learns to walk. The old man leaps and flies, His work is done and the family lives well. They watch him fly into the sunset. This life you are living in, only last a while. The way to interact with people can change your life. No matter who you encounter, treat with at least treat them as a guess. Whether it’s a old man with wings or the president. The people you meet, have some purpose in your life. That’s what I believe this whole story was about. You change someone’s life, just by treating them with respect.

                                  "Your Bird"

Hope is the feeling that many people believe in to fight their everyday battles. If its to work throughout the day or to even eat and live in an safe environment. Whatever your specific  “hope” is, its what your soul and mind grasp on to, to take that fear and trouble out of the way. “ Hope is the thing with feathers,  that perches in the soul and sings the words and never stops at all” – Emily Dickinson.          

In the poem written above, shows what hope means to that specific person. The poet  writes, “hope is the thing with feathers”.  She is comparing “Hope” to a bird. Whenever this poet thinks of a bird she thinks of joy and happiness. “That perches in the soul and sings the words and never stops at all”. To the poet, the bird sits in her soul and sings to her to keep fighting through the day.                                                                                                                             

To me, the poem represents something more important than just a bird. “Hope is the thing with feathers”, Represents a eagle, with its broad wings. Forcing its wings through the wind. The wings represent hope and the wind represent my worries.  “That perches in the soul and sings the words and never stops at all”.  No matter what happens in my life, my hope will be there to sing to me when I’m defeated by battle.                                                                                                                                                                                             In conclusion the poem “Hope is the thing with feathers, that perches in the soul and sings the words and never stops at all”, means different things to different people. Hope is an eagle to me that gets me through my battles. To someone else, It mean something entirely different. http://www.blogger.com/blogger.g?blogID=571145315912629303&pli=1#editor/target=post;postID=3982776688857731726

6 word story.

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