Alan Paton's rich novel "Cry, The Beloved Country"  reveals the difficulties faced by a naive "parson" in South Africa, Stephan Kumalo who goes through tough realities of life in order to preserve and reunite his family. He experiences segregation in land, wages and facilities throughout the novel. All the other themes like native crime, fear, rural-urban migration and breakdown of tribe/family are results of the more prominent theme that is segregation or inequality in south Africa.

Although whites are not directly responsible for the condition of native people but the unequal rules made by them affects the natives. The natives got really "low wages, sometimes less than thirty or forty shillings" as compared to the whites. The main character, Kumalo's sister Gertrude was involved in inappropriate doings like prostitution and selling alcohol in Johannesburg due to lack of wages for blacks in appropriate jobs.

Also the amount of land a native could hold in villages like Ndotsheni was limited. The same limited  amount of land had to be farmed again and again which barrens the land. Due to lack of education they were not aware of proper advanced farming methods. The youths had no choice but to migrate to cities in search of jobs where they got low wages and were forced into crime. Due to the inequality in the land available to natives and whites, low wages and lack of good education facilities for natives attracted natives of south Africa to the path of crime which thus lead to fear among people. One thing lead to another like a chain reaction. Segregation was the base and triggered bigger and dangerous problems.

The whites not only neglected the problems of natives but also contributed to them until they were in danger and lived with fear. Whites did not wanted to give up their power and "superiority", so they enforced  segregated laws like "non-European hospital", "non-European part of the train" and other separate areas.

The traditional way of life of South Africans is lost since the whites came. Paton says that "the white man has broken the tribe." As a result of separateness the native society is disintegrated

South Africa is changing, changing in both positive and negative ways. As the story will unfold  all the themes that arose in book one will lead to something bigger that one cannot imagine and will be greatly affected by segregation policies used by whites.

Gawande1

Anuja Gawande

16 November 2012

Ms. Harmon

Pre-AP English 10

                    The loss and the beginning of new hope

Death of someone your own blood leaves a devastating wound upon a family which takes years to heal. Only time can heal them. The fear of losing near ones was set into my mind.

Extreme silence surrounds us as I am sitting besides granny, laying my head on her shoulder, both looking at the empty bed which once belonged to grandpa. No one is speaking as we are realizing the unfortunate truth. This was the first time ever I came across death.

“Granny, I wish he can come back.”I broke the silence.

“Sweetie, though he is not in front of us but he is always with us. “ She said sobbingly.

The old large grandfather clock of wooden color with silver lining and carved details sits on the right-hand-side corner of the room near the bed. Its relentless ticking sound filled the silent bedroom as the nostalgic memories of my grandpa are flashing through my mind. Tick-tack! Tick-tack! Tick-tack!

Yum! Chocolate chip cookies and tea are always my favorite no matter how many times I eat it. Eating them while listening to grandpa's fascinating stories seems to me as the best thing to do at the age of 8. He discerns all the stories from spiritual and emotional to the kings and queens one. All of his stories make me curious to know more.

“Grandpa, is this story about fairies?” I asked excitedly.

“No honey, but it's something interesting. It was in the year 1997 that I went to a village named Silvia to find the cause of the disease that was spreading in the village.” He began.

I listen carefully to his every word. My little brain could imagine all the people and the things happening in front of my eyes.  Being a doctor he worked at different hospitals at different places and had a lot of adventures which he tells us. The huge grandfather clock was bought by him from a place called Jagdalpur and was his favorite. Apart from gardening, feeding birds and telling me stories, cleaning the clock is his beloved activity.

Suddenly the clock loudly strikes ten o'clock and its sound echoed in my mind for a few seconds bringing me back to the ill-fated present. I realize that how much I miss him he cant come back. Despite his knowledge of homeopathy, he could not be saved by god or himself from the ugly disease of cancer. It is said that history repeats itself. Same is with cancer. It reoccurs after ten-fifteen years. Last time grandpa fought with liver cancer it took away half of his stomach for complete cure but this time it cost him his life.

“Granny, it's been an hour since you are cleaning the clock. Take rest for a while.” I said with concerned look on my face when I saw her dusting the clock in the morning. Although I know her reply that she would not relax until she cleans it but some part of me pushed me to say that. 

 This morning has brought new freshness with it. As I am looking at her, her face shining in the daylight, I see what I have more than what I had lost, I see my  happiness ,I see what more I can loose and I see what I should care  about. My granny and I had good times together but   somehow grandpa affected me more. It is true that someone's death can change you and grandpa's death has changed me into a better, loving and caring person. From today I have decided to love granny more than before, make her everyday special and never let her remember the loss. 

A REFLECTION ON MY PAST

It can be a great experience to learn something new. Trying to recall how I learned to read and write was a tough thing for me. I never gave it a thought before. So I asked my mom to tell me all about it.  After hearing from her I came to know that at first I was not good at writing.

ABC's were easy for me to read but gave me a hard time writing them. However I had an advantage that I learned my native language before learning English because of which I was able to read English without any struggle as the pronunciation are somewhat similar. At the age of four I started spelling some weird words in front of my mom's friends. In my country teachers was focused on memorizing everything it was in first grade that my English teacher told my parents "your kid is experiencing some problems in writing and you need to help her at home". These were her exact words. Even I was surprised by knowing that for a whole day my mom made me write everything and I could not speak anything. I have to write everything out. My parents played a bigger role than my teachers in helping me learn to write.

Being the youngest in the family, everyone was there to help me in my any problems.  However learning to write was a tough and boring job for me. It happened slowly and gradually. My parent's effort and my teacher's willingness finally brought a result. At the end of my third grade I could write pretty well. As far as my reading was concerned it was fine. My parents were proud of me when they were shown my notebook scribbled with sentences and with beautiful writing. I scribbled walls using colored crayons. I did that before learning to write too but the only difference was that now I used to scribble letters.

Another advantage that I had was of having an older brother. At the beginning of my teenage years, his stack of books was given to me and I found that there are some really good interesting pieces to read written by great authors. Some novels like Sherlock Holmes, one of the great fiction novel, the invisible man and Twilight specially drew my attention. Sometimes I was so engrossed in my novel that I was forced to stay up at night until I completed the novel, at least the chapter. Somehow these novels helped me understand the world better and turned me into a much mature person that I was before. Most of the novels I read were fiction but the truth and the moral behind the fiction stuck out to me and appealed to me in every way.  I am not much of a reading fan but still I am always looking for some good novels to read. I think if you are able to write then you can express yourself better and truly understand what you feel. There are numerous children who are illiterate and having the ability to read and write is like a gift. It makes you the part of an educated society. I thought I was lucky that I was not home schooled and learning reading and writing went smoothly.

Learning how to write really holds significance to me as this was the only thing I remember that I was not good at. Just now at the beginning of my tenth grade I understood that I had a keen interest in English and I am obviously better in it than before. Even when I will be in college or working, these two hobbies will remain the same.
 

I am...

I am more than everyone expects me to be.
I wonder what people think of me.
I hear my family always cheering for me.
I see my bright future.
I want to stand out, be different and perfect.
I am more than everyone expects me to be.

I pretend this is the best place to live in.
I feel i too can do what i try.
I touch the sky and reach my dreams.
I worry about the world ending before i died.
I cry when i go through tough times.
I am more than everyone expects me to be.

I understand hard work leads to success.
I say never give up.
I dream to get in UC Berkeley.
I try to be able to be me.
I hope that the whole world remembers me.
I am more than everyone expects me to be.
I am unique...

"Be No Longer ME, ME, ME"

         Why do some people give away everything that others need while some never do? Its "funny" how people become so selfish and overlook (ignore) the good deeds other people have done for them.
         Consider this text 'The Hansomest Drowned Man In The World'  in which pelayo and elisenda overlooked the fact that the angel in a way brought happiness to their lives despite that at those times angels were considered the fugitive survivors of a spiritual conspiracy. The angel was burned with hot iron, kept in chicken coop and was drived out of the house with  a broom. Its shocking how selfish people can be.
         Pelayo and Elisenda absolutely didn't care and never gave a thought to the things that happenned to them after the angels arrival their childs fever was gone, they became rich( by putting the angel on display), built a new house and lived lavishly. However the angel despite so much humiliation did good for them. Being self-centered is good but not to such extent that you ignore other's importance in your life. Keep yourselves in the place of the angel and you can know how he felt.
         People should be concerned about other people too rather than (i, me and myself) always themselves. Its easy to be self-loving but tough to be the opposite. what do you think?