By Doris May Lessing
The British writer writes approximately her homeland--from which she used to be exiled via the previous all-white government--discussing political corruption, AIDS, communal dwelling, and lots more and plenty extra. via the writer of The 5th Child. 35,000 first printing. $35,000 ad/promo. journey.
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Extra info for African Laughter: Four Visits to Zimbabwe
It is not–perhaps–without significance for the future, that it is said the Mashona troops, despoiling or killing or raiding through Matabeleland, said, ‘This is in return for…’ some incident of well over a hundred years before, when the Matabele drove off cattle, burned crops and huts, took women. The best of the Zimbabwe story is the vigour, the optimism, the determination of the people. You may return from a several-weeks’ visit to Zimbabwe and realize, finding yourself again in the enervating airs of Europe, that you have been day and night with people, white and black, who talk of nothing else but how to make Zimbabwe work, of new ideas that may be adopted there, and who have an identification with the processes of government and of administration that means nothing can happen which does not at once attract the most passionate reactions, for or against.
I kept stopping to salute this view, that cluster of toppling boulders, or at a turn-off to a farm I used to visit. No, the landscape had not lost its magnificence, nor grown smaller, the way things do, although I had seen the Arizona deserts, and California and Australia, been immersed in space and emptiness in various parts of the world. The road still rolled high in sparkling air, and, as you reached the crest of one rise, blue distances unfolded into mountains and then chains of mountains. But there was a new dimension to the landscape, because the War had ended only two years ago, and I was looking at a country where contesting armies had moved, often secretly, often at night, for, a decade.
A year later came Mother Patrick and her band of Dominican nuns, wearing thick and voluminous black and white habits. They at once began their work of teaching children and nursing the sick. Then, and very soon, came the women, all wrapped about and weighed down in their clothes. Respectable Victorian women did not discard so much as a collar, a petticoat or a corset when travelling. Mary Kingsley, that paragon among explorers, when in hot and humid West Africa was always dressed as if off to a tea party.
African Laughter: Four Visits to Zimbabwe by Doris May Lessing