"I saw that a number of human rights websites were blocked inside the centre! This impedes the legal process - by barring the information that would help refugees prove their case."

I've never seen a more blatant barring of justice than the narrator explained in chapter 3. Preventing people from accessing the internet, one thing that could help them gain their freedom, is pure evil. On top of that, lawyers would have to fight even harder against a system that prevents them from helping those who need it. I can imagine it would seem pretty hopeless, pretty dreary, after having experience after experience of people just not wanting to give you your rights. People not helping.

It seems like this is a metaphor - or even a double meaning. Yes, they could be talking about how to collect food and passing on their techniques to their children. But I think they're also talking about language, about their stories told by mouth. Looking for the "right type of yams" could mean that you're looking for the right story, the true story, the real telling of history. And the author writes that she (?) doesn't like her "children to lose their bush tucker" - she doesn't like them to lose their language, their history, who they're a part of, even how important it is.

I wonder what the reference to Christian Science means here. Every time an author mentions Christianity I can't help but think now that colonization factors in somewhere. The author seems to be using "Christian Science" as a thing people use to shift their feelings, to maybe push them away or explain them away. What is this gouging he's speaking of? What's the relationship to potatoes? I wish i had more background.

Reading past this point made this section of the reading more clear to me. I think it's funny how she juxtaposes "Liberty Weekend," or that kind of concept, with a Minister of Culture. Why would that position need to exist if a country already had its own free flowing culture? Why would someone need to regulate culture - it doesn't have bounds. I suppose it might help to organize events, and educate people about the culture of a specific location - but the reality is that the "culture" isn't one that belongs to the people. They have it by proxy, by force, "as a result of."

I love the irony of colonialism, especially as religion is involved. I wish more people, mainly black people, knew the history of Christianity - and how it wasn't a blessing or a thing we wanted at one point. We claim it as our all in all, and depend on it for everything, but black Christianity and White Christianity, if we can call it that, even look different. At one point, it justified slavery, it was used to make us submissive, it led to forced assimilation and conversion, and wiped out many people's cultures. It just feels like a Stockholm Syndrome situation, loving the thing that hurt you most. My feelings on religion, let alone Christianity, are complicated, but this is the irony that I wish people saw more.

This pretty much sums up New York City - money rules all, even if we seem more liberal and "liberated." There are huge groups of people who are underprivileged, and in poverty; there's history in certain parts of the city, and people that are struggling because of that history - and gentrification just "brushes it away." I wonder if this will ever change, if the massive amounts of money will be spread to people who need it to be better than "barely surviving," if the rich will be higher taxed and realize that they have more money and houses than any one person or family need for several lifetimes. There are buildings with no one living in them all over NYC! Why can't the homeless stay there to at least have shelter, to be supported, to have help getting back on their feet? Change is so difficult for humans.

This gives me a hint of "pick yourself up by your bootstraps and get the job done by will alone." It's a very simple view of the world, that "you can do anything you put your mind to." It's too general. Fixing the world isn't solved my sheer will. Fighting your own mind isn't simple at all. I would agree, yes, that complaining and not taking action or at least making a plan is a problematic way of living life - which is why I try to do less of it and see what I CAN do. However, I feel like there's still space to ask for help, there's time to complain and be upset at the place you are - especially if there's no quick fix, or you're a product of systemic issues (big or small.) This is why it's hard for abuse victims to leave their abuser. It's why people who suffer from mental illness find it hard to get help. It's not completely their fault - there are so many factors at play. I think the doctor's mindset is from generations before, and even still, it's dangerous. She even was written as responding "dispassionately." She definitely has been privileged in her life.

I think it's fascinating that there's such a diverse amount of people living in a place like Brussels. I've never really thought of anywhere but New York as some kind of "melting pot" of diversity. I suppose this makes sense though, as all kinds of people seek asylum near to where they were originally oppressed or in danger. It's interesting that Julius has a consistent attention to detail, no matter where he is and who he's around. It seems good that he's very observant and knowledgeable about different groups of people with different backgrounds. I feel like it takes time to really get to the point of gaining a very wide expanse of knowledge like he has.

I wonder if I've personally had this experience with someone in my life. This seems like a complicated feeling towards someone; not really one of indifference, but of distaste. A person can definitely say the right things, stand for the right people, be on the "right side of history," but their actual personality still isn't digestible. It's interesting to think there are many people you may admire and respect for what they've done, but you would not get along with them or be close to them because of how they are. I wonder if that's just a fault of humans, and the way things are, or something that can be worked on and "fixed" in a sense.

The author uses humor here, even the natural essence of human conversation and tendencies, to really guide this play. The interactions between characters are written almost flawlessly, and you can interpret the characters' personalities and traits by how they talk. This bit, where Kerry says "is that so" for a second time, out of habit, is very relatable. It reminds me of when I say sorry too much, and someone tells me not to say it anymore: there's nothing to be sorry for. I, in turn, respond with "sorry," and then catch myself. I wonder if there's a reason this happens so naturally in conversation, when we speak. This whole dialog has been quite entertaining, but I get the feeling something is wrong with the woman, or she has a valid reason to be talking in circles with the doctor.

"Should she even try to claim that she was human?" It's clear that Margaret believes everything is about to fall apart. I'm sure she's even blaming herself for the events of the past days or hours. Because of her identity, and her confidence in it, she thinks all the good things she was granted are going to be slowly taken away. She's already in a the mindset of defending herself, that she's going to have to prove that she's worthy of equality, or even having a fair role among others around her. I wonder how Moleka is going to respond, based on his now strained relationship with Maru, and his feelings for Margaret.

I'm intrigued by the literal tone this story has been taking so far. If this is folklore, or a story that ties in magical realism/mysticism, it's quite possible that we need to read this text very plainly. It could be possible that Maru the farmer is actually connected to the earth, and it could be a metaphor for the kind of person he is. This is similar to the focus on Ranko's "big nose" and his name. Maru might actually have the power to read people and know their intentions, and that is knows/unknown by those around him. It could be a take on honesty, on intention, on relationships and trust. I'm trying to unravel Ranko's opinion/views on Maru.

This spell is a metaphor - the spell is words, language, tongue, all in an effort to stop a cycle. The cycle presented is war, and violence, and fear. The opening lines describe fear, hiding in a cart to possibly escape at night - a dangerous time to go really anywhere. It's funny how the narrator presents this experience as told in the voice of a fairy-tale, immediately condemning that. It's a valiant effort to fight in the way you know how - I admire the form and the choice of words.

I read this as the behavior of an abuser - pretty heavy, but abusers love to cause harm to someone, and play it off as a "mistake."They're more likely to do it again if you enable them, as this gives them more power each time you do.. This whole story has so many angles to read from, I'd like to know the context in which it was written. I find it fascinating.