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New Year's Day

My best friend Solomon and I had plans to celebrate the New Year with a bang. I spent almost the entire day at his house as we were discussing things to do for the night. We talked about going to the strip club, a bar, then the club, before spending the night at two of his female friends’ house. As we were discussing, his mother came in haven overheard our conversation. She began talking about how time and traveling to America has changed everything. “On New Year’s Day, by waking up to the dances of the masquerades, dined and drink as a family and give thanks to God for the NEW AND THE OLD”. Upon her comment, I began to recollect and reflect on what I remember about New Year’s Day in Liberia, and my experience with a masquerade.
“ONCE UPON A TIME. Far away in the forest lived a child who was so ugly that children would run away from him as adults would stare curiously. It was said that the child had no parents. He came to being form the spirits of the land, feeding on only children and drinking only palm oil. He spent many years isolated in the forest to avoid laughter and mockery because of his looks. As time went by, already a man, he decided to get a bit braver by entering the city but things were still the same. Children would still run in fear as adults would stare curiously. So he decided to wear a mask to hide his identity, subsequently stopping the running and staring by town’s people. He would come to the city and dance for any audience to get him some money to feed and clothed. People enjoyed his dancing very much not knowing who he was. Children loved him as they would come to play with him (touching his gourmets so he could run after them). The dancing and the child’s play became quite a familiar scene. He soon became known as The Masquerade, a figure of excitement and festivity, tied down to our tradition of the New Year.
I woke to the smell of the delicious African Style beans and rice. The smell led me directly to the kitchen where I saw my mother preparing our New Year’s Day meal. I was annoyed realizing that I wasn’t the first person awake, but happy because it was New Year’s Day. New Year’s Day has always been one of my favorite times of the year next to Christmas. I wanted to indulge in the joy of waking up everyone. Thinking that six (6) was early enough, I was baffled and astonished to meet mother up before then. Looking at how far she’d gone in the meal preparation, she must have been up for hours. After saying my good morning, I went ahead, waking up everyone in the house. Daddy was the first, the Ephraim, Rufus, Patience, Calvin, Goode, Kpene, and Uncle Mark (who would come over every New Year’s Eve to spend to holiday with us. They all woke with a fierce frown on their faces; exclaiming-“it’s too early”! After taking their morning showers, the women joined mother in the kitchen as the men sat around watching soccer and drinking beer and soft drinks. I took Goode (my younger brother) outside the house where we went to pick up whipping stick for the masquerade.
Around nine (9) in the morning, mother was done with the meal which was placed on the dining table. Shortly after, I began to hear the beating of congos which preceded singing and chanting. Recognizing the approaching sound, I quickly ran outside with my whipping stick. There I saw the tallest masquerade ever! It was about twelve (12) feet tall, attired in a gourmet made from the thatch of the palm. As I came closer, I saw a crowd of about thirty (30) people behind the masquerade. Most of them were children ranging from eight (8) to eighteen (18). In Africa, even a twenty-one (21) years old man is still a child; especially if he is still living with his parents.
I joined the crowd, chasing after the masquerade and whipping it with my stick. Being the only one with a stick, I became the center of its diverse attention. As I approach closer to deliver another hit, it turned toward me and started running after me. It was relentless in its pursuit, chasing me everywhere I went. It must have followed me for about three (3) minutes by every corner and between every house. When it finally cut up to me, I had stubbed my toe on a tree branch that lied in the middle of the road. There, I lied flat on the ground over crusted leaves and snail-shells. My hands, knees, and eye were bleeding from the impact of the fall and the contact of the branch and snail-shells. The masquerade stood over me, then started dancing around me pouring dust from his hands on my injured and tiered body like a chef seasoning a meal. As I lied helplessly, I could only pounder on what it was going to do to me. Then I recall father telling us the story about the masquerade that was birthed by the spirits of the land and fed only on children and palm oil. I was frightened out of my sense that he was going to devour me. I try to get up and run away but it grabbed me and stood me up. It held me high like a as it danced through the crowd. It was looking for my parents who somehow managed to be at the scene despite all the festivities at home. It found them by their screaming and calling out. I was then left before their feet as it continued dancing. While still frightened, I was astonished that I wasn’t devoured or harmed by the masquerade. Immediately, I was taken to hospital where I was sought after, later returning home to join the New Year’s Day dining and festivities.
As I had been quite for quite a while and obviously distant, I became alerted by tapping Solomon tapping the right shoulder. It was time to leave the house.

brainstorming

Idea – an adult experience and knowledge looking at a child’s fascination. How one’s fascination at times overrides one fear for something.

Definition of Masquerade – A cultural entity dressed in a collage of tradition attire pieces. It is fitted in rags that people wouldn’t normally wear as clothing. It measures from 6-12ft in height and its identity is undisclosed by a mask. It breaks the New Year by dancing in the streets for all to see and celebrate.

Setting – New Year’s Day. The setting rotates between United States and Liberia, West Africa.

Storyline – As children we were told to fear masquerades. They were allegedly wicked, grotesque, and inhuman. However, there had always been a strong tie with kids and masquerades. We would often hit or throw things at it, allowing it to chase it. Whilst doing just that, I feel to the rough, unfinished and unpaved motor road where I scrape the inner part of my palm and the knees. Surprisingly, I was assisted by the masquerade that was described negatively. In parts, in painting a picture of the festivities of New Year’s Day in West Africa.


Character/Point of View – First person point of view. Hamilton the adult is telling the story through the ideas of Hamilton the child.

Juxtaposition – I introduce an African Folk Tale about masquerades to properly be able to transcend my personal ordeal with masquerades. A

Lesson – you get to know people or things better through interaction instead of assuming. Also how one’s fascination at times overrides one fear for something. Not to mention the realization of childhood stories. There are a lot of lessons to be extracted from this piece. These are the three that are the strongest.

I am Hamilton Marks, Jr.
GOOD DAY!

"I" Essay of My Choice

Becoming What We’re Called, “Boy, Man, Fellow, Chap”. This is the story on which I decided to contemplate. It is written by Alice Walker, an African American Author and Poet who uses her works to tackle activism, feminism and identity. A prime example of her work is, “The Color Purple”, a fictional novel that won a Pulitzer Prize for Fiction in 1983.

“Becoming What We’re Called” like many of her works highlights the identity, distinction, and definition of a female; all of which echoes a great deal in the piece. Her issue in this essay was people (men or women) referring to women as “you guys”. Written in the first person, Alice Walker pronounces her dislikeness to the use of the words “you guys” towards women. She becomes aggravated with her best friend and everyone who referred to her as “you guys”. She points out that by calling women “guys” doesn’t do any justice to their personal identity, description, struggle and accomplishments. More so, “guy” as noun means “a boy or man: fellow: chap” and as a verb means “to tease; or to ridicule.” Now are women being ridicule by the use of the words “you guys”, or is it just used out of ignorance?

In the story, Miss Walker, uses her personal experiences and references (denotation) as a structure to build a strong impact and develop ideas to her view. She mention the story of the black man mentioning the word “nigger” while listening to his music, her trip around America and Europe where people would ask question referring to them as “you guys”, and the definition of the word “guy”; all as reasons to becoming what we’re called. I believe she right in that instances, events or certain things can make a word widespread. When a word becomes widespread, it tends to have either a negative or positive impact on a person. If I didn’t know Alice Walker, I would say she strikes me a well cultivated woman. She is someone who is very concern with what she says, and knows very well the power of the spoken word.

The piece is personal and written in the first person as Creative Nonfiction. It becomes personal via the pieces of stories she throw s into it. It is those very stories that shapes and enforces her point of view, creating a potent impact to the reader. By giving you the pieces of stories, she was able to acquire the distance to see herself and her point. Thus she builds herself as a character through personal involvement from the stories. Her voice is informative as it is frustrated. It is informative because she aims to teach women their true identity and how not to be consumed in general connotation and conformity. She is frustrated because “you guys” is something she cannot stop hearing.

I am Hamilton Marks, Jr.
GOOD DAY!

Relationship between meaning and form

The meaning of every piece of writing is equated to the idea, theme or message the piece is trying to convey. Be it explicit or brief, the meaning gives a specific piece of information to the reader. For Example, the meaning of Judith Ortiz Cofer’s “Silent Writing” is about the struggles (family and personal) with cultural assimilation and growth. I personally look for the who, what, where, when, and how then piece them together to obtain the meaning. Contrary from my personal technique, the meaning is obtained through either dialogue, or narration.

The form of a piece is the style in which the piece is drafted. The form often aligns with the meaning, either enforcing or reinforcing it. The form is usually built into scenes that highlight the meaning of a story. In Judith Ortiz Cofer’s “Silent Dancing”, Cofer used personal narration and the idea of a home movie to set the form of the story. As the narration highlights the meaning of the story, the movie supports. Interestingly, parts of the movie blends with the story and became one. In other words, the movie and the actual story will in parts be about the same thing.

The meaning and form of a story are similar in that one helps build the other. The form builds the meaning as the meaning is part of a form.

I am Hamilton Marks, Jr.
GOOD DAY!

Lott, Lopate & Kidder

My initial meaning of Creative Nonfiction displayed a broad view of the genre. The ideas or concepts were visible but lacking detailed and informative analysis. Now my view of this subject has shaped into a distinct, collected and well-formed scope. On this note I regress to how Lott says one can only obtain the definition of Creative Nonfiction via experience. I believe it is that experience (through reading and writing) that enabled me to understand and accurately define Creative Nonfiction. Ideas that resonated amongst the assigned readings were the understanding and use of character, voice, and the subject at hand.

The character is a very important aspect of Creative Nonfiction. It could establish the reader’s interest and build a potent and comprehensible point of view. According to Lopate, to construct a good character, one must mention and build upon the specifics. One must build character on ethnicity, gender, religion, class, geography, politic and so forth. Lopate and Kidder both align with a good character development bringing conflict and interest to the story.

Another aspect is the voice. The voice sets the tone (which could be comedy and tragedy). The tone ignites that believability the reader requires. It is upon that believability that this genre was built. The reader must be amused in other to continue to read or follow.

Every Creative Nonfiction piece needs a story to tell or idea to present. The writer’s ability to be comfortable with the subject rings important. He or she must first know how to create any realistic subject into Creative Nonfiction. The story doesn’t have to be about a great lost or win, nor does it have to be about happiness or sorrow. It can simply be about anything realistic and of interest to the writer. Examining and studying the subject is a positive way to start. Advice form the experts; distant yourself form the character in order to visualize properly. After doing so, both the character and voice with form into par with the subject at hand.

It is only appropriate to sum up by stating in a nutshell what Creative Nonfiction is. Creative Nonfiction is the writer’s created believability through character and voice.