Deng and Alek
The following fictional story is based
on actualities and UN recordings. It contains scenes of
gross violence, upsetting, offending language and racism
that may be too strong for some readers.
She had been asleep in her lover’s
arms when they came. The men arrived in the middle of
their loving embrace and changed their lives forever.
Only last night the couple had slept in each others
arms, under the millions of stars, by the river-bed.
Together, they had watched in wonder, an antelope drink
water from the edge of the Nile, and he had later fed
her strips of injera (sour dough pancake,) beef and kop
(sourdough corn ball pasta) before they had made love.
He had picked up a crop of flowers; white irises and
purple hibiscuses and placed some in her hair, while
giving her a bouquet with the rest. He had even recited
her some of his beautiful poetry. He had serenaded her
with beautiful words.
My love, I have conquered
the beautiful labyrinth of your body;
You, who are like myriads of fireflies,
and exquisite galaxies.
You are precious, my dear Alek.
I kiss the silky glide of your skin
and feel the quickening of your pulse.
My joy when I hold you is insurmountable.
My love, kiss me with the richness
of your sweet Dinka
lips . . .
And they had kissed
passionately with the river roaring next to them. She
had giggled with pleasure, while small insects whirled
and stirred about them. In the middle of the night,
while they were lying next to each other, under their
thick red blanket, he had even reached out for her and
felt the growing mound of her belly and smiled. She had
smiled back at him lovingly.
A son, an heir.
Or if not, a
beautiful black Dinka princess who looked just
liked her mother. Alek was a woman-child; at that age
when she was woman enough to be married off and with
child, but still had endearing remnants of childhood and
vulnerability in her. She was tall and lean, like the
women of their tribe, with generous mandrake buttocks,
rounded hips, young pointed breasts and long legs. Her
eyes were hauntingly beautiful; shaped like a cat and
with a greenish tinge to their brownness. She had chunky
dark brown lips. Her head was completely shaved bald and
she had a gap between her teeth, a symbol of beauty in
many African cultures. When she smiled, two dimples
formed in her cheeks. She was as dark as the night and
Last night Deng,
her 20-year lover and husband, had made love to her so
tenderly, next to a fire lit to protect them from wild
animals; it had been a provocative night of passion and
pleasure and they had both slept with happiness on their
faces. He had protectively covered her with the blanket
and those beautiful brown eyes had watched her fall
Oh how she loved him!
And he her! It was reciprocated.
They loved each other beyond reason.
Black African love that was seldom
He was beautiful;
jet black, tall and proud in all his Nubian Nuer
glory. His ancestors had clothed him with the skin of
panthers; smooth like soap and dark as the night. His
facial features were warrior-like; he had gaar,
beautiful facial tribal scarification to show for his
courage. His gaar pattern consisted of six
parallel horizontal lines across the forehead, with a
dip in the lines above the nose. His Afro hair was thick
and healthy. His body was one of a warrior; flat belly,
taut muscles, angular shoulders and arrogant stance. He
exuded confidence, power, and self-awareness.
She would never
forget how he had fought off all the other suitors to
take her hand. He had performed acts of bravery like no
other man in her village ever had. He had wrestled wild
boars, hippos, crocodiles and even a lion just to prove
his worth! His military prowess and might was
unprecedented and incomparable. Her father was a chief;
one of the greatest chiefs of her village and many men
had coveted her because of that as well as her beauty,
but she had secretly hoped that it was Deng who won her
hand. So she had been mightily pleased when he had.
Despite the fact
that he was a Nuer of the swamps and open
savannas on both sides of the Nile south of Malakal in
Sudan, and she was a Dinka of the swamplands of the Bahr
el Ghazal region of the Nile basin, Jonglei and parts of
Southern Kordufan and Upper Nile regions, her father,
the majestic village chief and beloved leader, Juak
Diing Ruoic, had accepted him.
Deng, who was from
a rich Nuer family, had given her father several
dozen cows, as well as gold, myrrh, frankincense,
well-designed fabric, wine and ivory for her hand in
marriage. Cattle to the Nuer, and many other Africans,
played a big role as bride wealth, where they were given
by a husband's lineage to his wife's lineage. Deng was
not only of respectful birth, but he was also kind and
loving, and in Alek’s mothers eyes a good choice for her
* * *
Ah! The bliss of newly weds.
Deng and Alek had,
in the process of looking for a romantic secluded spot
for a picnic, gotten lost in the forest on the outskirts
of their village. But he had promised to protect her and
lead her back to their village. He had protected her
against a lion, which had frightened her, and against a
fleet of jackals and even a leopard. But he was unable
to protect her against them.
They came and with them, brought
the end of innocence and pure, unadulterated love.
They did not come
in the thick of the night, as the legends said. They
came in plain daylight when the sun was just starting to
splay its rays. Deng and Alek were still sleeping when
they descended upon them. It was dawn when she heard the
violence of pounding horse hoofs and wild screaming men.
The desert dust rose up menacingly, under the horse
hoofs. They arrived by car, camels, motorcycles and
horses wearing army uniforms. They looked as if they had
been released from hell.
“General, I have
found some!” a child soldier, who was barely older then
her, yelled. He was inches away from them. They had not
even heard him arrive! He was a few shades lighter than
them, but with the unmistakable Arab hair that
pronounced him as not Black, like them the blue Black
As soon as the
other soldiers spotted the couple, they started shooting
in the air.
Alek got up in
alarm, rudely awakened by the threat of danger. Her
heart stopped in her ribcage with horror. Deng got up,
Oh no! Not them!
It could not be happening to them!
It was the much-feared janjaweed.
The pro-government Arab, tribal
fighters known as the janjaweed militia.
The agents of danger, hatred,
racism and destruction.
How had they come this far south?
This area of the Sudan was still considered safe, Deng
thought with furrowed, worried brows.
Riding on horseback
and camel, the janjaweed, many of them teenagers
or young adults, were known to burn villages, steal and
destroy grain supplies as well as animals, kill men and
ruthlessly rape Black women. They were menacing in their
military uniforms; clutching satellite phones and guns
slung over their shoulders.
In Africa everyone knew that
child soldiers were the worst. They were dead to
Alek started shaking with terror.
They tried to run, but there was nowhere to run. They
were surrounded by soldiers. A tall, handsome man with
olive skin and midnight black curly hair stepped out of
an army jeep. Big black army boots walked towards them.
He gave the child-soldier, who referred to him as the
General, a piece of silver, and the soldier smiled and
scuttled back to a car.
The General was of
a complexion that had been kissed by African blood, like
many Northern Sudanese Arabs. In Cuba and Brazil he
would have been called mulatto; and in America and
Canada, according to the one drop rule, he would have
simply been called Black. But here in the Sudan, because
his blood was predominantly Arab, he was an Arab and
therefore “superior” to Blacks. He had light brown eyes,
a long thin European nose, thick Africa lips and a face
that women stared at. He was spectacularly handsome and
he had a well built body to boot. He had more military
epaulets than the rest of the men and looked like he was
in his mid 30’s.
Alek stared at him mesmerized with curiosity, fear and
female appreciation of his looks. But when she compared
him to Deng, it was clear who took the crown. There was
no comparison to pure Black man beauty. Deng was by far
better looking, only with different ethnic features.
Deng quickly took off his golden
ankh necklace and placed it on her for luck, and then he
held her possessively and protectively.
He would die before anything
happened to her, he thought.
“My seed shall live
on through you Alek,” Deng said quickly in her Dinka
language, which he had mastered. “I love you and
although they may kill my physical body, I shall come
back in another form. I shall love you forever, my
beautiful jewel! I shall always be there for you. Look
for me in a flower, in a leaf, in an animal, in a
butterfly, in a reptile. I am a reincarnation of great,
mighty Nuer gods and my spirit cannot be killed.”
She had never heard him speak like
that, and so she was afraid.
“My love, why, would they kill
you?” she asked, with a trembling voice.
“Because the Black man is a
The soldiers grabbed him and pulled
him away from her. They took him towards the General,
who stood with his hands behind his back, legs spread
apart, with a detached look.
“No!” She cried out. But two
soldiers held her back.
“What do we have
here?” the General asked, raising his thick eyebrows, as
he looked at Deng. He inspected him closely as if he
were mere cattle. “Not a man, but a slave. He is strong
as well. For sure, his value will be great. Where are
your other fellow slaves?”
“I am not a slave!
I am a man,” Deng said defiantly, controlling his anger.
“I am a proud Black man of an ancient civilization –
Nuba! My ancestral home is in Sudan!”
“You Black people,”
the General sneered, “Slaves you always were, slaves you
are and slaves you will always be! Slaves! Nubas! Do you
have a god? You are ugly and Black! You are godless! We
Arabs are your god! Your god is Omar al-Bashir! You are
his slaves and the slaves of the pale-faced ones!”
The soldiers laughed.
Deng did not laugh.
There was a look of murder in his eyes. It was as if he
knew that death was at his doorstep. He was defiant and
proud. If death came his way at the hand of these
murderers, he was going to at least die with the dignity
of a man.
“My people were
here before your people, and we will always be here. Who
do you think built the pyramids you are so quick to
claim? Who do you think reigned as kings in the Egypt
and Sudan that you claim as yours? Africa is the land of
Blacks!” Deng shouted defiantly, “You cannot eradicate
us from the face of the earth. We were Black before your
ancestors were born and we are still Black! There are
more pyramids in Sudan than in Egypt! How do you explain
“Bastard seed!” the General spat
out and slapped Deng. “Do not answer back to me, you
little Black piece of shit!”
Deng gave the General a dangerously
poisonous look. It was a look that could kill.
“Deng! Please…” Alek begged, her
eyes misty with tears. Naively, she thought that perhaps
if he were a bit subservient, they would leave them
alone. The General angrily ordered his men to get out
hippo-hide whips and use them on Deng’s back. Two men
held bound his hands in front of him with hemp rope and
the other two whipped him cruelly on his back. They beat
him severely. Some other men even came and kicked him
with their hard army boots. He winced with pain.
But his Nuer pride was unbreakable,
as they whipped him mercilessly.
“Long live the SPLA!
Praise goes to Queen Ma-at! Praise goes to our
ancestors, who you tried to bury in your man-made lake
to hide the fact that our civilization is older and
greater than yours! We Black people were here before the
Egypt you now claim as yours. You always claim, rape and
steal the best of Africa. You are newcomers to the land
of Africa! It has always belonged to us the Black
people! We are the mothers and fathers of the Egypt and
Sudan, which you now populate. In fact if you were to
check your bloodline, you would find our Black blood in
There was instant chaos and anger
among the soldiers.
“Shut the nigger up!” the General
ordered. “How dare he! The nerve of that dog!”
Other men threw in dehumanizing
“Our leaders were
right when they told us that we should kill all the Nuba.
There is no place here for the niggers any more!” One of
the soldiers shouted. “You are abeeds, you are slaves;
“You Blacks are
gorillas! You are Black, and you are ugly,” Another
soldier jeered, “No Black can stay here! We can no
longer allow Blacks to stay in Sudan. The blood of the
Blacks runs like water. We take your property and we
chase you from your area and our cattle is on your land.
We rape your women and you can do nothing about it
because you are not men. You are animals! The power of
Al-Bashir belongs to the Arabs and we will kill you
until the end! You Blacks, we have killed your God!”
“We shall rid Sudan
of her blackness! Sudan belongs to the Arabs! We shall
make all the babies of Black women light skinned! We
shall eradicate the Black man and woman from the face of
“Oye!” They all cheered as they
continued to beat Deng senseless.
Alek looked at the
half-Black soldiers, not understanding their hatred. She
was frightened. Most of them clearly looked as if their
mothers were Black, or at least their grandmothers. Not
all of them were pure Arab. Many of them had the
signature mixed-breed look; the kind of look she had
seen on many kids who were born of Arab rapists and
victimized Black mothers. The Sudan was teeming with
many of these half-Arab seed; seed who were given a
status higher than Blacks, based on the lightness of
their skins and silkiness of their hair. She was
puzzled. What had the Blacks done to deserve such hatred
She heard her loved one speak.
“You can silence me
now, but there are many of us! You can try and water
down the black in our country, you can try and eradicate
the blackness from this land, but you shall never
succeed. Inshalla, our gods will descend upon you with
wrath! It shall be so! The words Bild Al Sudan mean the
land of the Black people. It is OUR land. The world will
hear of your atrocities against the Black people in
Sudan, on OUR own soil, and you shall be judged and
“Enough!” the General yelled and
walked hurriedly towards Alek. “Drop him to his knees
and make him face and watch her! I know how to break his
Deng was forced to
his knees. The violence against him continued. It was
clear that the soldiers enjoyed the torture. They did it
with glee! He was beaten, slapped, whipped, kicked and
boxed. His lower lip was bleeding and the skin near his
left eye was purple and tender with swelling. In fact
she could barely see the eye! His whole body was a
bloody mess of cuts, lacerations and bruises. Tears
burnt down her face. She felt pain in her heart. Her
handsome Deng’s beautiful face was damaged! She felt
like vomiting. The baby inside her stirred. The soldiers
covered Deng’s mouth with masking tape, so that they
would forever silence him.
He had said enough to rattle them.
Some of the child soldier had
questions in their eyes.
The General walked
purposefully to Alek. Soon he was in front of her. She
caught a few whiffs of ganja coming from him. She knew
that smell. Many warriors of her tribe took it before
going to war. He also smelt of disgusting armpits, blood
and sweat. He was dirty and had not bathed for a while.
She cringed and tried to take a few steps back, but two
soldiers behind her grabbed both of her slender arms.
The General looked her up and down
with an appreciative gleam in his eyes.
“Hear hear. She is
a beautiful one. Tell me Black woman, how is it that one
with such offensive dark blackness has such a beautiful
face?” he asked insolently.
Alek was offended.
Who had told him that Black women were NOT beautiful?
Who had lied to him that only fair-skinned women had a
monopoly over beauty? She was enraged. If Black women
were ugly and animals, then why were the janjaweed
militia raping the so-called ugly animals? They were not
raping jackals and hyenas, which were known for their
ugliness. The contradictions were too much for her
young, innocent head.
What was bizarre
about the situation was how handsome the General was. In
Alek’s experience, beautiful people were always
attributed with good qualities; purity, kindness,
benevolence, and so many more qualities like that. She
could not believe that the Devils representative, for
there was something satanic about the General and his
men, could come in such a deceptively beautiful package.
He was the kind of man who probably had many women
fighting for his attention in Khartoum, and yet here in
Southern Sudan, he had unmasked his cruel devilish
qualities to them.
He reached out and caressed her
soft babyish cheek.
“No!” She cried
out, as if her cheek had been burnt, knowing what was
coming. She had heard enough stories to imagine. But she
had never imagined that it could ever happen to them!
His eyes hardened at her rejection.
But she did not
care. Surely they would not do it to a sixteen-year old
pregnant woman! Surely there must be a God, who would
dress their hearts with mercy and feeling.
But the Generals
eyes were stone-cold. The only emotion they were only
filled with, was lust. She saw in his eyes the secret
desire which many men who were not Black, had for Black
women. She saw herself fetishized, sexualized and
fanaticized in his eyes. She saw herself reduced to
nothing more than a sexual object. Something to be
penetrated, used and discarded of.
Sex with the Black woman, the
ultimate fantasy of many men.
He tore her long
linen clothes off with his strong bare hands, and threw
her onto the grassy ground. She felt the morning dew,
wet against her skin. By now her body was trembling with
sobs. She tried to fight him off, but he pulled out a
knife and threatened her.
“Deng! Please protect me!” she
begged, no longer a woman, but now a little
“Forget your Deng
and your gods,” the General laughed with contempt, as he
unzipped his trousers. “You infidels refused to accept
Islam and stuck to the white man’s religion -
Christianity. Let us see how your God helps you!”
All the soldiers laughed. It took
four men to hold down Deng, because he had managed to
fight off the two and tried to run in the direction of
his woman to save her. Two other soldiers jumped out of
their jeeps and slammed him in the head roughly with
their rifles. He crumpled to the floor. Four soldiers
held him down and two pointed their guns at him.
Six men to one.
Did it not just prove how much
stronger and superior he was? He really was a threat.
As the General’s
pants dropped to the ground, the obscenity of his
private parts made her nauseous. He had a long scar on
his stomach. Seeing the thick pubic hair and angry,
reddish-brown weapon-like, sexual object of another man
frightened her. It represented violence to the nth
degree. It represented a loss of her innocence; of the
last childish elements in her body. It represented a
loss of her humanity and her rights as a woman to allow
or refuse a man. It represented the deprivation of
liberty. It represented powerlessness.
“Make sure the nigger
In a few seconds,
the General was on the floor, on top of her. She tried
to push him off, but he showed her his knife again and
she shuddered. She could not believe it when he fondled
her heavy breasts and his fingertips circled her erect
nipples. He had a strange, hungry look in his eyes. He
licked his lips like he wanted to suck them. He shocked
her when he bent down to her breasts and did just that.
Alek was confused and angry. How could a rapist avail
himself to such an intimate, sensual act? Instead of
being aroused, like she always was when Deng touched
them, she was thoroughly disgusted.
Then he spread her legs apart and
he entered her.
He exploded into her dry depths.
It was pure violence.
She screamed with pain and he
slapped her into submission.
There was a clear
difference between the honey-sweet, caring, gentle
lovemaking of her husband and this horrible invasion of
her private parts. He tore into the core of her being,
like a bullet tearing into skin.
The General rammed
and hammered into her with the determination and
deliberate need to hurt her. He slammed into her,
invading her like a colonizer raping Africa; his
paleness assaulting her blackness. Despite herself and
her efforts to be brave like Deng, tears burned her
cheeks. She was a child again, crying out in humiliation
and shame. The General held her fragile frame down;
pressed down her slender arms with brutal force. His
breath was rugged and laboured, as he raped her. She
could tell from his stifled moans that he was enjoying
it. She held back the vomit that threatened.
Alek could see the
anger and murder in Deng’s eyes. He struggled to be
free, but the soldiers reined him in, forcing him to
watch the heartbreaking scene. She could see the pain in
his eyes at witnessing the brutal rape of his precious,
sweet beloved. His lips strained through the masking
tape to say something, but it only came out as muffled
sounds. She cried out in agony; this rude intrusion of
her most private, inward parts, the rose petal softness
of her womanhood, killing something inside her. She felt
the stirrings of hatred and anger, but decided to focus
on her unborn child.
protect the child inside me. You were not able to
protect Deng and me, but please God, see to it that my
child is not harmed,” She prayed inwardly.
As the General
mutilated her womanly sexual organ with his angry,
abusive organ, the other men cheered on, waiting for
their turns. They were happy! They sang, in harmony
while he raped her, telling her that Africans were just
slaves and that they could do with African women as they
wished. Some of them were even openly masturbating.
There was something
very offensive about the way the General emptied his
seed in her. His eyes rolled back and he growled like an
animal, completely ignoring the wetness of her face and
redness and puffiness of her eyes; not to mention her
Finally his raping stopped.
He whispered in her ear, so that no
one else would hear the de-womanizing, de-humanizing
disrespect in his tone.
“Your black pussy
is intoxicating. There is no high like fucking a Black
woman. You Black women are whores who always want it.
You cannot get enough. You are the best at sex, but
that’s all you are good at!”
It had the effect
he wanted. She looked at him with savage anger, wanting
to kill him. Now she understood why other children her
age, and younger carried AK-40s. It was to kill demons
like him! He laughed cruelly, knowing that his words
were as abusive as the bodily harm he had conducted on
How could be
possibly be human? Human beings had hearts and
consciences. Human beings did not do bad things to each
other, the child in her reasoned.
Devil bastard, she thought.
He got up and spat on the floor.
“Now you shall have Arab babies,
and not those bastard nigger children that your man
would have given you. You shall no longer produce a
child of the enemy.”
Deng was still struggling to get
free. There was a wild look in his eyes. The General
walked up to him and spat in his face.
“Kill him! We need
slaves, but an outspoken one like him is a danger to us.
We do not need him raising up the other slaves into
rebellion.” he ordered.
“No!” she screamed, “Deng!”
How would she bear
life without her warrior; without the love of her life,
the man of her dreams? How would she raise her child
alone? If people of her village knew that she had been
raped, they would ostracize her. How would she survive
without beautiful Deng to protect her?
“Kill the bastard!”
The General, who was now sniffing a white powdery
product, which a child soldier had brought him, shouted.
His eyes now looked diluted, like many of the other
The soldiers tied
up Deng’s sexual organs and pulled from both sides. He
gave a deep throaty groan of pain, and tears poured down
his face. Alek, who was now being raped by the second
soldier, closed her eyes so that she would save her
beloved the indignity of being watched by his woman; so
that she would further save him the humiliation of
having his woman watch him lose his manhood.
“Close your eyes
Deng and remember only our good moments. Remember only
our love,” she said softly in her language. She knew he
had heard her. The soldier raping her slapped her and
ordered her to shut up.
She did not count how many men
raped her. They were too many to count. By the time they
were done with her, her teenage pregnant belly was
But what she would never forget was
how they killed Deng.
She still got nightmares from it.
They tied him to a
tree and shot him numerous times. They removed the
masking tape from his mouth so that they could hear his
screams, but he did not scream. He refused to break down
in front of Alek, much to their annoyance. He wanted her
to remember him as her brave warrior; as a real man and
not a coward. Alek felt as if each of the bullets were
hitting her. She flinched with each shot.
“Long live Sudan, the Land of the
Blacks!” Deng kept yelling. Like the martyrs of Uganda,
who were killed for their religious beliefs, he was
indestructible. It took many bullets to kill him.
They kept shooting
as they kept raping her, swimming in each others semen.
She could not even worry about that disease AIDS, which
she had heard had ravaged many countries in Africa. She
was already dead. At that point she had zoned out
mentally. It was the only way she could survive the
brutality. She imagined the rising amber sun she had
seen yesterday morning and soaked in the scents of the
honeysuckle and jasmine trees around them.
“Long live Alek, the woman of my
dreams!” were his last words.
Then they beheaded him.
Deng! They had killed her Deng!
She heard the slicing of a sharp
panga against skin and heard his head drop and roll, but
refused to open her eyes. She would remember him as the
proud, handsome warrior that he had always been.
She gave a deep, sorrowful, animal
cry. That area in her body that was breaking just had to
be her heart. They were supposed to have had many
children, and grown old together.
Deng, we shall be re-united in the
next life, she thought.
Once they were done with her, the
General came and looked at her with a strange look of
disgust and pity in his eyes. She opened her eyes and
looked at him, memorizing every single thing about him.
He was her mortal enemy and she placed an African curse
on him for the rest of his life and for the generations
of his family to come. Some of the soldiers cocked their
guns and aimed it at her. She thought that they were
going to kill her but they did not.
“Leave her!” the General said, with
a catch to his throat, “There is no way that she will
“OK General,” the other soldiers
all walked off to their camels, motorcycles, horses and
He stayed behind and continued
looking at her.
“It is a pity you
are Black. You are one of those rare beautiful dark
Black women. If your skin was lighter I could have made
you my woman. But your blackness is of no use to me. You
are nothing but a curse to me. My only consolation is I
hope I have left some pale-faced seed in your stomach,
so that you do not produce more of the enemy!”
I’ll kill you, Alek
thought bitterly. I will look for you and avenge my
Deng! I will kill all of you! I am going to fight for my
people. I am going to fight for the memory of Deng!
As the General
walked off, and the whole procession of janjaweed
soldiers drove off, she hoped that she had not lost her
baby, her only link to the only man she had ever loved
with deep passion. She had to stay strong for her baby.
She was a strong Black woman and she would survive. Her
ancestry was one of strong survivors. She absolutely had
to stay alive and keep her last reminder of Deng, which
was growing inside her expanding belly.
Alek was not sure
how long she lay there in the sun. She went in and out
of consciousness, trying to gather up the strength to
get up and walk. Once when she opened her eyes, heavy
clouds basked in the sky, another time the sky was a
silvery blue and another time the sky was a cobalt blue.
Vultures flew above her, so she made sure to make a few
movements so they would not attack her.
But when she woke
up finally from her stupor, there was a middle-aged
white female face with sympathetic green eyes peering
down at her. The sunset was a few stripes of cerise.
Behind her was a procession of UN jeeps. She could see
that someone had compassionately covered her with a
piece of kente cloth. Probably the green-eyed woman.
“Hello there? Do you speak English?
I am part of the UN Special Representative for Darfur
Force. We have come to save you.”
“Yes, I speak
English,” she spoke haltingly and wondered what exactly
they were saving. But for her child, her life was over.
“I am pregnant. I want to make sure that I am still
“Who did this to you? Was it the
There was an angry look in the
“Please, I also beg
for a respectful burial for my husband. That is his body
there. He tried to protect me,” Alek explained with
tear-stained eyes, “and they tortured and killed him.”
The lady with the
blue eyes tried not to gag, but she understood. She too
had felt the glow of love at a younger age. She could
not believe the savagery of some people. This job was
getting too hard. She promised Alek the dignified burial
of her lover and husband.
Alek was delicately
carried into a car and given medical care. Not caring
much about herself, she kept inquiring about her child.
She could not bear the thought of losing both Deng and
their baby. That would be too much to bear. Death was
better than that.
A butterfly flew past and settled
on a ledge next to her. Alek blinked in disbelief as its
wings fluttered. She remembered Deng’s words.
“It’s a miracle
after what you have been through, but yes, you are still
pregnant,” the lady with the green eyes said, shocked at
the resilience of the beautiful woman-child, who she had
found lying in the middle of nowhere.
Then Alek did something that the
white woman thought was strange, considering the trauma
she had been through.
She fingered her golden ankh
necklace and smiled.
posted 20 October 2007
* * *
* * *
Sister Citizen: Shame, Stereotypes, and Black Women in
By Melissa V.
According to the
author, this society has historically exerted
considerable pressure on black females to fit into one
of a handful of stereotypes, primarily, the Mammy, the
Matriarch or the Jezebel. The selfless
Mammy’s behavior is marked by a slavish devotion to
white folks’ domestic concerns, often at the expense of
those of her own family’s needs. By contrast, the
relatively-hedonistic Jezebel is a sexually-insatiable
temptress. And the Matriarch is generally thought of as
an emasculating figure who denigrates black men, ala the
characters Sapphire and Aunt Esther on the television
shows Amos and Andy and Sanford and Son, respectively.
points out how the propagation of these harmful myths
have served the mainstream culture well. For instance,
the Mammy suggests that it is almost second nature for
black females to feel a maternal instinct towards
As for the source
of the Jezebel, black women had no control over their
own bodies during slavery given that they were being
auctioned off and bred to maximize profits. Nonetheless,
it was in the interest of plantation owners to propagate
the lie that sisters were sluts inclined to mate
* * *
Sex at the Margins
Migration, Labour Markets and the Rescue Industry
By Laura María Agustín
This book explodes several myths: that selling sex is completely different from any other kind of work, that migrants who sell sex are passive victims and that the multitude of people out to save them are without self-interest. Laura Agustín makes a passionate case against these stereotypes, arguing that the label 'trafficked' does not accurately describe migrants' lives and that the 'rescue industry' serves to disempower them. Based on extensive research amongst both migrants who sell sex and social helpers, Sex at the Margins provides a radically different analysis. Frequently, says Agustin, migrants make rational choices to travel and work in the sex industry, and although they are treated like a marginalised group they form part of the dynamic global economy. Both powerful and controversial, this book is essential reading for all those who want to understand the increasingly important relationship between sex markets, migration and the desire for social justice. "Sex at the Margins rips apart distinctions between migrants, service work and sexual labour and reveals the utter complexity of the contemporary sex industry. This book is set to be a trailblazer in the study of sexuality."—Lisa Adkins, University of London
* * *
The White Masters of the
The World and Africa, 1965
By W. E. B. Du Bois
W. E. B. Du Bois’
Arraignment and Indictment of White Civilization
* * *
Ancient African Nations
* * * * *
If you like this page consider making a donation
* * * * *
Negro Digest /
Browse all issues
* * * * *
The Death of Emmett Till by Bob Dylan
The Lonesome Death of Hattie Carroll
Only a Pawn in Their Game
Rev. Jesse Lee Peterson Thanks America for
George Jackson /
* * *
The Journal of Negro History issues at Project Gutenberg
Haitian Declaration of Independence 1804
January 1, 1804 -- The Founding of
* * * * *
update 3 March 2012