I got wings

You got wings

All of God’s children got wings

When I get to heaven gonna put on my wings

Gonna fly all over God’s heaven with my wings

Hi there, I’m going to attempt doing this book review thing. This is perhaps the first full blown review I’ll be doing- of any sort. Well let’s not say ‘full-blown’ cos I don’t exactly know how long this would be. Anyway, I finished this really short play by Lorraine Hansberry ‘A Raisin in the Sun’ today. Yes, I presently have my final exams to think about, but it can’t just be me who finds every other thing interesting apart from reading school books especially during the exam period. So yeah, I thought it’ll be more profitable to at least read a book rather than endlessly surfing through the internet or sleeping or just waiting for the exams to come.

I don’t exactly remember what made me download the book but I imagine I must have thought ‘oh there’s a popular title, you should read it’. I absolutely absolutely enjoyed reading a Raisin in the Sun even though it was written in the African American colloquial palace. It remains a brilliant representation of the reality of the common (African American) man of the black civil rights period. It presented a number of themes flowing across the issues of everyday consciousness. My favourite character is Beneatha, a twenty year old college girl who aspires to be a doctor, a not-so-popular stand for a black girl of her time. Her vigour, eclectic passion, intelligence and stubbornness all somehow appealed to me and I was able to relate with her on so many levels especially in the knowledge and independence she exhibited when it came to matters of the heart. I also like the mentions Hansberry made about Nigeria, they were mostly interesting. It seemed Beneatha was more of a prophet when she had the idealist/realist conversation with Asagai (the Nigerian guy) and alluded to post-colonialist, post-independent Africa thus:

BENEATHA: I know that’s what you think. Because you are still where I left off. You with all your talk and dreams about Africa! You still think you can patch up the world. Cure the Great Sore of colonialism with the Penicillin of Independence -!

ASAGAI: Yes!

BENEATHA: Independence and then what? What about all the crooks and thieves and just plain idiots who will come into power and steal and plunder the same as before and do it in the name of the new independence – WHAT ABOUT THEM?!

ASAGAI: That will be the problem for another time. First we must get there…

Well I guess we’re there now and it’s all so confusing now as it is. It makes me think man, in his most basic element is merely a sum of influences and is subject to passing ideas and opinions, some of which are not exactly right or true, and this is regardless of race, class or gender. Our predispositions are subject to many things that we aren’t even aware of and we must take care to learn and unlearn every day. What can we hold on to then? We can confidently hold on to such things as love, hope and a deep-rooted respect for one another regardless.  Pride also, the good kind of pride. Pride in who we are as a people, pride in our culture and in our person, not in a race to show supremacy but striving towards representing humanity in all of its beauty.

Is there joy and freshness in movement, in starting afresh or is it more comfortable to hold on to things as they’ve always been? This book celebrates strength and pain, revolves around moments of depression and break down and then leaps into seasons of exuberance, it explores racism and the human condition and especially speaks about family, love and light. It’s something you should totally pick up, a few hours read or less.

Well I guess this could pass off as a full-blown review (whatever that is really) and I hope you enjoyed reading this as much as I enjoyed writing it. Now quite importantly, someone must try to read her school books J

What happens to a dream deferred?

Does it dry up like a raisin in the sun?

Or fester like a sore-

And then run?

Does it stink like rotten meat

Or crust and sugar over –

Like a syrupy sweet?

Maybe it just sags

Like a heavy load.

Or does it explode?

– Langston Hughes