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GUNJU LITERATURE
Set off on a literary journey where African heritage meets European influences.
I have always been an avid reader of novels since early secondary school from James Hardley Chase, Robert Ludlum and to my Author mentor- Wilbur Smith who has over 45 books out in which I have read over 40 at least 3 or 4 times each.
His European ethnicity born in Africa and encapsulating Southern Arica from the 17th century in a historical dialogue into the modern age with the Courtney families and the Ballantyne 4-part series has been a bedrock and I’ve always promised myself to write using West Africa and Western Europe as belligerents in Authorship as the middle channel across the Atlantic Ocean becomes the same route the internet cables use today in a quicker and instant gratification prone world. Ironic that I settled down to read all Wilbur Smith books during an incinerated period at HMP Brixton, Pentonville and Ford Open prison. Those books meant much to one during the supposed boring 23 hour lockdown, yet became the most indulgent time I spent developing an artistic expression.
I use music to write, in transference across medium one must also transcend. The various genres of music from the enclaves in the vault of Amadeus Mozart to the eccentric effervescent effusion of Fela Kuti are used to write in romance, tragedy, history and future prognosis.
Ironic again how, only during a 7 year (2016-2023) turn of events whence I was struck by a mystery nervous infirmity which rendered me paralytic, requiring accursed wheelchair for mobility and imprisoned again in my upstairs first floor flat in leafy upmarket West Hampstead, NW London. There was no lift, I bought the flat decades before, So for the duration of 7 years I was locked in as carers came to wash and assist me daily. I couldn’t access the community normally. Only the times when a friend would volunteer to carry me physically down the stairs for a walk around the area. In fact hospital visits became some sort of periodic sightseeing as the NHS ambulance crew were trained in conveying disabled person down flights of stairs.
I remember entering into the zone of writing, (a lot of Fashion was experimented upon and designed, and musical ensembles written). Albeit another incarceration, I from previous experience began to write:
PART 1: ON THE BARGE
Whichever way she thought of it, this could not be the same, here was a different kind of man. Dark, erect, and looking so resilient. Just now, at this moment Eloise perceived that he wouldn’t relent upon a chosen course if he had decided upon. Honourable to a fault. She knew she just had to have some of him, even if it meant, just some part of him! His ebony darkness was pristine nightfall without blemish to even have a dark mauve hue emanating, his height a few inches taller than hers, something that she didn’t often come across and gosh was the man so upright and proud.
There was a carriage about him even standing and motionless as he stood right now, a man capable of unpredictable action, evolving purpose and that irresistible ingredient, intellect. A man capable of ferocious action when necessary, yet at other times the most decent in discussion.
It meant little to her, that she was betrothed to someone else and her mentor, Maria Anne Mozart had warned her of this kind of desire so strong, overtaking and overwhelming, but the mere look of him imbued rebellious hope and even within the immediacy of seeing him, she felt that longing heat making her hot underneath the collar and she blushed hot and glowing in not just in the aristocratic features of her face but also extending deep to her neck and chest area.
Blushing was one of the distinct traits of her ethnicity, being Mulatto mixed race with a glow to the dusking tan colour of her skin, freckles being amongst the others, a somewhat scattered speckled radiance, the significant other and thus being an alert opening to the sparkle of her beauty…