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Unlike many writers, my writing space is not a designated place in my house or outside my house. My writing space is an invisible space or voice as I tend to see it that only exists somewhere in my mind. That may just sound so confusing, isn’t it? For I do find myself in the same spot somewhere in my house when I do write. However, part of saying this, is, I find writing begins somewhere in my mind as this voice pressingly creates images of some sort, especially when writing for creative purposes. This realization often time for me happens anytime and in anywhere. For this very reason, I tend to write everywhere whenever I have access to a free time, a pen, and a page to write on or my phone, which I use most of the time to further develop on any of my creative projects.
For the view of the space I use often, I have a good square side desk. For motivational purposes, I intentionally place my printer some inches a way from me on my right. I place a proportioned lamp closer to me for convenience. I have two pencil-holder on each side of me for some unexplained reason. On the left side of my desktop, there sits patiently a small microphone connected to the desktop. All of these and many more are for ‘some-I have to do’ writings’- my study. I’m a student and most of my writing time is spent on studying.
On the other hand, the view that is outside of my window is something I believe to be two things in one. Outside view of my window there presumably stands my limitations. These limitations can be reflected in things I believe I already knew. They can also be reflected in my ignorance which is to say, I knew things that I clearly do not know. However, this view outside my window can be my greatest strength when choosing it as a source for more search, when exploring it for further knowledge on things I already have clues about and when leaving it open and watching it grow from a window to a door. That is the view outside of my window.
Chosen from among the mob of her boyfriend's girlfriends, married in the most secure, respectful, and honourable way known to the people, Nyayang Jock, a girl born without a brother, won the race, defeating her top co-girlfriend, Sarah, by being the youngest over Sarah born with brothers. At the least, unlike ninety-nine percent of the girls of her generation and how they were married, it is safe for Nyayang to say she was married for love to Chuol Malual, a businessman who was born into a big, rich family.
Nonetheless, unlike the expectation of her in-laws, the unattended attitude of the nature secretly stabbed Nyayang in the back, leaving her to fail and creating the family Chuol and his family fundamentally paid the forty cows for. After waiting for what seemed like a decade for her to get pregnant, she gave birth to a girl, a thing that only fueled the resultant ager. Taking a long time to get pregnant and only giving birth to a girl when she should have birthed a boy called for a quick search for another wife. For Chuol's parents, this was a search for a working womb, but for Chuol it was just a search for wife number two, which he found hard now that he realized most girls showed many of the characteristics Nyayang had shown; however, eventually all displayed some problem.
But that all changed when he accidentally stumbled upon Sarah again, who instantly restored his manhood. Sarah not only filled Chuol's life with the boys he had been looking for, but she had her chance one more time to not only show Nyayang that it is the woman born with brothers who wins, but that the woman who has the ability to birth boys is the ultimate winner. But values-setting, worth-determining, and love are all weaknesses in society. There is only one true winner, and that is the neighbor, the seasonal enemy, the chaff buyer, the Murlen man.
Enjoy an Excerpt
There is a famous saying among the Nuer people which goes a little like this: “Every family has its way of talking and eating.” I don’t know what thoughts may pop into your mind upon hearing this saying. Personally? I see it as a universal family description—or perhaps the nature of these two things, “talking and eating,” are indeed that which differentiate us, the human race, universally.
Of course, there are other differences amongst people. And although one of the obvious differences is the colour of skin, there are also things formed with conscious intentions for the purpose of them becoming our ways of life. In most cases, although this can’t really be said about skin colour, there are persuasive goals set prior to forming a way to live. For instance, we teach children how to do well behaviourally so tomorrow is a bit clearer for them. However, within a formation, a tendency is developed. Sometimes, these tendencies come in the form of beliefs, which influence what and how we teach them.
Take this belief from the place I call home. Where I come from, in South Sudan, it is overwhelmingly believed that there is a difference between a male child and a female child. Of course, there is a difference. And so this difference is often exhausted and exploited to identify potential inequalities between the two. Unfortunately, the further this persists, the more limits we place on what we consider males and females to be capable of.
Nevertheless, humans are known to loathe dwelling in a valley of non-competitive spirit. Therefore, the only way forward is still to lean iii strongly toward one side and confidently unwrap the other side as if someone was there when she was all assembled.
It has always been the belief here at home, exhaustedly theorized and relentlessly practised, that one thing must be different from another. Often, to roll out one thing is enough but the other is not. In a remote way, this perception unconsciously brings us to inherently believe one is the product while the other is the producer. In other families, this way of reasoning may look a bit different; nonetheless, the derivation of the tendentious tendency in this family walks its way persistently from a claimed, precise understanding of fullness that can only be explained in four ways.
These involve precise understanding of the structural beauty of appearance, the strength of the structural body, the enormity of the group to which one belongs, and the sophistication or smoothness of the tongue. As a result, every response, every act and every performance revolves around these four things. Therefore, how each family teaches the two is different, for each family believes the two exist for different, unbalanced reasons. And that, unlike other families, this family eats and talks differently.
The stories you are about to read, with the exception of names and certain places, are real people’s stories, which, to this day, are still happening. As you flip through the pages, I urge you to ask yourself the following questions: What, then, is human? Who is human? And what does it mean to be one?
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