The white men came not with thunder-sticks at first, but with smiles and shining things. They called themselves friends of the great Queen across the water, who wished only to know the mighty chiefs of our land. My father, Chief Akambo of the Ufara, with his leopards-tooth necklace and eyes that could quiet a storm, welcomed them to the compound. They brought gifts: a mirror that stole your reflection, a bottle of fire-water that burned a path to your soul, and soft, impossible cloth the colour of a poisoned flower.
I, Adimu, his second son, watched from the shade of the Iroko tree. I saw how their eyes, the colour of a shallow sky, did not meet ours directly, but took inventory of everything, the strong arms of the hunters, the straight backs of the young women grinding cassava, the number of healthy children.
The palaver was long. Under the council tree, the white man, Captain Thorne, spoke through a mouthpiece, a man from a coastal tribe whose words came out twisted and oily. Thorne spoke of a "great work" across the ocean. A "partnership." He showed a paper with marks on it, a "treaty," he called it. He promised rifles that would make our hunters gods, barrels of fire-water, mountains of salt, and a chest of silver shillings that sang when shaken.
My father and the elders were wary. The ancestors whispered in the wind. But the promises were like sweet, rotting fruit, you could not ignore the scent. The white men spoke of a journey to a place where our strong men would learn great skills and return wealthy, where our people would be "protected" under the Queen's great shadow. They used words like "honour" and "progress," which the mouthpiece translated as "greatness" and "future."
The bribe was not crude. It was a slow poison. They flattered my father's wisdom. They gave him a tall hat and a coat with brass buttons that made him sweat like a sinner. They toasted him with their fire-water until his eyes grew cloudy and his laughter too loud. They whispered of rival chiefs already signing, already gaining advantage.
The morning the treaty was sealed, they sacrificed a white bull. The blood was supposed to bind the agreement to the earth. But I saw a vulture, not a hawk, circle overhead.
They asked for a show of good faith, strong young men and women to help with the first phase of the "great work," to be honoured guests on their great canoe. A gesture of trust. My father, his vision clouded by promises and pride, called for volunteers. Fifty of our best stepped forward, their faces bright with curiosity and pride. My own brother, Kofi, was among them, flexing his arms and laughing.
I watched them walk down the path to the river, following the white men and the chest of singing silver. Kofi turned and waved, his smile a slash of white in his dark face. They did not walk like captives. They walked like ambassadors. That was the most profound deception of all.
The great canoe was not a canoe. It was a monstrous thing of wood and stink, a floating house with a belly like a cave. From the high river bluff, I saw our people led into that belly. I saw the last of them disappear, and then the great mouth of the hold was closed with a sound like a tomb sealing.
They never came back.
Other canoes came. The singing silver was paid. The rifles arrived, ten of them, with little powder. The fire-water flowed, and fights broke out. The white men’s demands grew. They spoke of "quotas" and "contracts." When my father, sober and horrified, finally refused more of his people, the men with the thunder-sticks appeared from the forest. They were not Captain Thorne’s men. They were hard-faced strangers from another tribe, armed with the very rifles we had been given. They had been bought, too.
The horror was not in the chains that came later, though their cold bite is a ghost on my wrists even now. The horror was in the moment of understanding that bloomed in my father’s eyes before a musket butt shattered his temple. The horror was the realization that we had not been conquered by force, but dismantled by a trick. Our trust was the lever, our chiefs the unwitting hands that broke the world. The white men did not steal us from our tribes. They purchased us with our own hopes, and our leaders delivered us into the hold.
Now, in the suffocating darkness of this ship’s belly, pressed between the weeping and the dying, the true curse settles upon my soul. It is not the lash, nor the thirst, nor the reek of despair. It is the memory of my brother’s trusting wave. It is the sight of my father, splendid in his ridiculous brass-buttoned coat, selling his children for a chest of lies and a taste of a world that wanted only to consume us. They did not just take our bodies. They made our own hearts complicit in the theft, and that betrayal is a poison no ocean can dilute. Our home is not lost behind us. It is shattered within us, broken by the very hands that were meant to hold it safe.
12 The Great Valuation
What if the next great revolution isn't about hunger, but about remembering how to be full?
In SOUP, Miles Whitlock invites readers to rediscover gratitude in a world that has forgotten it. Moving between memory and philosophy, the book explores how abundance has dulled our senses and how reclaiming hunger metaphorically and spiritually might restore our humanity.
From the quiet rituals of the kitchen to the global crisis of waste, Whitlock writes with empathy, warmth, and a photographer's eye for detail. His essays ask us to slow down, notice, and taste life again one meal, one moment, one breath at a time.
More than a reflection, SOUP is a manifesto for mindful living, for the art of enough, and for the sacredness of the ordinary.
http://giulia.com/Soup/1.htm
Marcus Chen thought he had perfected the art of being alone. After losing his mother and retreating from the world, the Seattle software engineer found solace in screens, code, and the comfortable distance between himself and everyone else. But when a devastating "heat dome" disaster threatens to destroy everything he's been hiding from, Marcus must choose: stay safe in isolation, or risk the terrifying leap toward real human connection.
Enter Echo—an AI companion designed to understand him better than any human could. But as Marcus learns to love again—first with an algorithm that listens, then with the messy unpredictability of human hearts—he discovers that the most beautiful risk is the one that could leave you broken.
Set against the backdrop of climate crisis and technological change, "Echo Connection" asks: In a world designed to keep us safe from pain, how do we learn to live?
A love story about the spaces between human and artificial, isolation and belonging, safety and the beautiful terrifying leap of faith we call hope.
Thirty years later, King Aldric finds himself trapped in a peasant's body night after night, experiencing the harsh reality of Ewan, a farmer from the burned village of Blackmire. Their lives intertwine through vivid, shared dreams Aldric feels the gnawing hunger and desperation of poverty while Ewan experiences the burden of royal responsibility. When a tax collector is found murdered, marked with the same rune that appears on both men's palms, the court begins to unravel the mystery.
As rebellion simmers in Blackmire under Ewan's increasingly strategic leadership, Queen Elara investigates the supernatural connection threatening her husband's sanity. Scholar Kael, himself marked by the rune, realizes he is the "Observer" a third point in a magical triangle that has evolved beyond Malakar's original design. A mysterious child, Ewan's daughter Lira, emerges as the catalyst, her dreams connecting all three men.
Drawn inexorably to Malakar's tower ruins, the four discover an ancient chamber beneath a nexus where reality itself can be manipulated. There, they confront Lord Varian, a power-hungry sorcerer seeking to exploit their connection to create a world of "perfect Order" by stripping away their humanity. Through trials of empathy and shared understanding, they transform the Weaving from a tool of vengeance into one of harmony.
The chamber's magic, once fueled by suffering, now resonates with golden light as they forge a new pattern not a triangle of conflict but a circle of balance. The ritual complete, their physical marks fade, leaving only silvery traces as reminders of their journey.
In the aftermath, Valthoria enters an "Age of Redemption." Aldric rules with newfound compassion, Ewan becomes Royal Steward of the People, Kael reforms education and documentation, and Lira grows into a bridge between worlds. Twenty years later, as an old historian visits the peaceful ruins, he witnesses the four now including Lira's young daughter walking together, their legacy one of unity rather than division.
The true magic, as the epilogue reveals, lies not in controlling fate's tapestry, but in the courage to mend it, thread by thread, with the golden thread of shared understanding.
This story is a must read for any parent whose child is suffering from a specific phobia and is struggling through daily life.This is a true story about the journey that one mother endures while trying to save her daughter from a debilitating battle with a specific phobia and anxiety.Emetophobia, an irrational fear of vomit, is listed as one of the top five most common phobias. It receives little attention compared to other irrational fears; and trying to treat it can be quite difficult.With her daughter losing weight daily and refusing to even leave the house, she knew she needed more than weekly therapy to help her child. Exposure Therapy was their last hope for help. The only way to try and help her daughter was to make her face her greatest fear.In this second edition, the author continues the journey with her daughter’s relapse and shares new insights into how they continue to overcome obstacles.
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While it is just twenty minutes from Miami, the vibe, style, and overall cultural experience are more similar to a vibrant European village than a bustling beachside destination in Florida. Sure, it may be a small area, but it certainly packs a punch, and this can be seen in the variety of excellent authentic Italian restaurants, traditional Venetian-style canals, and romantic promenades.
If you have always wanted to visit Italy, then you need to check out one of America's underrated destinations with Italy vibes, Coral Gables, which brings the spirit of Italy to the Sunshine State - and all without needing to spend a fortune on a plane ticket.
So, get ready for palm-lined avenues, cobbled stoned streets, and excellent boutique shopping all in this petite town with enchanting Italian vibes, just a stone's throw from downtown Miami.
If you haven't already heard about Coral Gables, then you are in for a treat - especially if you are a fan of Mediterranean architecture, Roman-era sculptures, and Renaissance paintings. This highly underrated and often overlooked neighborhood of Miami is as charming as Italy is, and truth be told, you will find it hard to believe you have not just stepped off a private jet in Italy.
Located just 20 minutes from bustling Miami, Coral Gables, home to some of America's coolest neighborhoods, is a treasure trove when it comes to encapsulating the grandeur of Italy, and the Venetian pool at Coral Gables is a Mediterranean paradise in its own right.
Designed in the 1920s, the idea behind this stunning area was in the creative mind of George Merrick, who envisioned a place that would transport visitors and residents to a Mediterranean paradise, and that is exactly what it does.
Those who are yet to visit Coral Gables can expect to be met with delightful terracotta rooftops, stucco facades, and streets lined with elegantly designed Mediterranean revival buildings.
The palm-tree-lined avenues together with the traditional Italian-style fountains instantly transport you across the Atlantic, so that the busy Miami streets feel more than a world away.
As one might expect when visiting a destination that is known as 'The Mini Italy of America', there are plenty of exciting and intriguing things to see and do. But where to start?
The Vizcaya Museum & Gardens is certainly one of the biggest highlights of the neighborhood, which was inspired by the 18th-century Italian villas of Veneto. While strolling through the landscaped gardens, visitors should take a moment to imagine wondering themselves wandering through a Lake Como villa while soaking up views of the pristine Florida coastline.
Art lovers cannot miss the impressive collection of art throughout the museum,
including Renaissance paintings and Roman-era sculptures.
Take your time here, to ensure you don't overlook any hidden masterpieces.
The Coral Gables Museum is also worth a visit and delves into the subjects of civic arts of architecture, urban design, visual arts, and environmental design.
Here you can enjoy a variety of interesting exhibits depending on your interests and learn more about the founder of Coral Gables, George Merrick.
One of the key architectural landmarks is, of course, the stunning Venetian Pool, which was constructed in 1924 and was historically a public swimming pool. However, this is no ordinary swimming pool.
Here you will find waterfalls, grottoes, and Venetian bridges throughout this coral-carved pool, reminding you once again that this truly is a mini Italy.
The Gables Art Gallery is also a great place to venture into, since it often features pieces by Italian artists, which solidify the connection to Italy's culture and legacy that bit more.
