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Category Archives: African-American Literature

The Choirmaster (a spiritual tragedy)

In Mud Valley Church, the evangelizing wonders of the Church Choir have become both a blessing and a minor headache. The growth in card-carrying membership and church attendance explode overnight. That is the blessing. The headache is the charismatic but unassuming Choirmaster Michael whose artistic gifts are key to the phenomenal church growth. However, as the women with available daughters fight to outdo one another in monthly dinners for the choirmaster, things become a little worldly. But even after Pastor David seals the marriage between Michael and one Eva Joseph with the urgency of Samuel the prophet, Choirmaster Michael’s outreach ministry becomes a bother to the Church Board, when the Treasurer reveals that the Choir is funding most of Mud Valley Church’s budgetary needs. The Choirmaster has grown bigger than life, and the Church Board is left wondering, “What would happen should the choirmaster leave?”  
When Choirmaster Michael’s marriage to Eva would hit rock bottom because one Jane Caleb would not let him be, Pastor David discovers that Mud Valley’s spiritual and moral problems are more organic and deeply ingrained than the perceived threat from choirmaster Michael. Young Pastor David faces a historical moral issue, and he must decide whether to confront Mud Valley’s historical demons or seek a transfer to clearer spiritual waters.

 
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The Many Media Twists of the OBAMA Story

The last couple of years, we have seen a lot of tabloid-grade pseudobiographies by people who claim to have dug into history and discovered another “sad” aspect of President Obama’s childhood. Only the content of the claims are not new. The latest snippet claims that his parents thought of putting him for adoption.

http://www.huffingtonpost.com/2011/07/07/barack-obama-adoption-father_n_892205.html

For me, a man who has struggled with the more fundamental historical, philosophical and spiritual aspects of this man’s improbable Luo journey, I feel great pain for him whenever I read another screaming banner about another aspect of his parent’s life. Yes he was raised by a single mother; yes he grew up in Indonesia among a people unlike him; yes he played basketball in a Hawaiian High School, yes he dreamed and did everything on earth through Occidental and Columbia and Havard; yes he found his voice as a Black man amid the struggles for South African Independence; yes he had a father he never knew, and the said father was a polygamist like most of his Luo contemporaries; yes he has cousins and stepsiblings many of whom are scholars like him, a few are unemployed. But these snippets do not define the person of President Barack Obama; they define you and I, American or not; they define any humanity, except they are louder because Mr. Obama is The President of the United States, and that is the point and intent of the various authors in pushing juicy headlines about their books.

My advice: If you want to know Mr. Obama the man, read “The Audacity of Hope” and “Dreams of My Father.”

If you intend to understand the workings of the Luo mind that raised the “tragic figure” known as Barack Obama Senior, why not start with the allegorical historical fiction novel, “THE LUO DREAMERS’ ODYSSEY: From the Sudan to American Power;” because then, truth, hearsay, myth and prophecies are served, “Luo style,” in one huge bowl for the probing mind to sort out. When you are through reading “THE LUO DREAMERS’ ODYSSEY” then you’ll know that, in this man of our times, you are dealing with a complex historical figure who cannot be defined by individual snippets of events in the past. http://www.amazon.com/Joseph-R.-Alila/e/B002QD5TDM

 

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The Chiomaster

In Mud Valley Church, the evangelizing wonders of the Church Choir have become both a blessing and a minor headache, as the growth in card-carrying membership and church attendance explode overnight. That is the blessing. The headache is the charismatic but unassuming Choimaster whose gifts are key to the phenomenal growth. As the women-folk with available daughters fight to outdo one another in monthly dinners for the Choimaster, things become a little earthly and scarery. But even after Michael is finally crowned with the urgency of Samuel the prophet, his outreach ministry becomes a bother to the Church Board, whose membership are left wondering, “What if the Choimaster leaves?” when the Treasurer reveals that the Choir is funding most of Mud Valley Church’s Budget.

 
 
 

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The Luo Dreamers’ Odyssey (From the Sudan to American Power)

In the historical novel, THE LUO DREAMERS’ ODYSSEY: From the Sudan to American Power, a journey that started more than five centuries ago in the Sudan, has ended in the White House . Along the way, a child and a troubled dreamer, Ajwang’ the Dreamer (a.k.a. Ramogi) survives the knife of ire of a man robbed of his bead of wisdom. The sons of Ajwang’ must part ways with a child dead between them because of vengeance over a bead and a spear. Centuries later, an orphan must “develop wings,” fly out of Colonial Kenya to Alaska, and plant his seed, a boy, and dreamer, named Hassan Ajwang’. This boy lives to be the President of the United States of America. 
In the historical novel, author Joseph R. Alila pens, yet another drama of life, of survival against great odds, and of victories as improbable as the sun rising from the west.

 
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The American Polygamist

Billionaire American businessman Chief Chuki is a notable within the American high society and a venerable name in the African nation of Goldia, where he holds the highest honorary title of Chief among his Oyi people. 
When Chief Chuki gets entangled in a business deal with rival Goldian Army Generals, he finds himself held hostage in a land in which he is revered. Yet even with his proximity to the wheels of power on both sides of the pond, he cannot shout for help because of the desire to keep his good name. Second, his Goldian wife has delivered a son and uses the unique circumstances of his captivity to demand part of his wealth in exchange for his freedom and her silence over his marital status. 
Now, a desire for secrecy demands that Chuki engages the expertise of a fellow Iraqi War I Veteran and his high-tech buddies, who have created a lucrative business niche negotiating the release of Western hostages from the high-risk world of African warlords, terrorists, and sea pirates. 
In THE AMERICAN POLYGAMIST, J.R. Alila weaves a story with many twists and turns as family betrays family, honor is traded for wealth and a honorable man becomes a prisoner of his own secrets. 
Enter Chuki’s American wife, Patty, who suspects that he has at least one wife and child in Africa. Mrs. Patty Chuki is ready to revisit old Brooklyn-High-School romance with a Major Frank to get to the truth while in a Harvard reunion with her billionaire husband in the Masai Mara. But will Admiral Ndeki of Goldian Navy let Patty taste the forbidden fruit in peace under Nairobi’s sunny skies?

 
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Not on My Skin

 

 

In JR Alila’s NOT ON MY SKIN, the all-American Harmony City is not exactly harmonious. Individualism, prejudice and arm’s length neighborliness greet Ochome–a poet and suburbanite, who has staked out his evenings in the city’s downtown cafe. Harmony City’s peace hardly is skin deep. There is a daily stalemate at the fertility clinic, and wherever Ochome turns, he sees, hears, and constantly feels souls cursing “Not on My Skin”– a protest mantra against nuances of prejudice he sees, hears and feels in the city café and beyond.  
The Café crowd has a few regulars who, like most urban neighbors, remain verbally unengaged individuals. But the sense of peace is often compromised by one Alex, a man considered a mad nuisance by all, but who, in reality, is the only mirror in which Harmony City perhaps can see herself. Alex is the lone gong off which the city can hear herself, the same way a child’s innocent words are the real measure of the moral quality of life in a home.

 
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NOT ON MY SKIN

JR Alila’s very highlyacclaimed novel, NOT ON MY SKIN, has a new cover. It is the most current mirror through which you can see yourself in today’s America, and listen to her street-level vibes.

Not On My Skin 

Get a copy at the secure author link  http://www.amazon.com/Joseph-R.-Alila/e/B002QD5TDM

 

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RACE and You, Me

We are part of the dialogue on race, whether or not we open our mouths to speak,  it affects us on the road, meets us as we check out items in a food store. Race affects us at a table in an eatery with that exotic girl or boy and confronts us in a bar. Race impedes our efficiency as teachers, doctors  or priests; it confronts us right inside our church, synagogue or mosque—all in very subtle ways. Don’t be a Victim or Agent of Race Rage. Join efforts toward putting off this simmering fire.  We all need to clothe ourselves with the spirit of love. It has to start in an individual’s heart before it becomes a community fashion, onward to being a national style.

 

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THE MILAYI CURSE

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Why Jamoko Talks to Himself

Many years ago, Jamoko’s grandfather was a very rich man. When he died, Jamoko’s father became a very rich man. Then when Jamoko’s father died, Jamoko became a very rich man. 

But if Jamoko was such a rich man, how is it that he now eats off Milayi’s table? 

That is why Jamoko talks to himself, my little child. He talks to himself because of changed fortunes: He talks to himself because of poverty. He talks to himself because of squandered wealth. He talks to himself because of a lost family honor. 

You see, my child, many years ago, Milayi’s grandfather was not rich. He was very poor. The Milayis ate boiled herbs without milk. In good times, they ate watery, bean soup and kuon (Luo bread). They ate meat only when a Milayi had been called to a Jamoko’s home to slaughter and skin goats or cows. As pay, a Jamoko would have a Milayi take home any quantity of animal gut. Goat gut. Yes, animal gut was a Milayi’s best meat. 

Milayi’s father was a poor man. But now Milayi is a stinking-rich man. 

But how is it that Milayi is now a rich man? 

Some people say that Milayi is rich because he worked hard in school; he became a lawyer, and then became a rich businessman. In a few years, he rose to become a local Member of Parliament (MP). He eventually would become a Cabinet Minister in the Nation. Milayi had brought a Minister’s flag to Jokamlai—and was the first among his people to do so. 

Others claim that Milayi learnt how to be rich from the Jamokos. Others claim that his wealth is from his grandparent’s luck. Yet others say that he became rich because of his wife, the Prime Minister’s daughter. A Milayi had become “man enough” to wed the Prime Minister’s daughter. 

Yet others claim that Father James O’Kilghor of the Mission made Milayi rich. But we know that Milayi is rich because of his good education. It is agreed that a Milayi could never have been rich, if the White man hadn’t introduced formal education in Kenya. Milayi could never have been married to the Prime Minister’s daughter, if the White man hadn’t turned the natural way of things upside down. 

Now, Jamoko is a poor man. But he rides in the backseat of Milayi’s Government Limo. What a scene! The White man changed things, allowed the Milayis of the world to become the Jamokos of today. 

They say that Milayi is rich because Jamoko is now poor. They also say that a Jamoko passed on his wealth to a Milayi, who was his neighbor and brother. 

My child, how? 

Do you remember the King who invited aliens into his Temple and led them in a tour of his bedroom and stores—showing off his fine silverware and gold, and boasting about his Heavenly Blessings, only to be dragged into captivity as a blind prisoner in chains? 

Jamoko met a similar fate to that of the king. He had brought Milayi into his home, and let the poor man see his wealth and the ways of the rich. 

Now, poor Jamoko dines with Milayi because that is where he is supposed to have been, if he hadn’t taught Milayi to be rich. That is the whole tale, my child. 

  

Check this site for other details
http://www.amazon.com/-/e/B002QD5TDM    

  

  

  

 

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ARE WE A LITERATE GENERATION?

I publish from abroad on great Kenyan political and cultural themes. My Novels have been rated by aliens as “Literary,” (Not on My Skin; Sins of Our Hearts)  ”For the times” (The Luo Dreamers Odyssey); “Messianic” (The Wise One of Ramogiland); “A novel for a woman’s heart ” (Whisper to My Aching Heart), and the list of comments continues. But I wonder if we are still a reading generation, with library cards. Yet back home in East Africa, literary critics decrying of a literary drought, meaning that nobody writes a novel that begs you to think; a novel that goes beyond the emotion and demands that the reader reads between the lines. I am not exactly young, having been born in the mid 1950s, but my point of view was not tainted by colonial strings. All I remember as a little boy of six was my mother playing activist for either KANU or KADU; all I remember growing up was the order of the sixties descending into the strife of the late sixties and early seventies, as Kenyan leaders turned their guns of hate onto other Kenyans. Yet it was a Kenya where you applied for a post and received a response in the mail, it was a Kenya in which you went to a school you chose, your grades allowing. All that was until the so-called “district focus.” My writings are shaped by personal experiences in the 1960s to the19190s. But as a traveled man, some of my novels such as NOT OF MY SKIN, THE CHOIR MASTER, SINS OF OUR HEARTS, THE LUO DREAMERS ODYSSEY: FROM THE SUDAN TO  AMERICAN POWER and THE AMERICAN POLYGAMIST borrow from my diaspora experience (17 years is a long time on the road!).

But even as I write, I doubt if we as Kenyans, Africans, Americans, Europeans, Asians and Diaspora Africans still read. How many of us can sustain a debate without being abusive? Very few. How many of us can talk sense to a woman or man? Not many. The art of dialogue and verbal persuasion is dead in us. Don’t tell me that “But I managed to round up a man or woman up with whom I share the house.” That is the point: you don’t want to call her ”my wife” or him “my husband.” The reason he or she has not walked with you to some man or woman of God to tie the vows is because you lack the verbal abilities of generations before, that priorities have changed for women and men since ten years ago, just made your verbal task and marriage chances the more difficult.

Read relevantly to empower yourself as a human being who can think, talk and act. Read.

Get Novels by JR Alila here:

http://www.amazon.com/-/e/B002QD5TDM

 

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