Skip to main content

Book Review Nelson Mandela :the Revolutionary years

Young Mandela: The Revolutionary Years You may know him as the first South African president to be elected by a fully democratic election in 1994.You may know him as the  leader against the struggle of apartheid of South Africa, but did you know that his father was a chief that lost his title over a money scandal?Or  that his mother,Nosekeni Fanny, was his father's 3rd wife? Did you know that he receieved a british education at the age of 7?  Did you know that as a young adult he ran away to Johannesburg to avoid a prearranged marriage?  That his children from the first marriage blamed Winnie Mandela for the breakup!  Did you know that the African National Congress was fully aware that he would have to be a matry for their cause by being arrested?.  I thought the author owas very detail-oriented,organized and informative.  the question asto why such a small minority of people came into so much power was completely  answered. I was truly impressed ( and I rarely ever say that about a biography.  I would also like to say how much I personally admire Nelson Mandela's determination, to giht for what he believed in , in spite of monumental loss in terms of his family life.  To come out of prison  after 27 years to beome that nation's president speaks volumes on his persistance and God's grace.  Many thanks to the Hatcette Book Group for letting me review the book and no I don't get paid to do
so . I gave this book 5 out of 5 stars

Comments

Popular posts from this blog

Poem: In Texas Grass by Quincy Troupe

All along the rail
                                road tracks of texas
                               old train cars lay
                               rusted &overturned
                              like new african governments
                             long forgotten by the people
                              who built & rode them
                                till they couldn't run no more,
                              they remind me of old race horses
                             who've been put out to pasture
                            amongst the weeds
                            rain sleet &snow
                            till they die,rot away
                            like photos fading
                           in grandma's picture book,
                         of old black men in mississippi/texas
                         who sit on dilapidated porches,
                        that fall away
                       like dead man'…

The Speed of Belief by Tracy K Smith (poem)

I didn't want to wait on my knees
In a room made quiet by waiting. A room where we'd listen for the rise
Of breath, the burble in his throat. I didn't want the orchids or the trays
Of food meant to fortify that silence, Or to pray for him to stay or to go then
Finally toward that ecstatic light I didn't want to believe
What we believe in those rooms: That we are blessed, letting go,
Letting someone, anyone, Drag open the drapes and heave us Bak into our blinding, bright lives When your own sweet father died You woke before first light And ate half a plate of eggs and grits, And Drank a glass of milk. After  you'd left, I sat in your place And finished  the toast bits with jam And the cold eggs, the thick bacon Flanged in fat , savoring the taste. Then I slept, too young to know how narrow And grave the road before you seemed--- All the houses zipped tight , the night's Few clouds muddy as cold coffee. You stayed gone a week, and who were we Without your clean p…

My Arkansas by Maya Angelou

There is a deep brooding
                             in Arkansas
                            Old crimes like moss pend
                           from poplar trees.
                           The sullen earth
                           is much too
                          red for comfort.
                          Sunrise seems to hesitate
                           and in that second
                           lose its
                           incandescent aim,and
                          dusk no more shadows
                           than the noon.
                           The past is brighter yet.

                          Old hates and
                          ante-bellum lace,are rent
                          but not discarded.
                          Today is yet to come
                           in Arkansas.
                           it writhes. It writhes in awful brooding.