10. Heaven, If You Are Not Here On Earth Kuvempu Pre-reading Activity: * Do you agree that one’s life is what one makes of it? * What comes to your mind when you think of the word ‘heaven’? Heaven, if you are not here on earth Where else could you be!If we ourselves cannot be gods Then there can be no gods! If we ourselves aren’t heavenly nymphs The nymphs are not elsewhere! While this roaring stream rushes fast Rolling surf at the edge of waves The tender sunshine leans on verdant gardens And then the gentle Sun - make this earth, heaven! In the splendour of harvest and of moonlight Heaven lies all over! Imbibing and spilling the song of nectar The poet does create heaven on earth! Translated by Prof. C. NagannaK. V. Puttappa (1904 — 1994): He is widely known by the pen name Kuvempu. He is acknowledged as the greatest poet of the 20th century Kannada literature. He is the first among eight recipients of Jnanpith Award for Kannada. He is the second - after M. Govinda Pai - among Kannada poets to be revered as Rashtrakavi, a national poet. His work ‘Sri Ramayana Darshanam’, the rewriting of the great ancient Indian epic Ramayana in modern Kannada, is regarded as revival of the era of Mahakavya (Epic poetry) in a contemporary form and charm. He is immortalised by some of his phrases, and in particular for his contribution to Universal Humanism or in his own words 'Vishwa maanavataa Vaada’. He was conferred Padma Vibhushan by Government of India. He has penned the Karnataka State anthem Jaya Bharata Jananiya Tanujate’. Dr. C. Naganna is a wellknown poet, critic and translator. He has brought out more than twenty books in both Kannada and English so far. His Kannada translation of Chinua Achebe’s Things Fall Apart as ‘on’ and the English rendering of Kuvempu’s discursive essays ‘Q0008 sbsnven’ as Unsetter Your Minds and Other Essays have been well received. He is a professor of Comparative literature and Translation Studies, besides being Director of Prasaranga, the publication division of the University of Mysore. A number of organizations have honoured him for his literary and cultural contributions.Glossary: nymph (aop*) : damsel Froth : foam, sad Verdant : green with grass or other rich vegetation Nectar : the drink of the gods, ems Comprehension I 1. According to the poet ‘heaven’ is a. on earth. b. within us. c. elsewhere. 2. The poet finds god in a. nature. b. earth. c. temple. 3. What does the line ‘Heaven lies all over!’ suggest? 4. Who creates ‘heaven on earth’? Comprehension II 1. Describe the beauty in nature that makes the earth a heavenly place. 2. Why does the poet feel that earth is more beautiful than heaven? Comprehension III 1. How does the poet explain the illusion of heaven in this poem? 2. How does the poem celebrate the power of the poet?Suggested Reading: * Ode on Intimations of Immortality - William Wordsworth * Geetanjali (collection of poems) - Rabindranath Tagore © adge asd agd dead - Bow, atods, Original Poem: anes, Bemoiwesad dew eestor APES, BosoiovoOs ex shersgode Acdey aD! Bessie mowrievsad Bessie way vez! exdobos marendad SABobo weoey aey | Raddatoing Las & Ladad, S6ne HHO sms Sedond, Bho vsneOo Sewadesnd, Sato Uaond, mee) S GS | RNod Anwnd sony dvso Hi DOOR veg! SQMACWH Aadaimom sq Rijs aged s waded |Springs11. Japan And Brazil Through A Traveler’s Eye George Mikes Pre-reading Activity: Do you like travelling? Does it enhance one’s mental horizon? Which of our behaviour /gestures do you think appear strange to a foreign visitor? Do you think living in a foreign city/visiting a foreign country makes us aware of our own culture? 4. 4Note on Travel Writing Travel writing is about writing one’s experiences of travelling and visiting alien places. As a genre of writing it is as old as 2 Century when travellers to Greece recorded their experiences in the form of a diary. With the invention of new techniques of navigation and sea voyages during the 9 and 10" centuries, travel writing became popular as more number of people began to explore new places on the globe. Soon such trips started getting royal patronage and support. New adventures and voyages were even commissioned. Thus travel writing ceased to be just a description of a new place born out of curiosity and gained political overtones. Now even after much of the earth has been explored, and almost every piece on this earth has been written about, its popularity has not waned as can be seen by the immense viewership it has on modern media like TV and internet. Travel writing has come under serious scholarly study in the past 50 years, and has become a part of cultural studies programme in many universities. Travel writing is no longer viewed as a product of some innocent curiosity or an attempt to understand an alien culture ‘objectively’. Rather, these narratives are telling comments on how a culture gets represented by another, and in the process subtly uphold some cultural values as somehow superior and universal than the others. JAPANESE MANNERS A QUARTER of an hour in Japan will convince you that you are among exquisitely well-mannered people. People who live on a hopelessly overcrowded island have to respect one another’s privacy- or rather, would have to if they had any privacy. But they don’t. So courtesy has a double function: it is courtesy and it is substitute privacy. Take, for example, the little red telephones in the streets, shops, halls of hotels. The instrument is situated on a table or on a counter-they have no space to spare for booths. You conduct your most confidential business transactions, your intimate love-quarrels in public; yet in perfect privacy. Anybody, any passer-by, could listen- in, but nobody does. A man’s telephone-receiver is his castle. You will, of course, immediately notice their mania for bowing. Everybody keeps bowing to everybody else, with the ceremonioussolemnity of a courtier yet with a great deal of natural and inimitable grace. Bowing is neither less nor more silly than shaking hands or kissing the cheek, but it is quainter; more formal, more oriental; it is also infectious. After a few hours you start bowing yourself. But you bow too deeply or not deeply enough; you bow to the wrong man at the wrong time; you do not clasp your hands in front of you which is bad; or you do which is worse. You'll discover that the Japanese have a complicated hierarchy in bowing: who bows to whom, how deeply and for how long. One of the American states had an early traffic law which laid down that if two cars met at an intersection, neither was to move before the other had gone. Similarly, if two Japanese bow, neither is to straighten up before the other stands erect in front of him. A little complicated to us; they manage it without difficulty and even the smallest difference in rank, standing, age, social position will be subtly reflected in that split second one man’s bow is shorter than the other’s. In many cases there are clear-cut differences in position and no difficulties. The basic rules inside the family : The wife bows to her husband, the child bows to his father, younger brothers to elder brothers, the sister bows to all brothers of whatever age.’ I saw babies carried in Japanese style on their mothers’ backs in clever little saddles, and whenever mother bowed, baby bowed too, somewhat condescendingly, from his majestic height. Japanese stores employ bowing girls who stand at the top of escalators and whose only duty is to bow deeply and deferentially to all and sundry (the Japanese equivalent of our page-boys who turn revolving doors for us). On the famous and fast Tokaido Line between Tokyo and Osaka two conductors enter the carriage in a slightly theatrical scene. They march to the middle of the coach, bow ceremoniously in both directions and then start checking the tickets. In one of the parts of Nara I met a deer. I bought a pack of food for him. He came up to me, looked into my eyes and bowed deeply. It was no chance gesture: it was a proper and courteous bow. Perhaps deer are more imitative than I knew; perhaps if they see people bowing all the time they get into the habit too; perhaps it is something genetic and is in the blood of Japanese deer. I do not know; but I do know that the deer bowed to me, then jumped at me and snatched the little food-bag from my hand.In this, too, the deer was a true Japanese. You can often see people bowing to each other with ceremonious serenity at bus-stops. As soon as the bus arrives, the bowing gentlemen are transformed into savages, they push each other aside, tread on each other’s toes and shove their elbows into each other’s stomachs... Eating Soup Eating soup has more dangers than almost anything else. When eating soup you must make a fearful noise. It is a sign of appreciation. Ifyou don’t, your hostess will think: ‘What an ill-mannered lout.’ But if you do, she will think: ‘No reasonably well brought-up European makes such disgusting noises when eating soup. He must be an ill- mannered lout’. TRAFFIC IN BRAZIL NOBODY hurries in Brazil. It does not really matter whether you reach your destination an hour too soon, a day late, or not at all. The grey pavements in the streets of Copacabana are often decorated with beautiful black mosaics - a unique type of decoration. Only a people alive to beauty in their surroundings and who have plenty of time for contemplation during their meditative, ambulatory exercises would take the trouble to decorate the pavements they walk on. However, as soon as these easy going, leisurely characters get a steering wheel in their hands no speed is fast enough for them. You would then be inclined to believe that gaining a tenth of a second is a matter of grave importance for all of them all the time. Motor cars are extremely expensive in Brazil, import duties being crippling and murderous. Only a few other, poorer, South American states are in a worse position in this respect. Complaints are universal: hardly anyone can afford a car. Yet this only means that the number of motor vehicles is growing by leaps and bounds, almost as if cars were distributed free of charge to all and sundry. Thus the pedestrian’s life is becoming more hazardous every day. It is not that drivers do not care about pedestrians. The trouble is that they do care about them; they are, in fact, on the look-out for them. As soon as a driver notices a pedestrian step off the pavement, he regards him as fair game: he takes aim and accelerates. Thepedestrian has to jump, leap, and run for dear life. He does not resent this in the least: driver and pedestrian — hunter and prey — smile amicably at each other. I win today — you will win tomorrow. Fair enough... The war between drivers themselves is murderous but good- tempered. They cut in, they overtake on both sides, they force you to brake violently and commit all the most heinous crimes of the road and twenty times every hour. But they smile at you the same time — there is no anger, no hostility, no mad hooting... The Avenida Presidente Vargas is the worst place of all. You stand there, trying to cross the road and contemplating the truly fascinating problem: how can crawling traffic proceed at such terrifying speed? As hour after hour passes, without a ray of hope of an auspicious crossing, you may witness a scene, something like this: a man, on your side of the Avenida Vargas suddenly catches sight of a friend of his on the other side and starts waving to him, at the same time looking completely mystified: ‘How on earth did you get over there?’ he shouts across, trying to make himself heard above the traffic. It is the other fellow’s turn to be surprised by this naive question He yells back: ‘How? I was born on this side!’ George Mikes (ser 2s#e0°) (1912-1987) is an artist, author, publisher, illustrator and journalist from Hungary. Studied Law and received his doctorate at Budapest University. His books include ‘The Hungarian Revolution’, ‘Uber Alles’, ‘Shakespeare and Myself, ‘Italy for Beginners’, ‘How to be An Artist’, ‘How to be Inimitable’, ‘How to scrape Skies’ and ‘How To Tango’, ‘How To Be An Alien’. These excerpts are chosen from ‘The Land of the Rising Yen’ and ‘How To Tango’.Glossary: Mania Condescend Genetic Subtly Tokaido, Osaka and Tokyo (Hato, ume, Hosoi) Serenity Heinous Copacabana, Avenida Presidente Vargas (deste, valde Erdotd amr) Comprehension I obsession, craze stoop, humiliate hereditary, inherited delicate, cunning, elusive places in Japan peacefulness, calmness hateful, wicked places in Brazil 1. ‘Exquisitely well-mannered people‘ refers to a. Indians. b. Japanese. c. Americans. . What behaviour substitutes privacy in Japan? . The reference to public telephone suggests a. how overcrowded Japan is. b. how Japanese respect privacy. c. how busy Japanese are. . Hierarchy in bowing demands a. youngsters bow to their elders. b. wife bows to her husband. c. sisters bow to their brothers. . How does one show appreciation while eating soup?. How are pavements in Brazil decorated? What does it tell us about the people there? . What happens when leisurely people in Brazil get a steering wheel in their hands? . Who do the drivers look out for when they are driving? Why? . What remarkable attitude is seen in the war between drivers? Comprehension II . Why is bowing in Japan a complicated process? . Why does bowing, a natural practice in Japanese culture, look so ‘quaint’ and puzzling to the author? . Do you think the author is finding fault with/making fun of the culture of bowing in Japanese and speeding cars in Brazil? Comprehension III . Bowing in Japan is quainter; more formal, more oriental.’ Do you agree? . Describe how traffic in Brazil leads to humorous observations. . What aspects of our social life, do you think, would appear quaint and odd to a foreign tourist? Vocabulary: Synonyms are words with the same or similar meanings. Provide Synonyms for the following words. You may consult a dictionary: 1. Intimate 2. Quaint 3. Majestic. Deferential . Solemn . Amicably . Mystify . Murderous 9. 10. 11. 12. 13. 14. 15. Auspicious Hostility Expensive Savages Accelerate Import Complicated Note the Noun/Verb/Adjective form of the following words: . Solemn . Infection . Ceremoniously . Appreciation . Amicable . Hostile . Accelerate . Ambulatory . Naive . Fascinate . Adhere . Dynamic . Deprive . Eminent . Generous solemnity infectious ceremony appreciate amicably hostility acceleration ambulate naiveté fascination adherence dynamism deprivation eminence generosityNote the use of the following expressions in the travelogue. 1) all and sundry 2) cut in 3) by leaps and bounds 4) listen-in 5) fair game 6) get into 7) look out 8) for dear life 9) be one's castle 10) clear cut 11) easy going Meaning of each expression is given below. Match the expression with its meaning looking at the context in which it is used. a) definite to see or identify b) relaxed and happy to accept things c) everyone d) to move suddenly in front of another vehicle a place where one can be private and safe very quickly; in large amounts as hard or as fast as possible to listen to a conversation that you are not supposed to hear to develop a particular habit someone or something that should be allowed to be criticized to keep trying to find something or meet somebody Extended Activity: * Write your experiences about the places you have visited. Suggested Reading: Idle Hours R.K. Laxman The Motorcycle Diaries Ernesto ‘Che’ Guevara BOAS sedsodg, Sedowdod, Ae Bwmwd oyeo soend AT, RAD gofoasg vdamo OA. TesoTRDSprings 10512. The Voter Chinua Achebe Pre-reading Activity: * Do you have a voting system in your college? * To what extent is voting important for democracy? Rufus Okeke — Roof for short - was a very popular man in his village. Although the villagers did not explain it in so many words, Roof’s popularity was a measure of their gratitude to an energetic young man who, unlike most of his fellows nowadays, had notabandoned the village in order to seek work, any work, in the towns. And Roof was not a village lout either. Everyone knew how he had spent two years as a bicycle repairer’s apprentice in Port Harcourt, and had given up of his own free will a bright future to return to his people and guide them in these difficult times. Not that Umuofia needed a lot of guidance. The village already belonged en masse to the People’s Alliance Party, and its most illustrious son, Chief the Honourable Marcus Ibe, was Minister of Culture in the outgoing government (which was pretty certain to be the incoming one as well). Nobody doubted that the Honourable Minister would be elected in his constituency. Opposition to him was like proverbial fly trying to move a dunghill. It would have been ridiculous enough without coming, as it did now, from a complete nonentity. As was to be expected Roof was in the service of the Honourable Minister for the coming elections. He had become a real expert in election campaigning at all levels — village, local government or national. He could tell the mood and temper of the electorate at any given time. For instance he had warned the Minister months ago about the radical change that had come into the thinking of Umuofia since the last national election. The villagers had had five years in which to see how quickly and plentifully politics brought wealth, chieftaincy titles, doctorate degrees and other honours some of which, like the last, had still to be explained satisfactorily to them; for in their naivety they still expected a doctor to be able to heal the sick. Anyhow, these honours and benefits had come so readily to the man to whom they had given their votes free of charge five years ago that they were now ready to try it a different way. Their point was that only the other day Marcus Ibe was a not too successful mission school teacher. Then politics had come to their village and he had wisely joined up, some said just in time to avoid imminent dismissal arising from a female teacher’s complaint. Today he was Chief the Honourable; he had two long cars and had just built himself the biggest house anyone had seen in these parts. But let it be said that none of these successes had gone to Marcus’s headas well they might. He remained devoted to his people. Whenever he could he left the good things of the capital and returned to his village which had neither running water nor electricity, although he had lately installed a private plant to supply electricity to his new house. He knew the source of his good fortune, unlike the little bird who ate and drank and went out to challenge his personal spirit. Marcus had christened to his new house “Umuofia Mansions” in honour of his village, and he had slaughtered five bulls and countless goats to entertain the people on the day it was opened by the Archbishop. Everyone was full of praise for him. One old man said: “Our son is a good man; he is not like the mortar which as soon as food comes its way turns its back on the ground.” But when the feasting was over, the villagers told themselves that they had underrated the power of the ballot paper before and should not do so again. Chief the Honourable Marcus Ibe was not unprepared. He had drawn five months’ salary in advance, changed a few hundred pounds into shining shillings and armed his campaign boys with eloquent little jute bags. In the day he made his speeches; at night his stalwarts conducted their whispering campaign. Roof was the most trusted of these campaigners. “We have a Minister from our village, one of our own sons,” he said to a group of elders in the house of Ogbuefi Ezenwa, a man of high traditional title. “What greater honour can a village have? Do you ever stop to ask yourselves why we should be singled out for this honour? I will tell you; it is because we are favoured by the leaders of PAP. Whether or not we cast our paper for Marcus, PAP will continue to rule. Think of the pipe-borne water they have promised us . . .” Besides Roof and his assistant there were five elders in the room. ‘An old hurricane lamp with a cracked, sooty, glass chimney gave out yellowish light in their midst. The elders sat on very low stools. On the floor, directly in front of each of them, lay two shilling pieces. Outside beyond the fastened door, the moon kept a straight face. “We believe every word you say to be true,” said Ezenwa. “We shall, every one of us, drop his paper for Marcus. Who would leavean ozo feast and go to a poor ritual meal? Tell Marcus he has our papers, and our wives’ papers too. But what we do say is that two shillings is shameful.” He brought the lamp close and tilted it at the money before him as if to make sure he had not mistaken its value. “Yes, two shillings is too shameful. If Marcus were a poor man which our ancestors forbid — I should be the first to give him my paper free, as I did before. But today Marcus is a great man and does his things like a great man. We did not ask him for money yesterday; we shall not ask him tomorrow. But today is our day; we have climbed the iroko tree today and would be foolish not to take down all the firewood we need.” Roof had to agree. He had lately been taking down a lot of firewood himself. Only yesterday he had asked Marcus for one of his many rich robes ~and had got it. Last Sunday Marcus's wife (the teacher that nearly got him in trouble) had objected (like the woman she was) when Roof pulled out his fifth bottle of beer from the refrigerator; she was roundly and publicly rebuked by her husband. To cap it all Roof had won a land case recently because, among other things, he had been chauffeur-driven to the disputed site. So he understood the elders about the firewood. “All right,” he said in English and then reverted to Ibo. “Let us not quarrel about small things.” He stood up, adjusted his robes and plunged his hand once more into the bag. Then he bent down like a priest distributing the host and gave one shilling more to every man; only he did not put it into their palms but on the floor in front of them. The men, who had so far not deigned to touch the things, looked at the floor and shook their heads. Roof got up again and gave each man another shilling. “| am through,” he said with a defiance that was no less effective for being transparently faked. The elders too knew how far to go without losing decorum. So when Roof added; “Go cast your paper for the enemy if you like!” they quickly calmed him down with a suitable speech from each of them. By the time the last man had spoken it was possible, without great loss of dignity, to pick up the things from the floor...The enemy Roof had referred to was the Progressive Organization Party (POP) which had been formed by the tribes down the coast to save themselves, as the founders of the party proclaimed, from “total political, cultural, social and religious annihilation.” Although it was clear the party had no chance here it had plunged, with typical foolishness, into a straight fight with PAP, providing cars and loud- speakers to a few local rascals and thugs to go around and make a lot of noise. No one knew for certain how much money POP had let loose in Umuofia but it is said to be very considerable. The local campaigners would end up very rich, no doubt. Up to last night everything had been “moving according to plan,” as Roof would have put it. Then he had received a strange visit from the leader of the POP campaign team. Although he and Roof were well known to each other, and might even be called friends, his visit was cold and business-like. No words were wasted. He placed five pounds on the floor before Roof and said, “We want your vote.”Roof got up from his chair, went to the outside door, closed it carefully and returned to his chair. The brief exercise gave him enough time to weigh the proposition. As he spoke his eyes never left the red notes on the floor. He seemed to be mesmerized by the picture of the cocoa farmer harvesting his crops. “You know I work for Marcus,” he said feebly. “It will be very bad...” “Marcus will not be there when you put in your paper. We have plenty of work to do tonight; are you taking this or not?” “Tt will not be heard outside this room?” asked Roof. “We are after votes not gossip.” “All right,” said Roof in English. The man nudged his companion and he brought forward an object covered with a red cloth and proceeded to remove the cover. It was a fearsome little affair contained in a clay pot with feathers stuck into it. “The iyi comes from Mbanta. You know what that means. Swear that you will vote for Madukaa. If you fail to do so, this iyi take note.”Roof’s heart nearly flew out when he saw the iyi; indeed he knew the fame of Mbanta in these things. But he was a man of quick decision. What could a single vote cast in secret for Maduka take away from Marcus’s certain victory? Nothing. “ will cast my paper for Maduka; if not this iyi take note.” “Das all,” said the man as he rose with his companion who had covered up the object again and was taking it back to their car. “You know he has no chance against Marcus,” said Roof at the door. “It is enough that he gets a few votes now; next time he will get more. People will hear that he gives out pounds, not shillings, and they will listen.” Election morning. The great day every five years when the people exercise power. Weather-beaten posters on walls of houses, tree trunks and telegraph poles. The few that were still whole called out their message to those who could read. Vote for the People’s Alliance Party! Vote for Progressive Organization Party! Vote for PAP! Vote for POP! The posters that were torn called out as much of the message as they could. As usual Chief the Honourable Marcus Ibe was doing things in grand style. He had hired a highlife band from Umuru and stationed it at such a distance from the voting booths as just managed to be lawful. Many villagers danced to the music, their ballot papers held aloft, before proceeding to the booths. Chief the Honourable Marcus Ibe sat in the “owner’s corner” of his enormous green car and smiled and nodded. One enlightened villager came up to the car, shook hands with the great man and said in advance, “Congrats!” This immediately set the pattern. Hundreds of admirers shook Marcus’s hand and said “Corngrass!” Roof and the other organizers were prancing up and down, giving last minute advice to the voters and pouring with sweat. “Do not forget,” he said again to a group of illiterate women who seemed ready to burst with enthusiasm and good humour, “our sign is the motor-car...”“Like the one Marcus is sitting inside.” “Thank you, mother,” said Roof. “It is the same car. The box with the car shown on its body is the box for you. Don’t look at the other with the man’s head: it is for those whose heads are not correct.” This was greeted with loud laughter. Roof cast a quick and busy- like glance towards the Minister and received a smile of appreciation. “Vote for the car,” he shouted, all the veins in his neck standing out. “Vote for the car and you will ride in it!” “Or if we don’t, our children will,” piped the same sharp, old girl. The band struck up a new number: “Why walk when you can rid In spite of his apparent calm and confidence Chief the Honourable Marcus was a relentless stickler for detail. He knew he would win what the news papers called “a landslide victory” but he did not wish, even so, to throw away a single vote. So as soon as the first rush of voters was over he promptly asked his campaign boys to go one at a time and put in their ballot papers. “Roof, you had better go first”, he said. Roof’s spirits fell; but he let no one see it. All morning he had masked his deep worry with a surface exertion which was unusual even for him. Now he dashed off in his springy fashion towards the booths. A police man at the entrance searched him for illegal ballot papers and passed him. Then the electoral officer explained to him about the two boxes. By this time the spring had gone clean out of his walk. He sidled in and was confronted by the car and the head. He brought out his ballot paper from his pocket and looked at it. How could he betray Marcus even in secret? He resolved to go back to the other man and return his five pounds...Five pounds! He knew at once it was impossible. He had sworn on that iyi. The notes were red; the cocoa farmer busy at work. At this point he heard the muffled voice of the policeman asking the electoral officer what the man was doing inside. “Abi na pickin im de born?”Quick as lightning a thought leapt into Roof’s mind. He folded the paper, tore it in two along the crease and put one half in each box. He took the precaution of putting the first half into Maduka’s box and confirming the action verbally: “I vote for Maduka.” They marked his thumb with indelible purple ink to prevent his return, and he went out of the booth as jauntily as he had gone in. Chinua Achebe (1930-2013) is a Nigerian novelist, poet, and oratory. He also published a number of short stories, children’s books, and essay collections. Some of his works are: ‘Things Fall Apart’, ‘Arrow Of God’, ‘No Longer At Ease’, ‘ Enemy Of The People’, ‘ Girls At War’. professor, and critic. Achebe’s novels focus on the traditions of Igbo society, the effect of Christian influences, and the clash of Western and traditional African values during and after the colonial era. His style relies heavily on the Igbo oral tradition, and combines straightforward narration with representations of folk stories, proverbs, Glossary: Port Harcourt Umuofia en masse ozo feast iroko tree iyi landslide victory the capital of Rivers State, Nigeria one of a fictional group of nine villages in Nigeria, inhabited by the Igbo people in one group or body; all together Highest and most important magico-religious festival in the Igbo clan of Nigeria is a large hardwood tree from the west coast of tropical Africa Native deity a victory by a large margin; a very substantial victory, particularly in an election Refer 118 for PronunciationComprehension I 1. Roof was a popular young man because he a. had not abandoned his village. b. wanted to guide his people. c. was forced to return to his village. . Why was Marcus considered rich and powerful? . Marcus Ibe had earlier been a a. doctor. b. school teacher. c. politician. . The fact that Marcus Ibe left the good things of the capital and returned to his village whenever he could, shows, a. his devotion to his people and love for the place. b, he enjoyed all the comforts of the city in his village. c. he wanted to improve the amenities of his village. . After the feasting the villagers a. praised Marcus’ faithfulness and generosity. b. intended to demand more for their votes. c. realized Marcus’ wealth. . The ‘whispering campaign’ is a. secret campaigning at night. b. bargaining for votes. c. clandestine distribution of money. . The village elder Ezenwa, tilted the lamp a little because a. he could not see properly. b. the place was too dark. c. he wanted to confirm the amount paid to each.. “ Fire wood” refers to — a. Roof taking advantage of the situation. b. the advantages of being a voter. c. the benefits the elders received. . Roof and the leader of the POP campaign team were — a. friends. b. strangers. ¢. acquaintances. . Roof was mesmerized by a. the red notes on the floor. b. the picture of the Cocoa farmer. c. the POP campaign leader. . Roof’s act of inserting torn ballot papers in the two boxes signifies a. keeping his promise. b. appeasing lyi. c. absolving himself of his guilt. Comprehension II 1. Trace the change in the attitude of the villagers before the second election. Give reasons. 2. What was the justification for the formation of the POP? 3. 'Roof is an intelligent manipulator’. Justify with reference to the story. Comprehension III 1. The POP campaign leader’s meeting with Roof shows the misuse of transparency in a democratic set up. Discuss. . 'To every human comes a time of reckoning’. How does Roof’s dilemma on the day of election reflect this?. What comment does the story offer on electoral system? Is it relevant? . Democracy is more than holding elections regularly.’ Do you think the story highlights this statement? Vocabulary: Use suitable prefixes to form antonyms: A Prefix is an affix which is placed before the stem of a word. Adding it to the beginning of a word changes its meaning. For e.g., when the prefix un- is added to the word happy, we get the word unhappy. Prefix — In-, Un-, Im-, Dis- 1. Gratitude . Certain . Install . Personal . Honour . Disputed . Correct . Mask 2 3 4 5 6. 7. 8 9 |. Lawful . Grateful . Wavering . Regard . Perturb . TolerantTypical African Proverbial Expressions: . Fly trying to move a dunghill . Little bird who ate and drank and went out to challenge his personal spirit . We have climbed the iroko tree today and would be foolish not to take down all the firewood we need. . He is not like the mortar which as soon as food comes its way turns its back on the ground. . Who would leave an ozo feast and go to a poor ritual meal? Extended Activity: * Prepare a write up on your views on election. Suggested Reading: * A Man of the People — Chinua Achebe © sbSmes (seci0w) — ast, oct, goa,African Words Prounced in Kannada Port Harcourt Umulofia Ozo feast lroko lyi Chinua Achebe Roofus Okeke Marcus Ibe Maduka Mbanta Ogbuefi Ezenwa Ibo Umuru Breeke Hoe Foeeke wmavedo adhe pers Qdnbe ox amdbe wesedd Baga asee arsea ae abanso doeoowy arpobe adag ake evaod13. Where There Is A Wheel P Sainath Pre-reading Activity: * What does this title remind you of? * List some of the simple things that have changed the lives of people. PUDUKKOTITAI (Tamil Nadu): Cycling as a social movement? Sounds far-fetched. Perhaps. But not all that far — not to tens of thousands of neo-literate rural women in Pudukkottai district. People find ways, sometimes curious ones, of hitting out at their backwardness, of expressing defiance, of hammering at the fetters that hold them.In this, one of India’s poorest districts, cycling seems the chosen medium for rural women. During the past eighteen months, over 100,000 rural women, most of them neo-literates, have taken to bicycling as a symbol of independence, freedom and mobility. If we exclude girls below ten years of age, it would mean that over one- fourth of all rural women here have learnt cycling. And over 70,000 of these women have taken part in public ‘exhibition-cum-contests’ to proudly display their new skills. And still the ‘training camps’ and desire to learn continue. In the heart of rural Pudukkottai, young women zip along the roads on their bicycles. Jameela Bibi, who has taken to cycling, told me: ‘It’s my right. We can go anywhere. Now I don’t have to wait for a bus. I know people made dirty remarks when I started cycling, but I paid no attention.’ Fatima is a secondary school teacher, so addicted to cycling that she hires a bicycle for half an hour each evening (she cannot yet afford to buy one-each costs over Rs.1,200). She said: ‘There is freedom in cycling. We are not dependent on anyone now. I can never give this up.’ Jameela, Fatima and their friend Avakanni, all in their early twenties, have trained scores of other young women from their community in the art of cycling. Cycling has swept across this district. Women agricultural workers, quarry labourers and village health nurses are among its fans. Joining the rush are balwadi and anganwadi workers, gem- cutters and school teachers. And gramsevikas and mid-day meal workers are not far behind. The vast majority are those who have just become literate. The district’s vigorous literacy drive, led by the Arivoli lyakkam (Light of Knowledge Movement) has been quick to tap this energy. Every one of the neo-literate, ‘neo-cyclist’ women I spoke to saw a direct link between cycling and her personal independence. ‘The main thing,’ said N. Kannammal, Arivoli central coordinator and one of the pioneers of the cycling movement, ‘was the confidence it gave women. Very importantly, it reduced their dependence onmen. Now we often see a woman doing a four-kilometre stretch on her cycle to collect water, sometimes with her children. Even carting provisions from other places can be done on their own. But, believe me, women had to put up with vicious attacks on their character when this began. So many made filthy remarks. But Arivoli gave cycling social sanction. So women took to it.’ Early among them, Kannammal herself. Though a science graduate, she had never mustered the ‘courage’ to cycle earlier. Visiting an Arivoli ‘cycling training camp’ is an unusual experience. In Kilakuruchi village all the prospective learners had turned out in their Sunday best. You can’t help being struck by the sheer passion of the pro-cycling movement. They had to know. Cycling offered a way out of enforced routines, around male-imposed barriers. The neo-cyclists even sing songs produced by Arivoli to encourage bicycling. One of these has lines like: ‘O sister come learn cycling, move with the wheel of time ...’ Very large numbers of those trained have come back to help new learners. They work free of charge for Arivoli as (oddly named) ‘master trainers’. There is not only a desire to learn but a widespread perception among them that all women ought to learn cycling. In turn, their experience has enriched the literacy movement. The neo-cyclists are bound even more passionately than before to Arivoli. The whole phenomenon was the brainchild of the popular former district collector, Sheela Rani Chunkath. Her idea in 1991 was to train female activists so that literacy would reach women in the interior. She also included mobility as a part of the literacy drive. This flowed from the fact that lack of mobility among women played a big role in undermining their confidence. Chunkath pushed the banks to give loans for the women to buy cycles. She also got each block to accept specific duties in promoting the drive. As the top official in the district, she gave it great personal attention. First the activists learned cycling. Then neo-literates wanted to learn. Every woman wanted to learn. Not surprisingly, this led to ashortage of ‘ladies’ cycles. Never mind. ‘Gents’ cycles would do just as nicely, thank you. Some women preferred the latter as these have an additional bar from the seat to the handle. You can seat a child on that. And to this day, thousands of women here ride ‘gents’ cycles. Thousands of others dream of the day they will be able to afford any bicycle at all. After the International Women’s Day in 1992, this district can never be the same. Flags on the handle bars, bells ringing, over 1,500 female cyclists took Pudukkottai by storm. Their all- women’s cycle rally stunned the town’s inhabitants with its massive showing. What did the males think? One who had to approve was S. Kannakarajan, owner of Ram Cycles. This single dealer saw a rise of over 350 per cent in the sale of Jadies’ cycles in one year. That figure is probably an underestimate for two reasons. One, a lot of women, unable to wait for ladies’ cycles, went in for men’s cycles. Two, Kannakarajan shared his information with me with great caution. For all he knew, I was an undercover agent of the sales tax department. In any case, not all males were hostile. Some were even encouraging. Muthu Bhaskaran, a male Arivoli activist, for instance. He wrote the famous cycling song that has become their anthem. When, in the blazing heat of Kudimianmalai’s stone quarries, you run into Manormani, twenty-two, training others, you know it’s all worth it. A quarry worker and Arivoli volunteer herself, she thinks it vital that her co-workers learn cycling. ‘Our areas are a little cut off,’ she told me. ‘Those who know cycling, they can be mobile.’ In a single week in 1992, more than 70,000 women displayed their cycling skills at the public ‘exhibition-cum-contests’ run by Arivoli. An impressed UNICEF sanctioned fifty mopeds for Arivoli women activists. Cycling has had very definite economic implications. It boosts income. Some of the women here sell agricultural or other producewithin a group of villages. For them, the bicycle cuts down on time wasted in waiting for buses. This is crucial in poorly connected routes. Secondly, it gives you much more time to focus on selling your produce. Thirdly, it enlarges the area you can hope to cover. Lastly, it can increase your leisure time too, should you choose. Small producers who used to wait for buses were often dependent on fathers, brothers, husbands or sons to even reach the bus stop. They could cover only a limited number of villages to sell their produce. Some walked. Those who cannot afford bicycles still do. These women had to rush back early to tend to the children and perform other chores like fetching water. Those who have bicycles now combine these different tasks with nonchalance. Which means you can, even along some remote road, see a young mother, child on the bar, produce on the carrier. She could be carrying two, perhaps even three, pots of water hung across the back, and cycling towards work or home. Yet, it would be very wrong to emphasize the economic aspect over all else. The sense of self-respect it brings is vital. ‘Of course it’s not economic,’ said Fatima, giving me a look that made me feel rather stupid. ‘What money do I make from cycling? I lose money. I can’t afford a bicycle. But I hire one every evening just to feel that goodness, that independence.’ Never before reaching Pudukkottai had I seen this humble vehicle in that light-the bicycle as a metaphor for freedom. It is difficult for people to see how big this is for rural women,’ said Kannammal. ‘It’s a Himalayan achievement, like flying an aero plane, for them. People may laugh. Only the women know how important it is.’ Postscript When I returned to Pudukkottai in April 1995, the craze was still on. But a large number of women were unable to afford bicycles ~ each now cost around Rs. 1,400. And a new generation was coming up that was too young to gain from the first round. But Pudukkottai remains unique among Indian districts for the stunning proportion of women who have taken to cycling. And the enthusiasm for gaining the skill among the rest.Palagummi Sainath is an Indian journalist and Photo . journalist focusing on social problems, rural affairs, poverty and aftermaths of globalization in India. He is the Rural Affairs Editor of The Hindu. A regular contributor to The Telegraph in Kolkata, he also writes for the fortnightly Frontline and the daily Business Line in Chennai. This essay is taken from his book ‘Everybody Loves a Good Drought’. Glossary: neo-literate : new literates gramsevikas : women social workers in villages phenomenon : a fact or an event in nature or society brainchild : an idea or invention of one person non-chalance : indifference; unmoved Comprehension I 1. What does cycling as a symbol of social mobility mean? 2. When Jameela Bibi says, “It is my right.We can go anywhere”, she is a. asserting her right to move freely. b. suggesting mobility leading to liberation. c. expressing her indifference to dirty remarks. d. boasting about her cycling skill. 3. What does bicycle represent for the rural women?. What is common between neo-literates and neo-cyclists? . ‘Enforced routine’ and ‘male imposed barrier’ refer to . confining women to kitchen. . subjecting women to drudgery. . status of women in patriarchal society. . lack of freedom of movement. . How did the men react when women took to cycling? . What do the phrases ‘lags on the handle bar’ and ‘bells ringing suggest? . Why did UNICEF sanction mopeds to Arivoli women activists? . Why is the cycle called ‘the humble vehicle’? Comprehension II . What is the role of Arivoli lyakkam in liberating women? . In what different ways does the cycle empower rural women? . Why does the author describe the Arivoli ‘cycling training camp as an unusual experience? . Do you think neo-literate women taking to cycling contribute to literacy movement? . How does Sheela Rani Chunkath, the district collector, promote the empowerment of women? 6. How did the women react to the shortage of ladies’ cycles? Comprehension III 1. How does P. Sainath show that cycling brings about changes beyond economic gains?2. ‘O sister come learn cycling, move with the wheel of time... How does the song suggest that the cycle could be an instrument of social change and progress? Vocabulary: A. Idioms or phrases: Idiom is the special use of language. Idioms do not give the literal meaning of the words used in the idiom. E.g. ‘a change of heart’ would literally mean a heart transplant. However, idiomatically it would mean ‘a change in one’s attitude or feelings’. i. Look at the following pairs of idiomatic expressions. The meanings of the first pair are given in brackets. Find out the missing ones. l. a. to the day (exactly) . to this day (even now ) . take by storm (capture by sudden or violent attack) . the calm before the storm ( ) . for all one knows (considering how little one knows.) .. before one knows where one is ( ). at/behind the wheel (in control of the situation) . put a spoke in somebody’s wheel ( ) . turn out in one’s best (be well-dressed) as things turned out ( ) . Identify the sentences in which these expressions have been used in this lesson. iii, Use the others in your own sentences suitably.B. Phrasal verbs are expressions which have a combination of a verb and a preposition. (See the workbook for more information.) Some of these used in this article are given below. With the help of the teacher / dictionary find out their meanings and use them in sentences of your own. Take to, give up, run into, hit out at, sweep across, put up with. Extended Activity: « How do you appreciate the schemes of the Government to provide bicycles to school going children? * Do you think people’s initiative to bring about a social change should be complemented by the policies of the government? Suggested Reading: © 8ONMOS Motori — 8.2, Rerrwow sews © HT LOS aYOMe BH - Ban. docwa