>From: amy jallow <[log in to unmask]> >Reply-To: The Gambia and related-issues mailing list              <[log in to unmask]> >To: [log in to unmask] >Subject: Re: Caliban’s Theory >Date: Wed, 13 Apr 2005 00:25:26 +0100 > >Baba Galleh, >  Thank you for your refreshing prose,it is >wonderful,pls keep on dazzling us with your unique >writings. > >Amy > > > >Caliban’s Theory > > > >By Baba Galleh Jallow > > > >The voice startled me. I turned around. I was sure I >was alone in the room and the door was closed. I >thought perhaps someone was passing outside. But the >voice sounded as if it was in the room. It was so loud >and clear. I had arrived at school 45 minutes early >and had gone into the classroom and sat on my chair. > >"Well you must be surprised to hear me talk," it said >again. > >I peeped under the table and walked to the door. I >opened it and looked outside, left right, in front. No >sign of any person. I closed the door again, fearing I >might be going crazy or having a hallucination. I had >heard of hallucinations but it had never happened to >me. I sat back in my chair and vigorously shook my >head. I plucked my fingers into my ears to see if I >would hear any funny noises in my head. Nothing. > >"Well, well, well. You keep staring at me anytime you >come into this room and you are frightened out of your >wits when I talk to you." > >The voice again. I got up and picked my book bag. > >"No need to run, my friend. It’s me, Caliban, right >here on the wall. I won’t harm you. I can’t. Just >thought you wanted to talk because you look at me all >the time. Figured you’d be interested in talking >before your classmates come in." > >I stopped, staring at the Caliban poster hanging on >the opposite wall. > >"Caliban? Are you really talking to me?" I struggled >to keep from shouting or rushing out of the room. > >"Yes, I am talking to you. Of course, no one would >believe you if you told them I talked to you. No one >shows any interest in me as you do. For all the many >years I have been hanging here. So relax and let’s >have a chat." > >I sat back down. > >"So you can talk?" > >"How else would I be talking you if I couldn’t?" he >said. "Well, tell me. Why do you show so much interest >in me? You don’t stare at the other posters in this >room as you stare at me." > >"That’s true, Caliban," I said. "I guess I am >intrigued by your story, the difficult times you had >on your island with Prospero, Ariel and the other >spirits." > >"Ha! Prospero! The devil break his nose!" he cursed. >"Prospero stole my island from me after my mother died >and enslaved me by his magic - termites eat his eyes! >Would I were able to lay my hands on him! Or have a >single hour with that wench of his! He accused me of >trying to seduce her. If I had the chance, I would >turn his entire race into Calibans - the devil pluck >his eyes!" > >"But Prospero is long dead, Caliban. How come you are >still alive? Or are you?" > >"Dead? Prospero dead? Death is an illusion, my friend. >Maybe half-dead, I would say. He is at least >half-alive. You see him everywhere around you, don’t >you? If he were dead, he wouldn’t have been able to >keep me in this tortured position, these heavy logs on >my shoulders, these devil’s scales on my skin. You >think I was born like this, all green with fish >scales, stunted and ugly? It was Prospero made me like >this - may his entrails fall!" > >"Me? Seen Prospero? How could I possibly see >Prospero?" > >"Well, do you not see men everywhere with iron faces, >their noses turned up as if they are perpetually >smelling shit? Do you not see men on the streets, in >the train stations, the airports, the malls, the >offices - everywhere, pretending that they don’t poop, >regarding you as if you were some beast, monster, some >sub-human creature? Don’t you encounter such men all >the time? Well, they are all Prospero - the dogs take >his liver!" > >"Well that’s an interesting proposition, Caliban. I >figure you would say then that you too are out there >on the streets, the shops, the offices . . . ?" > >"But of course. But unlike Prospero, I am fully alive. >We are all Calibans. You, me, everyone who does not >look like Prospero - may he feed on rot! In this >world, there are only two people - Prospero and >Caliban. True, some Prosperos are more Prospero than >others while some Calibans are more Caliban than >others. But there are only two people. Us Caliban and >them Prospero." > >"Us?" > >"Oh, you are Caliban too, my friend and you very well >know it." > >"Hmmn. Another interesting proposition, Caliban. But >tell me: where then do you place the Asians and >Latinos? They certainly are not Prospero; neither are >they Caliban. Aren’t they somewhere in between?" > >"They ARE Caliban, " he said. "Maybe just less Caliban >than you and me." > >"Wow!" I exclaimed. "You ARE right, Caliban. In a >sense, you are right. But why don’t you ever put down >those logs and rest your shoulders?" > >"For the same reason that you can’t put down your >burden," he said. > >"My burden? I’m not carrying any burden, Caliban." > >"Or yes you are," he said, emphatically. "All Calibans >are carrying a load on their shoulders. Unlike mine, >yours is invisible but you feel its weight >nevertheless. Some of us carry it with pride and >refuse to feel burdened and sad as Prospero would wish >us to be. Some of us sink under it; take refuge in >drugs, or some other self-destructive habit. Some of >us try to become Prosperos by replacing our flat noses >with pointed plastic ones, like that rat of a singer >who now has no nose. Poor guy. And some of us end our >lives in despair. You see it every day, my friend, >don’t you?" > >"Yes, Caliban. I see it everyday. It is very clear >what you are saying. You certainly are very >knowledgeable and intelligent. You are not the Caliban >Shakespeare shows us in his play." > >"Ha, Shakespeare! He’s just another Prospero. But I >don’t blame him. It is all that devil Prospero’s fault >- the buzzards peck his lungs! He stole my island and >subdued me with his magic and made a slave of me. He >made me work like an ass and gave me the cramps and >the pinches whenever I dared talk back to him. He >hated the very idea that I could talk like him. He >claimed to teach me language - may bees sting his >green heart! He did not teach me language. He taught >me his language, the fool! I already had my language >before he came to my island." > >"He certainly was very unfair to you, Caliban. He >refused to see that you were human like him." > >"He still just reluctantly accepts me and you as human >beings because he is forced by the law to do so. Once >a devil always a devil! Did you see all those terrible >names he called me?" > >"Yes, he was very harsh," I said. "You certainly are >not a beast or a monster. I’m just sorry that you >could not get rid of him as planned with Trinculo and >Stephano." > >"Ha! I was a fool to trust those drunkards. They gave >me wine and loosened my tongue. And I babbled all that >nonsense about submitting to them and helping them >kill Prospero - the dog pee in his mouth! And what >terrible names those idiots called me! Devil, delicate >monster, weak monster, credulous monster, perfidious >monster, drunken monster, scurvy monster, puppy-headed >monster, abominable monster, ridiculous monster, >howling monster - they almost monstered me to death, >the devil take them! And then in their drunkenness, >they botched the assassination plan and gained us all >the cramps and the stings and some time in that hell >of a cell! Would I had never met them!" > >"But Prospero forgave you, in the end," I said. > >"According to Prospero-Shakespeare," he corrected me. >"If he had forgiven me, would he give me these green >scales, these fat red lips, this flat head, and have >me stand barefooted on these sharp rocks, carrying >these heavy logs forever? Look around you. Who else in >this room is like me? But I will meet him in hell, and >I swear I will ram these logs down his ghoulish >throat. But hey, I hear someone coming. So, let’s talk >some more some other time." > >The door opened and two of my classmates walked in. A >few moments later, Dr. Barbarese and the rest of the >class came in. We all went along and had a cheerful >breakfast at Tiffany’s, remembering good old Holly >Golightly and wondering what on earth became of her. >Every once in a while, I glanced up at the silent >Caliban and thought he was not so silent after all. I >kept repressing the urge to tell my colleagues that I >just had a chat with Caliban. They probably would have >called 911 and asked for an ambulance. > > > > > > >--------------------------------- >Express yourself instantly with MSN Messenger! MSN >Messenger Download today it's >FREE!¤¤¤¤¤¤¤¤¤¤¤¤¤¤¤¤¤¤¤¤¤¤¤¤¤¤¤¤¤¤¤¤¤¤¤¤¤¤¤¤¤¤¤¤¤¤¤¤¤¤¤¤¤¤¤¤¤¤To >unsubscribe/subscribe or view archives of postings, go >to the Gambia-L Web interfaceat: >http://maelstrom.stjohns.edu/archives/gambia-l.htmlTo >Search in the Gambia-L archives, go to: >http://maelstrom.stjohns.edu/CGI/wa.exe?S1=gambia-lTo >contact the List Management, please send an e-mail >to:[log in to unmask]¤¤¤¤¤¤¤¤¤¤¤¤¤¤¤¤¤¤¤¤¤¤¤¤¤¤¤¤¤¤¤¤¤¤¤¤¤¤¤¤¤¤¤¤¤¤¤¤¤¤¤¤¤¤¤¤¤¤ > >Send instant messages to your online friends http://uk.messenger.yahoo.com > >¤¤¤¤¤¤¤¤¤¤¤¤¤¤¤¤¤¤¤¤¤¤¤¤¤¤¤¤¤¤¤¤¤¤¤¤¤¤¤¤¤¤¤¤¤¤¤¤¤¤¤¤¤¤¤¤¤¤ >To unsubscribe/subscribe or view archives of postings, go to the Gambia-L Web interface >at: http://maelstrom.stjohns.edu/archives/gambia-l.html > >To Search in the Gambia-L archives, go to: http://maelstrom.stjohns.edu/CGI/wa.exe?S1=gambia-l >To contact the List Management, please send an e-mail to: >[log in to unmask] >¤¤¤¤¤¤¤¤¤¤¤¤¤¤¤¤¤¤¤¤¤¤¤¤¤¤¤¤¤¤¤¤¤¤¤¤¤¤¤¤¤¤¤¤¤¤¤¤¤¤¤¤¤¤¤¤¤¤