Ruby's World by Karen Baldwin - Excerpt

Title: Ruby's WorldAuthor: Karen BaldwinGenre: Non-FictionBuy Links: Available in Paperback and eBook Amazon | B&N
Book Description:Karen Baldwin's masterful memoir reads like a suspense thriller as this resolute American woman of "a certain age" journeys alone to South Africa to teach Zulu children. There she encounters a stunning resistance to change from those who invited her. Baldwin's writing is candid, taut and relentless, as waves of cultural tension build to an unforeseen crisis that tests her courage and strength. -Phaedra Greenwood, Award Winning Journalist Karen Baldwin, through raw, honest, and vibrant writing, shares her journey to teach children in South Africa. Her good intentions are met by strong traditions and a real Africa-not an illusion or romanticized world-where nothing is wasted and there is little personal space. Baldwin's journey reveals the similarities in Zulu and American families' joys, pain, deception and love. -Dr. Andrea M. Heckman, PhD, Cultural Anthropologist, University of New Mexico An extraordinary story, beautifully told. Baldwin's account of her adventure in Africa is honest, moving, frequently funny, sometimes startling, and always compelling. This is a journey of faith, and it carries the reader along every twist and turn in that journey with remarkable clarity and grace. -Sean Murphy, Author, The Time of New Weather


The author and global volunteer Karen Baldwin recently was appointed the Ambassador for the Rural Women’s Movement of South Africa working to obtain basic human rights for the women and children of South Africa. She’ll be speaking to the United Nations Commission hearings on the Status of Women with Sizani Ngubane, the executive director and founder of RWM early next year. Karen was recently interviewed by NBC affiliate, KOB in Albuquerque, NM. Airing September 18 - Link: http://www.kob.com/article/stories/S2767979.shtml?cat=11121Before NM, Karen was in San Francisco on a book tour and was on the CBS Affiliate Bay Sunday: http://youtu.be/nQI3bflfaNY
Excerpt:PREFACESaturday, March 15, 2008It’s not supposed to end this way—expelled from Ezimolo Village, drenched with rain and nervous sweat, grateful just to be alive. Sitting on my suitcase at dawn, my back against the locked door of a small South African airport, I tremble with the emotions I’ve suppressed for the past thirty-six hours: rage at being torn away from the Zinti children, betrayal by the ones who invited me, shame that I failed, terror that I might be killed and my remains never found.
As the events of the past forty-five days replay over and over in my mind, I search for clues to what went wrong. How did I slide from being the eagerly-awaited, first white teacher in this rural Zulu school—to being a reviled outcast? I feel myself tumble into a dark tunnel, unsure if I will ever calm the anger that gnaws at my heart. Will I ever know what really happened?
DAY 1Thursday, January 31, 2008
As we cross the southern shore of the Mediterranean Sea, I feel drawn into the mystery of the African continent. The Sahara Desert stretches to the horizon in every direction. Nothing except pale caramel-colored earth, pock-marked with patches of grayish white. As a fifteen-year-old geography student, I dreamed of crossing the great desert with a nomadic tribe in a caravan of camels. Wrapped in layers of bright, gauzy fabrics, I imagined we would set up white canvas tents every evening and recline on sumptuous pillows in the cool shade of an oasis.
The unrelenting monochromatic sand below redefines my concept of isolation. No hint of water or shade. Not a speck of green for over four hours. No place to hide. No relief from the elements. Nothing to mark distance or direction. Any crossing, by camel or vehicle, would necessitate months of planning, a truckload of supplies, and a steadfast partner in survival. My adolescent illusions of romance fade away.
A shadow approaches on the horizon. Within minutes the lightness of the desert gives way to the darkness of the Congo basin. Hints of purple tinge the deep greens as cloud shadows pass over the thick forest. A long, muddy brown snake splits the dense foliage. It grows wide at the bends as it creeps through the jungle. Narrow fingers of the Congo River slither off into the trees and thin until they disappear completely.
The jungle canopy hangs over the edge of the river, sheltering the banks from the view of strangers flying overhead. My curiosity lingers there, in the concealed areas, where human life exists. I imagine thin African men, precariously balanced in their narrow dugout canoes, navigating the current with long poles.
The sun sets over the Congo, leaving behind an oppressive black sky. Not one light is visible from the ground below. A chilling sensation flows through my body, anxiety at being suspended in absolute darkness as I enter a deep examination of myself—one solitary woman, under her own magnifying glass, searching for her path, for meaning and purpose in her life. I feel the first tingles of fear.Stay present in each moment, Karen. Stay with yourself.
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