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We told ourselves then that their spirit must be as luminous as their skin. White, the colour of light, and therefore of intelligence. Brown, the colour of darkness, and therefore of lack of intelligence. The old prediction said ‘branches of the same tree’, and so that it would be right, we convinced ourselves they were the upper branches and we were the lower ones.
In this world she meets Tematua, his soul torn apart by the white man, while she is torn apart by this society that is trying in vain to make her white.
suffering is the inevitable companion of joy.
No promises. No vows. They belong to each other from now on.
Life will treat you badly It always makes the dreamers suffer.
the youngest child, her whims indulged, no need to prove anything, because the older children have already done everything before her, brilliantly.
She doesn’t know yet that some words are just words, a false hope given to the people; that money, power and injustice are mankind’s only realities.
Personal pride, pride in proving to men that women can succeed outside the home, and pride in showing women that they too are capable of great things.
‘Are these the people for whom so many men, through the ages, in so many countries, have given their lives, dying in the name of universal freedom and equality? Are these the people for whom we lived on hopes and dreams, bringing a new society into being, a Revolutionary army fighting with pitchforks and pikes, spilling torrents of blood under the Terror, acclaiming the inspired words of the People’s Assembly that gave us back our dignity, finally recognising that ‘all men are born and remain free and equal’? Could it be that I misunderstood? Could it mean that only white men are free and
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