African art and history

  OVER BLACK: We hear the voice of THOTH. A voice that knows all things: THOTH’S VOICE Listen, if thou wouldst be wise. Weigh my words and hear their truth -- though I’ve ceased being surprised by the inability of some to listen when wisdom speaks. The RISING SUN crests the PEAK OF A PYRAMID. Not an ancient ruin. It’s BRAND NEW, smooth as glass. THOTH’S VOICE Egypt was not always as you know it now, dry and unforgiving. PULL BACK to reveal towering FORESTS that stretch to the horizon. The air is lush with the breath of life. This Egypt is Edenic, primordial -- with no sand to be seen. THOTH’S VOICE Before history began, Egypt was a paradise worthy of the gods who created it. So the gods decided to live there themselves amongst their other, lesser creation... Men. The Pyramid is just a small part of a glittering PALACE COMPLEX. THOTH’S VOICE Egypt was divided between two mighty brothers... EXT. GREAT PALACE ON THE NILE - DAY what looks like a handsome MAN walks along the shore of ...

 On the evening of the 16th March 2010 an intense fire swept through the royal enclosure at Kasubi Hill. As the flames spread across straw thatching and engulfed the immense grass hut structures housing the tombs of four of the Kingdom of Buganda's recent kings and their descendants, news of the loss of the UNESCO world heritage site filtered across the Ugandan capital, Kampala. Carried on radio airwaves and in the reports of mobile Boda-Boda drivers initial information was confused. By the time news reached a fellow researcher and myself around four miles from the scene, rumours had already begun to circulate as to the origins of the fire. There were suggestions of arson and even intimations as to the involvement of the national government of President Yoweri Museveni.1 On the morning of the 1 i h huge crowds of Ganda gathered at the location of the tombs to express their grief and anger over the loss of one of Buganda's key spiritual sites described by Buganda minister, Medar...

  In the pages which follow, the traditions surrounding the first eight (of a total of thirty-five) kings of Buganda's traditional history will be investigated from a perspective that has not been utilized before. I hope to demonstrate that these traditions—beginning with the establishment of the first king, Kintu, in Buganda proper and ending with the death of the eighth king, Nakibinge, at the hands of the Banyoro—form an interrelated set which can be analyzed structurally as myth. While so doing, I do not wish to imply that the traditions in question demand this type of analysis and no other; different perspectives have been and will be useful for understanding early Buganda and its traditions. But I do want to show that such a structure can be discerned in the traditions and that the existence of this structure should be taken into account regardless of the type of analysis to be undertaken. One task which will further these ends will be a discussion of the reasons for setting ...

I Am An African I am an African Not because I was born there But because my heart beats with Africa I am an African Not because my skin is black But because my mind is engaged by Africa I am an African Not because I live on its soil But because my soul is at home in Africa When Africa weeps for her children My cheeks are stained with tears When Africa honours her elders My head is bowed in respect When Africa mourns for her victims My hands are joined in prayer When Africa celebrates her triumphs My feet are alive with dancing I am an African For her blue skies take my breath away And my hope for the future is bright I am an African For her people greet me as family And teach me the meaning of community I am an African For her wildness quenches my spirit And brings me closer to the source of life When the music of Africa beats in the wind My blood pulses to its rhythm And I become the essence of sound When the colors of Africa dazzle in the sun My senses drink in its rainbow And I beco...

  604th Session January 12, 1972 9:19 p.m. Wednesday   (Notes on an abortive projection attempt; I lay down for a nap after supper on Friday Evening, Jan 14. I used the bedroom in apartment four. We had been working long Hours on our own, and I had been putting in overtime at Artistic, so I was quite tired. I dozed for a few moments upon laying down, then came awake to find myself with the Unmistakable feeling of floating halfway to the ceiling of the bedroom.)   (The sensation was quite definite, and quiet strange. For I still felt my body against the bed - 1 lay face up, covered by a blanket - as though my body was pasted to the bed. In Other words, I floated in the air, bed and all, quite pleasantly. There was no fear or Panic. Instead I hoped to continue the experience into something greater.)   (Shortly after I became aware, Jane began to do the dishes. The geography of our Kitchen in apartment four is such that noise can evidently seep through a c...