Humanities 10 - Modern world history
Poetry Project
My Art Piece
Recoding of my Poem
My poem in written Form
Poem Reflection
Globalization Unit
Political Cartoon
Op-Ed Final
American Ideals Contribute to the World
Teenagers in France are eating at McDonalds. Children in Japan are wearing clothes from The Gap. Billboards in Africa are advertising Coca Cola and Nike. People in every culture, whether they know it or not, are adopting American ways of life and trying to live the so-called “American Dream.”
This “Americanization” of global culture has been in process for decades as countries throughout the world have embraced American views on economics, business, politics and culture. With new technologies, the rise of the Internet and the dominance of American entertainment, American culture is virtually everywhere.
While some people think Americanization is invasive like a pine beetle infestation that is introduced, quickly multiplies and ultimately destroys its host, I prefer to think of it more like honey bees that swarm in and cross pollinate, giving rise to newly fertilized fields.
The globalization of American culture and the spread of American ideals are driving positive changes throughout the world that ultimately benefit people in other countries. Most notably, the ideals of freedom and democracy, salad bowl or multicultural acceptance and valuing individualism allow people around the world to liberate themselves from their governments, their cultural boundaries, and themselves.
America’s ideal of democracy has been seized upon in a number of countries and is creating more opportunities for individual freedom and liberty. Dramatic political upheavals in Egypt, Libya, Tunisia, often dubbed “The Arab Spring”, seem to be leading the way to new citizenship rights. Right now in the Ukraine, people have overthrown their so-called Democratic government because they want a truly representational government that ensures human rights. According to Lynn-Jones, “the global spread of democracy is likely to bring greater individual liberty to more and more people” (Jones 5).
As more people throughout the world are being exposed to American ideals of freedom and democracy, they are desiring greater liberty and risking their lives and property to obtain these new freedoms. They see greater opportunities for themselves, their families and their communities if they adopt these ideals.
America is also exporting a vision of how to embrace a salad bowl culture that melds many ethnicities and subcultures, recognizes their differences, and ultimately creates more opportunity for everyone. America’s civil and equal rights policies are inspiring people in other countries to embrace the same. By electing and re-electing an African American President, America has shown the world that it embraces diversity. Our constant drive for women’s and homosexual’s rights can be a road map for other countries. Zachary Pascal notes that countries are changing their views on assimilation; he claims “countries such as Japan and Germany, where the concept of nationality is rooted in the racially based idea of bloodlines, are starting to accept that a polyglot country such as the United States has fundamental advantages”(Pascal 3).
America developed as a country of immigrants from very diverse backgrounds and multiculturalism is in our DNA. Many of the world’s countries are only now experiencing influxes of new immigrants who are poles apart from majorities in those countries. Some, like France, are pushing immigrants to assimilate and give up their ways such as denouncing headscarves in schools, instead of embracing the differences. I believe that American culture can help show the way for these countries to integrate these new citizens and gain from the diversity they offer.
American culture which is anti-authoritarian, liberating and champions the individual, frees people from the bonds of their traditional societies and allows them to pursue their version of the “American Dream.” The cult of the individual has empowered people to rise up to face off against oppressive governments, to deny the limitations of their cultures and seek new opportunities elsewhere. It was individuals who banded together to overthrow their governments in the Arab Spring. As Sarah El-Khalili observed, “Eqypt’s netizens succeeded in mobilizing for the Revolution of 25 January” (El-Khalili 1).
Individualism in India, China and elsewhere is causing people to pursue wealth, achievement and success much like in American society. According to Zachary Pascal, “many in Asia…hunger for a more freewheeling society, one that can respect tradition while breaking free from it” (Pascal 5). People from these countries are also leaving their homelands to seek opportunity elsewhere and escape the boundaries placed on them.
I believe that people are always seeking greater and greater freedom to pursue their own desires. American ideals give people the hope that regardless of how poor they might be, they can become educated and participate in a larger world than they might otherwise be able to.
While some people think Americanization is invasive like a pine beetle infestation that is introduced, quickly multiplies and ultimately destroys its host, I prefer to think of it more like honey bees that swarm in and cross pollinate, giving rise to newly fertilized fields. American ideals such as democracy and individual freedom, the salad bowl mixture of cultures and the drive for individuality inspire and improve the world.
Word Cited
Balko, Radley. "Globalization & Culture ." globalpolicy.org. N.p., Apr. 2013. Web. 24 Feb. 2014. <http://www.globalpolicy.org/component/content/article/162/27607.html>.
El-Khalili, Sara. "Social Media as a Government Propaganda Tool in Post-revolutionary Egypt ." Firstmonday.org. N.p., 4 Mar. 2013 . Web. 26 Feb. 2014. <http://firstmonday.org/ojs/index.php/fm/article/view/4620/3423>.
Jones, Lynn. "Why the United States Should Spread Democracy." belfercenter.ksg.harvard.edu. N.p., Mar. 1998. Web. 23 Feb. 2014. <http://belfercenter.ksg.harvard.edu/publication/2830/why_the_united_states_should_spread_democracy.html>.
Pascal, Zachary G. "The World Gets in Touch with Its Inner American." Motherjones.com . N.p., Jan. 1999. Web. 22 Feb. 2014. <http://www.motherjones.com/politics/1999/01/world-gets-touch-its-inner-american>.
Word Count: 827
Teenagers in France are eating at McDonalds. Children in Japan are wearing clothes from The Gap. Billboards in Africa are advertising Coca Cola and Nike. People in every culture, whether they know it or not, are adopting American ways of life and trying to live the so-called “American Dream.”
This “Americanization” of global culture has been in process for decades as countries throughout the world have embraced American views on economics, business, politics and culture. With new technologies, the rise of the Internet and the dominance of American entertainment, American culture is virtually everywhere.
While some people think Americanization is invasive like a pine beetle infestation that is introduced, quickly multiplies and ultimately destroys its host, I prefer to think of it more like honey bees that swarm in and cross pollinate, giving rise to newly fertilized fields.
The globalization of American culture and the spread of American ideals are driving positive changes throughout the world that ultimately benefit people in other countries. Most notably, the ideals of freedom and democracy, salad bowl or multicultural acceptance and valuing individualism allow people around the world to liberate themselves from their governments, their cultural boundaries, and themselves.
America’s ideal of democracy has been seized upon in a number of countries and is creating more opportunities for individual freedom and liberty. Dramatic political upheavals in Egypt, Libya, Tunisia, often dubbed “The Arab Spring”, seem to be leading the way to new citizenship rights. Right now in the Ukraine, people have overthrown their so-called Democratic government because they want a truly representational government that ensures human rights. According to Lynn-Jones, “the global spread of democracy is likely to bring greater individual liberty to more and more people” (Jones 5).
As more people throughout the world are being exposed to American ideals of freedom and democracy, they are desiring greater liberty and risking their lives and property to obtain these new freedoms. They see greater opportunities for themselves, their families and their communities if they adopt these ideals.
America is also exporting a vision of how to embrace a salad bowl culture that melds many ethnicities and subcultures, recognizes their differences, and ultimately creates more opportunity for everyone. America’s civil and equal rights policies are inspiring people in other countries to embrace the same. By electing and re-electing an African American President, America has shown the world that it embraces diversity. Our constant drive for women’s and homosexual’s rights can be a road map for other countries. Zachary Pascal notes that countries are changing their views on assimilation; he claims “countries such as Japan and Germany, where the concept of nationality is rooted in the racially based idea of bloodlines, are starting to accept that a polyglot country such as the United States has fundamental advantages”(Pascal 3).
America developed as a country of immigrants from very diverse backgrounds and multiculturalism is in our DNA. Many of the world’s countries are only now experiencing influxes of new immigrants who are poles apart from majorities in those countries. Some, like France, are pushing immigrants to assimilate and give up their ways such as denouncing headscarves in schools, instead of embracing the differences. I believe that American culture can help show the way for these countries to integrate these new citizens and gain from the diversity they offer.
American culture which is anti-authoritarian, liberating and champions the individual, frees people from the bonds of their traditional societies and allows them to pursue their version of the “American Dream.” The cult of the individual has empowered people to rise up to face off against oppressive governments, to deny the limitations of their cultures and seek new opportunities elsewhere. It was individuals who banded together to overthrow their governments in the Arab Spring. As Sarah El-Khalili observed, “Eqypt’s netizens succeeded in mobilizing for the Revolution of 25 January” (El-Khalili 1).
Individualism in India, China and elsewhere is causing people to pursue wealth, achievement and success much like in American society. According to Zachary Pascal, “many in Asia…hunger for a more freewheeling society, one that can respect tradition while breaking free from it” (Pascal 5). People from these countries are also leaving their homelands to seek opportunity elsewhere and escape the boundaries placed on them.
I believe that people are always seeking greater and greater freedom to pursue their own desires. American ideals give people the hope that regardless of how poor they might be, they can become educated and participate in a larger world than they might otherwise be able to.
While some people think Americanization is invasive like a pine beetle infestation that is introduced, quickly multiplies and ultimately destroys its host, I prefer to think of it more like honey bees that swarm in and cross pollinate, giving rise to newly fertilized fields. American ideals such as democracy and individual freedom, the salad bowl mixture of cultures and the drive for individuality inspire and improve the world.
Word Cited
Balko, Radley. "Globalization & Culture ." globalpolicy.org. N.p., Apr. 2013. Web. 24 Feb. 2014. <http://www.globalpolicy.org/component/content/article/162/27607.html>.
El-Khalili, Sara. "Social Media as a Government Propaganda Tool in Post-revolutionary Egypt ." Firstmonday.org. N.p., 4 Mar. 2013 . Web. 26 Feb. 2014. <http://firstmonday.org/ojs/index.php/fm/article/view/4620/3423>.
Jones, Lynn. "Why the United States Should Spread Democracy." belfercenter.ksg.harvard.edu. N.p., Mar. 1998. Web. 23 Feb. 2014. <http://belfercenter.ksg.harvard.edu/publication/2830/why_the_united_states_should_spread_democracy.html>.
Pascal, Zachary G. "The World Gets in Touch with Its Inner American." Motherjones.com . N.p., Jan. 1999. Web. 22 Feb. 2014. <http://www.motherjones.com/politics/1999/01/world-gets-touch-its-inner-american>.
Word Count: 827
Project Reflection
For this project we were required to write an Op-Ed, opposite the editorial page, that was 750-1000 words long reflecting on some aspect of globalization. We were also required to create a political cartoon that supported the position of our Op-Ed. There were many steps leading up to the final products. First, we explored topics of potential interest and then completed research on the topic that we were most drawn to write about. We had to construct a thesis statement that became the basis of our Op-Ed. After this we had a few weeks to write various drafts of our Op-Ed and to obtain feedback from many peers as well as teacher critiques. A final rewrite allowed us to polish our thoughts and writing. The process for our cartoon was largely the same as for the Op-Ed.
Learning Reflection
Before this project I had very little knowledge of globalization. My major takeaway from the project was a greater understanding of how people in third world countries are exploited. Since labor laws are not in force to protect them and they are paid ridiculously low wages, wealthier countries use poorer people to produce goods at lower cost than they can manufacture them in their homelands. I also came to realize the impact of American culture on the world and how our values both good and bad are impacting other countries and cultures. While I would like to believe that most of the impact is positive, America is also sadly eradicating other cultures and homogenizing the world. My understanding also grew of how shared technology and communications between countries can effect all aspects of life. All in all throughout this project I learned how interrelated the world is and how countries impact each other in many ways.
Cartoon Reflection
My cartoon evolved in many ways since my first draft and I believe that with each draft it became more sophisticated. I created numerous rough drafts in part because I changed my thesis and had to start over on both my Op-Ed and cartoon. My first few drafts were extraordinarily plain and the message was not clear to others. At this point, I wasn't clear on what components made a successful cartoon. The drawing was sloppy on earlier versions, but my cartoon went from bad to wonderful, from sloppy to beautiful in the last three drafts. Throughout my drafts I started to understand and use more and more cartooning techniques such as labeling, symbolism, captioning, and irony. For example, on my earlier drafts, I only used symbolism and expected people to understand the message with very limited information. When I added labels and captions, I realized that it became so much clearer what I was trying to communicate.Throughout this process of creating a political cartoon I took away that you need to fail on some drafts and try harder on the next until you create beautiful work.
Op-Ed Reflection
While I had read numerous Op-Eds before beginning this project, I had never attempted to write one myself. Previously, I had only written essays and although some of the same writing techniques apply, an Op-Ed is a very different animal. I found it to be very challenging trying to determine the right balance between my opinions, evidence, and facts. Because I could see both sides of an issue, I also found it difficult to select a strong viewpoint and stick with it. I struggled with selecting and sticking to a thesis statement while adding my opinion. Organizing my thoughts and staying on topic throughout the paper was a key struggle for me. Because I had a false start on this project, I learned that developing a strong thesis statement is the basis of any paper. This project has also taught me the importance of completing mulitple drafts and even to be willing to start over on the task at hand to make it amazing. I learned the importance of having a strong outline that supports the TEA structure before I begin writing. I also learned that adding my viewpoints and analysis strengthened the paper rather than just regurgitating facts and the opinions of others. In the future I will probably have the opportunity to write a few more Op-Eds for the Quill. I will apply what I learned from this project to Quill assignments and on almost every paper I write.
African Imperialism : Creative Historians
One Man’s Quota
By Veronica Heinrich
Japhet had just turned twelve years old with all of the excitement of a young boy taking his place in the world. The year was 1891 in the Republic of the Congo, and Japhet lived in a peaceful village a few hours outside of Leopoldville. At twelve he was no longer considered a boy but he wasn’t quite a man. He was still evolving, yet at twelve he would now begin to participate in tribal decision making with the men of the village. At times he wondered if any of the men actually made decisions any more. For years, the white men had been ruling the country and it seemed like it would never end. The village leader seemed to be losing his power over the village and the white men were ordering everyone to do what they, the white men wanted. Mostly, they were telling the men to gather rubber sap. It was never ending, day in and day out, every day the men worked to bring as much rubber sap as possible. Everything else came to a stand still as rubber became paramount and daily life revolved around it. It was also clear that the white men had little regard for them. The white men had told them that the “ men are laziness incarnate, turning their hands to nothing” and that they had sprung from a “bestial race”. 1
As the day was ending, Japhet waited patiently for his father to return from the forests.
“Pah Pah is coming home from sap collecting,” yelled Japhet excitedly.
Tungi smiled looking very fatigued but pleased to be greeted by his only son. It was hard labor, but he knew that bad things would happen if he didn’t collect the plant sap all day. He wished that he could give his family more, but the white man seemed to take everything away. Mah Mah let Pah Pah rest for a little while and then asked him to start rebuilding the wall of his obi. Japhet helped his father with the wall as best as he could. Japhet watched his father painfully and slowly rebuild the wall with clay and mud. He could tell that his father was in pain and that his shoulder and wrist were hurting him. Even though he was in a great deal of pain, he smiled at Japhet every time he made eye contact with him. Pah Pah was growing older and it made Japhet very sad to see him in pain when he worked. Japhet wished he could help his father work on the rubber plantation, but he knew Pah Pah would not allow it. Japhet walked inside his mother’s obi to watch her finish making dinner. She was cooking beans and rice over the fire as well as a special coconut cake to celebrate his birthday.
As the sun went down, the family gathered for their evening meal. Japhet was pleased to be the center of attention and he talked rapidly about playing with the other village boys. Japhet was a somewhat quiet boy, but he was well liked and the other boys always included him in their games. Everyone shared a story of his or her day and it was a short but happy time. Dinner came to an abrupt end because Japhet’s father, Tungi, had to leave for a village meeting.
Japhet wanted to go with his father to the meeting and asked, “But, Pah Pah, it is now my right to come with you to the village meeting”. Tungi knew that the news was going to be bad and didn’t want Japhet to go with him. He said, “Japhet, there is plenty of time to go to village meetings. Today is your birthday and you should celebrate with your mother and sister. The meeting will just be long and I will bring you the news from the elders. Stay home and I will join you shortly.” Japhet was disappointed and was about to beg his father to go, but his father cast him a solemn glance and Japhet decided to let things be.
For two days the village elders and tribal leaders had been meeting with the white men. The strain on their faces was evident and you could tell that it simply wasn’t good news. Tungi was struck by the irony that the white men could think so little of them and use them so savagely and yet at the same time they wanted to convert the villagers to their religion. As if they mattered enough to become Christian but not enough to be treated like real human beings.
After the white men left the village the elders called for a meeting of all of the men that night. One by one they left their families to learn what lay in store for them and their village. It was dark outside, a night without moonlight but the stars were bursting like a million tiny firebugs and Tungi wondered at the universe as he entered the tribal leader’s obi. Inside the men stirred and talked among themselves waiting to learn the news. Some of the men congratulated Tungi, as his wife was once again pregnant. Tungi was uncertain about welcoming a new baby into the village as things now stood. The crowd of men grew quiet and waited for the tribal leader to speak. The leader told them that the white men were now demanding more from the villagers. Each of the men would be given a rubber quota that they had to meet. If they didn’t comply, bad things would happen. No one understood what the bad things were, but they feared them just the same. All of the men worked so hard and many didn’t think they could work any harder. But they knew that the white men were relentless in their demands. Everyone listened to the elder and tribal leaders with the bone tiredness of overworked slaves. But, they didn’t think of themselves as slaves. Some of the men protested but most were just resigned to the new way.
What most worried Tungi was that all of the young boys had to participate in the quota as well. That meant that Japhet would be working beside him doing the hard labor of gathering rubber sap. Tungi was terribly saddened because Japhet was still just a boy. Sure he was big for his age and strong. He looked like a man at times, but he had never had the pressures of a man. Now he was to shoulder the grueling work of a man, gathering rubber sap when he had hardly begun to see hair on his chin. Even worse, they would hold him to a quota. How was this possible? Japhet hadn’t even been in the fields, yet he was expected to meet the quota of a grown man. Tungi hung his head, heavy with sorrow and despair for his boy.
Tungi walked to his obi thinking about how he would tell his wife and son the news. “Pah Pah is coming home from the meeting”, yelled Japhet excitedly. His mother rolled her eyes and smiled. She loved Japhet’s father very much, but she was always aware of how much Japhet admired, and adored his father and how they had a special relationship. Tungi could do nothing wrong in Japhet’s eyes. Just then Tungi walked through the light brown clay doorway, and Japhet ran up to greet him excited to learn the news from the meeting. He wrapped his arms around his father.
“Pah Pah how was the Council?” he asked happily.
Tungi delighted in his son’s affection and wanted the joy to last a while longer. He hugged his wife and patted her growing belly. They both became impatient to hear the news but they knew better than to ask Tungi. They both noticed that he looked very anxious and they waited for him to speak.
“Japhet will you leave your mother and me to discuss something alone, please?”
“Yes, Pah Pah”.
Japhet sat right outside the hut twiddling his thumbs with worry and straining to hear their frantic whispering. His father then called him inside and told him the elders and tribal leaders would meet with Japhet and him in the morning. Japhet had never been summoned to meet with the elders. It felt good to be twelve.
Morning took forever to come. Japhet lay on his small mat all night, wondering what the tribal leaders would want from him. When he finally fell asleep, he dreamed that one of the dogs in the village had stopped him on his way home and warned him to beware of the white man who would steal all of his happiness. Japhet woke up unsettled wondering what the dream meant. His father also lay awake worrying and when he awoke, Japhet thought that Tungi looked tired and sleep deprived.
“Its time to go meet them, Son,” Tungi said sternly. The elders wanted to meet with each and every family in the light of the morning to convey exactly what was expected of them. Tungi already knew what they were going to say, but it was the ritual of how the elders communicated to the village members. They met the elders and the tribal leaders at the sacred silk tree.
“Thank you for meeting us, Tungi and Japhet. We have important news to bring you,” said one of the tribal leaders who looked to be about sixty. Tungi squeezed his son’s shoulders as the tribal leaders explained to him and his son that Japhet, now being considered a man, must start harvesting rubber sap and meet a specific rubber quota. Tungi tried to argue with elders that Japhet was just a boy and shouldn’t have to suffer through that labor yet; but the elders would have none of that.
“He must meet a man’s rubber quota or else bad things will happen, and we will all go up in flames,” said one of the tribal leaders sternly. With that the elders and tribal leaders excused themselves and left. Japhet smiled excitedly that he was a man and would be working along side his father, but Tungi stared off in the distance emotionless.
“What’s wrong, Pah Pah?” Japhet asked his father, concerned.
“You will learn in two days time when you begin your work.”
Those two days of freedom seemed to fly by very quickly for Japhet. For his father it felt like months, as he was anxious about what his son was about to experience. He wanted to do anything he could to stop this from happening to his boy. The work slowly killed him and all the other men. He needed his son to be free.
Japhet and his father woke before the sun rose. Japhet could barely contain his anticipation. Seeing Japhet so over whelmed and happy for the miserable torture he would have to go through all day was heart breaking to Tungi. Japhet’s enthusiasm dampened Tungi’s spirits, as he knew what lay ahead for his beloved son.
When they finally got to the rubber plantation after the long walk from the village, Tungi could see that Japhet was already tiring. The sun felt searing and sweat dripped from the two of them. It must have been 108 degrees that day and very humid. Japhet was still enthusiastic about his first day of working at the rubber plantation, his first day working as a man. As the day went on Japhet’s enthusiasm for his new life ebbed away along with his strength and energy. Japhet was like a once proud warrior getting slowly and brutally beaten down by his enemies. The work, the heat and his hunger were taking their toll on him.
Tapping rubber trees was a boring and painful job. All day all he did was make thin, diagonal cuts to remove a sliver of bark. The milky-white latex fluid ran out of the bark, much as blood would run out of a small superficial wound on skin. Japhet watched as the fluid ran down the cut and was collected in a wooden bucket. Japhet learned that after about six hours, the fluid would stop flowing and in that six-hour period, a tree could usually fill a gallon bucket. He realized that the same tree could be tapped again the next day and that he would be standing under the same hot sun making another fresh cut. Then he realized that he would be doing this day after day, every day. By the end of the day Japhet was so fatigued from the hot sun and the hard labor that Tungi had to almost carry him home.
“ Why will I have to do this terrible job every day until I die, Pah Pah?”
“My dear boy we all must do this job or else bad things will happen to us, our family, and the village. I am sorry to say but that is what it means to be a man now. ”
That night Japhet slept harder than he ever did before only to be waken up early the next morning feeling still tired and very sore from his labors. Weeks went by and Japhet started dreading each and every day. It seemed a cloud of darkness was following him around which he couldn’t shove away. His shoulders and wrist started to become swollen and always hurt just like his father’s. One day while Japhet was working in the hot sun he realized that collecting rubber wouldn’t benefit his village, or any one he’s ever met. Even with the two of them working, Japhet realized that his family had no more to show for it, no more food, no more clothes, nothing but what they had had before.
Three months later Japhet got very sick from working so hard every day. He could not lift his head from his mat in the morning and he was very cold even in the heat of the summer. He seemed to drift in and out of consciousness and he kept dreaming about the dog who told him that the white men would only bring ruin to him.
“You cannot go to work for a while, you are too sick,” his mother kept on repeating. “Stay home with me and your sister. Pah Pah has agreed to talk to the elders about you not working for a while until you are better.”
When Tungi came home from meeting with the elders he looked slightly happy.
“Good news family, they agreed to let him rest if I take on his quota along with mine.”
“No Pah Pah that is not fair to you, I need to go to work. You cannot possibly meet two quotas.”
The next two mornings no one woke up Japhet for work. He was too sick to move and accepted his fate that he must stay home and let his father take on his burden. His father always had a smile ready for him, but now it seemed that Tungi barely had the strength to even smile when he arrived after a long day of hard labor in the scorching sun. Japhet felt terrible that his dad had to do this work for him.
Pah Pah came home one day in shock and breathing heavily.
“Tungi, what’s wrong you look horrified. Did something happen on your way home?” Mah Mah said with a shaky voice. She got so nervous when things were not going well.
Pah Pah just stared off into the distance with a blank expression until he finally said, “I passed a village on my way home, many of the men and children work at the rubber plantation with me. The white men were burning down their village and I heard the most disturbing screams and cries for help. I saw some men with their wrists bleeding profusely, their hands seemed to be gone. Then as I was running away from the flames and horror at the end of the village I saw all the men lined up with chains while the white men cut off their hands one by one.” Tungi just stared into the distance the whole time he spoke then retreated quietly to other side of the obi.
Japhet was worried this would happen to his village he knew that rebelling against the white men was bad, and that bad things would happen, but he had no idea that the bad things were so grotesque. As the days went on more and more men in the village started coming home sick and fatigued. The white men started whipping them if they took any breaks from their work. One night, his father was helped home by two of the other men, his back bleeding out of large gashes from a whip.
Soon fewer and fewer men in their village were able to go to the rubber plantation for work in the morning. Japhet worried constantly because his father having two quotas had to work twice as hard. One morning Pah Pah didn’t have the strength to get out of bed and walk the long distance to work, so he stayed home. For the rest of the week he stayed home. Neither he nor Japhet could work their quota.
Japhet was just waking up when suddenly he heard muffled screaming, as if who ever was screaming was trying to keep quiet so no one would find them in pain. Japhet sprinted outside. He ran until he found the source of the screaming. The moment he laid his eyes on the source, he wished that he hadn’t. This couldn’t be happening. He was in shock. His heart stopped, his breathing slowed, and his mind went blank. The odor of iron and blood poisoned the air. It disgusted him and made him want to puke. With tears in his eyes he looked up at his role model, his mentor, his beloved father. He watched as the white men took away his father’s ability to work, to hug his mother, to carry, and build. The white man made another swing at his father’s right hand. Tungi screamed in pain while he cried. This was the first time that Japhet had seen his father cry. It scratched at his soul to see his father in such pain. Finally after another swing with a large hammer, his right hand fell to the ground off of the tree stump where the white men had held his arms. Blood poured from gaping holes in both of his wrists.
The white men tied very tight pieces of cloth around his wounds and it was hard to judge what the look in their pale eyes meant. The white man with the brown beard yelled at my father “After all the white men have done for you animals this is how you repay us by not going to work.” He screamed this so close to my father’s face that they almost touched noses. Then wiping the bloody axe on the ground, he swung it over his shoulder and walked away, confident that he had shown the barbaric Africans what was expected of them. The other white man followed closely behind him more tentative and looking back at Tungi shaking his head sadly. Japhet was confused that they could be so cruel and yet seem to care.
The next few weeks seemed very slow to Japhet and it seemed that more and more men, women, and sometimes even children in his village were being punished with whippings and mutilation. Many people were in pain, suffering from infections in their open wounds. To Japhet it seemed like everyone who was missing a limb or two was shaking, puking, sweating from the awful fever or dead from the large infected open wound. How could the white men expect people to work harder on the rubber plantations when they were almost dead?
In the midst of all of this, Japhet had to bear the oppressive work on the rubber plantation. The difficult labor in the sweltering sun seemed much more difficult without his father by his side. Also knowing that his father was home suffering made Japhet feel guilty and responsible for what had happened to Tungi. Weeks went by and it seemed that Japhet and very few others were well enough to work at the pace that the white men wanted. Japhet finally started to realize how much his life had changed. Only a few months ago he was a carefree young boy playing with his friends in the village. He spent most of his time with his mother, sister, and friends playing and he was only responsible for a few small chores. Now to him it seemed the weight of the world was weighing him down. Just a short time ago he didn’t even really know where all the men went in the morning. He realized how fast he had grown up as everything changed the minute he turned twelve. As these thoughts filled his mind, his eyes filled with tears that began to stream down his face for his father, his family and most of all for himself. Why, he wondered did it have to be this way. Why had things changed and his peaceful life in the village no longer seemed so peaceful. Why did the white men only bring misery?
Japhet’s mother was getting more and more worried each day about Tungi. While one of his arms had healed, the other had a gruesome infection. He was weakening by the day and he barely spoke to her. While her pregnant belly should have been growing, there wasn’t enough food for the family and a new baby on the way. Everything seemed dire to the family. Japhet didn’t like the constant fever that Tungi had and he was worrying about how much longer he would have with his father. He also worried what would happen if he were the only many in the family. If only the white men had never come here everyone would be alive and well, and Japhet wouldn’t lie in bed at night worrying that his father wouldn’t be alive when ke awoke.
It was hard for Japhet to imagine that things could get worse. But they did. There seemed to be more and more white men parading around the village every day and the punishment of his people never seemed to end. Women and children weren’t safe any more. Early one morning before the sun had completely risen, at least 50 white men showed up. Most of them had a look of wrath in their eyes, but some looked very ashamed. Japhet and everyone in the village that was awake early enough could tell what was coming next. Their fate was to have their culture and their once wonderful small village burned to the ground.
1. Letter from Scheutist Father Cambier e to his brother from Berghe - St. Marie early in 1889:
By Veronica Heinrich
Japhet had just turned twelve years old with all of the excitement of a young boy taking his place in the world. The year was 1891 in the Republic of the Congo, and Japhet lived in a peaceful village a few hours outside of Leopoldville. At twelve he was no longer considered a boy but he wasn’t quite a man. He was still evolving, yet at twelve he would now begin to participate in tribal decision making with the men of the village. At times he wondered if any of the men actually made decisions any more. For years, the white men had been ruling the country and it seemed like it would never end. The village leader seemed to be losing his power over the village and the white men were ordering everyone to do what they, the white men wanted. Mostly, they were telling the men to gather rubber sap. It was never ending, day in and day out, every day the men worked to bring as much rubber sap as possible. Everything else came to a stand still as rubber became paramount and daily life revolved around it. It was also clear that the white men had little regard for them. The white men had told them that the “ men are laziness incarnate, turning their hands to nothing” and that they had sprung from a “bestial race”. 1
As the day was ending, Japhet waited patiently for his father to return from the forests.
“Pah Pah is coming home from sap collecting,” yelled Japhet excitedly.
Tungi smiled looking very fatigued but pleased to be greeted by his only son. It was hard labor, but he knew that bad things would happen if he didn’t collect the plant sap all day. He wished that he could give his family more, but the white man seemed to take everything away. Mah Mah let Pah Pah rest for a little while and then asked him to start rebuilding the wall of his obi. Japhet helped his father with the wall as best as he could. Japhet watched his father painfully and slowly rebuild the wall with clay and mud. He could tell that his father was in pain and that his shoulder and wrist were hurting him. Even though he was in a great deal of pain, he smiled at Japhet every time he made eye contact with him. Pah Pah was growing older and it made Japhet very sad to see him in pain when he worked. Japhet wished he could help his father work on the rubber plantation, but he knew Pah Pah would not allow it. Japhet walked inside his mother’s obi to watch her finish making dinner. She was cooking beans and rice over the fire as well as a special coconut cake to celebrate his birthday.
As the sun went down, the family gathered for their evening meal. Japhet was pleased to be the center of attention and he talked rapidly about playing with the other village boys. Japhet was a somewhat quiet boy, but he was well liked and the other boys always included him in their games. Everyone shared a story of his or her day and it was a short but happy time. Dinner came to an abrupt end because Japhet’s father, Tungi, had to leave for a village meeting.
Japhet wanted to go with his father to the meeting and asked, “But, Pah Pah, it is now my right to come with you to the village meeting”. Tungi knew that the news was going to be bad and didn’t want Japhet to go with him. He said, “Japhet, there is plenty of time to go to village meetings. Today is your birthday and you should celebrate with your mother and sister. The meeting will just be long and I will bring you the news from the elders. Stay home and I will join you shortly.” Japhet was disappointed and was about to beg his father to go, but his father cast him a solemn glance and Japhet decided to let things be.
For two days the village elders and tribal leaders had been meeting with the white men. The strain on their faces was evident and you could tell that it simply wasn’t good news. Tungi was struck by the irony that the white men could think so little of them and use them so savagely and yet at the same time they wanted to convert the villagers to their religion. As if they mattered enough to become Christian but not enough to be treated like real human beings.
After the white men left the village the elders called for a meeting of all of the men that night. One by one they left their families to learn what lay in store for them and their village. It was dark outside, a night without moonlight but the stars were bursting like a million tiny firebugs and Tungi wondered at the universe as he entered the tribal leader’s obi. Inside the men stirred and talked among themselves waiting to learn the news. Some of the men congratulated Tungi, as his wife was once again pregnant. Tungi was uncertain about welcoming a new baby into the village as things now stood. The crowd of men grew quiet and waited for the tribal leader to speak. The leader told them that the white men were now demanding more from the villagers. Each of the men would be given a rubber quota that they had to meet. If they didn’t comply, bad things would happen. No one understood what the bad things were, but they feared them just the same. All of the men worked so hard and many didn’t think they could work any harder. But they knew that the white men were relentless in their demands. Everyone listened to the elder and tribal leaders with the bone tiredness of overworked slaves. But, they didn’t think of themselves as slaves. Some of the men protested but most were just resigned to the new way.
What most worried Tungi was that all of the young boys had to participate in the quota as well. That meant that Japhet would be working beside him doing the hard labor of gathering rubber sap. Tungi was terribly saddened because Japhet was still just a boy. Sure he was big for his age and strong. He looked like a man at times, but he had never had the pressures of a man. Now he was to shoulder the grueling work of a man, gathering rubber sap when he had hardly begun to see hair on his chin. Even worse, they would hold him to a quota. How was this possible? Japhet hadn’t even been in the fields, yet he was expected to meet the quota of a grown man. Tungi hung his head, heavy with sorrow and despair for his boy.
Tungi walked to his obi thinking about how he would tell his wife and son the news. “Pah Pah is coming home from the meeting”, yelled Japhet excitedly. His mother rolled her eyes and smiled. She loved Japhet’s father very much, but she was always aware of how much Japhet admired, and adored his father and how they had a special relationship. Tungi could do nothing wrong in Japhet’s eyes. Just then Tungi walked through the light brown clay doorway, and Japhet ran up to greet him excited to learn the news from the meeting. He wrapped his arms around his father.
“Pah Pah how was the Council?” he asked happily.
Tungi delighted in his son’s affection and wanted the joy to last a while longer. He hugged his wife and patted her growing belly. They both became impatient to hear the news but they knew better than to ask Tungi. They both noticed that he looked very anxious and they waited for him to speak.
“Japhet will you leave your mother and me to discuss something alone, please?”
“Yes, Pah Pah”.
Japhet sat right outside the hut twiddling his thumbs with worry and straining to hear their frantic whispering. His father then called him inside and told him the elders and tribal leaders would meet with Japhet and him in the morning. Japhet had never been summoned to meet with the elders. It felt good to be twelve.
Morning took forever to come. Japhet lay on his small mat all night, wondering what the tribal leaders would want from him. When he finally fell asleep, he dreamed that one of the dogs in the village had stopped him on his way home and warned him to beware of the white man who would steal all of his happiness. Japhet woke up unsettled wondering what the dream meant. His father also lay awake worrying and when he awoke, Japhet thought that Tungi looked tired and sleep deprived.
“Its time to go meet them, Son,” Tungi said sternly. The elders wanted to meet with each and every family in the light of the morning to convey exactly what was expected of them. Tungi already knew what they were going to say, but it was the ritual of how the elders communicated to the village members. They met the elders and the tribal leaders at the sacred silk tree.
“Thank you for meeting us, Tungi and Japhet. We have important news to bring you,” said one of the tribal leaders who looked to be about sixty. Tungi squeezed his son’s shoulders as the tribal leaders explained to him and his son that Japhet, now being considered a man, must start harvesting rubber sap and meet a specific rubber quota. Tungi tried to argue with elders that Japhet was just a boy and shouldn’t have to suffer through that labor yet; but the elders would have none of that.
“He must meet a man’s rubber quota or else bad things will happen, and we will all go up in flames,” said one of the tribal leaders sternly. With that the elders and tribal leaders excused themselves and left. Japhet smiled excitedly that he was a man and would be working along side his father, but Tungi stared off in the distance emotionless.
“What’s wrong, Pah Pah?” Japhet asked his father, concerned.
“You will learn in two days time when you begin your work.”
Those two days of freedom seemed to fly by very quickly for Japhet. For his father it felt like months, as he was anxious about what his son was about to experience. He wanted to do anything he could to stop this from happening to his boy. The work slowly killed him and all the other men. He needed his son to be free.
Japhet and his father woke before the sun rose. Japhet could barely contain his anticipation. Seeing Japhet so over whelmed and happy for the miserable torture he would have to go through all day was heart breaking to Tungi. Japhet’s enthusiasm dampened Tungi’s spirits, as he knew what lay ahead for his beloved son.
When they finally got to the rubber plantation after the long walk from the village, Tungi could see that Japhet was already tiring. The sun felt searing and sweat dripped from the two of them. It must have been 108 degrees that day and very humid. Japhet was still enthusiastic about his first day of working at the rubber plantation, his first day working as a man. As the day went on Japhet’s enthusiasm for his new life ebbed away along with his strength and energy. Japhet was like a once proud warrior getting slowly and brutally beaten down by his enemies. The work, the heat and his hunger were taking their toll on him.
Tapping rubber trees was a boring and painful job. All day all he did was make thin, diagonal cuts to remove a sliver of bark. The milky-white latex fluid ran out of the bark, much as blood would run out of a small superficial wound on skin. Japhet watched as the fluid ran down the cut and was collected in a wooden bucket. Japhet learned that after about six hours, the fluid would stop flowing and in that six-hour period, a tree could usually fill a gallon bucket. He realized that the same tree could be tapped again the next day and that he would be standing under the same hot sun making another fresh cut. Then he realized that he would be doing this day after day, every day. By the end of the day Japhet was so fatigued from the hot sun and the hard labor that Tungi had to almost carry him home.
“ Why will I have to do this terrible job every day until I die, Pah Pah?”
“My dear boy we all must do this job or else bad things will happen to us, our family, and the village. I am sorry to say but that is what it means to be a man now. ”
That night Japhet slept harder than he ever did before only to be waken up early the next morning feeling still tired and very sore from his labors. Weeks went by and Japhet started dreading each and every day. It seemed a cloud of darkness was following him around which he couldn’t shove away. His shoulders and wrist started to become swollen and always hurt just like his father’s. One day while Japhet was working in the hot sun he realized that collecting rubber wouldn’t benefit his village, or any one he’s ever met. Even with the two of them working, Japhet realized that his family had no more to show for it, no more food, no more clothes, nothing but what they had had before.
Three months later Japhet got very sick from working so hard every day. He could not lift his head from his mat in the morning and he was very cold even in the heat of the summer. He seemed to drift in and out of consciousness and he kept dreaming about the dog who told him that the white men would only bring ruin to him.
“You cannot go to work for a while, you are too sick,” his mother kept on repeating. “Stay home with me and your sister. Pah Pah has agreed to talk to the elders about you not working for a while until you are better.”
When Tungi came home from meeting with the elders he looked slightly happy.
“Good news family, they agreed to let him rest if I take on his quota along with mine.”
“No Pah Pah that is not fair to you, I need to go to work. You cannot possibly meet two quotas.”
The next two mornings no one woke up Japhet for work. He was too sick to move and accepted his fate that he must stay home and let his father take on his burden. His father always had a smile ready for him, but now it seemed that Tungi barely had the strength to even smile when he arrived after a long day of hard labor in the scorching sun. Japhet felt terrible that his dad had to do this work for him.
Pah Pah came home one day in shock and breathing heavily.
“Tungi, what’s wrong you look horrified. Did something happen on your way home?” Mah Mah said with a shaky voice. She got so nervous when things were not going well.
Pah Pah just stared off into the distance with a blank expression until he finally said, “I passed a village on my way home, many of the men and children work at the rubber plantation with me. The white men were burning down their village and I heard the most disturbing screams and cries for help. I saw some men with their wrists bleeding profusely, their hands seemed to be gone. Then as I was running away from the flames and horror at the end of the village I saw all the men lined up with chains while the white men cut off their hands one by one.” Tungi just stared into the distance the whole time he spoke then retreated quietly to other side of the obi.
Japhet was worried this would happen to his village he knew that rebelling against the white men was bad, and that bad things would happen, but he had no idea that the bad things were so grotesque. As the days went on more and more men in the village started coming home sick and fatigued. The white men started whipping them if they took any breaks from their work. One night, his father was helped home by two of the other men, his back bleeding out of large gashes from a whip.
Soon fewer and fewer men in their village were able to go to the rubber plantation for work in the morning. Japhet worried constantly because his father having two quotas had to work twice as hard. One morning Pah Pah didn’t have the strength to get out of bed and walk the long distance to work, so he stayed home. For the rest of the week he stayed home. Neither he nor Japhet could work their quota.
Japhet was just waking up when suddenly he heard muffled screaming, as if who ever was screaming was trying to keep quiet so no one would find them in pain. Japhet sprinted outside. He ran until he found the source of the screaming. The moment he laid his eyes on the source, he wished that he hadn’t. This couldn’t be happening. He was in shock. His heart stopped, his breathing slowed, and his mind went blank. The odor of iron and blood poisoned the air. It disgusted him and made him want to puke. With tears in his eyes he looked up at his role model, his mentor, his beloved father. He watched as the white men took away his father’s ability to work, to hug his mother, to carry, and build. The white man made another swing at his father’s right hand. Tungi screamed in pain while he cried. This was the first time that Japhet had seen his father cry. It scratched at his soul to see his father in such pain. Finally after another swing with a large hammer, his right hand fell to the ground off of the tree stump where the white men had held his arms. Blood poured from gaping holes in both of his wrists.
The white men tied very tight pieces of cloth around his wounds and it was hard to judge what the look in their pale eyes meant. The white man with the brown beard yelled at my father “After all the white men have done for you animals this is how you repay us by not going to work.” He screamed this so close to my father’s face that they almost touched noses. Then wiping the bloody axe on the ground, he swung it over his shoulder and walked away, confident that he had shown the barbaric Africans what was expected of them. The other white man followed closely behind him more tentative and looking back at Tungi shaking his head sadly. Japhet was confused that they could be so cruel and yet seem to care.
The next few weeks seemed very slow to Japhet and it seemed that more and more men, women, and sometimes even children in his village were being punished with whippings and mutilation. Many people were in pain, suffering from infections in their open wounds. To Japhet it seemed like everyone who was missing a limb or two was shaking, puking, sweating from the awful fever or dead from the large infected open wound. How could the white men expect people to work harder on the rubber plantations when they were almost dead?
In the midst of all of this, Japhet had to bear the oppressive work on the rubber plantation. The difficult labor in the sweltering sun seemed much more difficult without his father by his side. Also knowing that his father was home suffering made Japhet feel guilty and responsible for what had happened to Tungi. Weeks went by and it seemed that Japhet and very few others were well enough to work at the pace that the white men wanted. Japhet finally started to realize how much his life had changed. Only a few months ago he was a carefree young boy playing with his friends in the village. He spent most of his time with his mother, sister, and friends playing and he was only responsible for a few small chores. Now to him it seemed the weight of the world was weighing him down. Just a short time ago he didn’t even really know where all the men went in the morning. He realized how fast he had grown up as everything changed the minute he turned twelve. As these thoughts filled his mind, his eyes filled with tears that began to stream down his face for his father, his family and most of all for himself. Why, he wondered did it have to be this way. Why had things changed and his peaceful life in the village no longer seemed so peaceful. Why did the white men only bring misery?
Japhet’s mother was getting more and more worried each day about Tungi. While one of his arms had healed, the other had a gruesome infection. He was weakening by the day and he barely spoke to her. While her pregnant belly should have been growing, there wasn’t enough food for the family and a new baby on the way. Everything seemed dire to the family. Japhet didn’t like the constant fever that Tungi had and he was worrying about how much longer he would have with his father. He also worried what would happen if he were the only many in the family. If only the white men had never come here everyone would be alive and well, and Japhet wouldn’t lie in bed at night worrying that his father wouldn’t be alive when ke awoke.
It was hard for Japhet to imagine that things could get worse. But they did. There seemed to be more and more white men parading around the village every day and the punishment of his people never seemed to end. Women and children weren’t safe any more. Early one morning before the sun had completely risen, at least 50 white men showed up. Most of them had a look of wrath in their eyes, but some looked very ashamed. Japhet and everyone in the village that was awake early enough could tell what was coming next. Their fate was to have their culture and their once wonderful small village burned to the ground.
1. Letter from Scheutist Father Cambier e to his brother from Berghe - St. Marie early in 1889:
My art pieces for the project !
Project Reflection
In this Project we selected various African countries to research the history, culture, and the impact of imperialism. During the course of the project we were extremely fortunate to have the opportunity to interview someone who lived in or is a citizen of the country we were studying Before we conducted the interview we developed a series of questions based of on our research to ask our interviewee. After the interviewing process, we started on our first draft of our fiction story. The purpose of our story was to integrate in fictional writing what we learned about our country. In the last few weeks of the project we continued to develop our stories and made art pieces to represent what we learned through out the project.
I am very proud of my story and I think I used many of the literary elements very well. The one literary element I believe I used best is historical integration. Throughout the whole project I was extremely adamant about showing the terror that king Leopold II brought upon the Congo. During the research process I was shocked at how the Belgians treated the Congolese, I had no idea anything like this ever occurred in Africa, so I decided to make it my mission to tell the truth about imperialism in Africa through out my story. I based my story off my research not vis-versa as shown in the following quote. "It was hard for Japhet to imagine that things could get worse. But they did. There seemed to be more and more white men parading around the village every day and the punishment of his people never seemed to end. Women and children weren’t safe any more. Early one morning before the sun had completely risen, at least 50 white men showed up. Most of them had a look of wrath in their eyes, but some looked very ashamed. Japhet and everyone in the village that was awake early enough could tell what was coming next. Their fate was to have their culture and their once wonderful small village burned to the ground. " I chose this excerpt because I felt it showed how there wasn't a happy ending for my characters; there was no progression to happiness or salvation in the final paragraph in the story. This is the sad truth of imperialism.
The literary element I struggled with the most was creating rounded, fully developed characters. When I begin writing, the characters in my stories seem to be rather stereotypes and wooden. Creating a believable person is the most challenging task for me when I'm writing. Giving multiple people a personality, appearance, opinions, and emotions takes extra effort to develop the detail that makes them believable. To overcome this challenge I made written character sketches and drew my main characters how I imagined them. I also worked hard at developing how they interacted with other characters to demonstrate their personalities. This helped me give them a personality and create the emotions they have throughout all the horrible things that happened to them.
The most important revision I made for this story was strengthening the ending. Initially I had rushed the story by racing to the ending with the village burning and everyone being massacred. I failed to develop the deterioration of the village and the increasing hopelessness of my characters under Belgian rule. By inserting more detail, and hinting at an ending in which the village was burned to the ground, the story became more complex and more realistic. The other major revision entailed giving the main character, Japhet, a broader range of emotions as he matured during the course of the story. Japhet went from being a boy at the beginning with simple emotions to being a man who struggled with the difficulties and horrors of Belgian oppression.
The challenge extensions I chose for this project were to create two art pieces and to include three literary elements in my story. I chose to create two art pieces because I had two strong ideas and didn't want to abandon either of them. Adding the three (actually five) literary elements improved my story and also made me reflect more on the process of writing and what it takes to make a strong piece. Using a metaphor such as, "Now to him it seemed the weight of the world was weighing him down.", helped add to the setting, mood of the story, and characters emotions to make it more interesting.
I am very proud of my story and I think I used many of the literary elements very well. The one literary element I believe I used best is historical integration. Throughout the whole project I was extremely adamant about showing the terror that king Leopold II brought upon the Congo. During the research process I was shocked at how the Belgians treated the Congolese, I had no idea anything like this ever occurred in Africa, so I decided to make it my mission to tell the truth about imperialism in Africa through out my story. I based my story off my research not vis-versa as shown in the following quote. "It was hard for Japhet to imagine that things could get worse. But they did. There seemed to be more and more white men parading around the village every day and the punishment of his people never seemed to end. Women and children weren’t safe any more. Early one morning before the sun had completely risen, at least 50 white men showed up. Most of them had a look of wrath in their eyes, but some looked very ashamed. Japhet and everyone in the village that was awake early enough could tell what was coming next. Their fate was to have their culture and their once wonderful small village burned to the ground. " I chose this excerpt because I felt it showed how there wasn't a happy ending for my characters; there was no progression to happiness or salvation in the final paragraph in the story. This is the sad truth of imperialism.
The literary element I struggled with the most was creating rounded, fully developed characters. When I begin writing, the characters in my stories seem to be rather stereotypes and wooden. Creating a believable person is the most challenging task for me when I'm writing. Giving multiple people a personality, appearance, opinions, and emotions takes extra effort to develop the detail that makes them believable. To overcome this challenge I made written character sketches and drew my main characters how I imagined them. I also worked hard at developing how they interacted with other characters to demonstrate their personalities. This helped me give them a personality and create the emotions they have throughout all the horrible things that happened to them.
The most important revision I made for this story was strengthening the ending. Initially I had rushed the story by racing to the ending with the village burning and everyone being massacred. I failed to develop the deterioration of the village and the increasing hopelessness of my characters under Belgian rule. By inserting more detail, and hinting at an ending in which the village was burned to the ground, the story became more complex and more realistic. The other major revision entailed giving the main character, Japhet, a broader range of emotions as he matured during the course of the story. Japhet went from being a boy at the beginning with simple emotions to being a man who struggled with the difficulties and horrors of Belgian oppression.
The challenge extensions I chose for this project were to create two art pieces and to include three literary elements in my story. I chose to create two art pieces because I had two strong ideas and didn't want to abandon either of them. Adding the three (actually five) literary elements improved my story and also made me reflect more on the process of writing and what it takes to make a strong piece. Using a metaphor such as, "Now to him it seemed the weight of the world was weighing him down.", helped add to the setting, mood of the story, and characters emotions to make it more interesting.