#Africa French translation

[milestoneloc]

French Speaking Countries In Africa

What are the French speaking countries in Africa? How many French speakers are in Africa? Despite its European origins, read how French is thriving in Africa

[lmsgroupafrica]

Find One-Stop Place for Audio and Video Transcription in Africa

Linguistic support in languages of lesser diffusion, Language and Marketing Services, LMS in short, is a leading African language translation service. They help bridging communication gaps and empowering global communities. The company is an LLC based in Cotonou, Benin Republic (West Africa). LMS was founded in 2016 and is already well known for its reliability and excellent services.

[roughghosts]

Whose child are you? Twilight of Torment: Melancholy by Léonora Miano

Whose child are you? Twilight of Torment: Melancholy by Léonora Miano, translated by Gila Walker @seagullbooks

During the heat of the dry season a storm is brewing. The air is thick, the skies dark and streaked with lightning. Thunder, still distant, is advancing, the prelude of a night that will threaten to open wounds and leave scars, on the parched ground, and in the lives of four women. Twilight of Torment: Melancholy, the first part of a two-volume novel by Cameroonian writer Léonora Miano, unfolds…

[sissa-arrows]

A shop owned by a Black woman in a small town in France received this message.

Translation:

“Hello,

The concept and the idea are interesting for our small town and its people, we’re not saying anything about the fact a Black woman owns the place, she is in the clear as long as she comes from our land and not from Africa. But an Arab? An Arab at the front desk? An Arab everywhere? We’re fed up!! Isn’t there enough Viarmois (name of the people of the town) ? Unemployment is high for our beloved French people and you hire an Arab?

Its simple chores are for Arabs! Cleaning up…

That’s it!

Fire your employee if you don’t want us to make a petition against you!!

She is at the front desk on top of it she isn’t even presentable. Not even a tiny bit pretty!

PS: Hair straighter exists, frizzy/curly hair are not a French thing.”

The comment about the frizzy/curly hair shows that the “Arab” employee is not even a hijabi. So she is playing by their rules. She has a job, she doesn’t wear the hijab but because she is an Arab this person is trying to get her fired. If the shop owner wasn’t a Black woman this could get the Arab woman fired luckily she knows what racism is so she politely sent the racists off.

Anyway to the racists who will see this and comment as usual: I hope you choke in your sleep that will mean one less piece of shit on this planet and it will be one step closer to making this world a better place,

[azrielsshadows42]

ACOTAR Names + Meanings

I was scrolling on Pinterest and fell into a rabbit hole; the result was finding the meaning behind the names of the acotar characters. I have decided to share this information with the rest of the fandom

Rhysand = In the Bible it means perfection/bringer of darkness, it can also mean Enthusiasm.

Feyre = Fair, beautiful and light-haired, origin: Old French. It can also mean bringer of gifts

Nyx = Named after a Greek goddess who was known as the personification of night.

Azriel = In Hebrew it means 'God is my help' Though if spelt Azrael, it then means 'Angel of death' in the Bible.

Cassian = Son of Cassius (Cassius was a Roman general) in Latin and Irish origin. It also means Empty/hollow, cinnamon and curly-headed

Morrigan = I was shocked when her name didn't actually mean truth. Her name comes from a goddess of Irish and Celtic mythology, It means Phantom Queen, and she was the 'bringer of death'

Amren = 'Mighty Nation' in Hebrew

Nesta = Means many things, in Welsh it means 'pure', in Jamaica and Greece it means 'returner' and in Italy it means 'integrity'

Elaine = Sunray or shining light also has French origins

Helion = The Sun or a troublesome/mischievous person.... it also means 'Cattle shelter' though I don't think that was the aim

Thesan = Named after a sky goddess often depicted with a pair of wings, her name most commonly translates to 'Dawn' but can also mean illumination

Kallias = mans name legit means 'beauty' in Greek, you just know Vivianne is a lucky female.

Vivianne = also has many meanings, in French, lively. In Latin, alive. In Hungarian/Irish, joyous, energetic and free

Beron = Bear lol

Eris = This is what the Greeks would name their baby to help embrace their dark, mischievous side, it means 'strife' or 'fight' referring to the Greek Goddess of discord, contention and rivalry

Lucien = Meaning 'Light' cause he's Helion's son, was right in front of us the whole time

Tarquin = Meaning 'Ancient Roman Ruler' with Latin origins

Varian = Variable... and apparently the first name of some American hero

Tamlin = Independence, origin: South Africa (Sure, independent cause he takes everyone else's away)

Amarantha = Unfading flower, which is what they used to call her before she was known as the deceiver

[matan4il]

Have you noticed how almost everything that the anti-Israel crowd accuses people who simply recognize Israel's right to exist of, is (in additional to usually being false) stuff they're guilty of themselves?

"You support ethnic cleansing!"

What do you think it means, when you chant the English translation of "From water to water, Palestine will be Arab"?

"You support an ethno-state!"

Do you call for the destruction of every single nation state, such as Germany, Japan, France, and so on? No? Then so do you. Have you called for the establishment of a Palestinian state? Then, so do you. Between Hamas ruling Gaza and being genocidal when it comes to Jews, and Mahmoud Abbas (president of the Palestinian Authority) stating no Israelis will be allowed in the State of Palestine (and by "Israelis" we all know he doesn't mean the Arab citizens of Israel, he's talking about Jews) that's going to be an ethno-state, too. Oh, you meant a "pure" ethno-state. Those don't exist in today's reality, and Israel, with 27% of its citizens being non-Jews, is no exception.

"Oct 7 didn't happen in a vacuum, you're ignoring the context of the past 75 years!"

You are ignoring big chunks of anti-Jewish violence during these 75 years, you're ignoring the expulsion of almost 900,000 Jews from Arab and Muslim countries, you're ignoring the anti-Jewish violence and persecution that preceded the establishment of the Land of Israel, and you're ignoring all 3,500 years (at least) of Jewish existence in and connection to our ancestral homeland, Israel.

"You support collective punishment!"

The same way you do, when you chant, "When people are occupied, resistance is justified"? Because that's what it means, that for the sin of Israel supposedly being a colonial state (a false claim, since Jews are native to Israel), you're justifying raping 13 year old girls, shooting them in the head, murdering Holocaust survivors, burning babies alive... what's that if not supporting collective punishment? (that's before we get into the fact that Israel not surrendering in a war started by Hamas is NOT collective punishment, or else we would have to define the allies not surrendering to the Nazis in WWII as collective punishment of the Germans)

"You suppor apartheid!"

All Israeli citizens have the same civil rights. Apartheid in South Africa was a system where citizens of the country had their rights limited based on skin color/ancestry. The issue in South Africa wasn't that racism existed (IDK a single country where racism doesn't), it's that it was codified into law, and used against the rights of that country's own citizens. Israeli Jews and Israeli Arabs have the same rights. Non-Israeli Palestinians not having the same rights as Israelis, including as Israeli Arabs, is the same as French Canadians not having the same rights in the US as French Americans. It is NOT proof the US is applying a system of apartheid unto French people. And if it were, then I have news for you, every country applies different rights to citizens vs not citizens, so every country would be an apartheid state by this criterion. Which would make the word meaningless, and it would diminish the suffering of non-whites under South Africa's apartheid (as some young black South Africans who have actually been to Israel now point out). Meanwhile, I'll point back up to where Mahmoud Abbas said no Israelis (i.e Jews) will be allowed in Palestine, and that under the Palestinian Authority, a Palestinian can be jailed or executed for selling land to Jews, which means the PA demolishes the right to property (of Jews to own it, and of the PA's Palestinian citizens to sell it as they see fit) based solely on the ancestry of the buyer... And you support the PA, right?

"You deny the Nakba!"

I had never encountered any Israeli denying that roughly 850,000 Arabs fled Israel due to the War of Independence. Pointing out that the Arabs are the ones who started that war isn't the same as denying it happened. Meanwhile, the people who make this accusation, largely deny the expulsion of the Jews from Arab and Muslim countries, deny the suffering, discrimination, expulsions and massacres Jews had endured for centuries under Arab and Muslim regimes, and deny the atrocities of Oct 7.

"You support colonialism!"

Say the people who deny the native rights of the Jews, who act as if these rights are limited by time (as if such a limitation benefits anyone other than actual colonizers), who ignore the fact that Palestinians wouldn't exist here without Arab colonialism, or who wish to confer a native status unto them by virtue of... being settler colonialists for a "long time" (to be clear, the way the UN's definition of a Palestinian refugee works, it only requires a person to have been an Arab* settler colonialist in Israel during the 2 years prior to the founding of the Israeli state, to be recognized as a Palestinian. To become a US citizen, in addition to other requirements, you have to live in the US for at least 5 years, 3 if married to an American citizen. That means in June of 1946, it was easier to become a Palestinian "native" in the eyes of the UN, than an American citizen). Don't get me wrong, Palestinians have a right to live in the place where they were born. I can both recognize that they're here due to Arab colonialism, AND be okay with them living here. Just like I can recognize that no Americans today deserve to be displaced, even though the majority of them are there thanks to colonialism. And I don't have to pretend like Americans of European descent have suddenly become native (something that if I did, would probably hurt actual Native Americans), in order to recognize their right to live where they were born. It's just ironic that if we took the logic of the anti-Israel crowd when it comes to native Jews, and applied it to all native peoples, this would harm the natives, erase their rights, recognize their colonizers as natives, and generally help colonialism.

There's probably more, but I think this is demonstrative enough.

* Technically, the UN didn't specify ancestry. As an idea, you could be Arab, Jewish, a Polish Catholic priest living in a convent in the Land of Israel from Jun '46 to May '48, and you'd be recognized as a Palestinian by the UN, but in reality this definition ended up favoring all non-Jewish colonizers of the land. In 1952, Israel said, "It's okay, we'll take care of the Jewish refugees displaced by the War of Independence. No need for the UN to do so. This is what we set up a Jewish state for." This is in addition to Israel taking care of the Jewish refugees from Arab and Muslim countries, and Jewish Holocaust survivors. And for Israel's show of responsibility, the now-Israeli Jewish refugees have been punished. They don't get recognized as existing, as having been displaced by, and having suffered due to the war the Arabs started in the Land of Israel against its Jewish communities. "Palestinian" refers to non-Jews only from the second The British Mandate in Palestine's Jews became Israeli Jews, but that doesn't stop the anti-Israel crowd from falsely claiming there are Palestinian Jews today... even though since May of 1948, there aren't, and before that, those Palestinian Jews were British subjects, not the citizens of an Arab independent state called Palestine (something that has never historically existed). Thanks to the exclusion in practice of Jews from the definition of Palestinian refugee, the UN agency for taking care of Palestinian refugees, UNRWA became a tool of spreading anti-Jewish hate.

(for all of my updates and ask replies regarding Israel, click here)

[schoenpepper]

'Til Someone Gets Hurt (Mean Girls the Musical)

Intro: You play a game with Floyd Leech. At the end of it all, you both get hurt.

Warnings: bad writing, awful grammar, not proofread, high schoolers doing things high schoolers should not be doing, do not imitate, Floyd Leech comes with a warning of his own, google translated French, bad words

A/N: Don't mind me just casually vaguely mentioning my oc see if you can spot 'em huehuehue

Masterlist

Yes, I look perfect

Ice Queen, that's what you see

It's what they all expect from me

But it's all show!

Go to school, they said. It'll be fun, they said. You're so gorgeous you definitely won't have a hard time fitting in with everyone, they said. You think to yourself as you jot down notes on paper, that if you ever found out who "they" were, you would push them out a window and watch them fall splat on the pavement into nothing but what was previously a meat puppet. Your eye catching good looks didn't mean shit back when you were being homeschooled by your parents in Africa, but Coral Shore High is not nearly as subtle in its staring as the monkeys and lions you used to talk to. You feel too many eyes on you and it makes you grip your pen tighter and wish to stab them all out one by one.

You thought humans had more decorum.

The fucking parakeets had more etiquette, that's for sure. Especially when you're making your way to the cafeteria and some girl trips (a little too obviously) right into your arms. She's all blushy and fidgety when you gently push her upright on the ground, and she thanks you and offers her number.

"Oh." You say with a blank stare. "We didn't have phones back in Africa."

"I could teach you if you—"

"Sorry, I don't have a phone."

With that beautifully blatant lie, you walk off to line up in the canteen to grab a tray of food, surprisingly more edible than movies portrayed high school food to be. You stand still and scout out which table is most optimal, and end up getting flagged down by some tall, champagne blond hottie with purple tips in his hair. He's definitely at least as attractive as you, so you think that he won't be slobbering all over you like the guys you sat with yesterday. It only takes a few steps for some wall to bump into you, teal hair and mismatched eyes and muscle and sharp teeth, leering down at you for only a second before marching off.

"Watch where you're walkin', shrimpy."

You don't appreciate the nickname, but you ignore it and go sit down next to the beautiful blond man. It's your lucky day because Vil Schoenheit is a model, full on desensitized from faces like yours. And he feels like a naggy mother with the way he grills you over your choice in food. He's kind, but it's hidden behind words so sharp they could stab you right in the gut. Rook Hunt is another handsome blond, if not a little unsettling when he fawns over your beauty in mixed French, and he gives off similar vibes to poachers your parents used to ward off in the savana. Epel Felmier is more cutesy than Vil's regal brilliance or Rook's off-putting handsomeness, but he threatens to throw hands when you say he's pretty.

Well, maybe you can fit in, after all.

Face it, you used me

You saw the sexy clothes

My supermodel pose

What did you know?

You should have stayed with the pretty trio instead wandering on your own. In your defense, you were just walking to class and minding your own business. Except, said class is in a building with the entire football field across the one you were in, and said football field has, regrettably, the football team playing on it. You feel nothing but disgust when the wolf whistles reach you, and absolute abhorrence when three guys with very punchable faces approach you with sly smirks, the rest of the team watching on.

"Hey sexy. You look like you could use some lovin'~"

You roll your eyes and keep walking. Surely, this is a clear enough sign of your disinterest, yes?

"Oh, playin' hard to get. That's hot."

"You're cute when you're mad."

"Baby, you wanna skip class with us and—"

You give them your best, and most charming smile.

Rook taught you that everyone deserves to see beauty before they feel excruciating pain. And you're sure, when your knee meets three different pairs of balls in succession, that the rest of the team sharply takes in a breath. "You wanna have more fun, boys?" You drawl lazily with a soft grin. "I have a little bit of time to play with you."

They don't answer as they curl up on the grass in pain. Satisfied with your handywork,  you go back to walking to your calculus class.

You don't notice trouble, but he notices you.

"Are you interested in them?" Jade asks, clad in comfortable casual clothes while sat on the bleachers as he hands Floyd a bottle of water. Floyd laughs and eyes his three teammates who were struggling to get back up. And then, inevitably, back to you. "See Jade, I thought it was just another shrimp. But now I think they're more like a sting ray." He licks his lips. "That's fun. I like fun. I wanna try 'em."

Jade chuckles along with him.

Was I a game to you?

Was I a way to be cool?

I truly cared

Was I the fool?

"You hooked up with who, now?"

Vil's gaze has a way of making you feel like every decision you've ever done is stupid. To be fair to him, however, this one certainly is. You grimace and take a sip of your energy drink, pointing at one of the guys practicing on the basketball court. Floyd shoots a three-pointer and grins your way, flexing his shoulders so that the scratch marks you'd left last night peek out of his jersey.

"How in the world are you so infuriating?! Do you know who that is?"

"I mean, I was drunk." You sigh. Vil looks at you like a disappointed parent while Epel and Rook look at you in shock. "Besides, it's just a hookup. I don't even have his number, I'll probably never talk to him again."

"Then why are we here at your behest?"

You feel your cheeks flush. "Because I wanted to watch basketball?"

Even you know your excuse is shitty, but it's not as if you could tell the trio to their faces that last night felt good and Floyd was really right up your alley and your hands missed the feel of his abs, right? The man seems really in the mood today as he effortlessly makes another shot, making you clap your hands slowly. You stop when you see the three glaring at you. "You certainly have a unique eye for beauté." Rook says lightly, and you're pretty sure he's just saying you have bad taste. "Floyd Leech, twin to Jade Leech, part of football, basketball, swimming, and volleyball, an athletic superstar with a rather dreary disciplinary track record erased by his parents. He's left handed, has had at least four previous relationships, has almost beat someone to death twice, and spent the night in juvie just before his eleventh birthday."

"Rook, how do you even know all of that?"

Rook smiles and puts a finger to his lips. "That is a secret. Still, he is not exactly a prime choice for a partner. May I interest you in some other options?"

"You may not." You sigh.

"Well, if Y/N says it was just a hookup, then it's probably the end of it." Epel smiles softly, and you almost feel guilty when you nod with him. Right before you get in your car to drive home, you get a text from Floyd.

[Floydie: my team totally saw ur marks on my back hehe]

[Floydie: u should do it again sometime jellyfishie]

It's fine for you

It's fine to flirt

It's fine

'Till someone gets hurt

'Till someone gets hurt!

You know it's just a game.

He knows it's just a game.

You're two high schoolers making high school mistakes, and you take it all in stride when you let him into your house. Your parents are off somewhere so you don't need to worry about getting caught, but what you do have to worry about is Floyd finding some weird house ornaments your parents love and playing with them. "Floyd! Stop it, that's not a toy." You take the vase from his hands and put it back on the counter. "If you touch another delicate item in this house that you could very well break I will kick you out, do you understand me?"

"Okay chill, clownfish. I won't touch."

"Good." You sigh in relief and lead him up the stairs to your bedroom. Is it a good idea to let your booty call into your home? Probably not. But there's a calculus exam tomorrow that Floyd hadn't studied for, and Jade warned that if he fails, he'll get suspended from all his sports until he can get his grades back up. You didn't know what that had to do with you, but Floyd insists you tutor him or he won't get you laid while he's suspended.

Rude.

"What about this one?" He points at another question on the textbook. The two of you are sitting on the floor, comfortably leaning on each other with your tiny study table propped up on the rug. You glance at the equation and point to the notebook in your hands. "That one is similar to—Floyd." You hiss out a warning when you feel his hand crawling up your thigh. "We're supposed to be studying, remember?"

He giggles, tracing his finger on the hem of your shorts. "But that's boring, right? Let's have some fun."

"No, Floyd, what if you fail your exam?"

He leans in closer to you. As his lips find yours, he pushes the study table away and your notebook along with it. "I lied to you, you know?"

"There's no calculus exam?" You huff.

"There is~ But I don't need your help to pass." He's toeing the lines you set, nudging your boundaries in his favor. "I just wanted to see your home! And your bed...and maybe you naked on it..."

You don't fight back when his hands are moving up underneath your shirt, only rolling your eyes and muttering under your breath. "This better be good, Floydie. And you better help do my laundry tomorrow."

He laughs again.

Feel my heart beating

I'm just like her or you

People forget I'm human too

Yes, they do that

Vil shouldn't have told you to join the cheer team, and he certainly shouldn't have forced you to wear the cheer uniform in the ungodly colors it has. You give him an unimpressed look, tugging on the edge of your crop top. "I look like a glowing neon sign at the door of a strip club. Or a toxic mushroom. Or a hallucination of someone who's high off Everclear and cocaine." You didn't think anyone would ever be crazy enough to pair traffic cone orange and cyan together, but somehow, the cheerleading outfit proves you wrong.

"It's...atrocious, yes." Vil nods.

You're shocked he has the audacity to agree with you when his cheer outfit is dark blue and cyan, an actually cohesive color combination.

"Ne t'inquiète pas, Y/N. You are beauté!"

You don't want to look at Rook who's sporting a neon green and orange crop top and skirt combo.

"Y'all look ridiculous." Epel drawls in his casualwear, pushing his hands into his hoodie pockets as he looks at the way the three of you are dressed.

You and the rest of the cheer squad are called to the field before the players arrive, performing a few routines to rally the audience. You don't really think you have anything to fear considering your school's football team is the best one in the state (and Floyd's probably left at least one person from each team they've ever played against a healthy dose of trauma), so all your focus is more on trying not to blind yourself whenever you catch a glimpse of Rook from your periphery. As you'd expected, the game is won all too easily with your booty call seemingly in just the right mood, and he runs towards you happily, spinning you around in his arms while your friends watch on in distaste and disappointment.

"Floyd, put me down!"

"Nuh uh, mandarinfish, you look so cute!" He smiles at you as he carries you. You sit on one shoulder and watch him celebrate with his teammates, grinning up at you occasionally. You give up trying to get back down.

"Did you cheer for me?"

In the football team's empty locker room, when everyone else is out in some diner ordering milkshakes as a trophy, you have one leg up Floyd's shoulder as the other one shakily wobbles to try and keep you upright. He's laughing at you but steadying you by the waist, squeezing the skin exposed by the uniform. "So flexible, hm~?"

"Floydie, fuck, stop teasing!"

He drinks in your whimpers and giggles. His hips roll against yours in a fluid, familiar motion, and the thin fabric you're wearing is not enough to stop the feeling.

"If you weren't cheering my name before, I'll make sure you scream it out now, okay?"

This is performance

This is all self defense

I thought you had the sense

To see through that

[Floydie💙: bettafish wer u at]

[Floydie💙: if u come to the party w some other dude istfg]

[Floydie💙: 😠]

Your first Halloween party starts off with a series of angry texts from your friend with benefits (you tell yourself you like him platonically, enough times for it to stick to your head). You chuckle and shoot him back a reply before going back to staring at yourself in the mirror. "I feel like this kind of costume should be illegal." You say to your friends waiting outside the curtain. You don't think white and green underwear with plastic robo wing attachments and silver boots count as a 'costume', much less clothing, but you have to admit that Vil's taste is still impeccable even when it concerns slutty halloween outfits.

It makes you look super fucking hot.

Not that you weren't already, but you're sure if he sees you like this, he'll drag you into an empty room and eat you like a free-for-all buffet. Not that you mind.

"Well? At least come out and show us."

You don't want to annoy the queen bee, so you step outside in your sacrilegious Buzz Lightyear mockup and turn around so they can inspect it. Vil gives an approving nod, Epel claps with an amazed expression on his face, and Rook spouts off some soliloquy about your beauty. You admire their equally slutty halloween fits; Vil dressed as Suicide Squad Margot Robbie's Harley Quinn, Rook looking like a cowboy stripper, and Epel as... why is he dressed in a giant inflatable apple costume? You shake your head and ignore the elephant (epelphant) in the room. "Anyway, this party's not really all that important, but Neige insisted we be there." Vil scoffs. "And he better have his jaw dropped to the floor with how much hotter I am than he is."

That's what he says, but upon pulling up to the party and thirty minutes later, he's less 'preening like a peacock' and more 'getting some cute guy's tongue shoved down so far his throat it probably reaches his esophagus as said cute guy is practically rutting into him in the hallway'. You swear you've never seen this guy in your life, but Rook assures you that Vil knows what he's doing (which you do not doubt) and pushes you along as you try to find Floyd in the sea of illegally drunk high schoolers. You assume a six foot hunk of muscle wouldn't be too hard to find, but you struggle for ten minutes and decide to just give up and text him.

[You: where tf are u]

[Floydie💙: thats what ive been asking dhfjk]

[Floydie💙: did u just get here]

[You: no i was watching vil get it on with some dude]

[Floydie💙: ew gross get ur ass to the second floor first room on the right]

When you get there, you find Floyd in a low effort zombie costume, sitting on the rails of the balcony with his legs swinging. He gives you a smirk and pats the space next to him. "You look real nice. C'mere." You sit next to him, making sure your plastic wings don't accidentally push him off the edge. "Whose house is this anyway? How did they get permission to throw a party this big?" You ask as you lean against his shoulder. His arm wraps around you and pulls you closer to himself. You find your legs swinging in the same pattern as his.

"Some guy."

"Not important?"

"No."

You chuckle at his words. You find him looking up at the stars, so you do the same. "The light pollution in the city's made the sky a little worse." You mumble softly. "In the savanna, the skies were always so clear. You could see every star shining brightly when it's night."

"That sounds real nice."

"It was."

"I wanna see it someday." Floyd hums. "With you."

You close your eyes and push his words out of your mind.

Was I too proud with you?

Was I too cold and forbidding?

And you chose her over me

Are you kidding?

Are you kidding?

The game's gone on for too long.

Your fuck buddy, somehow, is sitting next to you in the cafeteria. For two weeks now. Azul is at the head of the table, Vil is on the other head, Rook and Epel are on one side while you, Jade, and Floyd sit on the other. They all seem to be getting along well enough, and even Vil, who's always been against your less than stellar taste in men, seemed numb enough to the sight of Floyd practically sprawled over your lap as he nudged another spoon of his homemade lunch against your lips. "Come on, sea star, another bite? Just another one, please, I worked real hard on it for my little sea star, y'know?" You're helpless at the sight of his puppydog eyes and eat what he's offering.

"Yay~"

"This is vomit inducing." You hear Azul mutter under his breath, and to be honest, you might be a little inclined to agree if you didn't enjoy Floyd's company so much. Of course, it doesn't end at one bite. As you've done in the past two weeks, you set aside your bought lunch (that scrappy guy in the volleyball team can handle it) and finish Floyd's bento. You used to feel bad for doing so, but you found out on the first day it happened that he actually brings two bento boxes so that he can feed you before he eats.

"Good sea star, next week you can just not buy lunch!" He pats your head happily, and you nod along.

Have you been too close to Floyd?

You wonder as you walk down the halls, waving and smiling at acquaintances who call out their greetings. You know he's here again when the people around you start to shy away, faces like they've seen a monster. You don't blame them, you know Floyd has a reputation for being rather violent, if not just a straight up bully.

You've just never experienced it.

Not when he's studying with you, going to your cheer practices and screaming your name, chatting with you about random things for hours, bringing you food he'd cooked by himself, giving you little trinkets he said reminded him of you...

Your heart tightens.

He's a better player than you thought.

His arm is wrapped around your shoulder as he chatters your ear off about how he and Jade are going on a hike on the weekend. You listen intently, nodding along all the way to the parking lot. He walks you to your car and even opens the door for you. Your mind blanks when he leans down to kiss you (it's sweet, it's tender, it's so weird but you don't care). You give him a smile and shut the door before driving away.

You have two days where Floyd will be out of town with no reception.

Two days to clear your head.

Two days to reset your boundaries with him.

You wonder if two days are enough to remind yourself the words he'd told you in the beginning of your arrangement.

"Don't go fallin' for me, 'kay? That's boring. I don't like boring. The moment you get boring, I'll drop ya', capiche?"

"What if you fall for me?"

"Hah? Ain'tcha funny? I don't fall."

Right. He doesn't fall. Even if all his actions right now make it seem like you two are dating, it's all a trap. And you like him a little too much to just end it right there. You'd rather be his contractual fling than be that one person who caught feelings in an fwb situation, wouldn't you?

Poor little me

All trapped in this fabulous show

You could set me free

But if you're going, go!

Go! Oh! Oh!

[Floydie💙🥰😚: seashell have you been avoiding me]

You know Floyd's serious when his texts aren't a mess of shortened words.

[You: no??? just been busy w that math comp training]

Your excuse is bulletproof. Sure the nerds in the 'mathletes' team drool over you occasionally, but it's a small price to pay in order to get your head on straight. Two days with no contact wasn't nearly enough. In fact, it only cemented the saying 'absence makes the heart grow fonder'; indeed, when Floyd was gone, you only missed him more and more. You think that one of these days, you might just make a mistake and tell him the truth. But the thing is, Floyd doesn't need your love.

Floyd doesn't want your love.

Instead of stuttering and stumbling about in front of him, you choose to run away from your problems. Whenever you have free time, you cover it up with math training and tutoring in preparation for the competition. When lunchtime rolls around, you tell your friends you need to be eating with your teammates in order to foster a sense of camaraderie and cooperation (bullshit). After school, you tell Floyd he'll only be a distraction if he studies with you, and you really need to study for that math competition.

In short, that math competition has been carrying most of the load of your excuses.

[Floydie💙🥰😚: when i find you im going to shove you in the janitors closet]

[You: thats bullying, floydie]

[Floydie💙🥰😚: nah seashell imma fuck you in there 🙂]

[You: threatening]

[Floydie💙🥰😚: not a threat its a promise]

You hope he doesn't find you, really. If only because you still can't control your stupid heart around him, and every glimpse you catch of him is infinitely expanded in your dreams. You watched him for a little while during volleyball practice, and you had a very shameful dream regarding the volleyball court, an audience, and Floyd pushing you up against the net.

You put your phone down when Professor Crewel calls for your attention.

"There are only three days left until the competition, pups, so I expect all of you to be on your best behavior."

There's also only three days left before the Spring Fling, meaning, you can't attend the formal that has the entire student body buzzing. You voted for Vil as Spring Fling Queen, obviously. And Spring Fling King. He was in both categories so you did as a good friend would do and voted for him in both categories, as well as helping Rook spread the word for everybody else to do the same. You look down at your practice booklet to see Crewel's bright red 'good pup' and a 100 next to it. You'd rather go compete anyway.

Floyd in a suit might just make you melt.

"You're really not going? Not even after the competition?"

In your room, you pinch your phone between your ear and your shoulder as you flip through a textbook. Vil's voice is elegant as ever even through the speakers. "Nope, sorry Vil. You know my situation."

"Oui! We understand, Y/N." Rook chuckles in the group call. "It must be quite difficult being caught like prey in the trap of love, non?"

"I beg your pardon?"

"What didja' say?!"

"Rook!" You hiss out, slamming your book close. "I am no such thing."

"Please, Y/N, you underestimate Rook's perceptiveness." Vil scoffs. "Explain."

You groan. "It's nothing, alright?"

"Non! It is not nothing. Our dear Y/N has fallen madly in love with that Floyd Leech and is now on a mission to erase their feelings in order not to get hurt. Oh, the beauté of amour jeune et douloureux."

"Rook, shut up!"

"Y/N, is it true?"

You purse your lips. It takes you a few seconds to answer. "And if it is?"

"Then you have really bad taste."

"Whatever. Just please, if he ever asks you guys about me, just say I'm in training."

"He has been asking about you."

"What did you say?"

"That you're busy."

You nod and sigh in relief. A message pops up in your screen.

[Floydie💙🥰😚: seashellllll]

[Floydie💙🥰😚: i miss u ☹️]

[You: haha]

You almost send an 'i miss u too'. You don't, though. Because you're smarter than that, aren't you?

[You: i'll see u after the comp ok]

[Floydie💙🥰😚: not if i hunt u down first 😠]

It's fine for you

It's fine to flirt

And God, you're hot

Why do you even wear a shirt?

It's fine!

Damn, you're fine.

Damn, you're mine!

You're really good at this hiding thing.

(Of course you are, or Floyd would've found out about your feelings for him ages ago.)

Three days pass all too easily and he never even catches a whiff of you. You win the ICMT State Final Championship (sponsored by no one), and as you sit in the back of the van with your teammates all rowdy in celebration around you, you take out your phone and take a look at your messages. You're not surprised it's mostly Floyd.

[Floyd: wer u at]

[Floyd: coral]

[Floyd: i thought u wer gonna b at the sf 😐]

[Floyd: is ur stupid comp not done yet or wat]

[Floyd: i cant dance the waltz thing w no partner yk]

[Floyd: like halfway done rn]

[Floyd: r u not seeing my messages coral]

[Floyd: jade just called me lovesick lmao tf does that even mean smh]

[Floyd: can u reply when u get my messages]

[Floyd: pls]

[Floyd: did u win]

[Floyd: go win ok]

[Floyd: do u also think im lovesick]

[Floyd: r u avoiding me cus u think im in love]

[Floyd: if i promise im not will u come back]

[Floyd: what do u want me to say]

[Floyd: im sorry coral 🥺]

[Floyd: it just happened]

[Floyd: pls reply]

[Floyd: i miss u sm]

[Floyd: im sorry]

You hear your heart breaking in your chest.

[You: im not avoiding u]

You walk into the auditorium in your 'Mathletes' shirt and jogging pants, a gold medal around your neck. You look very out of place in the ocean of sparkles and sequins, but Rook quickly waves you over with him and Epel. "The crowning is just about to start, you have incroyable timing!" You watch the nominees on the stage as Crowley reads out a script from a cue card. "And the winner for Spring Fling Queen is... Vil Schoenheit."

You clap along with everyone when the blonde walks onto the stage and gracefully accepts the crown.

"And the winner for Spring Fling King... is also Vil Schoenheit."

Everyone claps louder as Vil chuckles on the stage, placing the other crown on top of the first one. He now has two sashes crossing over each other with two large bouquets in his hands. The principal cancels the 'King and Queen first dance' portion and invites everyone to waltz. Even as you stick by Rook and Epel's sides, you can feel a familiar gaze on you following you through the dance floor.

"Y/N."

It's Jade.

"Hi. What's up?"

"My brother has been quite, hm, mopey, lately. Would you happen to know anything about that?" You shrug.

He doesn't seem to believe you, and his smile doesn't reach his eyes. You swear his entire aura darkens when he speaks again. "I really do like you Y/N, you've made my brother so happy, and he's always such a joyful figure whenever I see him cooking for you in the kitchen. However, he's been quite distraught as of late, with neither appetite nor cheer since you've begun avoiding him in the name of your competition. Now that said competition is over, congratulations by the way, it is in your best interest to talk your problems out with Floyd, wouldn't you agree?"

People always said Floyd was scarier. You wonder if you can record Jade as he is right now as evidence to disagree.

"Jade, we don't have problems, okay? Floyd and I just want different things." You take a small step back with both arms raised up. "I'm just respecting his boundaries."

"Is that so? Then pray tell, what is it that you want from Floyd that you believe he disagrees with?" He tilts his head, grinning toothily. "Is it that you only wish to remain in your contractual physical relationship? Even so, you could at least reject him outright, yes? What good would it do either of you if the only thing you do is run?"

"No! It's the opposite. He doesn't want an actual relationship. That's what he said. He said if I fall for him then it's over and Jade, I don't..." You gingerly tug at his sleeve, forcing your tears back. "I don't want to lose him. If the only way I can have him is by having a no-strings attached kind of thing, then that's fine. I'll talk to him again, just, when I've finally settled my feelings, okay? Please."

He looks shocked by your words. 

Jade sighs and plops you over his shoulder like a sack of potatoes. You don't struggle (because it's pointless), and no one in the crowd bats an eye (Floyd may be seen as scarier, but that didn't mean Jade was weak or angelic). He deposits you to the door of the parking lot and heads back inside the party, waving you off with a few more words. "He's at his usual spot, probably whining to the moon about you. Do fix him up for me."

And it's fine!

'Till someone gets...

Hurt! Hurt!

'Till someone gets hurt!

'Till someone gets hurt!

It feels like a walk of shame when you head towards Floyd's favorite parking spot. You're pretty sure it was supposed to be for faculty members only, but you don't believe that principal Crowley has any sort of dignity left for him not to sell a faculty parking space to a well paying student (you don't want to know what the Leech parents do, not now at least). You spot him easy, laid down on the top of his jeep in a crisp suit and tie that looked like it was ironed right onto his body. He's murmuring things you can't understand, but you really don't believe that he's 'whining about you to the moon', as his twin had claimed.

You knock on the side of the car.

When he looks over at you, you give him a smile and reach your hand towards him. "Get me up, Floydie?" With his help, you climb onto the roof and sit down next to him. He's staring at the stars again, but he's never let your hand go even once.

"Why were you avoiding me?"

"I wasn't avoiding you."

"Stop lyin'."

You purse your lips. You're never sure what to do in moments like this, when he sheds all his playful mischief. He seems like a completely different person. Not bad. Just so... different. And he doesn't seem mad (you'd have an easier time if he was), but the conflicting feelings swirling within his skin escape through him and taint you too. You do what you're used to doing with him; get physical. You turn to straddle his lap and lean in closer to him. Your legs are propped up on either side of his own as he leans back on his arms, palms flat on the roof the two of you are sitting on.

Your fingers grip onto his tie, lightly tugging. "Floyd." You barely acknowledge one of his hands resting on the back of your thigh. "I've just been so confused lately. I want you in so many ways and what we have right now? It just doesn't cut it anymore. So tell me off, okay? Tell me you want me to leave. But if you want me to stay then, tell me that you like me. Tell me that you want me. Tell me you love me."

Will he say the words?

Probably not.

This on and off situationship leaves no room for genuine feelings between the both of you. But you make it clear to yourself that this is last time. He can't play with you any longer, and you won't toy with him anymore. And if he doesn't say what you want to hear, then you'll let him go. It's so easy you can't believe you didn't do it forever ago. You keep your eyes trained on his mismatched ones of gold and olive and, even though you know he'll let you down, your heart pitter patters in a rhythm you've heard before. Floyd seems to be thinking your words over as his thumb rubs small circles into the cloth of your pants. You wonder if he's taking this as seriously as you are. Can he see a life with you? Does the thought of settling down bore him?

You can't think about it. If you do, you lose.

Force yourself up into the higher position and gain the upper hand, because the man in front of you is a vulture circling overhead for signs of weakness. If he finds it, he might just tear you apart. "Y/N." There's an unprecedentedly serious look on his face as his slanted eyes bore into you like they're picking you apart and deciding which pieces of you are worthy of keeping. "The moon looks beautiful tonight, doesn't it?"

You laugh.

So many months of pining and hopeless romance-ing has lead to this. You don't hear what you want.

But it's practically the same thing.

It feels rather anticlimactic. But he's swallowed his pride and admitted his mistake, at least, in your eyes. And if this is the closest you can get to him, the closest he'll let you get to him, then it'll do for now.

"Floyd."

You tug him by his tie until his lips are brushing against your own.

"It's the most beautiful moon I've ever seen."

[flowerishness]

Erodium cicutarium (common stork's-bill)

Common stork's bill is another European wildflower branded a 'weed' outside it's native environment. This Mediterranean plant prefers warm, dry soils and is now found throughout Eurasia, North America, South America, central and southern Africa, New Zealand, Australia, and Tasmania. Common stork's bill has a deep taproot and is lush and green compared to the sundried grass that surrounds it.

As the French say, "La fleur, elle est très petite." (roughly translated: "The flower, she is very small.") Typically about a third of an inch wide (8.5 mm), these tiny pink flowers sure stir up a lot of resentment from people who prefer native wildflowers. The Alberta Native Plant Council even has a nice photo of Erodium cicutarium in it's 'Rouges' Gallery'.

[ptseti]

"THERE IS NO GROUP THAT EVER CAME INTO AFRICA THAT MEANT ANYTHING GOOD FOR AFRICANS" -Dr John Henrik Clarke.

“The white man is very clever. He came quietly and peaceably with his religion. We were amused at his foolishness and allowed him to stay. Now he has won our brothers, and our clan can no longer act like one. He has put a knife on the things that held us together and we have fallen apart.” - From 'THINGS FALL APART' 1958, written by Chinua Achebe and was translated into Italian, French, Hungarian, Portuguese, Russian, Swiss, Flemish and other languages.

According to historian, Dr John Henrik Clarke, "every group of people that came into Africa meant nothing good for the Africans… and the very first thing each and every one of these groups did was to declare war on African culture…" What followed was the bastardization of African spirituality and ways that held the societies together for millennia before there was a Greece or Rome or before "the first European learnt to wear a shoe or live in a house that had a window." Or as Dr. Yosef Ben Jochannan put it, "Before there was Rome, Greece, Jerusalem or Mecca… Before there was a Jehovah, Jesus or Mohommet" (Muhammad ibn Abdul'Mutallib).

It most be noted that the first Hebrew to ever come into existence was a Chaldean from Ur, known as Abram in 1675 BC. Before then, their was no concept of a Jehovah or Jesus, whatsoever, and no Hebrew as a tribe, the world over, from as far as history revealed. By this time, the 82 pyramids in Kemet, and the over 203 pyramids in Meroe, the smaller Nsude pyramids in Udi highlands were already built. The Africans had their own spirituality through which they connected to the non-material world, through which they learnt science like iron smelting, as well as which herbs could heal what sort of disease, agricultural practice, astrology, alchemy, mining for useful minerals from the earth and so on.

Most of Africa were connected to the worship of a deity, Ptah. This was over 5000 years before the first Hebrew came into existence, it was thousands of years before Greece or Rome came into existence and before any Abrahamic religions (which are Judaism, Samaritanism, Christianity and Islam etc) came into the knowledge of anyone at all. Abram, the father of it all had not even come into existence.

In kemet, there was a belief that if one died far away from the Nile, one would not resurrect in the afterlife. Hence Kemet became the place of high culture for all tribal nationalities along the Nile from its source through modern day Tanzania, Uganda, Ethiopia Sudan etc. Abydos was a city of pilgrimage where most Africans, who could, travelled up the Nile, through the Sahara (Which was not a desert until about 5000 years ago, as archeological discoveries indicated), to worship and commune with other Africans. Osiris later become the god in Abydos while Memphis became the home for Ptah, after several foreign invasion from across the Mediterranean and the sands of Arabia.

Most of the magicians in Kemet came from Gao, a city-state of the Soudan(west Africa then). African regions and cities had their own gods and it was necessary to pay homage to the god of a land when visiting or passing through as a sojourner, merchant or gypsy. By this time, Arabian peninsula was the colony of Africans (Study from 'From Babylon to Timbuktu', 'The African Origin of Major Religions, Herodoctus, and Strabo's geographica).

{[IMAGE: The 'inner circle' of the Mossi people. Not every king on the throne rose to the societal status, necessary to attend this gathering. The first shattering effect on this 'inner circle' began when the Arabs arrived west Africa in the 7th century CE, while extending the trans-saharan trade routes through the desert.]}

[girlactionfigure]

Disclaimer: the intent of this post is not to delegitimize the right of either Israelis or Palestinians to sovereignty, dignity, and self-determination. There is no future in Israel and Palestine without both Israelis and Palestinians. Nor is this post an endorsement of any Israeli policy.

Rather, after a conversation in the comment section of a recent one of my posts regarding population density in Mandatory Palestine, I decided to rework an older post into this. Personally, I find it really interesting, and I think it’s a key piece in understanding the continuing conflict. It’s also important to dispel false propaganda about the Jewish presence in Israel that has now been accepted as fact.

POPULATION OF PALESTINE

For various centuries, the population of what is now Israel and the Palestinian Territories had remained stagnant. Travelers at the time described Palestine as an abandoned backwater province of the Ottoman Empire. That’s not to say that it was empty or that nobody lived there, of course, but it was sparsely populated, according to the official Ottoman censuses. However, the sudden population boom between 1850 and 1900 did not come from natural population growth but rather, from Arab immigration.

"Palestine sits in sackcloth and ashes. Over it broods the spell of a curse that has withered its fields and fettered its energies."

Mark Twain, 1867

"Many are Israel's forsaken places, and great is the desecration. The more sacred the place, the greater the devastation it has suffered. Jerusalem is the most desolate place of all."

Moses ben Nachman (Nachmanides), 1267

During the Ottoman period (1517-1917), modern-day Israel and the Palestinian Territories were a part of the Ottoman province of Syria, which was further divided into smaller vilayets (administrative divisions). Palestinian Arabs would not identify as “Palestinians,” but rather, identified primarily with their religion and clan. At best, they would call themselves “southern Syrians.” Until 1920, Palestinian Arabs advocated for Palestine to become a part of an Arab state in Greater Syria.

IMMIGRATION FROM EGYPT

The most significant factor in the population growth in Palestine between the turn of the 19th century and the turn of the 20th century was Arab immigration, particularly from Egypt. At the turn of the 19th century, a famine prompted as much as 1/6 of Egypt’s population out of Egypt, with a significant percentage settling in Palestine.

The wave of Egyptian immigration continued in 1829, after thousands of peasants fled harsh labor laws imposed by the Egyptian ruler, Mehmmet Ali Pasha. Travelers during this period wrote that Bedouin tribes accompanied the peasants as well. In 1831, Egypt invaded Palestine. Over 6000 Egyptian peasants crossed into Palestine during the invasion; various Bedouin tribes also arrived with the Egyptian army. Others fled to Palestine as a result of blood feuds between different clans. Many Egyptian soldiers and administrators also chose to stay in Palestine.

By the late 19th century, the city of Jaffa had Egyptian neighborhoods all over town.

When the British invaded Egypt in 1882, scores of Egyptians fled to Palestine. A news report from the time stated: “Many of the people come here from Egypt to wait until the danger passes.” But very few actually returned to Egypt. To this day, the third most common Palestinian surname is El Masry, literally translating to “the Egyptian.”

IMMIGRATION FROM NORTH AFRICA

Following a rebellion against French rule of Algeria in 1850, a number of Arabs and Imazighen from North Africa settled in Palestine, particularly in the Galilee region and Safed.

IMMIGRATION FROM CIRCASSIA

Between 1863-1878, Russia murdered between 1.5-2 million Circassians in the Circassian Genocide. Another 1-1.5 million were expelled from their homes in Circassia. The Ottoman authorities then settled many of the deportees in the Levant, hoping that their presence would curb Bedouin and Druze influence, as the Druze were not always receptive to Ottoman rule, and the Ottomans hoped to squash sentiments of Arab nationalism.

The Circassians, who are Muslim, developed a good relationship with the Yishuv -- the Jewish community in pre-state Israel -- and are now one of the groups with mandatory conscription into the IDF. Like Jews once did, however, Circassians still dream of returning to their homeland, from which they were stolen.

SLAVERY

The Ottoman Empire began issuing decrees to reduce and ultimately terminate slavery in 1830, but these laws were rarely strictly enforced, especially in places such as Palestine. Throughout the 19th century, slave ships continued docking on the shores of Palestine, with the majority of the slaves coming from Ethiopia and Sudan, with a minority coming from Circassia. The last slave ship to arrive to Palestine docked on the shores of Haifa in 1876, though Arabs in Palestine continued holding slaves well into the 1930s.

JEWISH IMMIGRATION (19TH CENTURY)

Between 1881-1903, some 25,000 to 35,000 Jews -- most of them Ashkenazi Jews escaping massacres in Eastern Europe -- immigrated to Ottoman Syria, to the region now encompassing Israel and the Palestinian Territories. Only 15,000 of them stayed, due to harsh economic conditions and disease.

Between 1880-1914, about 8% of all Bukharian Jews immigrated from modern-day Uzbekistan to Jerusalem, escaping brutal persecution. In that same time span, 10% of all Yemenite Jews immigrated to Palestine. Most settled in Jerusalem and Jaffa.

THE "THREAT" OF JEWISH IMMIGRATION

The Ottoman Empire did not abolish the “dhimmi” status for Jews -- that is, second-class citizenship -- until 1856. Dhimmi taxation in Palestine was especially brutal, economically marginalizing religious and ethnic minorities. The Jews in Palestine relied on charity from Jews in the Diaspora for survival. The Samaritans, our closest ethnoreligious cousins, did not have a Diaspora community to come to rely on. Thanks to harsh persecutions, they were nearly wiped out during Ottoman rule.

Though dhimmi status was abolished in 1856, the Arab Muslim majority in Palestine had become accustomed to a certain social order, in which Jews were tolerated so long as we were subjugated. Thus, Zionism and Jewish immigration presented a threat to the status quo.

In 1899, the Arab mayor of Jerusalem, Yousef al-Khalidi, wrote to the chief rabbi of France, “Who can deny the rights of the Jews to Palestine? Good lord, historically it is your country!…But in practice you cannot take over Palestine without the use of force…” The chief rabbi of France forwarded al-Khalidi's letter to Theodor Herzl, who was quick to send a reply, assuring al-Khalidi that the Zionist movement had no intention of displacing the Muslim and Christian populations. It’s worth noting that during this period the mass influx of immigrants -- predominantly Muslim immigrants -- didn’t seem to bother al-Khalidi. It was Jewishimmigration that felt like a threat.

In 1882, the Ottomans prohibited Jews from immigrating to the Ottoman Empire. In 1893, the Ottomans prohibited all Jews -- “Palestinian” or not -- from purchasing land in Palestine. Thus, Jews in the region “enjoyed” less than four decades of equality under the law. No such restrictions existed for Arabs.

IMMIGRATION IN THE 20TH CENTURY

Unlike the population boom in the second half of the 19th century, the huge spike in the population of Palestine in the 20th century did come primarily from Jewish immigration. Between 1904-1914, some 35,000 Jews fled violence, mostly in Eastern Europe, and sought refuge in the region under the Ottomans. Between 1919-1923, another 40,000 Jews arrived to Palestine -- now under the British -- from Europe. Another 70,000 Ashkenazi immigrants arrived in the 1920s, as well as some 10,000 Mizrahi immigrants, predominantly from Yemen and Iraq. 

Prior to the Holocaust, another massive influx of Jewish immigrants — between 225,000-300,000 — arrived from Europe. This angered the Arab leadership in Palestine, which responded with violence. To appease the Arabs, the British passed the 1939 White Paper, which limited Jewish immigration to 75,000 people over a period of five years and limited Jewish land purchases to 5% of the Mandate Palestine Territory. 

Between 60,000-100,000 Arabs immigrated to Palestine between the two world wars. There are numerous reasons for this migration, most notably, new economic opportunities. In March of 1926, a railroad from Egypt to Palestine was completed, which prompted many young Egyptians to leave by train to seek employment in Palestine. In the 1920s and especially in the 1930s, the coastal plain between Gaza and Jaffa, as well as the area between Gedara and Ness Ziona, Ramle, and Lod became densely populated with Egyptian immigrants. 

During World War II, when Jewish immigration was essentially squashed, the British brought Syrian and Lebanese laborers to Palestine. Civilians also employed foreign contractors, many of whom came to Palestine without the legal paperwork. Government records from this period state that there were some 14,000 Egyptian and Lebanese laborers. The population increase along the southern coastal plain during this period was almost completely due to Arab immigration. In the area of Israel now known as “the Triangle,” over 35% of the population consisted of immigrants from Egypt. 10-15% of the Israeli Palestinian population today lives in that region.

LAND OWNERSHIP

Jewish land purchases took place in sparsely populated areas and as a matter of official Zionist policy, the Zionists avoided purchasing land occupied by fellahin, or Arab farmers. Out of the lands Zionists purchased, 52.6% were unoccupied, belonging to foreign landowners; 24.6% belonged to Palestinian Arab landowners; 13.4% belonged to the government, churches, or foreign companies; and only 9.4% belonged to Palestinian Arab fellahin.

In the 1920s, David Ben Gurion, the future first prime minister of Israel, wrote, “Under no circumstances must we touch land belonging to fellahs or worked by them...Only if a fellah leaves his place of settlement should we offer to buy his land, at an appropriate price.”

The 1937 Peel Commission corroborated this, stating: “Much of the land now carrying orange groves was sand dunes or swamp and uncultivated when it was purchased.” In 1931, the British created a register for landless Arabs; only 664 Arabs out of a total of nearly 900,000 met the criteria.

For a full bibliography of my sources, please head over to my Instagram and  Patreon. 

[lmsgroupafrica]

https://lmsgroupafrica.com/

Lmsgroupafrica is a company providing Language and Marketing Services in Benin, South Africa. Our translation, interpretation, English and French training programs, and top-class language translation services are designed to maintain communication between businesses and individuals. Our company document translation services are accurate, timely, and customized to meet your key requirements. We ensure that the message is clear and effective. lmsgroupafrica also offers accurate and efficient transcription services for audio and video recordings.

[scotianostra]

On October 26th 1911 the Gaelic poet, Sorley MacLean, was born on the island of Raasay.

Sorley (Somhairle MacGill-Eain)was brought up within a family and community immersed in Gaelic language and culture, particularly song. Sorley studied English at Edinburgh University from 1929, taking a first class honours degree and there encountering and finding an affinity with the work of Hugh MacDiarmid, Ezra Pound, and other Modernist poets. Despite this influence, he eventually adopted Gaelic as the medium most appropriate for his poetry. However, it should be noted that MacLean translated much of his own work into English, opening it up to a wider public than the speakers of the Gaelic language.

During the Spanish Civil War, MacLean was torn between family commitments and his desire to fight on behalf of the International Brigades, illustrating his left-wing - even Marxist - political stance. He eventually resigned himself to remaining on Skye. He fought in North Africa during World War Two, before taking up a career in teaching, holding posts on Mull, in Edinburgh and finally as Head Teacher at Plockton High School.

It is often said that what Hugh MacDiarmid did for the Scots language, Sorley MacLean did for Gaelic, sparking a Gaelic renaissance in Scottish literature in line with the earlier ‘Scottish Renaissance’, as evinced in the work of George Campbell Hay, Derick Thomson and Iain Crichton Smith. He was instrumental in preserving and promoting the teaching of Gaelic in Scottish schools. Through the diverse subject matter of his poetry, he demonstrates the capacity of the Gaelic language to express themes from the personal to the political and philosophical.

MacLean’s work was virtually unknown outside Gaelic-speaking circles until the 1970s, when Gordon Wright published Four Points of a Saltire - poems from George Campbell Hay, Stuart MacGregor, William Neill and Sorley MacLean. He also then appeared at the Cambridge Poetry Festival, establishing his fame in England, as well as Scotland and Ireland, where he had become something of a cult figure thanks to a fan base including fellow poet Seamus Heaney. A bilingual Selected Poems of 1977 secured a broader readership and a new generation began to appreciate his work.

Latterly, he wrote and published little, showing his concern with quality and authenticity over quantity. Never a full-time writer, he was also a scholar of the Highlands with a vast knowledge of genealogy, and an avid follower of shinty. Amongst other awards and honours, he received the Queen’s Gold Medal for Poetry in 1990. He passed on in 1996 at the age of 85, and was survived by his wife and two daughters.

I have posted many times about Sorley, and probably overused Martyn Bennet’s Hallaig, but if you haven’t heard it, please go to Youtube and search for it, you won’t regret it.

The Two MacDonalds Sorley MacLean

You big strong warrior, you hero among heroes, you shut the gate of Hougomont. You shut the gate and behind it your brother did the spoiling. He cleared tenants in Glengarry – the few of them left – and he cleared tenants about Kinloch Nevis, and he cleared tenants in Knoydart. He was no better than the laird of Dunvegan. He spoiled Clan Donald.

What did you do then, you big strong hero? I bet you shut no gate in the face of your bitch of a brother.

There was in your time another hero of Clan Donald, the hero of Wagram, Leipsig, Hanau. I have not heard that he cleared one family by the Meuse or by any other river, that he did any spoiling of French or of MacDonalds.

What a pity that he did not come over with Bonaparte! He would not clear tenants for the sake of the gilded sheep, nor would he put a disease in the great valour of Clan Donald. What a pity that he was not Duke of the Land of the Barley And Prince of Caledonia!

What a pity that he did not come over with Bonaparte twenty years before he did, not to listen to flannel from the creeper Walter nor to gather dust from the old ruin but to put the new vigour in the remnant of his kinsmen!

What a pity that he did not come to succour his kinsmen!

Dá Dhómhnallach Somhairle MacGill-Eain

‘Na do ghaisgeach mór láidir; ‘Nad churaidh miosg nan curaidhean, Dhùin thu geata Hougomont. Dhùin thu ‘n geata ‘s air a chùlaibh Rinn do bhráthair an spùilleadh. Thog e tuath an Gleann Garadh – Am beagan a bh’air fhágail dhiubh – Is thog e tuath mu Cheann Loch Nibheis Is thog e tuath an Cnóideart. Cha b’fhearr e na Fear Dhùn-Bheagain: Rinn e milleadh air Cloinn Domhnaill.

De rinn thusa ‘n uair sin, A churaidh mhóir láidir? Fiach na dhùin thu aon gheata An aodann do ghalla bráthair?

Bha ann ri d’linn-sa fear eile, Curaidh eile de Chloinn Dhómhnaill, Curaidh Bhágram, Leipsich, Hanau. Cha chuala mi gun do thog esan Aon teaghlach mun Mheuse No mu abhainn eile. Cha d’rinn esan milleadh Air Frangaich no air Dómhnallaich.

Nach bochd nach táinig esan Le Bonaparte a nall. Cha thogadh esan tuath Air sgáth nan caorach óraidh, ‘S cha mhó chuireadh esan gaiseadh Ann an gaisge mhóir Chloinn Dómhnaill. Nach bochd nach rodh esan ‘Na dhiuc air tir an Eórna Is ‘na phrionns air Albainn.

Nach bochd nach táinig esan Le Bonaparte a nall Fichead bliadhna mun táinig, Cha b’ann a dh’èisteachd sodail O’n t-sliomaire sin Bhátar No a chruinneachadh na h-ùrach As an t-seann láraich, Ach a chur an spionnaidh ùrair Ann am fuidheall a cháirdean.

Nach bochd nach táinig esan Gu cobhair air a cháirdean.

[archivio-disattivato]

Patrice Lumumba was the first elected Prime Minister of the Congo. He ascended to power in the Congo on June 30, 1960, the date of Congo’ s independence from Belgium. Within ten weeks of being elected, Lumumba’s government was deposed in a coup. He was subsequently imprisoned and assassinated on January 17, 1961 by Western powers (United States, Belgium, France, England and the United Nations) in cahoots with local leaders such as Moise Tshombe and Joseph Desire Mobutu.

Lumumba is a member of the Tetela ethnic group. He was born on July 2, 1925, in Katako-Kombe in the Sunkuru district of the Kasai Province. Growing up, Lumumba attended a Protestant Missionary school as well as a Catholic missionary school and became a part of the educated elite called évolués. Lumumba contributed to the Congolese press through poems and other writings. His occupations included a postal clerk in Kinshasa and an accountant in Kisangani. Lumumba’s organizational involvement were varied. He served as head of a trade union of government employees, he was active in the Belgian Liberal Party and in 1958, Lumumba founded the Congolese National Movement (MNC in French). Also in 1958, he was invited to the first All-African People’s Conference in Accra, Ghana, organized by Kwame Nkrumah. He met nationalists and pan-africanists from various African countries and became a member of the permanent organization set up by the conference.

Lumumba’s party won national elections in May of 1960 which led to his ascendancy to Prime Minister on June 30, 1960. Read more on Lumumba>>

Lumumba’s Independence Day Speech Lumumba’s Last Letter to his Wife

Reading List Congo My Country by Patrice Lumumba Patrice Lumumba: Fighter for Africa’s Freedom by Patrice Lumumba The Assassination of Lumumba by Ludo De Witte Rise and Fall of Patrice Lumumba by Thomas Kanza Lumumba Speaks: The Speeches and Writings of Patrice Lumumba, 1958-1961 Translated by Helen R. Lane. Ed. Jean Van Lierde

[sissa-arrows]

I don’t know who they hired to handle the Twitter account of the Cuban embassy in France but whoever it is they have no chill 😂

Translation and description of the screenshot: December 27 is the 45th anniversary of the president Houari Boumediene. A leader respected by his people and by millions of Free Men around the world.

Then there’s three pictures of Boumediene with Fidel Castro.

And then they tweeted this…

Translation and description of the second screenshot: Some men never die. 45 years after Houari Boumediene left. No Palestinian will forget Boumediene the man who said “I’m with Palestine no matter the situation”

And then there’s a video of Fidel Castro in Algeria and one of the speeches he made “We say to the Algerian people that you are not alone. With us and with you stand all the revolutionaries of the world. Long live the Algerian Revolution!”

I knew Algeria and Cuba had good relationships. The first Algerian president, Ben Bella, went to Cuba during the blockade in October 1962 Kennedy tried to stop him but Ben Bella was like “nah I’m going and you never know maybe I can be a middle man and fix the situation?” So he went to Cuba. He got a really warm welcome as a revolutionary (one of the men who made French colonialism bow) AND as a man who was braving the US blockade. So he just said screw it and decided to unconditionally support Cuba. He met Che Guevara there too and the three of them started making plans to help the revolutions that were going on back then especially in Africa.

So like I said I knew of the good relations between the two countries BUT I did not expect the account of the Cuban embassy to celebrate Boumediene and just throw shade at France and its allies so casually. I love it.

[petermorwood]

Here’s a dish from French Cooking Academy, another of my subscribed YouTube channels.

I like the business of stuffing each chunk of beef with a bit of garlic and bacon; I’ve done this with lamb, using garlic and lemon. Another interesting detail is the use of cinnamon, suggesting a way-back-when influence either from the Moors or having access to spices as they passed through from Dpain Spain or North Africa on the way to somewhere else.

Kokkinisto (Greek) and Tajine (Morocco) also use cinnamon - and cloves, and nutmeg, and ginger etc. etc. depending on recipe. I’ve made both, they’re really excellent.

@dduane​ and I got Very Interested because the use of what Mum used to call “cake spices” is also quite medieval and, in DD’s case, adaptable for the Middle Kingdoms project.

The Corsican one recommends rigatoni, cannelloni or similar large hollow pasta (presumably to hold lots of sauce!) For a more medieval approach I’d try Loseyns from late-1300s cookbook “The Forme of Cury” (that’s “cookery” without the k, so “coo’rey” not “curry”.)

*****

These are often regarded as Richard II-era ”lasagne”, though I wonder if there’s also an association with heraldic “lozenges”, easily created by cutting a sheet of pasta dough slantwise...

Either way, here’s “Tasting History with Max Miller” (subscribed of course!) having a go at Loseyns, which turn out like mac & cheese with extra spices.

Max ended up eating them with a stick because forks hadn’t been introduced yet, but IMO a better utensil would be the historical eating pick, like one of these.

...or even a spoon, especially if the loseyns were cut small with that in mind.

However eating pasta with the fingers - like many other foods - may have been done in the 1300s; it was certainly recorded in paintings from the 1600s...

...right up to the 1800s...

...though I don’t think these were dressed with anything more than oil or butter and some grated cheese, and the potential for messy eating was still pretty high. Eating small pasta rather than dangly strands with the fingers was probably much tidier, especially if diners knew the proper etiquette for doing it...

Finally, here’s something from our own store-cupboard, bought out of curiosity during a recent visit to Polonez in Dublin.

This is pasta cut into little squares; both the front and the back of the pack calls them łazanka...

...and according to Google Translate, this just means “pasta noodles”.

However...

Can any followers tell me if "łazanka” has any relationship to “lasagna” or “lozenge”? An enquiring mind wants to know! :->

ETA: @seriously-mike​ says “...łazanki were brought to Poland in 16th century by queen Bona Sforza (so) the relationship with lasagna might be there.” See his Reply for more info.

ETA (2): A little bell went off in my head about the shapes in the bag and I suddenly remembered seeing them as something call “torn pasta” - the Italian word is “maltagliati“ - which were made using re-rolled scraps of dough from “formal” shapes; more info at that link.

[fdelopera]

Hi, I noticed something really weird in a French language version of poto I got off Amazon (and was printed by them). It claims it's the original unabridged text, but right near the start of the second chapter (New Marguerite) it describes Raoul as being assigned to go on a naval mission to East Africa (to connect the two oceans?? it's weirdly vague), rather than to the Arctic, as my other French version (bought at Palais Garnier!) and English translations say. Have you heard of this before?? Any idea what's going on?

Hi @batherik -- thank you for your question.

I believe this is an international issue with Amazon, which appears to have limited copies of the unabridged French edition of Gaston Leroux's Le Fantôme de l'Opéra, which is published by Livre de Poche. Livre de Poche bases their text on the 1910 First Edition of Le Fantôme de l'Opéra published by Pierre Lafitte et Cie.

I also checked Amazon France and Amazon UK, they have the same issue. On some Amazon sites, you can purchase the Livre de Poche edition of Leroux's novel used, but they have limited supplies of new copies. Here is the Livre de Poche edition on Amazon France, where they have limited new copies. And here is the Livre de Poche edition on Amazon UK, where they still appear to have some copies available new.

This may also be a distribution issue with Livre de Poche. When I checked the Livre de Poche website for Le Fantôme de l'Opéra, some of their French retailers appear to be low on copies of Leroux's novel as well.

But as to your question -- unfortunately, the edition you purchased from Amazon is abridged, despite its claims to be an "Édition originale et intégrale".

I am guessing the cover of the book you bought from Amazon looks like this?

If your edition of Le Fantôme de l'Opéra looks like this, it is abridged and heavily edited. It is NOT the original text.

This issue appears to stem from the fact that Le Fantôme de l'Opéra is no longer in copyright in France. French copyright states that published works are copyright protected for the life of the author plus 70 years (or 100 years if the author died in combat serving France).

People are taking advantage of this by publishing abridged and highly edited versions of Gaston Leroux's original French text, and then lying and calling the text "originale et intégrale".

Now, you can still buy the Livre de Poche unabridged edition of Le Fantôme de l'Opéra on Amazon US, but it is currently only available in limited quantity new, or else you can buy it used.

Here is the link to purchase the Livre de Poche edition on Amazon US new, but it is in limited availability.

And here is the link to purchase the Livre de Poche edition on Amazon US used.

The important thing is to verify the ISBN, no matter which website you're purchasing from.

The ISBN you're looking for is:

ISBN-10: 2253009504

ISBN-13: 9782253009504

Now, Livre de Poche is the edition of Leroux's novel that the Palais Garnier giftshop sells. When I was there in 2015, the cover of the Livre de Poche edition that I bought looked like this:

I have also purchased a Livre de Poche edition with this cover (this is the cover that Amazon is currently selling used):

I also have a Livre de Poche edition with this cover:

Now, here are my recommendations for reading the unabridged First Edition text of Le Fantôme de l'Opéra, if you can't get it through Amazon:

1) I recommend looking for a used copy of Leroux's novel through an online used books retailer, like ABE Books. Here's a link to the Livre de Poche edition on ABE Books.

2) Do an ISBN search through a site like BookFinder.com, which will show you all the online retailers that are selling the Livre de Poche edition used. Again, the ISBN you're looking for is ISBN-10: 2253009504, ISBN-13: 9782253009504.

3) Or, if you don't want to purchase through used bookstores like ABE, you can also read Le Fantôme de l'Opéra for free online through Project Gutenberg.

Unfortunately, Amazon appears to be pushing their fake, abridged copy of Leroux's novel, so I would be wary when buying through Amazon, and always make sure to verify the ISBN of the copy that you are purchasing.