Although I am unfortunately not surprised at the horrific treatment of the refugees in Villawood, it was quite horrible to read about how the officers and the other people that work there had such little regards to the lives that were detained there. To the people at Villawood, these refugees are nothing but inconveniences in their eyes. This was very prevalent in Ahmed’s story, where the officers didn’t even believe that he was having chest cramps. This unfortunately ended in him passing away. This was also seen in the welfare checks, where they didn’t even care that they were interrupting someone’s shower, and then filed a complaint on them. They’re lack of sympathy was also shown in the final page, where the case manager ends with the words “Yeah well it's just more paperwork for me.”

Like the lines before, these lines can also be seen as a metaphor. In the lines before, a woman says to her baby, "You will speak my language when I give some of my food from mouth now". This can be seen as a metaphor for passing along traditions. In the following lines, when the mother replies saying “The same for you, for me, for my mother, and my grandmother”, she is talking about how tradition has been carried on for generations — that everyone has a responsibility of keeping it alive, such as generations preceding and the generations proceeding.

I thought that this paragraph was very tactful of the author. It was a way of letting us see how Ka thinks and deals with her emotions. In this particular part, Ka is obviously mad at her father. She not only has made this piece of art that is inspired by him, but someone well-known wanted to buy it. And yet, just because he didn’t like it (or that is simply what he says), he hides it without telling Ka. Ka’s reaction is this paragraph, where she explains how anger is a useless emotion, showing us that in a time of complete anger, she is trying to reason with herself. In my opinion, what her father did was really uncalled for and deserved a better explanation.

In the US, there’s always a debate as to what is a freedom and what isn’t. We especially see that today with debates on gay rights, women’s rights (abortions), and gun laws, just to name a few. I think it’s very poignant that she points this out — the fact that we can be so adamant on wanting freedom, yet can be so imperialist at the same time. It’s frustrating even here, where everyone has a different idea of what freedom even is.

I think it’s funny how Julius disregards Saito so quickly. From the reader's perspective looking in, we see that Saito has a legitimate point — Julius really is closed off as a person, and it would really do him some good if he doesn’t close so many doors so soon in his life. However, Julius doesn’t even know what Saito is referring to, and dismisses his comment. I think Julius almost looks somewhat down on Saito (in a condescending way), for the reason that he’s “old”. I think this fits in with the trend of Julius valuing youth, and devaluing people who are no longer youthful. However, I will add that most people that are young condescend to people that are older, for the reason that they often associate people who are old with being senile.

These lines really sparked a memory for me. I went to high school on the upper west side right across the street from Lincoln Center. The 66th Street station for the 1 train was one block away from my school. The more and more I got comfortable with the area, The more I “steadily lengthened” my walks to different train stations. Ultimately, I ended up walking from 65th and Amsterdam to 5th Ave 59th street. I've lived in New York City my entire life, but it was during these long walks that I felt truly connected to my city. I can definitely relate to the narrator's words, and this scene is well described.

I feel that the language used in this line clearly illustrates the woman’s feeling of entitlement. She yells at Dr. Kerry, asking why he didn’t try and make things work between them — as if he was the only one that could repair the relationship, and his failures were the only cause of the relationship’s downfall. I believe this sense of entitlement comes from the racial dichotomy in South Africa during apartheid. Living in a society where being white is superior, I could imagine this woman has an unconscious feeling that she is above it all — that she is doing him a favor by coming back into his life and trying to reignite their former romance.

Bessie Head describes such a beautiful image with these words. In saying these words, Head is trying to further convey the idea that Maragret’s world doesn’t revolve around love. Although this is because of her supposed fate as a Masarwa, it has led her to have a well-balanced outlook on life. It is not that she ignores love completely because she believes it will never happen for her, but she acknowledges it and admires its beauty. Love is simply a part of the bigger picture of her life — just as the sunrise or sunset shining upon the Makoba tree outside her window.

I find it interesting that the narrator compares the missionary to a cow. Cows in many African cultures, including South African culture, are revered and not seen as animals. They are seen as symbols of wealth and are associated with the divine. In the context of the sentence, comparing the missionary to a cow is seen as an insult to his physical appearance. However, the comparison may also be literal in the sense that the missionary is “of God”, and is seen of a higher status to the non-white natives.

I wonder if by “the speaker” Kapil was referring to her uncle. Maybe in generalizing her uncle to “the speaker”, she is making the point that the identity of those who experience trauma get lost within it — that once her uncle became a survivor, he must in turn become a speaker and tell the story of his anguish. In saying “Exhausting the speaker to such a degree. Forever”, it shows not only that survivors must repeatedly tell their stories, but that they must also repeatedly experience their trauma — that their experiences live with them forever.

Manto uses extremely descriptive language to describe the setting. In the sentence “He lay very still, gazing at the dusty sky”(1), it not only conveys that Sirajuddin is very lost in thought through the word choice of “gazing”, but the description of “the dusty sky” also paints a picture that there is smoke in the air, possibly from a large fire. Manto further reinforces the idea that he appears lost in thought by saying that any stranger would think that he was just “an old man in deep thought”(1). Manto then goes on to describe how Sirajuddin is in shock using descriptive language, such that he is “suspended” as if he were “over a bottomless pit”(1).