THE ART OF ALBINISM  When Habo ponders at the beginning of the novel ( Golden boy by Tara Sullivan ), we're made to see the challenges of having an albino’s skin: “I wish I could see their faces, but my eyes aren’t good enough for that this far away. I peel off my long-sleeved shirt and my floppy hat with the cloth sewn onto the back and crawl to the edge of the ridge in nothing but my long pants. My skin burns so easily that I could never do this in the middle of the day, no matter how hot it was, but now that the sun is setting I can enjoy the feeling of the wind whispering over me…” He points to his burning skin, and how he dreads the sun, he has to wear a hat and long pants to protect himself, his shaking eyes affects his sight and he was considered different from his two brothers who had warm brown colours. Habo is a thirteen year old albino boy wondering why he was white in this black, brown world. Asu his sister recounts the story of his birth to him. That he w...

Season greetings to our Muslim readers. 

Dear self, I see you in my cabinet pickin’ a jam and you rub it in my face and call me dirty, soiled, clumsy. I rush to the bathroom and the Jam wouldn't come off no matter how much I scrubbed. I come out shamefully. You laugh with a friend on the phone. Yes, I recognize that feeling, it was anger at the Jam and you. I sit on the couch, I'm still. You end the call and watch TV on the couch where I sat and you say nothing to me. You watch the News and that noisy Journalist won't stop talking until 5pm. I walk to the window, sorry, there was none. No windows, no doors just this fence around me and you. You move to me and whisper “stop hoping for windows doors and butterflies" a pause.." I want the door” I managed to say. You laugh again and claim you were the only door through which I could pass. I smirk, you are doorless, you have too many walls. You sniff and drink all evening and drink yourself to sleep yet you tell me you have a door? People with a ...