Hold. Michael Donkor
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Название: Hold

Автор: Michael Donkor

Издательство: HarperCollins

Жанр: Контркультура

Серия:

isbn: 9780008280369

isbn:

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       Acknowledgements

       About the Author

       About the Publisher

       Twi terms, phrases and expressions

      Aane – Yes

      Aba! – Exclamation of annoyance, disdain or disbelief

      Aboa! – You beast!

      Abrokyrie – Overseas

      Abrokyriefoɔ – Foreigners

      Abusuafoɔ – Extended family

      Adɛn? – Why?

      Adjei! – Exclamation of surprise or shock

      Agoo? – May I come in?

      Akwaaba – Welcome

      Akwada bone! – Naughty child!

      Amee – Please enter

      Ampa – It’s true

      Ewurade – God

      Ɛfɛ paaa – Very nice

      Fri hɔ! – Go away!

      Gyae – Stop

      Gye nyame – Traditional symbol meaning ‘only God’

      Hwɛ – Look

      Hwɛ w’anim! – Look at your face!

      Kwadwo besia – An ‘effeminate’ man

      Maame – Miss/Mistress

      Me ba – I am coming

      Me boa? – I lie?

      Me da ase – I thank you

      Me nua – My sibling

      Me pa wo kyew/me sroe – Please (I beg you)

      Me yare – I am sick

      Nananom – Elders

      Oburoni – White person

      Oburoni wawu – Second-hand clothes (‘the white man is dead’)

      Paaa – Sign of emphasis

      Sa? – Really?

      Wa bo dam! – You are mad!

      Wa te? – Do you hear?

      Wa ye adeɛ – Well done

      Wo se sɛn? – What did you say?

      Wo wein? – Where are you?

      Wo ye … – You are …

      Won sere? – You won’t laugh?

      Yere – Wife

       December 2002

      The coffin was like a neat slice of wedding cake. Looping curls of silver and pink, fussy like best handwriting, wound around the box. It waited by the gashed earth that the men would rest it in. The mourners admired, clucking. Belinda made herself look at it. Her phone vibrated in her handbag but she let it rumble on. She brought her ankles together, fixed her head-tie and straightened her dress so that it was less bunched around her breasts. She passed her hand over her puffy face and then saw that eyeliner had rubbed onto her palm in streaks.

      Belinda’s inspection of her messy hands was interrupted by the shouting of the young pallbearers on the opposite side of the grave. They stripped off and swirled the cloths that had been draped over their torsos moments before, then called for hammers. Three little boys, perhaps six or seven years old, flitted back with tools heavier than their tiny limbs. The children hurried off with handfuls of sweet chin chins, nearly falling into the hole not meant for them and only laughing light squeals at how narrowly they had avoided an accident. Belinda wondered if she had ever laughed like that when she was their age.

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