Elizabeth Nyoni Character Analysis

Golide knew that building airplanes was a costly business—that being capable of flight would come at a price. Parts either had to be bought or manufactured, people had to be educated and trained and the state’s monopoly on manufacturing had to be destroyed and decentralized. These obstacles made Golide spend most of his time thinking of ways to make the people understand that they were still capable of flight, and at no cost to themselves.

Well, Marcus Malcolm Martin Masuku, you can be friends with my Genie here if you promise me one thing. Can you promise me one thing? […] Promise me that you will not become a politician . . . promise me you will become a real revolutionary instead.

“Do I have a father?”

“It depends.”

“On what?”

“On the future.”

“We are your family now,” his new grandmother said, still not smiling. They all looked beautiful, the members of his family, but Marcus felt that their beauty was not to be trusted. It was a dangerous beauty. He was suddenly more terrified than he had ever been before. He let go of his bladder then, well aware that his urine would soil both his shorts and his mother’s shiny dress.

Bhekithemba did not believe in love, at least not in romantic love. He understood the love one had for one’s parents and one’s country—but that sort of love was born of respect and gratitude. It was a sort of giving back. There was a reason for that kind of love. It was only natural to love the things that had given you life, a sense of place, a feeling of belonging, a connection to things beyond yourself. You could not exist without those things and so of course you loved them. It was a selfish love: a love of self-preservation. Selfish love was understandable . . . reasonable. But romantic love had no reason.

“You cannot break me. You see, I know for certain that my parents were capable of flight.”

As they gang-raped, shot and pillaged their way through the compound, they had also, unbeknownst to themselves, found another way to decimate the compound. It did not have to be all of them who carried the disease. Just one—the result would have been the same.

And now to find out that Genie too . . .

Genie chooses this particular moment, with the survivors as her witnesses, to fly away on a giant pair of silver wings . . . and leave her heart behind to calcify into the most precious and beautiful something that the world has ever seen.

As the survivors watch her ascend she experiences love as the release of a promise long held.

This is where he belongs.

Golide knew that building airplanes was a costly business—that being capable of flight would come at a price. Parts either had to be bought or manufactured, people had to be educated and trained and the state’s monopoly on manufacturing had to be destroyed and decentralized. These obstacles made Golide spend most of his time thinking of ways to make the people understand that they were still capable of flight, and at no cost to themselves.

Well, Marcus Malcolm Martin Masuku, you can be friends with my Genie here if you promise me one thing. Can you promise me one thing? […] Promise me that you will not become a politician . . . promise me you will become a real revolutionary instead.

“Do I have a father?”

“It depends.”

“On what?”

“On the future.”

“We are your family now,” his new grandmother said, still not smiling. They all looked beautiful, the members of his family, but Marcus felt that their beauty was not to be trusted. It was a dangerous beauty. He was suddenly more terrified than he had ever been before. He let go of his bladder then, well aware that his urine would soil both his shorts and his mother’s shiny dress.

Bhekithemba did not believe in love, at least not in romantic love. He understood the love one had for one’s parents and one’s country—but that sort of love was born of respect and gratitude. It was a sort of giving back. There was a reason for that kind of love. It was only natural to love the things that had given you life, a sense of place, a feeling of belonging, a connection to things beyond yourself. You could not exist without those things and so of course you loved them. It was a selfish love: a love of self-preservation. Selfish love was understandable . . . reasonable. But romantic love had no reason.

“You cannot break me. You see, I know for certain that my parents were capable of flight.”

As they gang-raped, shot and pillaged their way through the compound, they had also, unbeknownst to themselves, found another way to decimate the compound. It did not have to be all of them who carried the disease. Just one—the result would have been the same.

And now to find out that Genie too . . .

Genie chooses this particular moment, with the survivors as her witnesses, to fly away on a giant pair of silver wings . . . and leave her heart behind to calcify into the most precious and beautiful something that the world has ever seen.

As the survivors watch her ascend she experiences love as the release of a promise long held.

This is where he belongs.