#KAZOOLA
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Hey you can answer this tomorrow, but why women king was made…remember roots? I heard the og mc kunta kenta (Is that a real fucking African name?) didn’t understand what the Europeans was doing on the ports with slaves…even though he would have actually known-ooooh
But as you know that left a (bad) impact onto my community….but I keep realize one huge issue Africans have with my community is we try to keep the sanitize version of the slave trade we were taught even as middle age adults
Expect meee, god this pan Africa hurt us
Also people tried to compare women king to 300 and braveheart…haven’t seen braveheartt…but 300 was meant to be a glorified retelling of the battle of themployae
Women king have to twisted the entire course of history to write it
Roots managed to serve its purpose, at least the original one, suffered from extreme historical inaccuracies in places never saw the remake.
But as you know that left a (bad) impact onto my community….but I keep realize one huge issue Africans have with my community is we try to keep the sanitize version of the slave trade we were taught even as middle age adults
This is Oluale Kossola, his American name is Cudjoe Kazoola Lewis (he chose all but Lewis himself), he's the last known slave with distinct memories of life in Africa before being sold by the dahomey and put on a ship and smuggled into the US, human cargo was illegal by then but greedy and evil people on both sides of the Atlantic kept on doing it anyhow.
You can do some of your own reading if you like, but some highlights from his wiki page are.
In April or May 1860, his village was attacked and Lewis was taken prisoner by female warriors led by King Glele of Dahomey, during an annual dry-season raid for slaves. Along with other captives, he was taken to the slaving port of Ouidah and sold to Captain William Foster of the Clotilda, an American ship recently built in Mobile, Alabama, and owned by businessman Timothy Meaher. The importation of slaves into the United States had been illegal since 1808, but slaves were still routinely smuggled in from Spanish Cuba.
And this is from a article about a book about him
The pathos of the African American experience, told with such tenderness in Barracoon, is matched by its complexity. Hurston herself remarked that in writing Kossola’s harrowing account of how the king of Dahomey profited from raiding and selling members of neighbouring kingdoms, she was deeply affected by the question of African complicity in the slave trade. “The inescapable fact that stuck in my craw,” Hurston wrote, “was my people had sold me and the white people had bought me. That did away with the folklore I had been brought up on – that white people had gone to Africa, waved a red handkerchief at the Africans and lured them aboard ship and sailed away.”
One hell of a reality check right there
Also people tried to compare women king to 300 and braveheart…haven’t seen braveheartt…but 300 was meant to be a glorified retelling of the battle of themployae
ya if they wanted to do a Braveheart comparison they'd need to set it up so that the areas that the dahomey raided set up to fight againt the dahomey
Women king have to twisted the entire course of history to write it
Based on historical events, but we're not going to tell you that we did a 180 on who was doing what.
Could you imagine the fallout if someone made a accurate movie about that, painting all the perpetrators as what they were.
Wonder if finding out that if their ancestors hadn't been forced onto a boat there's a good chance they would have either been worked until they died or used as a human sacrifice might shift some viewpoints a little.
None of that is me expressing anything other than just curiosity, since this is tumblr and we piss on the poor who just want to read here I figure disclaimer is needed.
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A piece for Azutara ~
—
She couldn’t help raising her brows when water transformed into solid ice in front of her naked eye. The edges of the lake crackled and fell silent as frost crept onto the banks. Even with her own warmth assured, she didn’t expect their surroundings to drop so quickly, as if the waterbender’s finesse had commanded every other element. Remarkable.
Her next exhale was visible, so small and withheld that it left in a wisp. It was how she knew Katara had stolen her breath - again.
“I promise, it’s firm enough to step on.” A boot measured the thickness with a tap, then she boarded the glassine surface with a satisfied hmph. It slipped Azula’s mind to peel her eyes away and pretend to scout the woodlands, fold her arms, sigh, anything that feigned emotional distance. She watched Katara’s hand move across her sole, sculpting from residue, setting down a knife-like edge with the clink of a cup on a saucer. She repeated with her other foot, straightening on thin slivers of ice like it was easy, hands on hips. “See? I told you we came prepared. Now it’s your turn.”
The princess unstuck her fists from her sides, taking the arm. Not a moment later her feet started to slide apart, grating on the only barrier between steadying hands and a splintering fall. “Oh. I didn’t expect - this is much more...”
“I’ll take care of that.” She gripped her waist, and Azula clutched back. “Just hold on tight.” With something of a kick that never landed, they were spurred into motion. The princess started with a hwah! sound, heart hammering even when coasting along her side, even pressed to the furs Katara was bundled in. Or her thoughts were flying, pulse singing, for another reason outside it all.
Black and dark brown hair fluttered behind them. The wind was hardly biting, jades and colored spots of flowers blurring into one line, pitting a sensation like summertime whisked out from under their feet. No chance. If there was any promise between them - and there were many - it was to snatch out sunlight when it broke the clouds, trap fleeting moments like lightning bugs in clear jars. Until hope spilled into her world, and Katara along with it, Azula learned to heal... and to her, love was an endless summer. One long overdue.
They drifted farther apart, round after round scaling the rink until they were only joined by their hands. Azula found her footing, prodigious learner that she was.
“Hey, you’re getting the hang of it!” Katara’s eyes glowed. She glowed.
With a surge of confidence, the princess dragged her heels, hooking an arm around the other girl and pulling with all her strength. They veered left with a giggling fit, arms locked as they circled to a halt. Dizzied heads were a small price to pay.
“That... was... fun!” Katara gasped out. Finally at rest, she brushed back the uneven cut of Azula’s hair, drinking her in. The sheared ends had regrown quickly, still somewhat mismatched; in just a few months, her reflection wasn’t in complete tatters.
“Next time, I’m taking you to walk over hot coals.” Azula smirked, skates moving in an intuitive waltz. “Or to set off fireworks. As many as we can manage before our hands are covered in ash. Isn’t this the theme we’re following - showing off?”
“Oh, I’d like to see you try and outdo me.” She leaned in, the warm press of lips to Azula’s forehead releasing butterflies in her stomach. Katara’s voice hovered above her ear, teasing, “Unless we’re talking about hot looks. Then I’ll have to step down, hm?”
“Don’t be ridiculous.” She scoffed, a little flushed, throwing back a flippant hand. Venom seeped into her tone out of instinct, but the words were anything but. “You’re the most beautiful girl I’ve ever set eyes on. It would be an insult to doubt my tastes.”
It flew out before she caught herself. Azula’s eyes snapped open, red-faced. “I... er- I meant it!”
Katara smiled. Before she could stutter her way back onto her dispassionate pedestal, a loud crack rang in the quiet. Their eyes shot straight down. Fissures spiderwebbed from under Azula, the ice tinged with heat. Oh...
Flustered, to the point of softening the ice underfoot. Azula could only fling her head up to Katara’s, pale with dread, lungs braced and teeth clicked shut for the cold shock. I’m sorry!
When the ice gave way and they tumbled, her eyes squeezed closed - don’t look, don’t look - no light or even afterimages allowed to pass through. Weightlessness stretched out for an impossible length of time... floating, hearing and seeing nothing, until her ears pricked. A voice.
“It’s okay. I got us. We’re safe.”
What? She loosened the death grip around her knees, squinting. It was dark.
“Azula? We’re okay. I promise.”
Katara, hand in hers - the first one she’d held after days imprisoned in the ward, blood pooling at her elbows. Her grip had been an iron clamp; they never doubted each other’s strength.
Azula looked up, head whipping around until what she was seeing made sense, logic falling into place. Air.
“You didn’t think you would drown with a waterbender at your side, did you?” A chuckle. Her palms were flat and spread, weaving in delicate circles. The pocket around them was held in place, walled on all sides by a swirling current.
Azula made no effort to contain her awe. The underside of the lake was striped azure blue, its bottom glinting in weak rays of sunlight. Shadows of darting fish crossed her periphery. She looked down at their clothes. Dry as bone.
“You know what?” Katara appraised their situation, hands dropping into her lap. Of course she could hold the bubble like it was an afterthought. Of course. “I think we found a great place to cuddle. Play Pai Sho, have a picnic...”
Azula couldn’t help but smile, scooting forwards as the world wobbled. She wasn’t afraid. Not with her. “Okay, fine. You’ve done your showing off. You win.” She pressed against Katara’s side, nuzzling into her neck. “My turn.”
#part two of i try to kick writing block’s ass#i’ve gone maximum w|w for the day and am i coming back down? no ❤️#azutara#KAZOOLA#azula#katara#your local clown writes!
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AIRING TONIGHT: Descendants of Enslaved Africans on Last Known Slave Ship to America Hope to Preserve Ancestors' Memory
The discovery of the wreck of the Clotilda, the last known ship to bring enslaved people to America, adds new drama to the only surviving American community founded by Africans. See the story, Sunday on 60 Minutes.
The recent discovery of the Clotilda, the last known slave ship to arrive in America, adds new depth and drama to a 160-year-old story about the only American town founded by Africans still in existence. People who descended from the 30 slaves from the Clotilda who founded Africatown in Mobile, Alabama, want to preserve the memory of their ancestors and the tiny enclave that is their legacy. Anderson Cooper reports on the Clotilda and its legacy on the next edition of 60 Minutes, Sunday, November 29 at 7:30 p.m. ET and 7 p.m., PT on CBS.
Read more here
Read about one of the last survivors of Clotilda, Cudjoe here and here
#Clotilda#Africatown#Mobile Alabama#Alabama#slave ship#slavery#60 Minutes#Anderson Cooper#Barracoon#Zora Neale Hurston#Cudjoe#Cudjoe Kazoola Lewis#Abaché Lewis#Kazoola
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Love. Music. Food. All I'm Missing Is Some Sleep😂 #CarminaBurana #SouthAlabamaConcertChoir #SpotofTea #ΣΑΙ #Kazoola #WeekendRecap #MobileSymphony (at Saenger Theatre) https://www.instagram.com/p/BvsedRJgC5r/?utm_source=ig_tumblr_share&igshid=5bksqal8ro2y
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Raining on Our Democratic Party (November 2016)
When I was driving from Warwick to Mobile, I’d passed the signs marked for Panama City Beach and almost instinctively veered off the exit. I thought “Oh my gosh. This might be my last chance if he’s still there!”
Then I realized that I really had zero time for that bullshit, so I got back on the road and back on track to Mobile. I was proud of myself for overcoming a weak moment and guiding myself back to see a friend.
I’d arrived in Mobile around 7 pm, and it was already so dark outside. All we really had time for was to party, and it was election night, so that made it pretty interesting.
She showed me the place that she said she worked, bought me a really spicy wrap called the Katy Peri Peri which was made with Peri Peri peppers. It was dripping all over the place and brought tears to my eyes, but it was so tasty. On the counter, there were also candied habañero peppers which Jesse said customers would stupidly grab handfuls of because they were free. He said it was fun to watch them cry after not reading the obvious warning signs.
I didn’t realize that Mia and Jesse both worked together. She was a bartender and he was a cook. They were both living in an upstairs room in Jesse���s father’s house which was one of the coolest, traditional American classic homes I’d ever seen. You could tell that the architecture was from a much older era, and I appreciated the charm that it had. It was well-decorated and well-furnished, and I lucked out by coming at a time when Jesse’s sister was away, so I had my own room to stay in.
Mia showed me around her downtown which she described as “a little sister New Orleans.” We bar-hopped across town and ended up in a place where there was a Democratic party being held, and was even being broadcasted live on the local news. We had watched the broadcast from another bar across town, and made our way to the bar known as Kazoola, to witness the broadcast in person.
The bar itself was named after a famous slave that grew up in Alabama and was known for its live jazz performances. It seemed that everyone’s jovial laughter and jubilant mood about the hope of our first female president quickly turned into anguish and despair once it was seen that Donald Trump caught up to Hillary Clinton and all the states after that started bleeding red too. Once we saw that North Carolina turned red, we knew it was over. It was extremely fitting for everyone’s mood that the musician sing “Purple Rain” by Prince, and I captured the memory of the sadness and support of everyone in the room.
Mia and Jesse had taken the loss extremely hard themselves. On the way back home, Jesse kept talking about how it was all a ploy to get Trump impeached so that we could have the real devil, Mike Pence in office. It was so unreal to see this orange man with no experience or qualifications to be our new president and leader.
That night, we all smoked a blunt to take off the edge, and so I could actually get some sleep. I must have slept really well because I didn’t even hear all the commotion downstairs when it was happening. Mia was so upset about the election plus drunk, that she wouldn’t stop vomiting in the bathroom downstairs, and when I left the house at 5 AM to go to New Orleans quickly before heading back home, I saw a trail of her clothes leading from the bathtub all the way upstairs.
#eventfulelection#mobilealabama#kazoola#democraticparty#blog#lifeblog#trump2016#hillary2016#november2016
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Cudjo kazoola lewis. Founding member of Africatown in Mobile, Alabama. He was the last surviving member of captured Africans brought over on the Clotilda in the mid 1800′s. he died in 1935.
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this ask game is so fun prepare to be bombarded
opinions on:
bumi ii being an earthbender and it's never explained why
kazoola (au where everything is the same but azula has a kazoo)
aroallo toph
oh shit *pulls out punnet squares*
THE LITTLE CHIME WHEN AZULA APPEARS BUT ITS A KAZOO SENWOBWOSBS
it’s in the text
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au where everything is exactly the same except azula has a kazoo. kazoola
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spunchbob memes but theyre various images of azula in my camera roll
aw hell naw, kazoola brock she gotdamn neck???? 😂😂😂😂😂
hell naw, she sitin in😂😂😂 the chair like that??? (Kazoola)
FUCK BRAH, WHY SHE (kazoola) DEAD????? 😭😭😭😭😂😂😂
hell naw, eyerow kickin the shit otta kazoola😂,. Wgat will 😂😂ozzy think????
brah why she (kazoola)😂 all up in the aur like that???? 😂😂😂😂😂😂😂
aw hell naw she (baby kazoola) burning the shit Outa that doll???? tiny murdarar 😂😂😂😂
fuck brah😙, kazoola and zuku togather???? Man LMFAO 😂😂😂😂😂
bonus:
aw hell naw, tough and sucky are less beans???? I ship it 😂😂😂😂😂
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thinking about kazoola and kazoozoo again
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and my waves meet your shore (ever and evermore)
read it on the AO3 at https://ift.tt/3e8Lsfc
by texasisalandlockedstate
It wouldn’t change anything to tell you how I feel.
Words: 1048, Chapters: 1/?, Language: English
Fandoms: Avatar: The Last Airbender
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Categories: F/F
Characters: Azula (Avatar), Katara (Avatar), Zuko (Avatar), Sokka (Avatar), Suki (Avatar), Ty Lee (Avatar), Mai (Avatar)
Relationships: Azula/Katara (Avatar), Minor or Background Relationship(s), Sokka/Zuko (Avatar), Mai/Suki/Ty Lee (Avatar)
Additional Tags: this is definitely fruity, we all know what azula and ty lee were doing in the storage closet, Azula is a Mean Lesbian, Azutara Is Called Kazoola Now, come on guys let's make it happen, no beta we die like jet, except jet isn't in this fic i just wanted to use that tag, i hate john mayer, that was unrelated but necessary, seriously that is entirely unrelated to this fic it was just on my mind yk, Lesbian Azula (Avatar), Lesbian Katara (Avatar), mai ty lee and suki are obviously all dating obviously
read it on the AO3 at https://ift.tt/3e8Lsfc
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