FLORIDA COMMUNITY COLLEGE AT JACKSONVILa SOUTH CAMPUS LIBRARY COPY 2 The Village Fad vs.Fiction Celena Soto pages 2-3 Images Stacy McDonald page 3 Sidewalk of Dreams Helen E. Benhart page 4 Free at Last Richard Foxwell pages 4-5 The Metamorphosis of a Girl page 6 Shifting Currents jett Royce page7 Throwing It All Away Jo' page 8 Combating Cancer Troy VVinrignt pace Perceptions ST page Dependence/Independence A Lifetime Friend Annie Laningham page 12 Memories of a Barn A New Lane for Distracted Drivers - Lear-ine Dunlop °ace 14 Hugo's Blessing Vicky page i — Great lips for Servers page 16 Pdifor Kathleen Ciez-Volz A publication of: LI TheVillage VOIC freshman of vritill Volume 8, Number 1 Spring 1998 by Zaina Masri A strong,putrid,earthy smell wafted towards my sensitive nose,causing me to wrinkle it in distaste. As the merciless sun beat down upon me,I briefly contemplated my decision to vacation in Kenya. Rivers of sweat slid down my back,caressing and tickling each vertebrae on my spine. The occasional dry wind did little to cool me or diffuse the rancid stench that overpowered the camp.I squinted my eyes as they roamed quickly across the dirty, dusty, barren African village,vainlytrying to accustom my pampered senses to whatlay before me.Like a bloodied,torn open carcass beingfeasted upon byscavengersin the brutal aftermath ofa hunt,the village's guts hung outfor all to see. Every molecule ofthe land absorbed the scorching rays ofthe sun,creating a dry,parched landscape with grassso brittle it seemed as ifit would snap when the wind blew. The surface ofthe earth dominated the measly village: all else seemed trivial in comparison. There was no running water or toilets ofany kind,and the only accessories to the bare camp were crude,sparsely littered thatched huts that were constructed out of dehydrated bamboo.Flimsy,fragile, and feeble,they looked as ifthey did little to protect the occupantsfrom the elements.The musty odor ofunkempt,unclean humans emanated from the dwellings. It was the scent of man not caring, or of not having the resources to care. The spoiled and foul fumes of feces and body odor enclosed me on all sides. The delicate flesh of my nose had never encountered a stench like this, and as unaccustomed as I was to the odor, my sense ofsmell was slowly becoming less acute.Like a mother with an embryo in her womb,I felta stirring oflife deep within me.Rising up inside me wasafun- damental memory:the simple,uninhibited scent ofthe earth,the unadulterated smell of myancestors. The richly coffee-colored inhabitants stared at me wide eyed with curiosity. Their deep brown eyes held an ageless wisdom,and I wondered ifthey were in awe of me as I was ofthem.Despite their uncivilized surroundings and unsani- tary conditions,the direct gaze oftheir stares and proud tilt oftheir heads called for no pity. The tribe was scantily clad in loose cloth,and earth toned beads,browns,yellows,and reds,adorned their necks.Obviously stretched with foreign objects,their ear lobes were far larger than any others I had ever seen,with gaping holes I could clearly see through.I stood there a bit uneasily under their watchful eyes,shifting my weightfrom onefoot to the other,wondering what to do and how to approach these people so unlike myself. I felt a stirring at myleft side and looked down into the toothless grin ofa child. Unable to estimate his age,I was unsure ifthe condition of his mouth wasfrom immaturity or lack ofnourishment. He did not look to be starving to me; however, judging from the lack of food in his environment, I am certain he had felt the brunt of hard times. Slowly kneeling down,I wondered ifthe child wo-uld let me hold him. My heart fluttered like the wings ofa butterfly when he did. I ran my hands over the toughness of his skin, roughened and hardened by the harsh climate. A maternal instinct rushed throughout my body as I noticed the flies buzzing noisily around the camp and surrounding his encrusted little eyes. My breath caught in my throat,not onlyfrom the emotions coursing through me like afreight train, but also from the primitive pull deep within my gut. This inexplicable, unexpected tug at my insides was an invisible ribbon of life force pulling metowards this village and its exotic people. I fell in love with the Mombasi tribe that day. Although we lived worlds apart in a different era, I felt a spiritual connection with them. I admired their strength, and in the deep,soulful eyes ofthe men,women,and children,I saw the souls of my ancestors.Theystood proudly in front of me with nothing to hide. Florida CommorotY College at Jacksonville DescriptiveEssay,ENC1101,Prof MarySue Koeppel , OCR Text: FLORIDA COMMUNITY COLLEGE AT JACKSONVILa SOUTH CAMPUS LIBRARY COPY 2 The Village Fad vs.Fiction Celena Soto pages 2-3 Images Stacy McDonald page 3 Sidewalk of Dreams Helen E. Benhart page 4 Free at Last Richard Foxwell pages 4-5 The Metamorphosis of a Girl page 6 Shifting Currents jett Royce page7 Throwing It All Away Jo' page 8 Combating Cancer Troy VVinrignt pace Perceptions ST page Dependence/Independence A Lifetime Friend Annie Laningham page 12 Memories of a Barn A New Lane for Distracted Drivers - Lear-ine Dunlop °ace 14 Hugo's Blessing Vicky page i — Great lips for Servers page 16 Pdifor Kathleen Ciez-Volz A publication of: LI TheVillage VOIC freshman of vritill Volume 8, Number 1 Spring 1998 by Zaina Masri A strong,putrid,earthy smell wafted towards my sensitive nose,causing me to wrinkle it in distaste. As the merciless sun beat down upon me,I briefly contemplated my decision to vacation in Kenya. Rivers of sweat slid down my back,caressing and tickling each vertebrae on my spine. The occasional dry wind did little to cool me or diffuse the rancid stench that overpowered the camp.I squinted my eyes as they roamed quickly across the dirty, dusty, barren African village,vainlytrying to accustom my pampered senses to whatlay before me.Like a bloodied,torn open carcass beingfeasted upon byscavengersin the brutal aftermath ofa hunt,the village's guts hung outfor all to see. Every molecule ofthe land absorbed the scorching rays ofthe sun,creating a dry,parched landscape with grassso brittle it seemed as ifit would snap when the wind blew. The surface ofthe earth dominated the measly village: all else seemed trivial in comparison. There was no running water or toilets ofany kind,and the only accessories to the bare camp were crude,sparsely littered thatched huts that were constructed out of dehydrated bamboo.Flimsy,fragile, and feeble,they looked as ifthey did little to protect the occupantsfrom the elements.The musty odor ofunkempt,unclean humans emanated from the dwellings. It was the scent of man not caring, or of not having the resources to care. The spoiled and foul fumes of feces and body odor enclosed me on all sides. The delicate flesh of my nose had never encountered a stench like this, and as unaccustomed as I was to the odor, my sense ofsmell was slowly becoming less acute.Like a mother with an embryo in her womb,I felta stirring oflife deep within me.Rising up inside me wasafun- damental memory:the simple,uninhibited scent ofthe earth,the unadulterated smell of myancestors. The richly coffee-colored inhabitants stared at me wide eyed with curiosity. Their deep brown eyes held an ageless wisdom,and I wondered ifthey were in awe of me as I was ofthem.Despite their uncivilized surroundings and unsani- tary conditions,the direct gaze oftheir stares and proud tilt oftheir heads called for no pity. The tribe was scantily clad in loose cloth,and earth toned beads,browns,yellows,and reds,adorned their necks.Obviously stretched with foreign objects,their ear lobes were far larger than any others I had ever seen,with gaping holes I could clearly see through.I stood there a bit uneasily under their watchful eyes,shifting my weightfrom onefoot to the other,wondering what to do and how to approach these people so unlike myself. I felt a stirring at myleft side and looked down into the toothless grin ofa child. Unable to estimate his age,I was unsure ifthe condition of his mouth wasfrom immaturity or lack ofnourishment. He did not look to be starving to me; however, judging from the lack of food in his environment, I am certain he had felt the brunt of hard times. Slowly kneeling down,I wondered ifthe child wo-uld let me hold him. My heart fluttered like the wings ofa butterfly when he did. I ran my hands over the toughness of his skin, roughened and hardened by the harsh climate. A maternal instinct rushed throughout my body as I noticed the flies buzzing noisily around the camp and surrounding his encrusted little eyes. My breath caught in my throat,not onlyfrom the emotions coursing through me like afreight train, but also from the primitive pull deep within my gut. This inexplicable, unexpected tug at my insides was an invisible ribbon of life force pulling metowards this village and its exotic people. I fell in love with the Mombasi tribe that day. Although we lived worlds apart in a different era, I felt a spiritual connection with them. I admired their strength, and in the deep,soulful eyes ofthe men,women,and children,I saw the souls of my ancestors.Theystood proudly in front of me with nothing to hide. Florida CommorotY College at Jacksonville DescriptiveEssay,ENC1101,Prof MarySue Koeppel , Z ArchiveInABox,JAX,Voices of Freshman Writing,Scans,1998 Spring,1998 Spring 1 Page 1, 1998 Spring 1 Page 1