Memoir Historical Investigation for Out of Africa by
Helena Tebeau
Primary source:
This is a photograph of Karen Blixen’s house, and a tiny part of the plantation. This photo helps visualize the rest of her plantation. This photograph connects to the book because it is where the main character, Karen Blixen, lives throughout the book.
Secondary source: The movie really made the book come to life. Throughout the book, the reader is faced with many descriptions that make you picture the object Karen is describing. Whilst watching the movie, all these descriptions come to life. The Kenyan area where the movie and book takes place is picturesque. The movie
really shows off the descriptions. Meryl Streep is also one of my favourite actresses. Watching the movie after reading the book really helped me picture, and understand, the book better. Summary Out of Africa is a memoir written about Karen Blixen, who uses the pen name Isak Dinesen. The book is about the seventeen year period when she lives on a coffee plantation. In the book she herself states that the coffee plantation is not in a very good location. Throughout the book you read about the people working on it, her life on the plantation, and about the financial struggles she faces. I really enjoyed the book. I really recommend the memoir for other 8th graders, who have a lot of time on their hands. Sometimes it can be a hard read; some of the language is quite complicated, but once you finish the book it, you feel like the hard read had paid off. One reason I really enjoyed it because of the vivid descriptions. In the first chapter, the first three pages describe the African plain. I love this about the memoir, because I can really visualize the serene area around her mansion. Another thing I absolutely adore about it is that there are interesting facts packed into the book. When you read it, you not only gain knowledge about the characters, but you find out a lot about Kenya in the twentieth century. I really enjoyed reading this great memoir.
Fighting Away the Beast The African sun woke me up. I luxuriated in its warmth, still wrapped in the wool blanket given to me by my mother before I left for Kenya. The sky was a pale violet, the sun’s rays woke all the land surrounding my farm. A chorus of birds filled the morning while a woodpecker knocked his beak on a tree keeping their rhythm.
“Good day, my noisy friends,” I greeted the birds at the open window. “Another beautiful morning dearies!” Quiet laughter filled the house as I walked down the staircase. In the kitchen, I grabbed the coffee grinder from the cupboard, and absentmindedly planned the morning; after drinking my coffee, I would check the herd and make sure it was fed. The larder was nearly empty, so afterwards, a drive to town would be mandatory. Milk swirled in the coffee, making animal shapes. Using a golden spoon, I stirred them away. Wisps of steam rose from the mug. Sip by sip, the coffee scorched my tongue. Last year’s crop had come in well. I gazed out the window. Early, the sun would rise up through a pale sky. Gradually, it would darken into azure. That colour reminded me of my room. I would often get lost in the vast, cloudless expanse, and go home to my childhood. Leaving the mug empty on the table, I pulled on a pair of loafers and ventured outside. My two golden retrievers greeted me, bouncing up and down. They followed me into the plain, where a few lonely trees shaded small patches of grass and thickets of bush were scattered about in arbitrary clutches, most of them a dull amber colour. With the dogs following me like paparazzi, I squeezed through an opening in the bush that served as boundary to my cattle fields, where the cows and oxen grazed disinterested. I made my daily inventory: check if the troughs have enough water for the day, inspect the animals’ health and make sure the fences are well-kept. Barks echoed against the hills, and my head turned to look at the dogs. Both of them
howled, tails between their legs. Suddenly they quieted and sprinted towards the house. Cautious, I spun around to find the source of their fear. There, in front of me, stood a huge lion, its eyes boring into mine. Different things bounced like marbles in my head. I hestitated, lions come out usually at dusk not late morning. Gathering my vanishing courage, I stood on my tiptoes. My arms rose into the air, and I stretched my body out, trying to look as large as possible. My world, including the birds, hushed into silence to watch. “My name is Karen Blixen. You will leave this instant,” I demanded, my voice trembling slightly. I suddenly felt as if I was a mother, speaking to a naughty child. The lion stood its ground, curiously looking at me. It was not intimidated. I cleared my throat loudly, but it stayed still. Without letting the lion out of my sight, I grabbed a sharp pebble from the ground. Holding it tightly in my palm, I threw it toward the lion. At first it seemed surprised; then it rolled its head and bared its teeth. I almost took a step backwards and fled, but a little voice inside of me told me not to. Instead, I grabbed a hand full of rocks and sticks and threw them at the lion. The lion stepped forward, eyeing the surrounding area. I took a close look at it. Its mane was thick, and dried blood caked the long fur around its head. Its eyes were black and pure. It surely felt no guilt for killing its prey, and it surely wouldn’t feel any guilt if it ate me. “This is my cattle!” I yelled, gathering more rocks, and then launching them at the creature.
The lion roared, but stepped back. “You better leave this plain or I will get a gun,” I threatened, my voice extremely loud, “Get out of here!” The lion glanced at me, and started backing away slowly. Slowly, step by step, it retreated not paying attention to the cattle. Finally it merged into the bush, its head disappearing last. A breath of relief escaped my lips. And all at once, the birds started to sing again, the woodpecker keeping time.
Citations: Primary source- KENYA: DINESEN FARM, 1925. - Aerial photograph of the farm owned by Karen Blixen (aka Isak Dinesen) in Kenya, c1925.