William S. Sadler - "The Mother and Her Child"

Laura Fitinghoff - "Barnen ifran Frostmofjaellet"

Sidonia Hedwig Zaeunemann - "Die von denen Faunen gepeitschte Laster"

Dan Smoot - "The Invisible Government"

Annual Bibliography of Commonwealth Literature 2007
This paper argues that discourses of love in Ghanaian market literature for youth offer a view into complex negotiations of agency and empowerment. Drawing on Deborah Durham's notion of youth as "social `shifters'" and Francis Nyamnjoh's conception of the "interconnectedness" of agency, I take Ghanaian market literature as one specific case of how African literature for youth foregrounds questions of continuity and change as African societies enter into increasingly complex global relations. In this literature for youth, received notions of love, often constructed out of impressions from American pop and hip hop music, carry new notions of agency that compete with existing "domesticated" forms. Authors like Ike Tandoh and Evelyn Tay employ discourses of love to offer youth alternative avenues for empowerment in a context of socio-economic disenfranchizement. In a creative process of "straddling", this writing both reveals and reproduces the contradictions that obtain in youth configurations of agency.

The Patchwork Girl of Oz

L >> L. Frank Baum >> The Patchwork Girl of Oz




The Scarecrow's face was very interesting, for
it bore a comical and yet winning expression,
although one eye was a bit larger than the other
and ears were not mates. The Munchkin farmer who
had made the Scarecrow had neglected to sew him
together with close stitches and therefore some of
the straw with which he was stuffed was inclined
to stick out between the seams. His hands
consisted of padded white gloves, with the fingers
long and rather limp, and on his feet he wore
Munchkin boots of blue leather with broad turns at
the tops of them.

The Sawhorse was almost as curious as its rider.
It had been rudely made, in the beginning, to saw
logs upon, so that its body was a short length of
a log, and its legs were stout branches fitted
into four holes made in the body. The tail was
formed by a small branch that had been left on the
log, while the head was a gnarled bump on one end
of the body. Two knots of wood formed the eyes,
and the mouth was a gash chopped in the log. When
the Sawhorse first came to life it had no ears at
all, and so could not hear; but the boy who then
owned him had whittled two ears out of bark and
stuck them in the head, after which the Sawhorse
heard very distinctly.

This queer wooden horse was a great favorite
with Princess Ozma, who had caused the bottoms of
its legs to be shod with plates of gold, so the
wood would not wear away. Its saddle was made of
cloth-of-gold richly encrusted with precious gems.
It had never worn a bridle.

As the Scarecrow came in sight of the party of
travelers, he reined in his wooden steed and
dismounted, greeting the Shaggy Man with a smiling
nod. Then he turned to stare at the Patchwork Girl
in wonder, while she in turn stared at him.

"Shags," he whispered, drawing the Shaggy Man
aside, "pat me into shape, there's a good fellow!"

While his friend punched and patted the
Scarecrow's body, to smooth out the humps, Scraps
turned to Ojo and whispered: "Roll me out, please;
I've sagged down dreadfully from walking so much
and men like to see a stately figure."

She then fell upon the ground and the boy rolled
her back and forth like a rolling-pin, until the
cotton had filled all the spaces in her patchwork
covering and the body had lengthened to its
fullest extent. Scraps and the Scarecrow both
finished their hasty toilets at the same time, and
again they faced each other.

"Allow me, Miss Patchwork," said the Shaggy Man,
"to present my friend, the Right Royal Scarecrow
of Oz. Scarecrow, this is Miss Scraps Patches;
Scraps, this is the Scarecrow. Scarecrow--Scraps;
Scraps--Scarecrow."

They both bowed with much dignity.

"Forgive me for staring so rudely," said the
Scarecrow, "but you are the most beautiful sight
my eyes have ever beheld."

"That is a high compliment from one who is
himself so beautiful," murmured Scraps, casting
down her suspender-button eyes by lowering her
head. "But, tell me, good sir, are you not a
trifle lumpy?"

"Yes, of course; that's my straw, you know.
It bunches up, sometimes, in spite of all my
efforts to keep it even. Doesn't your straw ever
bunch?"

"Oh, I'm stuffed with cotton," said Scraps.
"It never bunches, but it's inclined to pack down
and make me sag."

"But cotton is a high-grade stuffing. I may say
it is even more stylish, not to say aristocratic,
than straw," said the Scarecrow politely. "Still,
it is but proper that one so entrancingly lovely
should have the best stuffing there is going. I--
er--I'm so glad I've met you, Miss Scraps!
Introduce us again, Shaggy."

"Once is enough," replied the Shaggy Man,
laughing at his friend's enthusiasm.

"Then tell me where you found her, and--Dear me,
what a queer cat! What are you made of--gelatine?"

"Pure glass," answered the cat, proud to have
attracted the Scarecrow's attention. "I am much
more beautiful than the Patchwork Girl. I'm
transparent, and Scraps isn't; I've pink brains--
you can see 'em work; and I've a ruby heart,
finely polished, while Scraps hasn't any heart at
all."

"No more have I," said the Scarecrow, shaking
hands with Scraps, as if to congratulate her on
the fact. "I've a friend, the Tin Woodman, who has
a heart, but I find I get along pretty well
without one. And so--Well, well! here's a little
Munchkin boy, too. Shake hands, my little man. How
are you?"

Ojo placed his hand in the flabby stuffed glove
that served the Scarecrow for a hand, and the
Scarecrow pressed it so cordially that the straw
in his glove crackled.

Meantime, the Woozy had approached the Sawhorse
and begun to sniff at it. The Sawhorse resented
this familiarity and with a sudden kick pounded
the Woozy squarely on its head with one gold-shod
foot.

"Take that, you monster!" it cried angrily.

The Woozy never even winked.

"To be sure," he said; "I'll take anything I
have to. But don't make me angry, you wooden
beast, or my eyes will flash fire and burn you
up."

The Sawhorse rolled its knot eyes wickedly
and kicked again, but the Woozy trotted away
and said to the Scarecrow:

"What a sweet disposition that creature has!
I advise you to chop it up for kindling-wood
and use me to ride upon. My back is flat and
you can't fall off."

"I think the trouble is that you haven't been
properly introduced," said the Scarecrow,
regarding the Woozy with much wonder, for he had
never seen such a queer animal before.

"The Sawhorse is the favorite steed of Princess
Ozma, the Ruler of the Land of Oz, and he lives in
a stable decorated with pearls and emeralds, at
the rear of the royal palace. He is swift as the
wind, untiring, and is kind to his friends. All
the people of Oz respect the Sawhorse highly, and
when I visit Ozma she sometimes allows me to ride
him--as I am doing to-day. Now you know what an
important personage the Sawhorse is, and if some
one--perhaps yourself--will tell me your name,
your rank and station, and your history, it will
give me pleasure to relate them to the Sawhorse.
This will lead to mutual respect and friendship."

The Woozy was somewhat abashed by this speech
and did not know how to reply. But Ojo said:

"This square beast is called the Woozy, and he
isn't of much importance except that he has three
hairs growing on the tip of his tail."

The Scarecrow looked and saw that this was true.

"But," said he, in a puzzled way, "what makes
those three hairs important? The Shaggy Man has
thousands of hairs, but no one has ever accused
him of being important."

So Ojo related the sad story of Unc Nunkie's
transformation into a marble statue, and told how
he had set out to find the things the Crooked
Magician wanted, in order to make a charm that
would restore his uncle to life. One of the
requirements was three hairs from a Woozy's tail,
but not being able to pull out the hairs they had
been obliged to take the Woozy with them.

The Scarecrow looked grave as he listened and he
shook his head several times, as if in
disapproval.

"We must see Ozma about this matter," he
said. "That Crooked Magician is breaking the
Law by practicing magic without a license, and
I'm not sure Ozma will allow him to restore your
uncle to life."

"Already I have warned the boy of that,"
declared the Shaggy Man.

At this Ojo began to cry. "I want my Unc
Nunkie!" he exclaimed. "I know how he can be
restored to life, and I'm going to do it--Ozma or
no Ozma! What right has this girl Ruler to keep my
Unc Nunkie a statue forever?"

"Don't worry about that just now," advised
the Scarecrow. "Go on to the Emerald City,
and when you reach it have the Shaggy Man
take you to see Dorothy. Tell her your story and
I'm sure she will help you. Dorothy is Ozma's
best friend, and if you can win her to your side
your uncle is pretty safe to live again." Then he
turned to the Woozy and said: "I'm afraid you
are not important enough to be introduced to
the Sawhorse, after all."

"I'm a better beast than he is," retorted the
Woozy, indignantly. "My eyes can flash fire, and
his can't."

"Is this true?" inquired the Scarecrow, turning
to the Munchkin boy.

"Yes," said Ojo, and told how the Woozy had
set fire to the fence.

"Have you any other accomplishments?"
asked the Scarecrow.

"I have a most terrible growl--that is,
sometimes," said the Woozy, as Scraps laughed
merrily and the Shaggy Man smiled. But the Patchwork
Girl's laugh made the Scarecrow forget all
about the Woozy. He said to her:

"What an admirable young lady you are, and
what jolly good company! We must be better
acquainted, for never before have I met a girl
with such exquisite coloring or such natural,
artless manners."

"No wonder they call you the Wise Scarecrow,"
replied Scraps.

"When you arrive at the Emerald City I will see
you again," continued the Scarecrow. "Just now I
am going to call upon an old friend--an ordinary
young lady named Jinjur--who has promised to
repaint my left ear for me. You may have noticed
that the paint on my left ear has peeled off and
faded, which affects my hearing on that side.
Jinjur always fixes me up when I get weather-
worn."

"When do you expect to return to the Emerald
City?" asked the Shaggy Man.

"I'll be there this evening, for I'm anxious
to have a long talk with Miss Scraps. How is it,
Sawhorse; are you equal to a swift run?"

"Anything that suits you suits me," returned
the wooden horse.

So the Scarecrow mounted to the jeweled
saddle and waved his hat, when the Sawhorse
darted away so swiftly that they were out of
sight in an instant.




Chapter Fourteen

Ojo Breaks the Law


"What a queer man," remarked the Munchkin boy,
when the party had resumed its journey.

"And so nice and polite," added Scraps, bobbing
her head. "I think he is the handsomest man I've
seen since I came to life."

"Handsome is as handsome does," quoted the
Shaggy Man; "but we must admit that no living
scarecrow is handsomer. The chief merit of my
friend is that he is a great thinker, and in Oz it
is considered good policy to follow his advice."

"I didn't notice any brains in his head,"
observed the Glass Cat.

"You can't see 'em work, but they're there, all
right," declared the Shaggy Man. "I hadn't much
confidence in his brains myself, when first I came
to Oz, for a humbug Wizard gave them to him; but I
was soon convinced that the Scarecrow is really
wise; and, unless his brains make him so, such
wisdom is unaccountable."

"Is the Wizard of Oz a humbug?" asked Ojo.

"Not now. He was once, but he has reformed
and now assists Glinda the Good, who is the
Royal Sorceress of Oz and the only one licensed
to practice magic or sorcery. Glinda has taught
our old Wizard a good many clever things, so
he is no longer a humbug."

They walked a little while in silence and
then Ojo said:

"If Ozma forbids the Crooked Magician to
restore Unc Nunkie to life, what shall I do?"

The Shaggy Man shook his head.

"In that case you can't do anything," he said.
"But don't be discouraged yet. We will go to
Princess Dorothy and tell her your troubles, and
then we will let her talk to Ozma. Dorothy has the
kindest little heart in the world, and she has
been through so many troubles herself that she is
sure to sympathize with you."

"Is Dorothy the little girl who came here from
Kansas?" asked the boy.

"Yes. In Kansas she was Dorothy Gale. I used to
know her there, and she brought me to the Land of
Oz. But now Ozma has made her a Princess, and
Dorothy's Aunt Em and Uncle Henry are here, too."
Here the Shaggy Man uttered a long sigh, and then
he continued: "It's a queer country, this Land of
Oz; but I like it, nevertheless."

"What is queer about it?" asked Scraps.

"You, for instance," said he.

"Did you see no girls as beautiful as I am in
your own country?" she inquired.

"None with the same gorgeous, variegated
beauty," he confessed. "In America a girl stuffed
with cotton wouldn't be alive, nor would anyone
think of making a girl out of a patchwork quilt."

"What a queer country America must be!" she
exclaimed in great surprise. "The Scarecrow, whom
you say is wise, told me I am the most beautiful
creature he has ever seen."

"I know; and perhaps you are--from a scarecrow
point of view," replied the Shaggy Man; but why he
smiled as he said it Scraps could not imagine.

As they drew nearer to the Emerald City the
travelers were filled with admiration for the
splendid scenery they beheld. Handsome houses
stood on both sides of the road and each had a
green lawn before it as well as a pretty flower
garden.

"In another hour," said the Shaggy Man, "we
shall come in sight of the walls of the Royal
City."

He was walking ahead, with Scraps, and behind
them came the Woozy and the Glass Cat. Ojo had
lagged behind, for in spite of the warnings he
had received the boy's eyes were fastened on the
clover that bordered the road of yellow bricks and
he was eager to discover if such a thing as a
six-leaved clover really existed.

Suddenly he stopped short and bent over to
examine the ground more closely. Yes; here at last
was a clover with six spreading leaves. He counted
them carefully, to make sure. In an instant his
heart leaped with joy, for this was one of the
important things he had come for--one of the
things that would restore dear Unc Nunkie to life.

He glanced ahead and saw that none of his
companions was looking back. Neither were any
other people about, for it was midway between
two houses. The temptation was too strong to
be resisted.

"I might search for weeks and weeks, and
never find another six-leaved clover," he told
himself, and quickly plucking the stem from the
plant he placed the prized clover in his basket,
covering it with the other things he carried
there. Then, trying to look as if nothing had
happened, he hurried forward and overtook his
comrades.

The Emerald City, which is the most splendid as
well as the most beautiful city in any fairyland,
is surrounded by a high, thick wall of green
marble, polished smooth and set with glistening
emeralds. There are four gates, one facing the
Munchkin Country, one facing the Country of the
Winkies, one facing the Country of the Quadlings
and one facing the Country of the Gillikins. The
Emerald City lies directly in the center of these
four important countries of Oz. The gates had bars
of pure gold, and on either side of each gateway
were built high towers, from which floated gay
banners. Other towers were set at distances along
the walls, which were broad enough for four people
to walk abreast upon.

This enclosure, all green and gold and
glittering with precious gems, was indeed a
wonderful sight to greet our travelers, who first
observed it from the top of a little hill; but
beyond the wall was the vast city it surrounded,
and hundreds of jeweled spires, domes and
minarets, flaunting flags and banners, reared
their crests far above the towers of the gateways.
In the center of the city our friends could see
the tops of many magnificent trees, some nearly as
tall as the spires of the buildings, and the
Shaggy Man told them that these trees were in the
royal gardens of Princess Ozma.

They stood a long time on the hilltop, feasting
their eyes on the splendor of the Emerald City.

"Whee!" exclaimed Scraps, clasping her padded
hands in ecstacy, "that'll do for me to live in,
all right. No more of the Munchkin Country for
these patches--and no more of the Crooked
Magician!"

"Why, you belong to Dr. Pipt," replied Ojo,
looking at her in amazement. "You were made for a
servant, Scraps, so you are personal property and
not your own mistress."

"Bother Dr. Pipt! If he wants me, let him
come here and get me. I'll not go back to his
den of my own accord; that's certain. Only one
place in the Land of Oz is fit to live in, and
that's the Emerald City. It's lovely! It's almost
as beautiful as I am, Ojo."

"In this country," remarked the Shaggy Man,
"people live wherever our Ruler tells them to. It
wouldn't do to have everyone live in the Emerald
City, you know, for some must plow the land and
raise grains and fruits and vegetables, while
others chop wood in the forests, or fish in the
rivers, or herd the sheep and the cattle."

"Poor things!" said Scraps.

"I'm not sure they are not happier than the city
people," replied the Shaggy Man. "There's a
freedom and independence in country life that not
even the Emerald City can give one. I know that
lots of the city people would like to get back to
the land. The Scarecrow lives in the country, and
so do the Tin Woodman and Jack Pumpkinhead; yet
all three would be welcome to live in Ozma's
palace if they cared to. Too much splendor becomes
tiresome, you know. But, if we're to reach the
Emerald City before sundown, we must hurry, for it
is yet a long way off."

The entrancing sight of the city had put new
energy into them all and they hurried forward
with lighter steps than before. There was much
to interest them along the roadway, for the
houses were now set more closely together and
they met a good many people who were coming
or going from one place or another. All these
seemed happy-faced, pleasant people, who
nodded graciously to the strangers as they
passed, and exchanged words of greeting.

At last they reached the great gateway, just
as the sun was setting and adding its red glow
to the glitter of the emeralds on the green walls
and spires. Somewhere inside the city a band
could be heard playing sweet music; a soft,
subdued hum, as of many voices, reached their
ears; from the neighboring yards came the low
mooing of cows waiting to be milked.

They were almost at the gate when the golden
bars slid back and a tall soldier stepped out and
faced them. Ojo thought he had never seen so
tall a man before. The soldier wore a handsome
green and gold uniform, with a tall hat in which
was a waving plume, and he had a belt thickly
encrusted with jewels. But the most peculiar
thing about him was his long green beard,
which fell far below his waist and perhaps
made him seem taller than he really was.

"Halt!" said the Soldier with the Green
Whiskers, not in a stern voice but rather in a
friendly tone.

They halted before he spoke and stood looking at
him.

"Good evening, Colonel," said the Shaggy
Man. "What's the news since I left? Anything
important?"

"Billina has hatched out thirteen new chickens,"
replied the Soldier with the Green Whiskers, "and
they're the cutest little fluffy yellow balls you
ever saw. The Yellow Hen is mighty proud of those
children, I can tell you."

"She has a right to be," agreed the Shaggy
Man. "Let me see; that's about seven thousand
chicks she has hatched out; isn't it, General?"

"That, at least," was the reply. "You will have
to visit Billina and congratulate her."

"It will give me pleasure to do that," said the
Shaggy Man. "But you will observe that I have
brought some strangers home with me. I am
going to take them to see Dorothy."

"One moment, please," said the soldier, barring
their way as they started to enter the gate. "I am
on duty, and I have orders to execute. Is anyone
in your party named Ojo the Unlucky?"

"Why, that's me!" cried Ojo, astonished at
hearing his name on the lips of a stranger.

The Soldier with the Green Whiskers nodded. "I
thought so," said he, "and I am sorry to announce
that it is my painful duty to arrest you."

"Arrest me!" exclaimed the boy. "What for?"

"I haven't looked to see," answered the soldier.
Then he drew a paper from his breast pocket and
glanced at it. "Oh, yes; you are to be arrested
for willfully breaking one of the Laws of Oz."

"Breaking a law!" said Scraps. "Nonsense,
Soldier; you're joking."

"Not this time," returned the soldier, with a
sigh. "My dear child--what are you, a rummage sale
or a guess-me-quick?--in me you behold the Body-
Guard of our gracious Ruler, Princess Ozma, as
well as the Royal Army of Oz and the Police Force
of the Emerald City."

"And only one man!" exclaimed the Patchwork Girl.

"Only one, and plenty enough. In my official
positions I've had nothing to do for a good many
years--so long that I began to fear I was
absolutely useless--until to-day. An hour ago I was
called to the presence of her Highness, Ozma of
Oz, and told to arrest a boy named Ojo the
Unlucky, who was journeying from the Munchkin
Country to the Emerald City and would arrive in a
short time. This command so astonished me that I
nearly fainted, for it is the first time anyone
has merited arrest since I can remember. You are
rightly named Ojo the Unlucky, my poor boy, since
you have broken a Law of Oz.

"But you are wrong," said Scraps. "Ozma is
wrong--you are all wrong--for Ojo has broken no
Law."

"Then he will soon be free again," replied the
Soldier with the Green Whiskers. "Anyone accused
of crime is given a fair trial by our Ruler and
has every chance to prove his innocence. But just
now Ozma's orders must be obeyed."

With this he took from his pocket a pair of
handcuffs made of gold and set with rubies and
diamonds, and these he snapped over Ojo's wrists.




Chapter Fifteen

Ozma's Prisoner


The boy was so bewildered by this calamity that he
made no resistance at all. He knew very well he
was guilty, but it surprised him that Ozma also
knew it. He wondered how she had found out so soon
that he had picked the six-leaved clover. He
handed his basket to Scraps and said:

"Keep that, until I get out of prison. If I
never get out, take it to the Crooked Magician, to
whom it belongs."

The Shaggy Man had been gazing earnestly in the
boy's face, uncertain whether to defend him or
not; but something he read in Ojo's expression
made him draw back and refuse to interfere to save
him. The Shaggy Man was greatly surprised and
grieved, but he knew that Ozma never made mistakes
and so Ojo must really have broken the Law of Oz.

The Soldier with the Green Whiskers now led them
all through the gate and into a little room built
in the wall. Here sat a jolly little man, richly
dressed in green and having around his neck a
heavy gold chain to which a number of great golden
keys were attached. This was the Guardian of the
Gate and at the moment they entered his room he
was playing a tune upon a mouth-organ.

"Listen!" he said, holding up his hand for
silence. "I've just composed a tune called 'The
Speckled Alligator.' It's in patch-time, which is
much superior to rag-time, and I've composed it in
honor of the Patchwork Girl, who has just
arrived."

"How did you know I had arrived?" asked Scraps,
much interested.

"It's my business to know who's coming, for I'm
the Guardian of the Gate. Keep quiet while I play
you 'The Speckled Alligator.'"

It wasn't a very bad tune, nor a very good one,
but all listened respectfully while he shut his
eyes and swayed his head from side to side and
blew the notes from the little instrument. When it
was all over the Soldier with the Green Whiskers
said:

"Guardian, I have here a prisoner."

"Good gracious! A prisoner?" cried the little
man, jumping up from his chair. "Which one? Not
the Shaggy Man?"

"No; this boy."

"Ah; I hope his fault is as small as himself,"
said the Guardian of the Gate. "But what can he
have done, and what made him do it?"

"Can't say," replied the soldier. "All I know
is that he has broken the Law."

"But no one ever does that!"

"Then he must be innocent, and soon will be
released. I hope you are right, Guardian. Just now
I am ordered to take him to prison. Get me a
prisoner's robe from your Official Wardrobe."

The Guardian unlocked a closet and took
from it a white robe, which the soldier threw
over Ojo. It covered him from head to foot, but
had two holes just in front of his eyes, so he
could see where to go. In this attire the boy
presented a very quaint appearance.

As the Guardian unlocked a gate leading
from his room into the streets of the Emerald
City, the Shaggy Man said to Scraps:

"I think I shall take you directly to Dorothy,
as the Scarecrow advised, and the Glass Cat
and the Woozy may come with us. Ojo must
go to prison with the Soldier with the Green
Whiskers, but he will be well treated and you
need not worry about him."

"What will they do with him?" asked Scraps.

"That I cannot tell. Since I came to the Land of
Oz no one has ever been arrested or imprisoned--
until Ojo broke the Law."

"Seems to me that girl Ruler of yours is making
a big fuss over nothing," remarked Scraps, tossing
her yarn hair out of her eyes with a jerk of her
patched head. "I don't know what Ojo has done, but
it couldn't be anything very bad, for you and I
were with him all the time."

The Shaggy Man made no reply to this speech and
presently the Patchwork Girl forgot all about Ojo
in her admiration of the wonderful city she had
entered.

They soon separated from the Munchkin boy, who
was led by the Soldier with the Green Whiskers
down a side street toward the prison. Ojo felt
very miserable and greatly ashamed of himself, but
he was beginning to grow angry because he was
treated in such a disgraceful manner. Instead of
entering the splendid Emerald City as a
respectable traveler who was entitled to a
welcome and to hospitality, he was being brought
in as a criminal, handcuffed and in a robe that
told all he met of his deep disgrace.

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