Reseña del libro "The Soul is thicker than Blood (en Inglés)"
This reader-gripping page-runner, involves the hectic life of a double-crosser named Sizakele Mthimkhulu who is married to a king alongside two other wives, Nomthandazo and Bonakele. Sizakele craves in her blood with an obsession that her son Mabutiza, born blind and heir to the king's throne marry Senzeni, a beautiful daughter of her friend Sakhile who is a nurse and is married to the principal of a school where Sizakele is a teacher. Mabutiza is however interested in Noluthando, a down to earth God loving daughter of Noluntu, an indigent neighbor to the royal home. The race to the walk down the aisle is devious, restless, sleepless and packed with lots of lies. It is a race accompanied by all the evils of this world and the love of the heavens above! "Excerpt" There was nothing else Noluntu could do other than kneel down and pray to God. Sizakele had put her pious life on pins and needles. She told herself that she could no longer be a spectator to her own struggle for her own emancipation. "Oh God", she prayed. "You said we should love our enemies. However, I ask you to oppose those who oppose me and fight those who fight me as the prayer for help says in Psa...." "Stop it!" Noluntu was interrupted by a harsh sharp voice. She opened her eyes and saw a nightmarish figure standing frantically before her. It was Sizakele the queen. "I caught you red handed! You are gossiping about me behind my back with your dim-witted God! You"re a futile poverty-stricken waste of rations! You think your God will help you get your miserable daughter to marry my son? That nincompoop with a big head sitting on her exhausted neck like a question mark? That wizard with distended nostrils who looks like she was assembled from used spare parts from hell? She will marry my son over my dead body! In fact, I want you to leave Noluntu. My husband owns the land on which you built your hideous slums! I want you out of his land!" She delivered an impious, startling directive to an already moribund and traumatized Noluntu. Her beseeching tone of voice tormented and crippled her troubled mind. She feared most, her terrorizing fights that had soon reached their threshold and widened the fissures between their lives. Her chilling reprehensible words inciting bloodshed had suddenly turned their relations from neighbors to foes. "Just have a look at your slums!" She grimaced and went on undeterred. "These slums and your daughter are some of the mess God forgot to clear away when he made the world! Instead of praying to him to fight me, you should be praying that he gets rid of you before I do! If you don't, you will wish you were never born the day I lay my hands on you!" She destroyed Noluntu's self-worth and slammed the door shut in Noluntu's face, leaving her head swimming in a polluted sea of confusion and fear. Noluntu knew Sizakele's threats were a premonition of worse things to come because democracy and Christianity were two words that never enjoyed their true meaning to her. She had just been on her throat treading on her corns a few minutes before she knelt down and prayed, after licking her wounds sustained from humiliation and sorrow. She could hardly think straight after Sizakele bombarded her for the second time that morning. She had loathsomely driven her to a constant loop of madness. The more she stretched her imagination, the more she developed a sort of mental disorder that inhibited the enthusiasm to permeate to areas of her life. She could not even extend one thought to another in order to think divergently enough to explore options available to her. Engulfed in that litany of grief, she went to the root cause from where her problems stemmed. When it came to God, Noluntu was like the soil that awaits the seed; a soil reach in potentials and nutrients; a soil bedewed by rain and irrigated by rivers!. She was always ready to receive the seed of God's word, accept it and make it bear fruit from her luxuriant garden h
