What endings and beginning take place when the difference between nature (animals to include humans) and culture (airplanes and humans with an uncheck and unlimited capacity to invent new technologies) are erased?

Dr. Abarca

This is the moment, and the Promised Land is the forgotten one" (Ch. X/pg. 125)

Perhaps not the ending of a desire to search and reach for the "Promised Land"--whatever we might mean this to be--but a reminder as Coquette says with her wordless voice, the birth of life is here, in the present moment. Clearly, Coquette is literally giving birth, but B. Markham brings us to life as it unfolds in the moment of ... now.

Dr. Abarca

The realization the connecting with others through our share humanity is often short lived. The recognition of social dictates that group us into categories with prescribe roles to play out--the categories of class, race, color, gender, sexuality, ethnicity and the list goes on...

Dr. Abarca

Denys was a keystone in an arch whose other stones were other lives. If a keystone trembles, the arch will carry the warning along its entire curve, then if the keystone is crushed, the arch will fall, leaving its lesser stones heaped close together, though for a while without design.

Denys' death left some lives without design, but they were rebuilt again, as lives and stones are, into other patterns" (Ch. XV/pg. 196).

A recognition that all of our life's journeys, while some paths do reach a dead-end, the journey itself continues even without knowing the destination.

Dr. Abarca

This passage hold an answer to this question for me: "All this, and discontent too! Otherwise, why am I sitting here dreaming of England? Why am I grazing at this campfire like a lost soul seeking a hope when all that I love is at my wingtips? Because I am curious. Because I am incorrigibly now, a wanderer" (Ch. XIX/pg.241)

Dr. Abarca

“He licks my hand, and I think he knows I can do nothing but forgives me for it. I cannot leave him because the light is almost gone now and there are leopards that prowl at night, and hyenas that attack only the wounded and helpless” (Markham 96).

-Grisel H.

The intricacies of what constitutes the wholeness of something—at a macroscopic level, in this case, the town—further divide themselves into smaller compartments: railways that turn into roadways, which then lead to homes. These are all traces of what a country will be comprised of. At a microscopic level, it is the person who lives in the home. Markham’s confrontation with—and eventual acknowledgment of—the process of creating a home highlights this division. She contrasts the physical, the material elements of the house that literally and figuratively form its foundations, with another, more significant quality. Arguably, it is the most essential characteristic of a home: the emotional and personal experiences that give it life, warmth, and meaning. As someone of her caliber, continoulsy in motion, one may surmise that her living in the moment is natural and organically coming to her. However, i the context of her reflection of the places shes been to, ad in extenstion, her home, living in the moment requires inntentionality; it isnt found by rushing to fill a space, but alllowing it to develop organically with time. Markham’s realization that "everything has been done—every material thing—to give this place the aspect of benignity" suggests that the rush to perfect the external doesn’t always align with the deeper fulfillment that comes from living truly in a space, or in a life. Her home, as she refllects on, functions as a metaphor for the degree of what being established truly is. I liked that the retrospection and introspection revealed the how living in the moment is not a subconscious act, but one that requires one to be aware of the faculties it needs to be an active participant.

Jazmine Gracia

When considering the question, "What endings and beginnings take place when the difference between nature and culture are erased?" one can argue that Markham's narrative illustrates a transformative process. The erasure of boundaries between nature and culture allows for a more holistic understanding of identity, where personal and environmental experiences coalesce. In Markham's case, her adventures in the skies and her intimate encounters with the African landscape signify a beginning of self-discovery and empowerment, as she navigates both the physical and cultural terrains of her life.

This blending of nature and culture also invites a reevaluation of societal norms and expectations. As Markham defies traditional gender roles in her pursuit of aviation, she simultaneously challenges the cultural constructs that seek to confine her. The endings that emerge from this erasure are the limitations imposed by gender and societal expectations, while the beginnings are marked by a newfound sense of freedom and agency. In essence, Markham's memoir serves as a powerful testament to the idea that when the distinctions between nature and culture dissolve, individuals can embark on journeys of self-exploration that redefine their identities and challenge the status quo.

Through her narrative, Markham not only captures the beauty and challenges of the African landscape but also illustrates how the convergence of nature and culture can lead to profound personal transformations, ultimately reshaping one's understanding of freedom and identity.

Amy Mena

As she reflects on the lessons she has learned, particularly through flying, this quote reflects and marks a moment of significant development. It shows a willingness to relinquish control and sometimes trust in others or outside forces.  Her mastery in the craft of flying, for example, encapsulated a balance needed between control for nature and humility that reflects this duality of life. Furthermore, it encapsulates Markham’s desire for exploration and freedom to explore that is beyond the conventional boundaries. And so, it marks a realization that no matter how distinct it may seem, sometimes important life lessons must be lived rather than learned to be understood. Therefore, Markham’s life becomes a record of the power of dreams and the courage to pursue them no matter how distant it may seem.

-Sandra Alba

I think this is nicely paralleled in the next chapter, Chapter VIII, when Kibii states, "When the world began, each animal, even the Chameleon, had a task to do. I learned it from my father and grandfather, and all our people know this fact."

"The world began too long ago," I said - "longer than anybody could remember. Who could remember what the Chameleon did when the world began?"

As the conversation continues, Kibii goes on to state: "When the first man was made, he wandered alone in the great forest and on the plains, and he worried very much because he could not remember yesterday and he could not imagine tomorrow."

It shows the universal idea - or fear, maybe - of forgetting our pasts and dreading or stressing about our futures, which further ties into Solnit's concept of open doors.

I'm wondering what everyone else thought about the way Markham explored these open doors for herself, bringing to her life the content with which she would write this book?

-Julia Hettiger

The parts of this memoir that recount the memories of Paddy and the hunt for the boar were astonishing to me as they encapsulate the spirit of Beryl and her daring nature to push past boundaries that cross between man and nature. She seemed to really enjoy not only living in nature but experiencing its unpredictability. Just like Paddy, there "were no physical barriers to freedom." Although knocking on death's door, was it not worth leaving that door open and allowing the unknown into her life?

Paddy lived a long, interrupted life of solitude and seemed well-respected by the humans around him. Beryl seemed to admire him but also seemed to push past a line to see how far she could enter his world. Maybe not her smartest decision.

I truly enjoyed reading this memoir. I looked forward to every chapter as I felt I was part of Beryl's journey as we learned to fly and learned to live.

Markham is presenting/establishing herself as an insider (reminiscent of David-Néel), especially in the discussion of an insider versus European outsider view.While reading this memoir the constant question I had throughout it all is what exactly is Beryl Markham's relationship with nature (animals, horses) and machines (airplanes)? Not only individually but how these two contrasting elements work together for Markham. As well as how this question works with culture, race and human bonds. Markham, I found to be similar to David-Néel and Solint in the way that she lives in the present moment and what that means for knowing the unknown (the self).

-Ashley Estrada

erin c.

“And I was disappointed. Long after we had continued our trot toward the place where we knew there would be warthog, I thought how wonderful it would have been if the lion had attacked and I had been able to use my spear on him while he clawed at the shields of the two Murani, and how later they might have said, ‘If it hadn’t been for you, Lakweit…!’ But then, I was very young.”

Maybe in a way, she felt disappointed because she knew she had enough jungle experience to take on the lion if necessary. She was ready for him to attack. When we feel ready like that, it feels like we come to the end of some circle.

-Stephanie Aguilar

(Book one, chapter 2, pg.45-46)

“I wonder if [Carl Hastings] ever married?” He used to say he never would, but nobody believed him. “He did, though,” I said. It was a name I had never heard, but it seemed a small enough gesture to lie about a nebulous Carl Hastings. (Book one, chapter 2, pg.55-56)

This stranger inquiring about another stranger was not a conversation going to waste. Bergner’s blackwater disease morphs his body into an appearance that reflects his critical condition. It disturbs Beryl, she confesses to this and any encounter with diseased people. Yet, this blackwater disease is not unfamiliar to her, nor the fact so many people die from it so easily that the immediate symptoms cause one to resign to their end. A common death from a common disease, yet this encounter resulting from a plea by Ebert, is one that serves in invigorating Beryl’s humanity. In continuity and life, this sickly man not only leaves behind an impact on our author through the comfort she feels obligated in providing to ease his delirium. He also passes on memories and a reflection that humans for all their self-aggrandizing gestures are ultimately mortal beings in whose last moments they let go of everything but their memories with dearly beloved. A pale and skinny near-cadaver; its body cannot feed animals but its reminder of what it is to be human serves as a nourishing spiritual meal.

-Oscar Ivan Montes

I understand that all of class is able to read this entry, but I could not help but be so closely reminded of my own struggles in the present day while reading Beryl Markham’s assemblage of memories entitled, West with the Night. I have heard many things about what youth, and especially our 20s, are supposed to feel or be like. My 20s began during the COVID-19 pandemic, thereby regulating most of my undergraduate experiences and education to Zoom University presented by the UT academic board. Markham, for more than survival, elects to live in the moment instead of contemplating what stresses might be hiding just out of readers’ views. What and how we choose to remember about our life journeys greatly varies, but what has a 23-year-old gay man born in the new millenium have in common with that of a middle-aged woman pilot that flew over great swaths of water and land? Frankly, I too look upon my yesterdays “and find them as good a lot of yesterdays as anybody might want,” since I have been fed, clothed, housed, and educated since my birth in 2001 (Markham 239). However, how can I contend with my privileged upbringing when it has brought me both success and failure; how am I to contend with both joy and depression when they seemingly exist in the same moment? How can I be grateful and so hateful simultaneously? It is in moments that our lives are made, one at a time and forever one after another until we should so choose to “leave them,” as Markham asserts should she ever make the decision herself to leave behind a life, a moment, a place, or a state of being that no longer serves her highest self (Markham 239). Pun intended. Agency is proving to be, by far, the most elusive part of growing up. They tell you that you are grown at 10, 13, 15, 16, 17, 18, 20, 21, until you arrive at 30 either with extra weight, less hair, both if you’re as unlucky as most, or neither if you’re as lucky as the next guy or gal. When is it that we grow our wings? Or is it better to ask when precisely do we gain the courage to take off toward that destination? Beryl Markham, in her incredible saga of knowing and documenting an Africa – one scarred by Fascism, wealth inequality, and colonial shackles – that no longer exists, readers like me find answers to these questions of bravery: The courage to fly comes only in an accumulation of moments, arranged one right after another, that build toward that one moment that either we or Nature decides it is time for us to rest for the night, seek refuge with friends, or change course entirely.

"But ten thousand flamingos on Lake Nakuru would be a number startling in its insignificance, and a hundred thousand

would barely begin the count." (161)

"I saw the alchemy of perspective reduce my world, and all my other life, to grains in a cup." (185)

While I understand that I don't necessarily need three quotes to serve as bulletproof evidence of a theme I noticed, I did find each to be striking in their own right.

Included in much of Beryl's reflection is a shift in perspective, measuring the significance of something against the backdrop of the world. My mind went two directions with this idea:

Firstly, I couldn't help but think of the saying "They look like ants from up here!" Which is typically said from the vantage point of an airplane. I wondered if this was a fixture of Beryl's mindset, given her pilot career, where she can't help but locate where ever she is on some greater scale, being so familiar with what it's like to be on top of the world, uncaring of all that happens below.

Then, my second reasoning, which did seem a bit more interesting before I explored the first reasoning more: Could Beryl be diminishing her own occupation with these moments? Perhaps not. I specifically considered this when she said, "as if this were the greatest race of all time, held on the greatest course, with

the world looking over my shoulder," To me it struck me as presenting oneself as silly for caring so much-- a habit typical for women especially. But maybe it doesn't have to be negative. It could just be a recognition of how enormous something seemingly obscure can impress on somebody.

• Isabella Sanchez

‘Something more must come from one so strong and gifted; and, in a

way, it did. …’

What came from him, if emanate is not the better word, was a force that bore inspiration, spread confidence in the dignity of life, and even gave sometimes a presence to silence. (Markham 197) 

Deny’s death was an opportunity for Markham to grow stronger. Death is often seen as a force that destroys rather than builds, it is the start of a new chapter. As someone who once experienced a death, this is something that speaks to me. When faced with adversity such as the passing of someone, you cannot remain stationary, life moves on with or without you. When losing someone who exuded power and strength, nothing but power and strength can come out of it, like energy that passes on. Death can bring inspiration to so many aspects of life as it means starting over from the beginning and building a new chapter. I think Markham’s perspective of death is an incredible way of thinking about loss, seeing it as gaining something, not losing.

In Markham’s West with the Night, the concept of “living in the moment” is explored through multiple layers of engagement, though it remains elusive and ultimately unknowable in its entirety. The Murani, standing still as trees, embody an intense, almost instinctive attentiveness to their surroundings. However, they too are unknowable in how fully they experience the moment. Their stillness suggests a profound connection to the present, yet it’s impossible to truly understand the depth of their experience. Are they perceiving time in the same way as humans, or is their engagement with the moment something entirely different, something beyond words or consciousness as we know it? Similarly the almost inception of being observed--Lakewit observing the Murani, the fog observing them, and everyone observing the lion, yet it is difficult to know the capacity at which each and everyone is engaging with living in their own moment. Showing these different perspectives conveys that living in the moment is a fluid, multiplicity of experiences. From the stillness of the Murani to the visceral instincts of Buller, each being is engaged in the present, but no one fully comprehends how. In this sense, the passage reflects that while we might be physically present, we can never fully know the depth of our engagement with the moment—whether we’re aware of our surroundings or not. The beauty of living in the moment lies in its elusiveness, its unknowability, and its constant shift between awareness and oblivion.

Jazmine Gracia