In her poem 'Weaver Woman', she asserts, her "finished product can be held up to the sun...illuminated, made to shine ."   She also claims her "words sweep over people like the softest Caribbean breezes."  She is not a liar; she is Tichaona Chinyelu, the author of In the Whirlwind .  From the turn of its cover to the closure of its last page, In the Whirlwind is the mirror reflection of the trade winds that I have grown so fond of. However, like these Caribbean winds which can wreak havoc during hurricane seasons, this book can do this and more on ones emotions. Tichaona abducts her readers' attention on the journey of love and the remnants thereof in 'The Men in my life,' to 'like Grass through Concrete' and its gut-wrenching account of loving someone behind bars through bars. Miss Chinyelu depicts love like no harlequin or reality show can; minus the frivolities of laces and trimmings, she tells of a love that runs deeper than the core of the earth and as meaningful as the blood in our veins. However, the essence of the book is not limited to love tales but captures the realities of Afrikan people with painful accounts in 'Roots of Rwanda,' 'Blood Diamonds' and 'Bobby Hutton.' Although often times submerged in the depth of her words and wrapped comfortably in the tapestry that she weaves around ones understanding, it is not easy to forget that she is a woman. Chinyelu carefully deposited silt of womanhood and left traces of feminine fragrances on her pages with bold pieces such as 'Louder than oppression' and 'From Stevie to Sankara.'