All Purls. No Swine.
Today, I claim executive privilege and repost one from a year-and-a-half ago. It's a personal anniversary, and I'm in a bit of a reflective mood. I don't think any of my sentiments have changed in the intervening months. I haven't been to any "far away places," since I wrote the following, and--truth be told--I'm glad… Continue reading Far Away Places
March is a problematic month for me, being one of those two or three in the year in which anniversaries and memories--those both deleriously joyous and desperately sad--seem to congregate and coalesce in an inescapable, and sometimes overwhelming, swarm. My granddaughter's birthday. Our dinner of grace and the death of Mr. Right's first wife. "Fifteen… Continue reading Just a Daughter’s Memories: Nigeria 1959
The year was 1956. I knew something was horribly wrong that night, when Ahmadu dropped the soup! Normally exquisitely self-possessed, immaculately groomed, and imperturbable, our man-servant and friend was disheveled, the color of cement, and shaking like a leaf with acute anxiety and palpable fear. Our little family—myself, Kay, and our imperious eighteen-month-old daughter, known… Continue reading Gagara Yasin
This morning on Ricochet, I responded to a comment by another member about the elevation of religious identity above all others in many third-world conflicts with the following words: The strategy of elevating religion over ethnicity as a means to consolidate loyalties (both internally and externally) that might otherwise divide among tribal or other cultural… Continue reading Tribes
EVERY YEAR, about October/November a cattle tax of one-shilling-a-head was levied on every bull, steer, cow or calf throughout all the cattle-holding provinces of Northern Nigeria. This was in accordance with the principle that in order to establish sovereignty of the Crown, every adult in the territory had to pay an appropriate yearly tax to… Continue reading JANGALI, 1947
One of the enduring memes (if we had had such a word to describe them at the time) of my childhood would have been my Dad's invocation of the "gremlin in the petrol tank." He was prone to bring it up in any situation where something unexpected happened and a thing that was supposed to… Continue reading Happy Birthday, Dad: The “Gremlin in the Petrol Tank” Edition
My father was a remarkable man. Over the course of his long life, he met very few men whose will was stronger than his own. Here’s the story of one of them: Shortly after World War II, Dad was ordered to the ancient Northern Nigerian city of Sokoto to serve as the Assistant District Officer (that… Continue reading Occasional Quote of the Day: “O day and night but this is wondrous strange!”
The events recounted below are true, and took place in Sokoto, Northern Nigeria, in the Summer of 1947. The author was a young, newly arrived, civil servant in the British Colonial Service, recently separated from active duty in Italy and North Africa as a Major in the British Army. The gentleman in the photo to… Continue reading The King’s Shilling: One Colonial Officer’s Experience with West-African Slavery
I was very lucky for my first 54 years to find myself in the orbit of a man who lived life with more zeal than anyone I’ve ever known. Those of you who’ve read some of my posts will probably guess I’m speaking of my Dad, and you’re right! Please bear with me while I… Continue reading Carpe Diem: A Zeal For Life!
“American football is a bit like World War I–only without the trenches.” My Dad always attributed that quote, which I learned as a small child, to Winston Churchill. (Well, it sounds like something Churchill might have said, doesn’t it?) Unfortunately, I haven’t been able to trace it since, so at the advanced age of 65… Continue reading American Football, Churchill, and Gagara Yasin