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Nelson Mandela, first commander of the armed struggle against the apartheid regime in South Africa, buried a gun at his secret hideout shortly before he was betrayed by the CIS and captured by the South African police.
This is the intriguing story of Myhan Byrd, one of the best female golfers and most photographed sportswoman in the world. Her life begins to unravel when she discovers that she and the man in the poster above her bed are more closely related than is comfortable.
The poster boy, Jamie, and his family's interaction with bees lead the two young people on a worldwide quest that uncovers dark secrets from their ancestors' past. Myhan and Jamie are confronted with moral issues that challenge their progressing relationships.
This compelling story will also challenge the reader on moral issues affecting modern society.
One day I suddenly thought, “My goodness, where’s Gareth?” So, I started looking. Last I heard, he was working with the British Army in Iraq, doing long stints: I tracked him down to prison cell in Kuwait. He had been used as a drug mule, nabbed and sentenced to death by hanging. His death was commuted to life and then further reduced to 15 years. When I located him, he had already been inside for four years. Thereafter I sent him a letter, every month, for 67 consecutive months. My Letters to Kuwait, were received by Gareth on his hidden device: news and comment on life in South Africa, my reflections on humanity and our world.
That was how it had been with her marriage.
Say ‘yes’ and the road would take you. Say ‘yes’, say ‘yes’. The road had taken him right through to the end of his life and she had completed the circle with him.
It had been rugged in places and the tyres had worn thin. But in the end it had been a complete journey. A lifetime.
A shared incarnation. She had said ‘yes’ and travelled with him to the last breath. There is a last. She had been with him. And then her incarnation continued without him.
Evelyn walked towards the cluster of flame lilies, each one a cup of flickering scarlet edged with trickling gold, growing up from the deep, rich, red African soil. She bent down gently stretched her arms around them, just able to touch her fingers
together, and breathed in deeply. The smell of green … only here on this land.
In the late 1980’s and early 1990’s three young people, whose life experiences and personalities couldn’t be more different, and each of whom carry deep emotional scars travel to Tanzania.
