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A lot can happen when a comfortable American lifestyle is purposely disrupted. The author was a middle-aged, conservative, Christian, Midwestern mom who embarked on an unexpected journey when she questioned her faith, left suburbia and moved across the world in search of a transformative spirituality.
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.
I am a Coloured woman of South Africa. The blood flowing through me was despised by apartheid, for it was not pure and it was not White. Because of this, I struggled with feelings of self-doubt and shame.
When a twenty-nine year-old Indian immigrant arrives from Zanzibar to a cold and bleak post-war London in 1946, he hadn’t expected on finding a mummified corpse in the East End building in which he’d intended to set up shop. Unable to unravel the mystery of the corpse and fearful for his future, he hatches fantastical plans to get rid of it, with unexpected consequences.
He hadn’t planned on romancing the dead man’s nice niece either…
DIVORCE IS THE MOST STRESSFUL JOURNEY … We’re forced to search into the deepest corners of our hearts to rediscover ourselves.
At 24, the author was a single mother struggling to survive while she went through her own divorce. Her ordeal left her bruised but it did not break her.
