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What if I had told you that the mechanism of your brain is like plasticine and could be moulded to your own unique set of beliefs and hence abilities? Could you afford not to even try to step into a new reality? Would you dare?
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.
Seventeen years old and faced with the most difficult situation of her young life. The only problem was that she had no idea what was actually wrong with her. Leukaemia? What is that? It’s cancer. ‘Am I going to die’, she asked.
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.
