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Historical Background of...

“Our people have been oppressed enough. It’s time somebody comes forward and speaks about police brutality. There are hundreds of policemen like me who see their credibility in the communities they serve undermined by the actions of riot police. But they are scared to talk because regulations bind them. I’m not willing for the regulation to bind me any further. I’m defying them,” - Lieutenant Gregory Rockman, speaking to Gaye Davis of the Weekly Mail, September 1989.

The story of POPCRU (the Police and Prisons Civil Rights Union) is embedded in the story of South Africa’s bloody journey to democracy.

R199.00

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Lessons from a Rainbow...

Samuel John Frederick Platt was born two months prematurely and rushed into the Neonatal Intensive Care Unit. It soon became apparent that the new-born had a rare disease, confounding specialists and sending his parents, Melissa and Fred Platt, on an emotional rollercoaster as his condition was misdiagnosed several times.

His distraught parents stood by Sam’s side and advocated for his needs, while feeling ignored by some of the health care professionals assigned to Sam’s care. After more than a year in a private hospital in Johannesburg, Sam’s parents managed to get a second opinion and secured a transfer to a hospital in Cape Town.

R220.00

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Letters to Kuwait by Carlos...

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.

R290.00

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The Last Stop Safari Shop...

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.

R250.00

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