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The poems contained in this collection are warm and sincere and filled with soothing hope. In her dedication, the author refers to her poetry as a ‘small beacon of light’ for ‘anyone suffering from the physical weight of depression’. The words seem to float up through a limpid pool.
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.
Given the fact that the engineering of apartheid society was highly geographic, any serious attempt at building a new society has to examine spatial distortions in
South Africa.
