A quick reblog, wishing all a Happy Easter.
The first Easter I recall took place in Africa. I must have been 6 or so, my sister, Gaëlle about 4. A cute little “thing” with unruly golden locks and porcelain-blue eyes. And sometimes a pest of course in her older brother’s eyes. But that’s the way it goes between brothers and sisters. J
We were living in our magical house by the sea on the West African coast, in Conakry, former French Guinea. In the wake of Independence and under Sekou Touré’s incipient dictatorship (one of the most evil and destructive of African independence; Conakry is now sadly referred to as Conacrime) supplies were short and the stores empty. Food was flown in from Dakar every fortnight. (Perks of having an airline father) New toys were a rare, once a year Christmas wonder. And well-kept. Scarcity can make educational wonders. But what does one care when one is…
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