War and peace, a family account, cont’d

Previously on “War and peace”, from my great-grandfather Élie Martin to my great-uncle Philippe Onraët, an account of the family members who went to war, from the Chinese-French war of the 19th century to WWI… This post will deal with WWII onwards. (All images: family archives) 1939, Rwanda-Urundi, East Africa, my uncle Gérard Leclerc was…

Sunflower Power

Originally posted on Graffiti Lux Art & More:
Each pic of sunflowers has a poem, song, opinion or photo essay behind it. Click on the pic to see what some of our creative friends on WP offer in support of Ukraine. Above is Holly – House of Heart‘s poem, Sunflowers. She wrote it special, for…

War and peace, a family account

Elie Martin (1843-1920), my great-grandfather on my father’s side. A graduate of the École Navale (French Naval Academy), he joined the service in 1862. Family lore says he fought – and defeated – the Black flags pirates in the Bay of Halong in Indochina, during the Chinese-French war (1881-1885). His Biography at the École Navale…

A Tangle of Sunflowers

Originally posted on Art Gowns:
Dahlings I love you all more than ever! It is with a heavy heart that I have postponed tonight’s fashion show. Instead, Art Gowns offers a Protest Post against all war anywhere, anytime. The Sunflowers and colours are for Ukraine, and all its people fleeing, dying and defending. AGM Holly…

Svoboda. Liberté. Freedom

“Passengers waiting for a train to Poland in Lviv station (Ukraine), on the third day of the attack launched by Russian president Vladimir Putin. February 26.” L’Express. I normally only publish my own material. But since I’m a bit far from Ukraine, and propaganda is going on strong, I thought I would gather a few…

F.R.E.E.D.O.M.

F is for Fighting R is for Resistance E is for Enlightenment E is for Entitlement D is for Don’t give up O is for Overcome… (We shall…) M is for My life, My choices. I am a child of the 50’s, raised in the 60’s and 70’s. Born in India (Pakistan) after the Partition.…

1940, the war lost

It’s a small booklet, bound in faded black cloth. A time-yellowed label bears a name written with a dip pen: Martin Cyril. My father’s name. Surname first as was and still is customary in France. It’s my father’s flight log in 1939-1940 at the beginning of WWII. My father, very dapper in his freshly cut…

I had a house in Africa*

I had a house in Africa… Not “a farm at the foot of the Ngong hills”, as Karen Blixen, though I did go to the hills later. (“But that, Best Beloved” is another story.) It was a simple house by the West African sea. A concrete jetty pointing North. The sun rose every day to…