colonialism
Wherefore, qua, bonum: decrypting Indian legalese
A colonial hangover, or unrealised literary dreams
Colonialism walks into a chop bar
February 2016: I have gone to a chop bar and bought fufu with what soup I cannot remember.
Sing us a Catholic song in Nigerian tongues
The tune was simple enough, but to pronounce the words with the correct Izzi intonation was grueling.
Out of Africa
Claire’s father Sam Simmons would be there, and they would spend the next hour or two quaffing Castle beer, smoking and playing snooker in the dim, curtained rooms adjoining the bar.
