A colonial hangover, or unrealised literary dreams
Contested pasts embraced in a Lebanese citadel
A cultural history of Satyajit Ray’s height
radically reimagining the celebration of blackness
February 2016: I have gone to a chop bar and bought fufu with what soup I cannot remember.
The tune was simple enough, but to pronounce the words with the correct Izzi intonation was grueling.
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.
Giving the people what they want, Slav-style
Touch by touch, gesture by gesture, worlds could be reformed, alliances forged.