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Counting Teeth

Counting Teeth

A Namibian Story
edition:eBook
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Excerpt

Banie’s demeanour changes. "Well, that's different, then. That's bloedsake — blood matters. It's in your blood. You have to go. Actually, it's quite nice to see them march all dressed up in their finery. Ja, just there by the swimming pool there's a bunch of old Herero graves. They're probably headed for them. You know, those people and their ancestors."

"Ja, it's Maharero's grave, isn't it?" I gently hint at the fact that the march commemorates the death of Samuel Maharero, the leader of the Ovaherero at the time of the genocide.

"Ja-nee," Banie reaffirms, "Dis bloedsake vir hulle. It’s about blood for them. People have to follow their blood. Now, where did you say you lived now?"

"In Canada."

"Bloody awful place," he says. "Cold and dark. We have a geologist from Canada here and he went back for a week before he came back to Usakos. Couldn’t stand the place. Where in Canada do you stay?"

"Edmonton."

"Is that near the Lakes?" He doesn’t wait for me to respond. “I know the geology of the land. There’s stones there." And he starts to talk stone. It’s a language the people here understand.

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To Timbuktu for a Haircut

To Timbuktu for a Haircut

A Journey Through West Africa
edition:eBook
tagged : west
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Young Falconer's Walkabout, A

Young Falconer's Walkabout, A

Hitchhiking through Europe and Africa in the Sixties
edition:Hardcover
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My Heart is Africa

My Heart is Africa

A Flying Adventure
edition:eBook
also available: Paperback Paperback
tagged : adventure
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The Newfoundland coast slipped beneath my right wing, inducing a sense of panic as I struck out over open water. I was losing my nerve. I fought for a legitimate reason to bank the plane and return to the safety of St. John's airport. A navigational miscalculation, an operational error or misjudgement from this point forward could lead to fuel exhaustion, mechanical failure, or loss of direction, forcing me to ditch into a fearsome sea. Somehow, in spite of all the careful planning, all the preparation, I was not yet ready to penetrate the night, to fly solo over fourteen hundred miles of ocean to the Azores. How to explain this sudden loss of nerve? With every passing minute I slipped, inch by inch, further out over the ice-cold water, deeper into a private world of fear.

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