Mythological me – images from a memoir of childhood

Ruth HartleyAfrica, Colonialism, Family, Imagination, Race3 Comments

For a child, facts are fantastical and fantasy, factual Somewhere in my infancy, there is a thick green privet hedge, clipped and trimmed to right-angled perfection. It encloses a perfectly square empty space brimful of desolation. It contains no house, no people live there and it is nameless. Its eternal position is located somewhere inside the fortnight when my mythical […]

Driving back over my childhood

Ruth HartleyAfrica, Displacement, Family, Poetry1 Comment

Going home to Zimbabwe Because of the unexpected changes in Zimbabwe last week I am posting two poems – one from 1980 when I returned to my father’s farm, and another from 1961 my last year at school. Ford Laser speeds up the dual highway. (Commercial break) Camera pans back to parents. Airport to homecoming – half an hour and […]

And still we rise…! 84%! – Tanvir Naomi Bush

Ruth HartleyFamily, Racism, Society, Storytelling, Writing5 Comments

Dear Readers – introducing my extraordinary novelist daughter, Tanvir Naomi Bush, who is crowdfunding through Unbound for her next novel – please read her post for a flavour of the story. If you like you can help through Unbound. CULL has hit 84% of total and is on a roll! For those of you unsure about what this is all […]

Photo Children

Ruth HartleyFamily, Marriage2 Comments

I don’t change but the photos of my children grow younger all the time. My children are ageless too but their recorded images alter every year The photo children become thin or fat They wear braces or smiles, spectacles or scowls. Their hair is straight or curled, but in their present flesh they are constant. My heart holds them so, […]

A migratory species — wandering, wondering and warlike

Ruth HartleyFamily, Migration, War2 Comments

Going back to the past There is no going back to the past. The past has no memory. It is another place but one that has vanished. As L P Hartley wrote in The Go-Between, “The past is a foreign country; they do things differently there.” I’m sad that L P Hartley is not a relation of mine. Barriers and […]