Tall stories, true stories, lies, fiction, facts and truth-telling

Ruth Hartley Storytelling, Apartheid, Books by Ruth Hartley, Family, Memoir, Poetry, Reading, South Africa, Southern Africa, The Love and Wisdom Crimes, The Spiral-Bound Notebooks, When I Was Bad, Writing ProcessLeave a Comment

Writing fictions, memoirs and versions of my truth In the last few months I have published three books. The first is a novel, the second is a book of poetry, the inspiration on which the novel is based and the third is a memoir. They are – The Love and Wisdom Crimes A coming-of-age adventure story about a young white […]

Tears, fears, longing, belonging and living.

Ruth HartleyApartheid, Citizenship, Colonialism, Creativity, Displacement, Family, Feminism, Freedom Fighters, Human rights, Identity, Justice, Migration, Poetry, Politics, Power, Race, Racism, Religion, South Africa, Southern Africa, Visual Arts, War, Zambia2 Comments

Why I cried about who I might become “Why do you want to become a French citizen?” I was asked this question at the end of a gruelling two hour naturalisation interview. I burst into tears. “It’s such a difficult and important decision,” I replied, sniffling. “I’ve had to leave too many places I thought of as home. I want […]

Remembering Rica Hodgson — my brave friend

Ruth HartleyApartheid, Freedom Fighters, Memoir, South Africa, Southern Africa, The Love and Wisdom Crimes, When I Was Bad, ZambiaLeave a Comment

Hello friends and fellow readers. Are you amongst those who didn’t see or couldn’t read my post on 20 January? It was about my friend and mentor, Rica Hodgson, who died recently. I am really sorry that it didn’t reach all of you who are interested in South African history and the anti-apartheid movement. This was due to technical problems […]

Rica Hodgson: “foot soldier for freedom”, friend and hero

Ruth HartleyApartheid, Freedom Fighters, Memoir, South Africa, Southern Africa, The Love and Wisdom Crimes, When I Was Bad, Zambia6 Comments

Rica Hodgson — the freedom fighter who rescued me 52 years ago This post is harder to write than I expected. I was at my desk and about to write Rica a letter when I learnt that she had died. It was not unanticipated. She was 97 and had been in frail health for a while. I had only just […]