If I Can't Write It Would Be

My Paternal Grandmother Drove Ambulances During The Regional Blitz, In Birmingham.

Is It My Fault If I Do Not Look Like An English Girl And I Do Not Talk Like A Nigerian? Well, Who Says An English Girl Must Have Skin As Pale As The Clouds That Float Across Her Summers? Who Says A Nigerian Girl Must Speak In Fallen English...?

When I Reached Fort Binjemma, For Example, Where My Grandfather Was Stationed For A While, The Whole Victorian Fort Was Decaying. Barbed Wire Surrounded It, Spray Paint On The Ancient Walls Claimed It As Private Property, And The Moat Where My Grandfather And His Men Had Grown Crops - In Desperation As The Siege's Hunger Bit - Was Completely Overgrown With Bushes And Trees.

However Long The Moon Disappears, Someday It Must Shine Again.

My Whole Life Is My Work.