Showing posts with tag: #EssaySaturday


The Ring Road

Image copyright: Alice Allan.

Today I miss Addis Ababa. It glitters in my memory, in its haze of smog and dust. It’s been nearly three years now, and the fog of nostalgia grows thicker. I miss our friends, good coffee, the way the eucalyptus shimmers silver and purple in the mountain breeze. I live in Central Asia now, and in this peripatetic existence I lead, it seems I am always missing somewhere.

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Lessons on Hate

I had a best friend, Alma, who lived next door. We loved to play kitchen-kitchen and spent hours in the garden cooking our twig and mud meals, or running around the village collecting stray kittens, which we hid under our beds. I was shocked the morning I realized that Alma’s house was empty, but I was even more shocked when my mother told me that Alma was a Muslim, and that she had to leave our village because it was unsafe for her family to stay. Read more →

In The World Of Fake Celebrity Porn, One Man’s Destruction Is Another Man’s Salvation

Author, Micharl Grothaus delves into the weird subculture of porn fakers and the fans. The fakers, many wielding a talent most graphic designers and art directors could only dream of, merge the headshots of celebrities with the bodies of porn stars. Dozens of fakers make thousands of images that offer a level of wish fulfillment that Hollywood would never dare grant. Read more →

When Getting Grounded Takes a Sea

I pursued my husband right into a hermetic hut with four stonewalls and one stone roof right there in our first apartment. And then I dogged him some more. I was successful at getting his theories of others’ thoughts – which included everyone’s but mine – to stop, at least on the outside. We were unsuccessful at any sort of bridge construction. Which was fine, maybe, because it turns out that exquisite wooden ships can’t use bridges. What exquisite wooden ships need is clear, deep water. And some patch work. Read more →

Travelling in Fiji

Mereoni, Lemeki and I lap up the hot sweet tea. Picking on the homemade coconut pancakes we sit cross-legged in the kitchen of their tin shack silently wondering where the taxi is. There’s not a lot else we can do but wonder with no telephone, no mobile, no PC. We are waiting for the taxi to take us from Nadi – Fiji’s capital - to Lemeki’s childhood home, Vatukacevaceva, and my new home for the next three days. Read more →