Prologue

Adding my brush strokes to the Tanzanian backdrop, I paint scenes from the first twelve years of my life. Everything I experienced there as a child the landscape, the wildlife, my adventures and the living conditions on my grandfather’s estate where I grew up, not to mention our travels, the safaris we went on, and the different African countries my father’s work sent us to they all left their mark on me. And there was also my grandmother, who played a pivotal role in my upbringing, her teachings influencing and shaping my personality.

The bicycles I had in those early years feature in some of the stories I’m about to relate to you. They gave me the chance to venture secretly into the wild, they took me to places I could never have visited otherwise, and carried me, protected only by my childish innocence, close to the potentially dangerous creatures that lived there. A bicycle was what brought me into contact with the indigenous people, though this was against all the codes of colonial rule. I lived in true freedom then, without any physical fetters, and with a mind unrestricted by prejudice.

From a young age I was aware of the injustice, inequality and greed that colonialism brought to Tanzania and I rejected the attitudes and conduct that supported them. I felt that threatening clouds were gathering over Africa and I didn’t want to betray her; I wanted somehow to protect and keep the land, the creatures and the people safe.

I hope that through the stories that follow I will manage to paint a vivid picture of the experiences of a child in an Africa that is lost forever.