www.headlinesofmylife.today

YARNS: My Sydney Diary Naturally, the Sydney of 1979 was vastly different to what it is today. Many will argue that development and progress has made it a better city. Most senior citizens may argue against that because their world, growing up in predominantly “White Australia”, was a racist life and anyone who was black, especially in country Australia, suffered some of the worst abuses known to society. A similar fate was suffered by Africans or anyone black anywhere in the world. To a lesser degree, new migrants like the Poles, Italians, Portuguese and other Europeans, especially after World War II had their own share of racist scars. But from day one, I never experienced any of the racism and very quickly became part of the journo community, Sydney life in general and made some life long friends along the way. My work place, the Sydney Morning Herald, was off a short but quite a historical street at the southern end of the CBD called Broadway which morphed into one of th...

As a Goan boy growing up in Kenya in the 1950s, I saw football change and history being made While the writer battled adolescence and longed for the most beautiful girl in the world, history was being reshaped at World Cups. By Hartman de Souza I knew there was something called the World Cup courtesy an eccentric mother who kick-started a thick scrap book dedicated to football, to get me to start reading the newspaper. I was ten years old, and lived in Mombasa, on the coast of Kenya. In it, my mother had gummed various newspaper and magazine articles and features on football. In 1960 when she handed it to me to continue, the last entry was her exhaustive coverage of the World Cup in Sweden in 1958, with reports of every one of the qualifying rounds and all the international friendly matches leading up to it. The very last clippings were news-items and commentaries talking about the next World Cup in Chile, in just two years’ time. My tasks were cut out. Armed with a ...