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Showing posts from April, 2020

House of Braganca

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Cyprian Fernandes: House of Braganca 9

Braganca 9 Braganca is sitting in his office at Government House, Nairobi. He is listening to a variety of birdlife that frequents the gardens. He is also admiring the manicured lawns. Just outside his window, there are rows and rows of rose bushes and the scent is quite intoxicating. Twenty four men and women work full-time to keep all of the gardens at their Chelsea Flower Show best. The phone rings. He sort of reluctantly picks up the receiver. At the other end of the line is de Araujo from the Goan Gymkhana. For a moment, after the first hellos, the line is silent. Braganca is convinced that there will be a very humble apology forthcoming. Instead, de Araujo asks: “What was the date yesterday?” Braganca is taken aback. Why? He is perplexed and reaches for his diary and there it is … April 1 … There is a half-hearted laugh before the line goes dead.

Your memories, your nostalgia, a sentimental journey of joy

Memories Please enrich this post by adding your own memories: Kenya, East Africa, is always a many splendid country! Memories, memories, fading memories, Heartbreak, clawing fingers, extended arms Desperately hanging on to every shred Of every memory, places, faces, moments, Events, happenings, the food, sports, Nightclubs, clubs, the streets, the shops The suburbs, the long drives, on muddy roads Or on silken black tarmac, room for one car, Ponds Cream white silver sands, Malindi Watamu Beach Resort, and millions more. Desperately seeking familiar faces of my Youth, where, oh where, have they all gone, Oh the loneliness, of being marooned On this Earth without my youth, my friends, Those I have loved, fallen in and out of love with, Where have they all gone, where has the time gone Desperate, desperate, betrayed, let down, Broken hearted, broken spirited, helpless, What, what is it, why are you waking me? Oh sorry, Oh, a nig...

The late Elsie Antonette Maciel

The Longest Honeymoon By the late Elsie Maciel I'd dreamed about getting married on the roadside of the Great Rift Valley escarpment in the beautiful little chapel the Italian prisoners of war had built to mark the end of their work on the building of the Nakuru-Nairobi highway. But my parents wanted the wedding to be in their newly-built home in Kitale. So we had a wonderful wedding day at my family's Kitale home. At dawn one of the ltalian war prisoners came carrying in his hand a shallow basket of real orange blossoms.What bride could not hold her breath at such a sight? Trust an Italian to bring that romantic touch. After the wedding I left with my newly-wed husband  Mervyn  on the evening of our wedding day. We left our guests still celebrating. Our honeymoon in the wilds began as we left Kitale by the sleek weekend train, joining the romantic Uganda to Mombasa Mail at Eldoret, and then on to Nairobi for a short stay. The dinner on the train was a perfect...

My Mother Taught Me ...Thanks Mike

Dear   all  at home and abroad, A group of British people are flying home on a plane chartered by the government during the coronavirus pandemic. The pilot's voice comes over the intercom, saying, "We're flying at 35,000 feet. Visibility is good. The weather in London is fine and clear, at 15 degrees Centigrade... Oh, and by the way, I'm working from home." We are also working from home, sorting photos, decluttering, enjoying the peace and quiet of the neighb ourhood  and grateful that we did our overseas trav elling last year. We are grateful   too   that Australia is coping with virus quite well and feel for those places, particularly the UK, that are going through so many deaths.  We worry somewhat for the US which seems ill-prepared for the virus. We feel more concern that Americans will   have a choice between Trump and a candidate who could not beat Hillary last time round. These are the best on offer   –   not much choice for...