5. Not without my daughter

This post is the fifth in a series which starts here (although they do not need to be read in order). (March 1999) My six month old baby is wailing in her father’s arms in Tunis airport. He jiggles her and kisses her head, and she quietens. She’s been fractious all morning; perhaps she senses the tension in the…

2. Bottles in the graveyard

This post is the second in a series which starts HERE (October 2014) The graveyard is littered with plastic bottles. They are piled around the inside of the low wall. My sixteen year old daughter is crying at her father’s grave as she watches her uncle pour water from his plastic bottle onto the tomb stone. ‘The water…