bourbiza mohamed
That night, I remember, I was engrossed, with maximum pleasure and concentration, in a pinball machine. Gripped though I was, I fell into line without hesitation when my brother approached and said simply: ‘Quick, Mart. Dad’s telling us the lot.’
We sat before Kingsley at a restaurant table and mutely listened to him explain the facts of life.
In a sodden schoolyard, at the age of five, I had heard a friend explain them. And my reaction then was, I should say, universal: my mother would never let my father — the bastard! — do that to her.
But in 1962, at the age of 12, I came away with…
