Horror In Your Country Is Something You

In A Few Breaths' Time I Will Speak Some Sad Words To You. But You Must Hear Them The Same Way We Have Agreed To See Scars Now. Sad Words Are Just Another Beauty.

I Was Astonished To Find That The Positions My Grandfather Had Defended Were Now Overgrown And Entangled With Trees And Thorns. I Suppose I Had Developed A Sense Of Reverence For The Locations He Described In His Memoirs And Letters - The Forts And The High Emplacements. I Had Expected Them To Have Been Preserved In Some Way.

A Scar Does Not Form On The Dying. A Scar Means, I Survived.

I Think My Ideal Man Would Speak Many Languages. He Would Speak Ibo And Yoruba And English And French And All Of The Others. He Could Speak With Any Person, Even The Soldiers, And If There Was Violence In Their Heart He Could Change It. He Would Not Have To Fight, Do You See? Maybe He Would Not Be Very Handsome, But He Would Be Beautiful When He Spoke. He Would Be Very Kind, Even If You Burned His Food Because You Were Laughing And Talking With Your Girlfriends Instead Of Watching The Cooking. He Would Just Say, 'ah, Never Mind'.

I Think, In Common With A Lot Of Novelists, I Wasn't The Most Athletic Guy At School.