By Patricia Page
Read or Download Across the Magic Line: Growing Up in Fiji PDF
Best biographies & memoirs books
This paintings has been chosen by means of students as being culturally very important, and is a part of the data base of civilization as we all know it. This paintings was once reproduced from the unique artifact, and is still as real to the unique paintings as attainable. for this reason, you will see that the unique copyright references, library stamps (as almost all these works were housed in our most crucial libraries round the world), and different notations within the paintings.
During this sequel to his first quantity of autobiography satisfaction and Perjury, Aitken starts off his tale as he's taken down from the court and incarcerated at Her Majesty's excitement. How this previous Etonian former cupboard Minister on Mrs Thatcher's internal circle controlled to set up new relationships and lasting friendships with fellow prisoners is attention-grabbing - so too is that this account of the way non secular trust remodeled his existence.
Publication via van Heijenoort, Jean
Additional info for Across the Magic Line: Growing Up in Fiji
The non-princely Fijian was treated with condescending affection and never with the hostility shown towards Indians. An example of this anti-Indian feeling was the anecdote of Mrs Willoughby Tottenham. Head of the Empire Society and wife of puce-faced, rosykneed Major Willoughby Tottenham, who organised rallies and parades, she had wild wiry hair and protruding teeth. I’d always been afraid of her. She was deaf with a hooting voice and a large trumpet-like instrument she inserted in her ear as a hearing aid.
The traditional and unavoidable yaqona, or kava drinking ceremony, was hedged about with dos and don’ts that went on for at least a page. The bus had none of the personality of the BULA FM type. It was a banal tourist coach: air-conditioning chill, shinyhaired upholstery, dead television set, vast front window with windscreen wipers as big as brooms, curving seats that were supposed to fit your morphology but didn’t. The few passengers talked quietly, in pairs. This stretch of road had a special significance.
He was there the day the Fijians marched away to war. All of Suva — some had been waiting since dawn — lined Victoria Parade to see them go by in full battle-dress, their rifles on their shoulders, their bayonets flashing in the sun. There were cheers, screams, shouts. Confetti and streamers swirled in the air. Some people were crying — bystanders and troops alike. I clung hard to my father’s hand as I watched the tears running down the soldiers’ massive faces. They had so many leis around their necks they were like immense ruffs and the tears fell into the flowers.