***Remembering Robeson – a book review

Paul Robeson was a black American man and an important civil rights activist of the early to mid 1900s, but there is so much more to this story. Until hearing Jeff Sparrow's impassioned presentation at his recent Melbourne book promotion, my own knowledge of Robeson...

read more

Welcome to The Badlands – a latenight lullaby

Bodies of children, guns more sacred Lay in heaps on crimson pavement The future dead, the ghosts of hope A shattered nation with prayers will cope . Pagoda beauty, suddenly soured Hateful icons, a new leader's power Crowded camps, no fault their own Despair and...

read more

***Ding, dong, the blog is dead – pondering progress

Blogging these days is not like it once was... a fickle, little-read beast at best. And it's hard to believe that just five years back I chose to take a dip in the blogosphere, a late starter, a wandering writer through the once-was maze of Wordpress and Blogger, of...

read more

A poison peace – lost but not forgot (Uis, Namibia)

I am in Namibia, 350km northwest of the once colonial centre of German West Africa, Windhoek; on the edge of the 2000km Namib Desert – the oldest in the world I’m told. From the setting sun my gaze drifts north and way down to the road at the toe of this great...

read more

Looking for a life – the fruits of our labour (Lagos, Nigeria)

Mosque minarets pierce soggy Lagos skies and I ask my driver to stop, the road potholed with waterlogged lakes and lined both sides with traders' stalls. Just here are piles of tomatoes on tottering stacks of pavers. Ribs sizzle next door, sweet basil wafting from the...

read more

Snow Monkeys – and absent friends (Yudanaka, Japan)

The Tokyo bar is a circle, Teppanyaki hotel chefs in tall hats and shirtsleeves in the centre; their shiny cleavers deftly dealing with slabs of beef, cabbage, prawns and abalone.The air smells of garlic and warm vegetable oil. I sip a Sapporo, the man across the way...

read more

A Darkside Downunder – MONA magic (Hobart, Australia)

I'm in Tasmania drinking with Dave; a giant of a man with broad shoulders and no neck. He's lived alone all his adult life, and sits at his normal spot at the bar, in  brown flannelette shirt and singlet, jeans and mud-caked Blundy boots. "Changed? Yeah, sure has...

read more

Story Categories

Why not Subscribe to the Latest Stories?

Pin It on Pinterest

Share This