Knowing so intimately the endless fragmented
memories that comprise a childhood, one may risk, by proximity, being
blinded to the magic of the stories woven across these years. So it was
for me, and I therefore owe, first of all, great debts of gratitude to
Patti Waldmeir, who said that here was something to write about, and to
Michael Holman, for making the next leap: insisting there was,
moreover, a book to fill, and relentlessly encouraging me as I began
the daunting process of excavating the memories, and learning, by trial
and much mortifying error, how to assemble them into a form fit for the
page. To my family, I owe thanks for so many
things, beginning, of course, with their inadvertent gift of this
story. For their conscious role, I am above all grateful for the
enthusiastic support I received from the moment I declared my intention
to commit their characters to the page; testament, if nothing else, to
the survival beyond this story of their addictive cocktail of reckless
confidence in one another and an astounding ability not to care what
the world might think. Pages could not do justice to their and others’
many, varied contributions, but suffice it to say that the book could
not have been written without the tireless assistance — recollecting,
inspiring, critiquing, and fact checking — of Linda, Keith, Lulu, and
Damien. My grandparents Joan and Terry McCourt, and Jonathan Scott,
Christine Sievers, and Henry Scott also provided invaluable help and
guidance.
Many others who helped in this
book’s creation appear too in its pages and I would like to express my
gratitude to Seloma Tiro, Charlie and Robyn Sheldon, Lyn and Melaney
Nevill, Nomsa Mbere, Jean van Riet, Jean Kiekopf, the Blair family,
Jenny Dunlop, Tiffany McGaw, Laura Hudson, and Nicola Anderson. For
steering me away from some of the myriad traps that face an expatriate
writing about Botswana, I owe an additional special thanks to Seloma
and Nomsa. In this respect, I have also found valuable Denbow and
Thebe’s Culture and Customs of Botswana, with which I cross- checked
relevant parts of the text. By its nature, however, a story told
through the eyes of a child and a teenager, informed mostly by the
experiences of one eccentric family, will inevitably produce a
selective portrait of a country. I hope the reader will understand and
forgive it as such. To everyone else I write of, I owe thanks too: a
story is only as good as its characters and I am fortunate to have
grown up surrounded by so many fascinating people, leading lives to
rival fiction. It is here appropriate to note, too, that in a few
instances where necessary to protect identities, I have used fi ctional
names. Finally, at least amongst those who shared the Botswana I write
of, I would like to thank Ann O’Connell and Karan and Raj Chathley,
who, though not mentioned in this text, were so generous to Ivor and
Betty, and who made such a great difference to their final years.
Since
the conception of this book, many others have given generously of their
time and knowledge. For their counsel and support, I am grateful to
Christine and Robin Whaite, Sangeeta Puran, Janet Ginnard, Drazen
Petkovich, Tulsi Bramley, Lauren Lindsay, Jack Turner, Alan Williams,
John Parr, Peter Sievers, Chris Sherwell, Ian Harrison, and the whole
Unite and Feinstein clan; for their invaluable critiques of the early
text I am indebted to Michela Wrong, Caroline Penley, and Sidney
Buckland, as I am, for their encouragement, to Alexander McCall Smith,
Peter Godwin, Samantha Weinberg, Judith Todd, and Phillip van Niekerk,
and, for their inspiration, to Jacobus Pansegrouw and the remarkable
members of the Group of Hope.
To thank all
those who have played a part in the publishing of this book is
impossible, but I am, in particular, deeply grateful to Ann Godoff at
The Penguin Press, for her brilliant editorial touch and wisdom;
Alexandra Pringle at Bloomsbury; Jeremy Boraine at Jonathan Ball;
Arabella Pike; David Eldridge, Sarah Hutson, Lindsay Whalen, Kate
Griggs, Mary Morris, Colin Midson, Trâm-Anh Doan; and to all the
wonderful people at DGA — Sophie Hoult, Charlotte Knight, Kerry
Glencorse, Kirsty Mclachlan, and Heather Godwin — agents and friends,
who have worked so hard for this book. I am especially indebted to the
wise and tireless David Godwin — lion and alchemist of agents — whose
enormous levels of determination and creativity only rise when the road
becomes bumpy, and who has played such a crucial role in making this
book what it is. Lastly, I owe infi nite thanks to Mungo Soggot, who
believed I could write this book, helped in its writing, and with such
good humour survived me as I wrote it.
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