A treasured quilt pattern handed down through generations past, present, and perhaps to those to come.
We arrived in the United States for the third time on July 3, 1963, but this time to stay permanently. There had been another uprising in Sudan and all Europeans were told to leave the country for their own safety.
I turned 13 the next day. But it wasn’t a joyous occasion even with the picnics and fireworks. I had come straight from boarding school in Egypt where one of the senior boys had just committed suicide rather than go to the States.What was so bad about the States that he’d kill himself before going there?
Soon after we arrived, Dad almost died with a ruptured appendix. No sooner was he getting back on his feet when John F Kennedy, the President of the United States was assassinated. I heard Dad say to Mum, “What on earth have I brought this family into?”
Did things change? A little. Some things got better, but other things would never change.
Forgive me if I hesitate to fill this page with stories of life in the United States. For now, the shadows speak louder than the sunshine. Yet the sunshine will return, and bring with it the happier memories of years spent here in the United States and beyond, and I will share them with you.