CREATIVE JOURNEY TO AFRO SOLO UK SuAndi When Lesley Johnson donated his parent’s collection of photographs to the Archive,1 neither he nor anyone imagined the tears that would result. Over the course of this project I and almost everyone I have interviewed have felt the flow of tears, the quiet weeping type that leaves you feeling exhausted but somehow surprised and cleansed. I have always preferred men over women even though I am very lucky to have a strong group of supporting females in my life. I blame my cousin John Tottoh because it is a family fact that before I was born he would clasp my mother’s protruding belly to embrace me and when I was a baby he would dribble in delight over me. Such was his strength that even though he was only a little boy he was not allowed to hold me for fear his love would crush my tiny body. There were nine years between my brother Malcolm and I and I would go to bed and wish that in the morning we would become twins. I so much wanted to spend every moment with my brother who wasn’t in the least bit interested in forming a friendship with his kid sister. That was not to happen for another 30 years and even then he called me his baby and bossed me at every opportunity. Little did he know that I in turn referred to him and my father as ‘my boys’ because I met their every need Even though I was very much a girly-girl in pretty dresses with Shirley Temple2 curls, I would swagger like a boy. I was loud and boisterous. Men definitely held secrets that I wanted to know so I constantly though not necessarily consciously sought out time with the men in my family. My eldest cousin Jimmy (James Tottoh) was truly the story teller of the family and I pleaded with him all the time to record his life, particularly as he was the eldest and he was also the tallest with his red hair and pale freckled skin. I wanted him to share what it was like to be the white (Welsh) son of a Nigerian. 1 2
Ahmed Iqbal Ullah Race Relations Resource Centre and Education Trust www.shirleytemple.com/
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