I was born on the banks of an ancient river in a country which no longer exists. I began telling stories as a child and never stopped. To date, I have written close to three million words in more than 20 published books. My novel, The Secrets of Jin-shei, has been published in 14 languages. My popular Young Adult Worldweavers series features New World magic and a heroine who is as American as Harry Potter is British. I like books, embroidery, music ranging from "The Rocky Horror Picture Show" to Dvorak's New World Symphony, animals, coffee, chocolate, snow, velvet -- and, in people, kindness, intelligence and an off-the-wall sense of humor. I am a punaholic, a chronic worrier, sentimental and passionate. I am married to a man who wooed me over the Internet and lured me to America, where I am currently owned by a cat.
Houses in Africaby Alma Alexander
When I was 10, I was taken from my quiet, safe corner of old Europe and deposited into an exotic new world. Africa, at once breathtaking and soul-destroying, from the snow-capped mountains and teeming game plains of Kenya and Tanzania to the haunted hunger-stalked dustbowls of Ethiopia and the Sudan – the hideous and the magnificent have always gone hand in
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When I was 10, I was taken from my quiet, safe corner of old Europe and deposited into an exotic new world. Africa, at once breathtaking and soul-destroying, from the snow-capped mountains and teeming game plains of Kenya and Tanzania to the haunted hunger-stalked dustbowls of Ethiopia and the Sudan – the hideous and the magnificent have always gone hand in hand there.
Nobody who has once set foot on the soil of Africa will ever be quite free of it again. When I first went there, I was young enough to be molded by it. I instinctively understand things that people with altruistic but often misguided intentions spend years fail to: it takes an African attitude to deal with something that is at once both immeasurably ancient and utterly childish. I was an African child, picking up thoughts, feelings and attitudes left lying about like discarded skins of poisonous snakes.
If I returned there today, I’d recognize it easily enough, but the rediscovery would be painful. Other people now live in my Houses in Africa. Going back to find my memory of things changed… would be as if a part of me had vanished together with it.
I keep the dust of Africa, therefore, as a memory in my heart.
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- Alma Alexander
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