The story of brown skin, Russell and much more.


This story starts with a pre-Christmas get together with my old school friends.  We have known each other since primary school days.  On this day, we were having a chat and I was telling them about my Afghan cameleer theory for, you see, I have blotchy brown skin and I am always asked about my background.  I was barely believed when I said, “I am English on my mum’s side and Irish/Scottish on my dad’s side.”

When we were in southern Spain, an American tourist asked me directions in Spanish.  When we were in Biblos in Lebanon, locals from Beirut asked me directions in Arabic.  When I was in India, I was asked more than once whether I was Indian.  Maus and I used to frequent a Lebanese restaurant in Perth and the proprietor would mock me because I couldn’t speak Arabic.  He tried to teach me a few words because” I should know my mother language”.  He would not believe me when I told him I was not Lebanese. Continue reading