Richard

My brother Richard was born in September 1947, and came home to the Upanga Road bungalow. In one way, Richard's arrival must have been as much of a disappointment as mine. My mother used to say that my father always wanted a daughter, and the child she miscarried early in their time in Dar-es-Salaam was the daughter he should have had. The miscarriage happened because my mother went down with a bad go of malaria and was treated with quinine.

Not that we have ever had too many complaints about our father though we did have one: he used to tease us that he would swap us for the two daughters of some family friends, two girls whom we thought were horrible. At least early on in our lives, he used to come down to the beaches which we so loved. The object Richard is reaching out for is a cigarette tin. These carried fifty cigarettes but, filled with stones, made a great toy for a small child.

As far as I recall, Richard and I got on well together but he was very different. In her 'Life', my mother wrote that, "Richard was very determined and Jonathan was very good with him." In this picture we're on the drive with the big mango tree behind us.

One of the things Richard did was to get hold of my mother's button box and swallow several of its contents. My anxious mother called the doctor and was assured her that they would, in due course, appear at the other end. He also rode this tricycle down the magnificent flight of steps at the front of the bungalow in an accident which drew blood.