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Star Wars and me (part I

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I was born in 1977 in Mauritius.   It was the year Star Wars first came on the screens. Yes, I was also born a long time ago, and some would argue, in a galaxy,   far, far away.   As one does when one reaches forty years of age, I have paused and reflected upon my so-called achievements. Amongst many things, I’ve been thinking about my late dad and his love of cinema, and how we used to watch war movies together. Then recently, I watched the Star Wars prequel trilogy with my boys and it sparked a number of thoughts, that I will use in my attempt to methodically bore you hereafter… The first thing to note, is that I was old enough to be aware of Star Wars only when the Return of the Jedi came out, when I was seven. I begged and pleaded to see it but somehow, my pleas fell onto deaf ears. I remember getting a Darth Vader mask and having terrible nightmares, because I would be scared of it, especially in the dark. I wasn’t part o
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Proust’s Paprika

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I was offered a chilli plant for my birthday and it reminded me of one my earliest memories. Well, after some debate with myself, ‘we’ kind of agreed it was actually my oldest. It features chillies and my dad. I must have been about three then and of course, I didn’t eat one, but it was very close, as you will see. Nothing unusual I suppose, for someone born in a hot country to have memories featuring chillies (an old, discarded, Mauritian Legend even says that Krampus – some kind of evil Santa- rubs hot chillies on the lips and bums of naughty children). I did wonder then, whether Proust would have written about a chilly instead of a ‘madeleine’ had he had the good fortune of being born in a hotter country! He might have talked about pimiento had he been Senor Proust, or simply paprika if he had been Herr Proust… I remember: it was at an indian wedding. I remember the banana leaves where the food was laid. I sat on dad’s lap. There was a pile of little chillies on
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