‘Kirikiti, kirikiti … Come, come! … Quicklee!’

‘Well, into the car then.’

But young Fili, digger of taro, hewer of coconuts, wasn’t in that much of a hurry to watch his father Tolu playing cricket. We had only driven a short way before he began to pummel my shoulder in a well-meaning way and begged me to stop.


Crash
Events in the Skies