Where Bones Dance: An English Girlhood, An African War

Recipe

225 Recipe A toast to Brigadier Banjo.” Peg raises her glass. The ice cubes clink. Brian reaches for the jug on the table. They are drinking Pimms Number One. “Top-up, anyone? The rebel forces came within a hundred miles of Lagos while you were away, you know. It wasn’t the noble Nigerian army that drove them back either, it was their own commanding officer. The brave Brigadier decided to turn around and see if he couldn’t knock off Ojukwu and seize power himself.” “He got shot for his efforts, cheeky devil,” Peg says, holding out her glass. They are laughing but my father is shaking his head, “It’s allout war now and the Biafrans don’t stand a chance.” “What, against an army whose commanders order the troops from their own tribe to go to the rear before any advance? The Easterners are winning the propaganda war, that’s for sure. Brave little Biafra.” 226 My father takes a cigarette from the silver box on the table. He taps it three times but he doesn’t light it. “It’s a recipe,” he says, “for tragedy. Gowon will starve them out. What else can he do?” Peg and my mother shake their heads and then they pick up their drinks. They pick them up at the exact same time. Bits of orange and lemon and mint bob up and down in the brown liquid. C y c l e 3 ...