When the spotlight is swung to women and their achievements down the ages, it always seems to me that finally a fuller historical picture is revealed, a vital account of both sides of life stories.  It is also eloquent of the far-too-frequent lack of balance in so many historical records.

For me, it has been a fascinating time as my friend and colleague, historian Emma Ellis, writes about my family in a non-fiction biography.  It so happens that my maternal parents and grandparents lived on five continents in total, buffeted by various life-changing events, and nonetheless were energetic achievers in the agricultural and political arena.  Initially, Emma faced the daunting task of sorting through and reading literally thousands of letters, documents and other material that my mother, with great foresight, had carefully saved and brought to Spain when they had finally to leave their home in Tanzania. After that, Emma grappled with the myriad political and geographical complexities behind and in the story.

Her first drafts of the book centered on my grandfather, Frank Anderson, his life and achievements.  My grandmother, Honor, and later my mother, Patricia, were the supporting characters in the story, powerful but secondary to a degree.

The second approach was to put the account into the voice of my mother, Patricia, because she left very full, detailed memoirs after I had “harassed” her for years to do so.  Mercifully she eventually complied, and the memoirs are fascinating.

However, as Emma and I bobbed around in the warm turquoise-sapphire waters of the Mediterranean every morning for our swim, discussing the book, Emma came to the conclusion that it was far more fitting that the story of the family should be told by the three women, grandmother Honor, mother Patricia and eventually me, Jeannine.  In fact, none of what the family achieved would have been possible without the labours, support and loyalty of each generation to their menfolk, albeit less so in my case as I have lived through a radical transition of the family’s activities.

So now Emma is at the serious re-write stage, with the voices ringing clearly and coherently of my indomitable grandmother and mother, as she recounts the often dramatic lives of my forebears.

 We are at the stage of the first “calling card” website on the book:  Rasharasha – to Africa for a Rose. 

 Keep tuned for more about these women whose lives we can all celebrate.