A Fowl Chain of Events (glossy cover) - Martin, Phillip
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This tale begins when a disaster befalls a guinea fowl who wandered away from her nest, ever so briefly. That's enough information for you to guess what happened. But, the guinea fowl was heartbroken. That set into motion a "fowl chain of events". And, it's also set to rhyme. I love to do that, and I think it makes this story such a fun read. I was introduced to so many guinea fowls while I was in Africa. It was not like I really wanted to meet them. Those birds made their presence known very early in the morning. Every morning. It was my observation that not many people slept in while I was…mehr

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Produktbeschreibung
This tale begins when a disaster befalls a guinea fowl who wandered away from her nest, ever so briefly. That's enough information for you to guess what happened. But, the guinea fowl was heartbroken. That set into motion a "fowl chain of events". And, it's also set to rhyme. I love to do that, and I think it makes this story such a fun read. I was introduced to so many guinea fowls while I was in Africa. It was not like I really wanted to meet them. Those birds made their presence known very early in the morning. Every morning. It was my observation that not many people slept in while I was in Africa. People who don't have electricity (and I didn't while I was a Peace Corps Volunteer), frequently go to bed when it gets dark. That's what I did. I was very well rested for those two years in Liberia. However, if you go to bed early, some people are then ready to also get up early in the morning. Not me. I had no desire to get up at five or six o'clock when it was still dark outside. But, the guinea fowls cried out and the roosters crowed each morning. And then, my neighbors also got up and started their daily activities. Maybe I just didn't have good luck with my neighbors? It was my experience that nobody in my neighborhood thought it was important to be quiet so the Peace Corps Volunteer could sleep in a little later. Honestly, I must admit that I can be very stubborn. In spite of all the noise, I always stayed in bed. I still don't like to get up before the sun.
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Autorenporträt
When you have traveled as much as I have, and your focus is on people and murals rather than resorts and spas, you gather stories along the way. In my previous book, Cooking Disasters, I shared some of the spectacular events that required a bit of divine intervention in order for me to survive. But, in this book, there are no close brushes with death or violent wrecks, no more rogues with knives or angry witch doctors, and -- thankfully -- no more bouts of malaria. I learned very quickly that those were the kinds of stories not to write home about. Fortunately, I also have several stories that don't require any guardian angels. They're the ones I could write home about. Yes, I've had some remarkable moments in my journey. One of the tales that you'll read about happened in Namibia. When I told my friend Abdelhadi that I was going there for a mural project, I said, "It's a once in a lifetime event." He was quick to correct me. "No, this is another in a series of Phillip Martin occasions that happen to nobody else but you." I think he was right. I have been blessed everywhere I wander. I've met the most gracious people who have opened their doors and hearts to a wandering artist. After you read these tales, you may also agree with my friend Abdelhadi.