by Emil Rem | Mar 13, 2025 | Analects
Recently, I was interviewed for a programme called “True Calgarian”. I examined my brown skin while listening to my incorrigible British accent, forty years on. “Truly Calgarian? Me?” Since I was taken from Africa at the age of five—my mum obtaining a divorce and...
by Emil Rem | Mar 6, 2025 | Analects
“Pops, why aren’t the shops open? It’s only 4 p.m.,” Christopher wondered. As we passed through Doha Airport, the terminal seemed like a town in a Western movie before a gunfight. No one walked the corridors, the regular bustle replaced by an eerie...
by Emil Rem | Feb 27, 2025 | Analects
Laura and I visited Dad daily. For the first few weeks, every day we visited, his clothes were piled high on his bed. His winter coat crowned the mound of clothes. We were told that when Dad woke up, the first thing he did was get ready to leave. “Boys? Boys?” Dad...
by Emil Rem | Feb 20, 2025 | Analects
Who was this man? He was unshaven, with no tie, his shirt collar open and missing buttons. He seemed to have slept in his clothes. His suit was wrinkled and creased. He had the eyes of a hunted animal. This wasn’t Dad… was it? Dad had always worn a suit and tie. He...
by Emil Rem | Feb 13, 2025 | Analects
December 8th was Dad’s eighty-second birthday. It was also his elder grandson’s seventeenth. Laura cooked steak—Dad’s favorite. He fussed over his birthday cake and insisted on a dozen photos. Dad had mounted old pictures of Alex and framed them with some poetry from...
