Bücher von Phillip Martin

If you ask most people, they know that Dog is Man's best friend. But, who is Woman's best friend? Why, that is Cat. You may not have known that. And, this story explains how all of that came about.I wish I could tell you that I gathered this tale while I was painting one of my murals in Somalia. Although one time I interviewed for a teaching job in Mogadishu, the capital city, the closest I've been to Somalia is its neighbor to the west, Ethiopia. I collected this story when I compiled Once Upon East Africa. The original tale had about a dozen lines. I enjoyed expanding the story and setting it to rhyme. After that effort, I just felt that the tale deserved its own book. Now, I know that most children's stories tend to end "happily ever after". This tale also has a really happy ending, if you are a cat-lover. But, some really bad things happened to our poor kitty along the way. When stories have situations like that, it opens up a possibility for healthy conversation. And, that's not a bad thing since not everything in life is "happily ever after".This is also the first of my children's books to have a recipe included. I wish I had thought of that sooner, but I am glad the idea finally came my way. Macaan! (Delicious in Somali.)

This tale from the Democratic Republic of the Congo is about the right hand (the Husband Hand) who is having problems with the left hand (the Wife Hand). The real problem is that the Husband Hand is selfish, stingy, and just hasn't learned how to share. The Wife Hand could have argued with her Husband Hand. But, instead, she just let him dig his own hole and fall into it. Eventually, the Husband Hand comes to his senses and realizes that two hands are better than one.I traveled to the Democratic Republic of the Congo to paint a mural at an orphanage in Kamina. There was no water, running or otherwise, at the Kamina Children's Home since the well was broken. To get water to clean the paint brushes, someone had to go across the road to a neighbor's backyard and drop a bucket attached to a rope into a well. Little kids were very willing to help me, but they always came back drenched. The bucket was just too heavy for them. I learned to ask teenagers for help.It's not so easy to clean latex paint from brushes without running water, but it can be done. The problem is multiplied enormously when oil-based paint is used. You need soap, turpentine and a lot more water. And, alas, I had oil-based paint on this project. It dripped, splattered, ran, and got on all sorts of little hands and arms.There were several times when I sat by the water bucket cleaning my brushes as well as little arms and fingers. As I rubbed away splattered paint from the children's hands, they in turn cleaned me up from fingertips to elbows. It was the closest I've ever come to a footwashing. So, when I found a tale about hands, I knew it was a keeper.My favorite part of any mural project is the people that I meet along my path. It's why I keep on painting. Nobody along the way could be any more special than Kyungu and Michel. These two orphans were truly my right hand and left hand while I was in the Democratic Republic of the Congo.

While teaching at schools overseas for twenty years, Burma was one of my most favorite destinations. After arriving in Asia, Burma was my first destination. It's where I discovered lacquerware, giraffe women, Thanaka, got the very worst haircut of my life, and discovered a delightful "Cinderella" story.I first went to Burma in the early 90s just after it opened to the West. The Burmese people were very friendly and so hungry for anything from the outside world. I traded every stitch of clothing not on my back for lacquerware and other treasures. I have never had that kind of experience anywhere else. My best treasure was a huge vase, as wide as my outstretched arms in a circle. The shopkeeper said it was made by his father, who had recently died. I said he couldn't sell it; he had to save this heirloom! But, the man wanted to sell it to me. I bought the vase for five dollars and a backpack. He knew I would treasure it. He also knew I would send him photographs of the vase. (Of course, I did.)My favorite place in Burma is Bagan, a UNESCO Heritage Site stuffed full of historic pagodas of enormous size. It is where you get your lacquerware while in Burma. There weren't many tourists in the area when I visited. So, while I climbed around the pagodas (taking limited photos in the days of film photography), I was easily discovered by a charming kid, about eight years old, who wanted to hone his English skills. Aung Aung was delightful. He had to meet many, many people in Bagan. I was just one among the crowds. But, for my travel experience, he was a highlight in Bagan. I even looked him up again four years later.When I left Bagan, Aung Aung and his mother met me at the hotel to send me off. They presented me a golden lacquerware vase that I have treasured ever since. I never heard from him after that. And, I always wondered what happened to this kid. Decades later, in a world the with Internet, I located my long-lost friend. I'm very pleased to dedicate this book to Aung Aung.

I enjoyed rewriting this tale and setting it to rhyme, but I was not sure if it would work as a children's book. I mean, the teacher dies on page one and so many characters in the book get beaten up by Goso's students. However, there is so much to talk about. What happens when people jump to conclusions without all the facts? The story expanded, and chaos continued, until the truth was finally revealed. There are lessons to be discussed and learned. Most people who read this tale first ask me, "What's a calabash?" I was introduced to this gourd when I was a Peace Corps Volunteer in Liberia. Since this tale is from Tanzania, it appears the gourd has spread across the continent. The calabash was one of the world's first cultivated plants that was not used as a food source. Dried calabash gourds were used as containers. In Liberia, they were also used as musical instruments and drinking glasses. And now, you know.Tanzania has long been my favorite tourist destination in Africa. It has the Serengeti Park and Ngorongoro Crater, Mt. Kilimanjaro, the Maasai people, as well as the island of Zanzibar. Who can compete with that?When I visited Stonetown, in Zanzibar, I splurged to stay at the Hotel International, well beyond my usual budget. It was once the home of a wealthy Arab merchant. The four-story building oozed with character, history, and well-worn age. The host at the desk was a delightful guy named Mudi.I asked Mudi where I could find a local dish with cassava leaves and coconut milk called "kisambo". Mudi didn't miss a beat and replied, "At my home." Of course, I accepted and the following day we climbed into a mini bus called a "matato" and headed home for a delicious experience on the Spice Island.I am continually surprised by the kindness of strangers along my path. Mudi's mother and her girlfriends prepared a feast with a good dose of cinnamon and cardamom. I gathered recipes, which thrilled the women. The book is dedicated to Mudi and his wonderful family who gave Zanzibar such a special place in my heart.

This tale of three guardian angels (Shirley, Goodness and Mercy) centers around King David and his young son Solomon. David explains to his son that he has three guardian angels who have watched over him his entire life. And, he explains to Solomon how he met each one of them during experiences recorded in the Bible about the life of the king.I never really know where my inspiration will come from when I write a book. In my first original book, "Pick Me!" Cried Arilla, I wrote about a star getting ready for her mission. The inspiration for that story came from a sermon I heard when I was in college. So, yes, the idea rolled around in my head for quite some time.The story of Shirley, Goodness and Mercy was inspired by my pastor's sermon on Psalm 23:6. Yes, I wish I had cleverly come up with the idea of these three guardian angels, but I knew there was a story as soon as they were mentioned. I ran with the idea immediately. This time, I wrote the story within a week. Sadly, I don't remember anything else from either of those sermons.