This is probably one of the best books I've ever read. It is one of the few books that has made me cry (in an airport bar! I had to abadon my draft Flat Tire :-(

I was in a bookstore in Tanzania and overwhelmed by the fantastic selection of African non-fiction, I asked the Tanzanian staff to point out the one book I couldn't walk away without. They chose this one.

This book takes you through the incredible recent history of East Africa/parts of the Middle East through the stories of the author, a war correspondent for Reuters who is from Kenya, his colonial settler parents and a close friend of his father who was a British colonial officer in Yemen. It's crude, bloody, very honest and somehow not sensationalist. It doesn't give you any false sense of hope around the tragedies in Somalia, Rwanda, African development in general (which he witnessed first hand and in which many of his colleagues died trying to get us the information). He tells you in great detail of the horrors he witnessed and in less detail, the toll it took on him.

Amazing

I totally disagree with the gal who wrote that he was "pompous". I bought the book when it first came out in hard cover while I was touring around Kenya and the Swahili Coast. I thought it was a difficult book to write; trying to join two separate stories, one about his Dad's time in Yemen, and one about his time reporting on African affairs. It is one of my favourite books on Africa and Yemen during some rather difficult times. He was also a friend of Dan Eldon who suffered a gruesome death while covering the debacle in Somalia--the same time that Blackhawk Down happened. He, and three other reporters, were brutally murdered by the Somalis in retribution for the deaths caused by the yahoo US forces. Dan Eldon's story has just been covered in a recent film--"The Journey is the Destination". Both Aidan and Dan spent the majority of their time growing up in Kenya. It's unfortunate that Aidan hasn't written another book, but I think he is doing animal conservation at his ranch in Laikipia, Kenya. "Zanzibar Chest" an entertaining read for sure. I have recommended it to a number of friends. I half expected to meet him down at the Sport's Bar and Hotel in Watamu a few years back.

There is a fair amount of reportage in this book, much of it harrowing although delivered with the nonchalance and detatchment of the war reporter, and yet one detects that the thick skin is somewhat cosmetic, self protective and indeed in due course it falls away. It is Hartley's inate love and empathy with Africa and Africans, and a hard earned camerarderie with the various hacks and rhino skinned media folk he falls in with, which lifts the writing above that of straight documentary. Whilst the title suggests this is the story of Peter Davey intertwined with the story of Hartley's father, these are anchors, and a constant reference and inspiration, for what is the story of Aidan Hartley and his Africa.
Hartley's fascination with Africa comes from a childhood spent listening to rich reminiscences of his parents and their friends, exotic tales of the late colonial period, of respect and adventure, and moreover of their love of the continent and its people. The trouble for Hartley is that he is attached to those stories ingrained in his physche but his African view is confusingly different as his days are spent in the immediate post colonial era with change and volatility all around. He comes to recognise the extent of change through the stoicism of his parents, and especially his father who is forced to adapt and although he is useful being fluent Swahili and a skilled negotiator with the Africans, his frustrations are there to see and feel and his reticence grows as nostalgia fades. Hartley finds himself sent to England for education and becomes influenced by the swinging sixties and intoxicated with social revolution though drawn inexorably back to Africa and as his age of responsibility dawns he descends into a seedy lifestyle avoiding the long shadow of a hero father. On discovering the 'Zanzibar chest' retained by his father containing the memoirs of a lifelong friend Peter Davey whose own life and times was inextricably connected to Hartley senior, it is in the finer details therein he begins to piece together the realities of the romanticised life of his father and his peers, a world of brave men, often harsh, often idyllic, sometimes secretive, always full of adventure. One can sense the frustration of being born into a time when opportunity for such adventure seems in the past and from Hartley's hedonistic, sleezy African existence of drink, drugs, prostitutes, and youthful high jinks, he is lost and the sense of inferiority is palpable. Redemption comes from the company he keeps and his inate African knowledge and instinct, and an articulate nature becomes a thing of value as a kindly hack sees the potential in Hartley and shows him the ropes of journalism and promotion of a story. In the ensuing years he finds himself bearing witness to the worst situations of conflict and famine, and finds his genetic bravery and attraction to risk takes him into the heat and heart of the story, into highly dangerous territory and in the company of equally dangerous people, and yet his survival instinct and no little luck leaves him largely unscathed. He falls in love only to ultimately realise the relationship only flourishes in the heightened state of imminent danger and enforced absences. Hartley's insights into the chaos of Somalia and what he describes as the human abattoir of Rwanda are especially heartbreaking and the losses and giving witness to unimaginable cruelty eventually take their toll. His honesty at feeling useless in the face of such tragedy is striking and bitter. Hartley stays close to his father throughout and it is through periodic reference of Davey's memoirs that he understands not only his father's sadness and longing but also makes some sense of the present, and it becomes clear that each man is yearning not for the good old days of colony but for those moments when cultures collide and magic is made and hope springs eternal. The only thing I missed was to know whether Hartley discussed his own experiences with his father and what he made of them. Perhaps they only needed look at each other. The book ends more or less where it began, and where his father left off, with Hartley living and working in rural Africa, and with optimism that the demons of both men may finally be behind them.