Young black man: crime perpetrator/victim of crime
Black woman: crime perpetrator /victim of crime/mother of victim
Black man: crime perpetrator /victim of crime/father of victim

…and so on…

There are days when the only images one sees of black people on telly are the above or a combination of the above. I exaggerate, of course, but perhaps not by much. I am therefore looking forward to the next instalment of the No 1 Ladies’ Detective Agency this Sunday. The pilot was great fun. Jill Scott was superb.

Check out the trailer.

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Over the last few months, what we have seen of Africans (mainly Kenyans and occasionally Zimbabweans) on the BBC have been people in extreme situations. The images have either been of people dying or dead, people running away from vigilante groups or the police, people demonstrating or people (and especially and worryingly, children) looting and burning. Sometimes the images have been of people doing all the above, all at the same time.

Watching the No 1 Ladies’ Detective Agency based in Botswana on the BBC the other night was a relief as the story featured Africans getting on with their daily lives. Fancy that. The drama/comedy, gentle and funny, featured the utterly lovely Jill Scott as Mma Ramotswe, the detective and was lovingly directed by Anthony Minghella who unfortunately died a few weeks ago.

Credit must also go to the cinematographer who managed to capture the heat, dust, bright, vivid colours and the complex beauty of Africa. It was almost possible to taste this dust and feel the heat in far away (and wintry) London.

The story dealt with difficult issues including domestic violence and superstition from Mma Ramotswe’s point of view and here, the issue was all about Jill Scott’s amazing talent and the strength she brought to the character. Jill Scott had the Botswanian accent down to perfection and looked the part (being of ‘traditional build’). She was authentic and everything focused around her (the camera certainly loves her).

My only gripe was Jill Scott only sung once. She should have sung around the house, while driving, etc. Any excuse to hear Jill Scott sing.

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I learned two things upon arriving in the UK many moons ago. First, the name Enid was pronounced ‘EEnid’ and not ‘EHnid’ as I had been pronouncing it ever since I begun reading
Enid Blyton’s Famous Five books. The other was that ginger beer, always a mystery to my young mind, i.e. how could children be allowed to drink beer, was no different from tangawizi soda.

When growing I really loved the Famous Five Series. I was captivated by the fantastic tales of extraordinary dog, Timmy, brothers Julian and Dick, younger sister Anne and cousin Georgina, known as George and who was a tomboy. Although I had a mild crush on Julian, I think I loved George the most – she was just so daring, tough and not scared of anyone – just what a typical 9 year old like me wanted to be like. The Famous Five adventures were always the same and revolved around the children tackling a gang of hapless criminals (smugglers, kidnappers, etc) during the school holidays. The fact that the villains were always swarthy and that Anne always did the washing-up led to accusations of racism and sexism decades after the books had been written.

And of course, no story was complete without lashings and lashings of ginger beer and exclamations of ‘gosh!’ and ‘golly!’

It is all change now and the Famous Five have received a makeover. A new series has been written which consists of George’s daughter, Joyti, who is Anglo-Indian (ha, who’d have thought George would end up married), Max, Julian’s son, Allie, who is Californian (??) and Anne’s daughter and Dylan the son of Dick. And Timmy, of course but no more ginger beer, apparently, the ginger beer and the cream buns from the tuck shop have been replaced by replaced by mobile phones, laptops, iPods and pizza.

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