5 NOVEMBER 1988, Page 41

African Bonfire A bonfire for the kids on Guy Fawkes

day behind the Staff Club, after sundown, sat idly on benches, boozing, ogling at a straw man burning. He was writhing slowly.

Out of that great blaze flames in abstract curves leapt up and turned to sparks, just like all flame; but we were squirming. It was not the same as Guy Fawkes fires at home. Discovered nerves strained, and smoke was bitter in the throat.

The Hausas tasted blood a month ago, hacked down my neighbour with a garden hoe.

That savagery made them more remote. This savagery we celebrate makes ties.

The kids were shouting, all those sparks supply new stars for those that fall out of the sky.

No, the burned man, the hacked one, screams and dies. Cherish your children and avoid their eyes.

James Simmons