Böcker av Phillip Martin

Who doesn't love a good love story? A young man, in search of his bride, goes to a trusted father-figure to help him find that young woman. The man is very willing to help. And, it looks like everything is set for the wedding. However, there is just one hurdle to overcome. The young man must move a mysterious stone away from the door. If this young woman is truly the bride Allah has selected for him, it shouldn't be a problem to move the stone. And, that is the problem.Over the years, I have collected over two hundred fifty tales from around the world. Hands down, no competition, not even close, this is my favorite one. Not only is it a beautiful story, but it reminds me of the two wonderful years I lived in Morocco.On my very first vacation, I headed over the Atlas Mountains into the Sahara Desert where I could ride a camel. Seriously, who wouldn't want to do that? But, in order to get there, the bus always stopped for a break in Taddart at the crest of the mountains. On my very first trip through Taddart, I met Lahcen. The friendship was instant. I returned there over and over whenever I needed to escape from Casablanca. I stayed in Lahcen's home, shared tagine with his family, and made a friend for life. I brought friends and family to Taddart over the years. They all loved the Moroccan experience, and they especially loved Lahcen. I guess love was in the air. One man had a crush on my sister. He called her a gazelle. And, he offered two camels for her. Her husband would never have approved.

In this story, two angels are the best of friends. They've been that way since anyone can remember. And, the friendship has helped them both. Hark was extremely shy. He never spoke in public. He only whispered his thoughts to Harold. Harold, not in the least bit shy, blew his horn -- loud and long -- whenever Hark had anything to say. There was just one problem. Harold was terrible with the horn. There was nothing joyful about his noise. But, as the years passed, changes occurred. And, it's those changes that created this memorable story about friendship.Just like with my previous book, Shirley, Goodness and Mercy - All the Days of My Life, this story was inspired by a sermon. In a talk about angels, my pastor talked about how kids say the darndest things. (If that reminds you of Art Linkletter, you know you are old.) Anyway, one little boy said he only knew the names of two angels, Hark and Harold. Hey, you never know when or where inspiration for a book is going to strike. I knew immediately that there was a story there.I love the main theme of this book. Hopefully, we all have people in our lives who support us, believe in us, and encourage us along the way. Neither Hark nor Harold would have reached their full potential if the other hadn't believed in them. My Hark, or Harold, was always my mother who believed in my art for as long as I can ber. When I look at my early drawings, I'm not sure how that was possible. Anyway, this particular book has what I consider the best illustrations out of all of my books, so far.

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 is a love story. A very wise man, the paramount chief, meets one wise woman. She turns his life upside-down in the best kind of way, as you would expect in a love story. You'll have to decide which one of them is the wisest.I love a good folktale and my journey with them began in Liberia where I gathered this tale as a Peace Corps Volunteer. It was so long ago and feels like another lifetime. It is dedicated to my best friend Daniel and his wife Theresa. From then unto now, Daniel has given me a friendship that spans time and distance. During my Peace Corps days, I'm told I once met Theresa, but I don't remember it. I am just going to have to believe her.Two weeks after I left Liberia, the country fell into a civil war that lasted for fourteen years. One of the worst affected locations was my Peace Corps hometown, Zwedru. It was the region of the ousted president and therefore a target. Zwedru became a deserted ghost town for seven years.For part of the time during the war, Daniel and Theresa fled to the Ivory Coast. It wasn't safe there either. They eventually fled back into Liberia and settled into Daniel's home village of Tugbaken. It's my most favorite place in the whole country.I revisited Liberia when the United States Embassy brought me back to paint murals with Ebola survivors. On that trip, I finally located my friend again. I wasn't even sure if Daniel was alive. I'd not heard from him for a couple decades.But, we reconnected and I visited Daniel and Theresa in Tugbaken. Since then, we've been able to connect much more frequently. I can't wait for them to read this Liberian love story because their story is the best real-life love story I ever saw in Liberia.

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.

I come from a long line of storytellers in my family. Grandma Arilla, Mama Jeanne, and Auntie Marge spent years teaching Children's Church and Sunday School. So, I'm fairly sure that I've heard most of the stories from the Bible. When I was in high school, I illustrated those stories as my mother told them in Children's Church. Every kid wanted to win the drawing at the end of the service. I added a little of my humor to Jonah's tale. The Bible says nothing about Jonah hating fish, but I merely suggested it would be funny if that was the case. (In truth, that part was more my feelings about fishing than Jonah's.) The Bible does speak about Jonah not being happy about God's love and grace for the Assyrians. It goes into a lot of detail. As I read it, I thought, "Are you kidding me? How can anyone complain about that?" Then, I realized that there was a kid's book just waiting for me to write and illustrate.The prophet Jonah lived somewhere around 750 B.C. The Bible never really says if he changed his mind about the Assyrians. But, in Mosul, Iraq, (present day Nineveh), the grave of Jonah was a sacred site for centuries. So, it appears that he stayed there for the rest of his life. I'm hopeful that he grew to love the people. The grave and the mosque covering it were destroyed by ISIS in 2014.

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.