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The Chief took my hand. His felt like leaves β cool and dry. And then he spoke in Bislama, the English-based pidgin that helps the people of the Vanuatu archipelago, with their eighty islands and their 118 languages, understand one another. βBilip,β he said. βMe wantem come.β
Philip. I want him to come.
It sounded aggrieved, as if Philip, Duke of Edinburgh, King of the World and son of the local mountain god, was pushing it a bit and the Chief had had enough. Then he tapped the ground and pointed at me. What brought you here? βLong story,β I said. They understood, because the words mean the same in Bislama. And they laughed at that, and settled down around us on logs and stones, in that windy, dusty meeting ground, rubbing their hands. Down Tanna way, they love a long story.
It was 1982 when Prince Philip rode in a train to Manchester, passing right by my bedroom window, and waved at me.
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