It was difficult growing up as a daughter of an author; I was born and lived in Pakistan until the age of 10 and during that time have very few memories of dad being home and with the family. As a very young child, I always remember him being away on his travels, years at a time. He would send presents home, dolls, books and puzzles just to remind us that he was there and that he had thought of us. He never really changed; he continued to travel for years at a time throughout his entire life taking him to and fro from Heathrow airport until his last trip which was to New York (his second home) and finally stopping over in Lima Peru for a month.

In 1974 dad had me, my mother and my two sisters’ move over and join him in England where he had decided to settle down and worked as an English Teacher in a local school. As a child I did not really know or understand what dad was doing, of his plans or of his writings and just how serious he was about being a published writer. He would ask me to type up his hand written manuscripts which I did so many times over and over again and it was not until late 80’s whilst working as an estate agent in my local town that I went out for lunch and walked passed my local library to see a large poster advertising the release of a new book ‘Love Bones And Water’ by Adam Zameenzad an up-coming new author with great reviews. I was amazed and quietly proud…..
Wow this was my Dad.

That was the day I first came to realise that my dad was a published author and was famous and that all his hard work was all coming together. He went on to write four more books before he fell ill in 2000; in total he published six books, The 13th House being his first book and became the winner of the David Higham Prize award and then going on to write My Friend Matt, Loves Bones and Water, Cyrus Cyrus, Gorgeous White Female and his last book Pepsi and Maria.

He was a traveller, a humanitarian and a much accomplished author who wanted to be the voice for the hungry and the poor, for the repressed and the silenced. His books covered many subjects but what stands out is that he
wrote about subjects that were at the time either controversial on contemporary events or with a very forward thinking mind. His book Gorgeous White Female which depicts male sexuality through the eyes and life of an eleven year old boy who despises his father and yearns to be like his English middle class mother; the book conjures up the sexual and emotional maelstrom of a young boy on the verge of adulthood and reviewed by the ‘Gay Times’ magazine as ‘witty, wise and consistently entertaining.’ A story so contemporary in our times that I decided to have it re-published as an Ebook and to follow in line with his footsteps I have chosen a charity who cares for the homeless people to donate part of the proceeds from each book sold as dad had huge compassion and love for people who were lost and vulnerable and almost until his death, he went to the Quakers in Rochester on a Sunday to help feed the homeless and the hungry..

You can buy it here with PayPal - I hope you enjoy it!

I play my last card,
I win!
Hurrah
Hurrah hurrah hurrah…..

The last card is played
the music stopped
the tables put away

There is no card left to play
no place to play it in
and it’s many months from home

A gust of cold wind
Puts its arms around me
surrounds me
lifts me up
and holds me within itself
tenderly

I float,
In the womb
Once again,
The protective womb
Which
will nourish me
and cherish me
and sing me lullabies
of love
until I am ready

ready to be dead.

But no!
I must come out of this womb,
This womb of death,
alive

I must,
for I still have
one last card to play.

GO, MY CHILD
The touch of your face
burns my hand.
And your eyes hurt
the sand.

Stay,
My child,
Stay another year,
an hour?
I have much to say.

I would cut my arteries open
And dance
Myself to death
If I could renew
My blood in you,
And mince my meat
With sand
To replenish the land
That is to be
Your second womb.

But I cannot
And you cannot.

I know that look.

There is another sky
that calls.
Another love
that will not wait.
A bond
You cannot break.

Forgive me,
My child,
For making it hard,
I am selfish.

Go,
My child
Go.

Prosper and thrive,
Grow
beyond my touch.

And remember
My child
there is much
to remember.

The poem below by Adam Zameenzad was published in a book last year - Cause of Death: Seeking Refuge. An Incomplete List. (currently in German only) 

Kristina Milz + Anja Tuckermann (Hrsg.):
Todesursache: Flucht. Eine unvollständige Liste Hirnkost 2018

In the past 25 years over 35,000 people seeking refuge in Europe have died on their way there or when they have already arrived. On the occasion of International Human Rights Day on December 10, 2018, a list of the dead was published (the documented cases) in book form. The list was compiled by the organization UNITED for Intercultural Action in Amsterdam. Most of the deceased are unnamed. Survivors have given some names that have also been included. The intention is to cast a light on the people that they were to help others better grasp the scale of this tragedy – and to grant the debate about refugees and death a human face.
The book spanning more than 300 pages is supplemented by short portraits of some of the deceased, survivor reports and contributions from prominent supporters of the project.

You can see more about the project or the book here.

​Yet another grave
In the cemetery of my endless skin!
I am tired of creating graves
Tired of walking upon them
Stumbling
In search of my own.

Too many graves
Are confusing
To the gravebound.
Here ‘s one marked Hope
Number 337a
There is plan 89
And that is Dream C/91/10 ref K
Strangled at birth.

By contrast, this was old,
Died from exhaustion;
The one across was murdered
By natural caused.

Graves of friendships, loves,
And children
Of the bone, if not the flesh
Lie
Without a legend to their name
Or a name to their legend.

My toes bleed
As they strike upon fallen headstones
Broken urns
Thorns from roses planted
And forgotten,

And words of hate
Scattered on grass
Like shattered glass
By friends and lovers.

The silence of some
Cut deeper than pain.

My dad loved cats; he published six books in several languages and five of them were dedicated to his cats. He gave them weird and wonderful names and when one died or was lost, his heart break was plain to see.  In his book 'My Friend Matt his dedication read; ' In loving memory of Mamma Walters and her five children: the un-named, BB, Benjamin, ET, and Chu chu. all of whom died within six months of her death. Also for Itsy and baby Charlotte.  May their bodies make the earth more fertile for the hungry.'

I do not know whether I am crying because I miss my dad or whether I can still feel his loss for every one of the above named.  Perhaps its' both.

Adam  Zameenzad appeared on the British literary scene in 1987 with the publication of ‘The Thirteenth House’ which won the ‘David Higham’ prize for the First Best Novel of the year.  It was followed by his most popular and best loved book ‘My Friend Matt and Henna The Whore’ in 1988, in 1989 ‘Love Bones & Water’ was published and in 1990 ‘Cyrus Cyrus’  each receiving the same degree of critical acclaim accorded to his first novel both here in the UK and the US.  He went on to write two other books, ‘Gorgeous white female’ and his last published book ‘Pepsi & Maria.’

He was a non-conformist and sacrificed all in order to be the voice of compassion and humanity.  

Review on ‘My Friend Matt & Henna The Whore.’ – 
‘Beautifully written, imbued with enormous integrity and insight, his book is a plea for us to exercise humanity towards our fellow humans; it is in the characters’ expressions of love and care that we are offered a glimmer of hope, both for the present and the future.’ – Time Out