Living Books - Oral History Collection

A Living Book is someone who has a story to tell. This could be because of an experience they have had or because of an aspect of their identity. Living Books often come from more marginalised communities. A Living Book, though, can be anyone with a perspective to share. Living Books are 'borrowed' for a personal conversation with someone who wants to learn more about them. In 2025, Libraries and Collections embarked on the Reading Lounge project to record and archive Living Books from the Swansea University community. The resulting videos have been added to the Richard Burton Archives. We share them with you here for easy access to celebrate our diverse university community and to foster greater understanding.

A conversation with a Living Book is a very personal experience. The views of the Living Books and their Readers are their own and do not reflect the views of the university. Conversation topics can be sensitive and emotive. If you are affected by any of the issues discussed in the recordings, please reach out to wellbeing support services.

University isn’t for me

At 18 I was sure that I wasn’t capable of going to university, I couldn’t even complete the application form without making a mistake, what the heck was wrong with me? So there was no chance!  By 27 I thought I’d love to be a teacher… That would mean getting a degree, but by now I had discovered computers, so maybe… By 35 I had 2 young children and that dream of being a teacher wouldn’t go away…and I was very proficient at fooling people that I could write, thanks to my digital skills!  So, I applied to university and was amazingly accepted… and so the journey began. I quickly learnt that teaching was more than just a career, teaching became a way of life. There are many unexpected lessons learned from my students in various learning spaces—about patience, purpose, and the power of connection and thankfully digital tools! 

“That’s lazy, that is”

I have hyperadrenergic postural tachycardia syndrome, an inherited form of dysautonomia that shaped who I was and how I lived my life before I even knew I had it, and even before it had been medically described. Tests conducted on people with my condition show them to be in what would be considered a ‘stressed’ state for a healthy person even while they are asleep! When the symptoms started to severely manifest, I adapted my life around it, and have witnessed how people – both those I knew and complete strangers – have changed their behaviour towards me as a result. I’ve also been able to reflect on how having a ‘hyperactive’ autonomic nervous system led me to create a certain kind of life for myself, and on what society considers ‘valid’ in relation to disability, rendering someone worthy or unworthy of compassion and support. 

Being me, Well-Being me

One of my favourite quotes comes from my grandfather when I asked him what the meaning of life was, and he said, “Life is simply a collection of stories that should entertain everyone around your death bed”.

Over my life, so far, some of my stories are tall tales that highlight the highs, and some are rooted in the trauma of past experiences that reflect the lows. They ebb and flow as waves of emotion between the hilarious to the sorrowful.  

I grew up in province that was essentially two countries in one, two communities that were divided along cultural and political identities, you were either loyal to the crown or wanted to unite as one Ireland.

These contrasts of identity are ones that can define you and empower you, but it can also confine you. The sense I have of my own identity was born out of living through that conflict, this balancing act of being a Catholic growing up in a largely Protestant town is at the core of being me.

As time has move on, my sense and experience of my own identity has evolved as it has been molded and shaped by the positive and negative experiences I have lived through, but it remains a constant balancing act that when it becomes ‘wobbly’ it affects my wellbeing. I am a father, a partner, a working carer, an educator, a campaigner, an advocate, a neurodiverse individual, a dyslexic academic, a scientist, a proud Irishman and proud Ulsterman – how I became the me that I am today, well that is a collection stories for me to tell that will hopefully entertain you. 

Life with stripes

The zebra is often used as a symbol for rare medical conditions, based on a quote by Dr. Theodore Woodward:  

“When you hear hoofbeats, think horses, not zebras.”  

Life isn’t always black and white, it doesn’t always conform to straight lines, my life is certainly no exception. Born with Fraser Syndrome (a very rare genetic condition), my life has been full of labels: ‘deaf-blind’, ‘disabled’, all of which have impacted on my sense of inclusion, and expectations of me by others. I spent many years feeling alone, never wanting to accept my condition as part of who I am, because I felt misunderstood, like I was the only one.  

However, developing several chronic conditions (on top of my existing disabilities) during my teenage years, has thought me that sometimes having a label can give answers, shedding light on the depth of issues that can be invisible to others. 

So here I am, just another zebra, standing on the other side of countless surgeries/medications, with more likely to come. Uncertainty still lies ahead, but I am proud to showcase my uniqueness, and determined to ‘wear my stripes’!

Embracing Change: My Journey from Nigeria to Swansea University

Moving from Nigeria to Swansea University, where the population is predominantly white, was a pivotal point in my understanding of what it meant to be part of a minority. Although the cultural diversity at Swansea University was evident, I always believed more could be done to make students and staff feel the sense of belonging in this new culture. So instead of standing on the sidelines, I decided to become an active agent of change by taking on a student leadership role, influencing policy, lobbying the university's leadership and now directly contributing to these changes in my position as a staff member and an active community member in Swansea, I've decided I've dedicated myself to making a difference in various capacities. Want to know more? Let's talk now. 

Born of sacred soil...

I was born of sacred soil where the valleys softly sang, and the hawthorn guards the hedgerows where the skylarks take to wing.

In the cradle of the Cymru hills, under dragon-shadowed skies, my first breath danced with smoke from fires our ancestors did rise. My blood is woven heather thick with ash and mountain stream, my cradle song a whisper from a centuries-old dream.

Never rootless, we roamed as rivers do, carving stories in the hillside that the oak and willow knew. The bards once sang of battle cries and lovers turned to stone, but we brought tales of dancing stars and horses carved from bone. 

Around the fire, we passed them down, each tale a living flame, of Chavy Hani wisdom, and none the same. We spoke in tongue the Mush forgot, but Rackley still might hear, old words like prayer or prophecy, now fading year by year. Our Chavies learn it, slow and soft, in lullabies and song, and never to silence, our language still belongs.

Born not of borders, but of breath, of rhythm, soil, and song, of hands that built the painted carts and hearts that still belong.

The wind recalls our lullabies, the rivers know our tune, the mountains hum our histories beneath the watching moon. The myths of Cymru blend with our red dragons, wild and free, the dreaming world where Twrch Ddu Tag still dance beneath the tree. So call me Gypsy, Tinker, Traveler, label if you must, but know my blood is ancient, and my memory won't rust. For I was born of sacred soil where voices never die, and the hills of

Cymru echo with my people's lullaby. Now an academic, though the door was always closed, I pushed it down and walked right through, and now I learn to soar.