London, U.K. 1998
Maya takes refuge in a hotel room to write a poem. California, 1987
Maya dances on deck during a cruise in the Bahamas to celebrate her 70th birthday. 1998
Maya celebrates her 80th birthday at Mar-a-Lago, Florida. 2008
Maya Angelou on stage. New York City, 1987
Maya Angelou at her favourite work table in her home in Winston Salem surrounded by portraits of her paternal grandmother Annie Henderson (t.l); mother Vivian Baxter (t.r); paternal great-grandmother Kentucky Shannon (b.r). 1994
Surrounded by friends at her dining room table, Maya tells stories and recites poetry. Winston Salem, 1996
Maya performs during a cruise in the Bahamas to celebrate her 70th birthday. 1998
Winston-Salem, NC, 1997
Four generations: (from left to right) Maya’s grandson Colin carrying daughter Caylin; Guy Johnson, Jessica holding son Brandon; Stephanie Johnson and Maya. Thanksgiving, Winston-Salem 2000
American opera singer Jessye Norman greets Maya Angelou. Florida, 2008
Maya relaxes at home in Winston-Salem after a days lecture at Wake Forest University, NC. 1995
Maya takes a breather in her much loved garden in Winston-Salem. 1998
Maya used to say 'we are more alike than we are unalike'. Bahamas, 1998
Maya’s firstborn great-grand-child, Caylin Johnson explores hands. NC, 1998n
Maya Angelou
It was early 1987, and I found myself with my camera in Northeastern Nigeria in a village whose name I have chosen to forget. I was traveling alone. Airports and roads had been closed as the dry West African wind was blowing—the one they call the Harmattan. My room was essential: bed, table, chair. There was no electricity. The only small window had no glass pane. By night, mosquitos feasted on me. Malaria and dysentery were playing havoc with my body, and self pity was controlling my mind. By day I sat on the side of the road waiting for a vehicle, a truck, mulecart, camel, whatever, to transport me and my cameras somewhere-anywhere-else.
But I had one consolation. With my few personal belongings I had carried with me five paperback books: the autobiographical writings of a woman named Maya Angelou. I considered them part and parcel of my survival baggage. When I needed it most, these writings would offer me courage first of all, and then wisdom and humor, strength and dreams, passion and endurance, poetry and ideas...
Through my photographs of the magnificent art of Africa's women, I later came to meet Maya Angelou. It was to be the first of many visits... that finally culminated in a book Maya Angelou: The Poetry of Living. Forward by Oprah Winfrey (Clarkson Potter, New York, 1999)
Margaret Courtney-Clarke, 1998