Ban the Tie

"Chile's government wants men in the South American country to take off their ties to help fight global warming, hoping the campaign will save on air conditioning as summer starts in the southern hemisphere."


It’s official, Ties are Evil! For a long time now I have managed to upset tightly tied leaders who have a strangle hold on the traditional idea that it is impossible to be professional without a precisely tied piece of cloth hanging around my neck. But all this time it has really been my environmental conscience, my deep seated, unconscious desire to be globally aware and save the rainforests that has driven my hatred of the throttle cloth.

If we could stop the ice melting in the Antarctic and save Pacific Islander’s homes from drowning by banning the tie – why wouldn’t we?

For the sake of the many species that are at threat of distinction because of global warming I say: “Ban the Tie”. We need a global campaign – and so I call on all those tightly wound executives, those people that feel strangled by the constriction of traditional windonsian restriction to remove their ties. Let’s make February 6 a Tie Free Day!

Together for a Better World for all: including persons with disabilities in development

As part of the celebrations to mark IDPWD, the Australian Disability & Development Consortium (ADDC), in conjunction with CBM Australia, will be holding an art exhibition at World Vision.

You are invited to view the art exhibition at the World Vision entry foyer, 1 Vision Drive, Burwood East, between 7 December and 8 December.

You are also invited to an afternoon tea to be held in the Auditorium on 7 December at 3:00pm. The artists featured in the exhibition have been invited to present and tell the story of their work. The exhibiting artists will also have their biographies and stories showcased. Light refreshments will follow to mark the celebration.

The intent of the exhibition is to show the work of Australian artists who have a disability, and to promote their abilities and opportunities. These works will be exhibited with complementary case studies that reflect the different opportunities of people with disabilities who live in developing countries.

The subjects of the case studies chosen have similar disabilities as the exhibiting artists. The organisations providing the case studies are CBM, End the Cycle, World Vision and Yooralla.

Religious, but...

I have spent a good deal of time in the last few months trying to analyse what I should be doing with my life. I have burnt a few incandescents in the pursuit of clarity with Sandra. I have tried to identify what kind of influence on, and example I want to be for my daughter, (and my soon to be son-in-law).

I wish I could say I had the answers! But I have long given up waiting for the answer to be blowing in the wind, or written in the sky. I don't think that there is just one path that God has chartered for me. I reckon that God knows humanity well enough to understand that we like our choices, (tonight, it was ice cream or cream meringue). And as a result I think that God can cope with a multiple-choice pathway that will achieve God's purpose for me and others, and that will give me satisfaction, fulfillment - together with a good dose of challenge along the way.

What I am pretty sure about is that the answer is in giving yourself for others, because others matter. And that's probably,(as hard as it is for this emotion adverse Man to say) because love matters, and love is always God's default.

It was with these thoughts racing through my mind, that I was preparing to lead a faith discussion with a group of colleagues, Christians and Muslims, the other day and I drifted to a passage of scripture from the Bible (James 1:26-27) that challenged me, and as I am want to do, I rewrote it for myself. I shared this paraphrase with my colleagues, and together we spoke of how both the Quran and the Bible Challenge the people of the Book, people of faith, to be more than hearers, but people of action, people of acceptance, people of integrity and people of love.

I can look like a good example of a Christian man by working to alleviate the suffering of the poor; I can be an advocate on behalf of the voiceless; I can be an activist on the side of the marginalised and forgotten. But if, behind closed doors, I am unable to control my tongue, or my mind; if I am more wiling to perpetuate prejudice than practice partnership - then I'm lying to myself, and to you; my faith is shallow and worthless. Sure, I am religious, but my religion is nothing more than a veneer, and my example is a lie.

I think it matters most that I use the gifts God has given me, that I honour the investment others have made in me,(often at great expense to themselves) and that I be a person of integrity and love.

A House is Not Enough

20 years ago approximately 70,000 people fled from their homeland in the south-west of Azerbaijan because of a war that still holds their homelands captive. Nearest to the Armenian border is Lachin district, a mountainous region that, I am told, rivalled Switzerland in beauty. In days gone by, the people from this region bought their animals to Agjabedi during the winter, to a 11,000 hectare flat salt-bush plain which became known as Lachin Winter Feeding Grounds.


Today this area is home to 13,000 internally displaced people (IDPs), and the seat of the Lachin (in exile) provincial government representative. Over the last 20 years these people have formed themselves into 50 smaller communities that are spread out throughout the area. Arriving to nothing but barren deserted land, they built mud houses and began to farm cattle again - always with the hope that soon they would go home.


As I spoke with the Lachin "Governor in exile" (my title) and other members of the community, they all spoke of their hope that soon the political stalemate would be settled and they would go home. In the next week (or so) the President is coming to open 552 new homes that have been built for the IDPs. The Governor is extremely grateful for the government initiative, "but" he says, "a house is not enough. The people need good schools, health facilities, agriculture training and jobs." But as he says this, he presents me with a book showing off the beauty of Lachin and invites me to visit him in his homeland - when they return. 


It has been raining for the last few days, and it is starting to get cold. The ground is muddy, large areas of stagnant water separate the 'roads' from the houses, children are playing in the mud and the water because there is nowhere else. The houses are mostly mud brick with grass roofs. In seeming incongruity, next to many of them is a satellite television receiver and when I ask about this I'm told, "the local television is boring!"


Despite the obvious hardships, these out of the way, and often forgotten people are hopeful, generous and smiling. "What choice do I have," says one woman, "it's either commit suicide or do your best to survive and be happy!"


And I was just about to complain about the bone jarring, death defying, teeth rattling, white knuckle, headache inducing drive to visit the area. I decided to shut up!

Behind the Walls

It appears that where ever I go new walls are being erected. The interesting thing is the construction, because I suggest their may be some parallels to life!

Look at the construction, and, even to an untrained eye, you know it is not good. The brick work is messy; bricks are lined up instead of staggered, bits of brick are shoved in to fill holes, and you can often see through the mortar joins - there is no doubt that the walls are not structurally sound. But, then add a faux granite finish complete with raised decorations, grind it all smooth and and it looks quite beautiful.

These new walls are appearing along the sides of the road in all directions, hiding what is behind and making the entries to the city very appealing.

Yesterday I had the privilege of visiting the only disabled day care facility in the country. In 2001 a mum, whose son was disabled, started a small day care centre for children like hers. She wanted her son to be able to integrate into society as best he could. She wanted him to walk, she wanted him to be confident to talk, she wanted him to be free to be part of the community.

In 2003 the centre was registered as a business, and today, they can't provide enough places for those that would like to be enrolled. The bottom floor of a typical Russian block of flats has been renovated to meet the needs of about 45 children and youth who come here daily.

A little girl came unable to sit up or move, but after massages with parafin in a small 2 bed room, I was introduced to her as she sat proudly on a play mat and smiled at the strange man. A little boy came unable to speak, but after sessions with the speech therapist he is now telling his Mum he loves her.

Children from as young as they can, to young adults in their 20s attend the day care Art Therapy sessions and make pictures that are shown in exhibition and sold. But as one of the teachers told me their greatest joy is that the teenagers and young adults are now in the market, in the shops, and in the restaurants - they are free and confident to be involved in community.

The only thing stopping the spreading of this dream to other communities and children is the money and the institutional willingness. (This centre is supported by an NGO and a couple of very large local businesses.) Lives are being transformed here.

80 Million Reasons

If you only saw the parts of Azerbaijan that I see on my way to and from the office in Baku, you could be forgiven for thinking that a large proportion of Azeri people shopped in high end clothes shops and drove nice, and some, expensive cars.

Looking at the skyscape reveals that the city is being re-constructed. On the highest point of the city the Baku Flames, three huge glass constructions are nearing completion, and throughout the city high rise accommodation blocks are being built alongside newer and better commercial properties.

As I sat with government officials yesterday, they each recommended that "next time" I visit should be May 2012 when Baku hosts the Eurovision Song Contest, "then", they say, "our beautiful new buildings will be finished and it will be better weather".


But behind the façades of the nice new buildings there lies a different story. Venture behind the 'tourist routes' and the architecture, the road and the living conditions change dramatically. Go beyond the city, they tell me (as I will see for myself when I go to Mingechevir on Tuesday for a few days) and you will think you're in a different country.

But when you hear that the country makes about USD 80,000,000 per day from oil and gas, (and that's not their only source of revenue) you have to question why there are still people that live in squalid conditions; there is no state health system, there is a pitiable pension allowance, there are thousands of children in state run institutions and the education system has had little update since the Soviet's left 20 years ago. These are things that the government invites us to assist them in changing.

Despite what I describe of infrastructure and opportunity, it is always the people that impress me the most. The Azeri people of Baku are friendly, welcoming and generous. They smile, they greet me, and they seem genuinely happy that I have come to see their country and spend time with them. And that's the measure of the wealth of a country!

Offering Hope, Inshallah

To the south-west of Azerbaijan lies the territory of  Nagorno-Karabakh, a landlocked region of about 4,400 square kilometres that has been in dispute between Armenia and Azerbaijan since Azerbaijan's independence in 1991. (I won't go into the politics of it, you can look it up if your interested.)

But whilst the politics and military actions continue, (although there is a uneasy stalemate that exists at the moment) it is always the indigenous people that pay the price. (About 583,000 people are displaced from their homelands, and 230,000 children have been born to IDPs.) I met a young man today that 19 years ago, with his family, fled his families ancestral land for fear of being killed in the conflict. He told me stories of a happy, uncomplicated, although poor childhood. He painted pictures of the mountainous area in which he lived, and the games that he and his mates used to play.

But then tears well up in his eyes as he recalls that in the last few months, he remembers that the only toys he and the other kids had they collected from the ground around their village. They took pride, at the time, in finding all different shapes and sizes of bullet and shell casings that they would join together into belts, chains, maps and what ever they could imagine. He recalls that as his parents hurried he and his siblings away all they took with them were these ballistic toys.

Arriving in Baku, he and his family moved into a single room at an old Russian Youth camp that had been set aside for the thousands of Internally Displaced People (IDPs), some came to Baku, others have made their homes closer to the disputed area, living in hope of return.

19 years have passed, and the young man still lives with his family at the old Youth Camp. He has completed his schooling, which was all done in a room at the Youth Camp, he has obtained an undergraduate and Masters degree. He is working for a Non Government Organisation that is delivering Community Based Economic Development programming to the IDPs, and next year he gets married!

So, we sit and drink spiced tea together, we discuss the theories of economic development and the difficulties of life, (and what would I know really) - but, "essentially" he says, "I have to do this work, I have to try and make a difference for the people that I belong to, I have to try and offer hope. And one day we will all be able to go home if we want to. Inshallah."

Baku, Azerbaijan

I wish I had the words to describe my first impressions of Baku. Arriving in the early hours of the morning in any city I think can probably leave you with a false impression – and Baku was, for me, no exception.

At 2:30am, my car sped down the wide, almost empty, motorway. We shot past huge impressive buildings that made me feel like I was in some kind of alternate universe. Russian, Islamic, Orthodox, Asian, all were represented. Then I came to a street with all the name brand clothes: Gucci, Armani, Prada, you name them and their here. But when I came to what appeared to be the huge stone walls of a fortress, and drove through a narrow gate between looming stone turrets, I knew I wasn’t in Melbourne any more.

I am staying in a small Hotel in Icherisheher (www.icherisheher.gov.az), or the Old City. The original site and buildings of Baku. Narrow, cobble stoned roads wind like a maze inside the walls. (And the way we sped through them made me feel like I was in a scene from a Bond or Bourne movie.) I am living 1 minute walk from the most iconic image of Baku, Qiz Qalasi (Maiden Tower).

At 10:00am, my car was stuck in what seemed to be one long traffic jam as we made our way to the office. Up past the construction of the new symbol of Baku, the Baku Flames, (the photo of the tall glass buildings) and again past shops bearing the names of international brands, huge Russian style government buildings with bronze statues of Presidents and Bolsheviks and new and old apartment complexes with washing hanging out the windows and cats which seem to be everywhere.

So first, and very surface level impression: this is an amazingly diverse and friendly city of about 2.5 million people. Little Russian sedan cars dodge large Japanese SUVs, and everyone goes where ever they need get to where they want, but fast, very fast. It was a good day.

Too Long in a Flying Can

It was a long 45 hours that began in Islamabad and has ended in Baku after 3 flights, 3 hours sleep, 3 airport waiting areas and a lot of 'annoying' people. It is experiences like these last hours that test my humanitarian spirit. And at the moment, I think I might fail the test.

Let me tell you how I get to this low point of tolerance and patience. It began at Islamabad where I passed through 9 forms of security checks to get into the waiting lounge. 3 different people opened and checked my luggage - apparently my multi-vitamins caused alarm and after being asked 3 times if they were for my personal use I was allowed to keep them! I passed through 2 X-ray and intimate body pat down searches. I had my papers checked 4 times, once by an officious uniform that decided he had the power to hold up the whole airport so he could personally verify all passengers, (until his own supervisor yelled at him) and that doesn't include the check in and immigration check. But I was just starting, so whilst annoyed I was holding it together.

Dubai: Terminus of lights, palm trees and shops. A busy, bustling living organism of all forms of humanity. Hajj pilgrims, tourists, self-important business travelers and annoying darting golf carts all combine, with over-tiredness, to begin to increase the levels of intolerance, impatience and annoyance. (On a bright note I had Cold Stone ice cream for breakfast! Dark chocolate ice cream with white chocolate bits and pistachio nuts!)

Istanbul: again, busy and no place to escape it. Despite having 4 and a bit hours to kill, the last 30 minutes are a mad dash, with a couple hundred other people, from the once posted departure gate at one end of the terminal to the gate where our plane waited: apparently someone forgot to tell the passengers. Everyone finally on board but, oh wait, a passenger decides she doesn't really want to go, so she's deplaned but now we all have to retrieve our hand luggage because, for security seasons we have to make sure she didn't leave something unwelcome on board, and then of course they have to find her checked luggage. So we miss our departure slot, the plane can't use its electrics, so no air and warm sweaty bodies all too close, but eventually we line up behind 9 other flights for a relatively uneventful flight... except; when the meal comes I ask for a ginger ale, only to be served a gin and tonic, by now I am very tempted but one may not be enough.

So now, the humanitarian, the lover of people, the advocate for human rights is ready to lock himself away in a small room, alone, without people and canned air and regroup. In about 7 hours time I need to go about the business of a humanitarian aid worker, I need to care, I need to be compassionate, or at least I need to adopt our newly acquired family motto: "fake is insquequo vos planto is".

Let me say that none of the people described here did anything wrong: I am just being judgmental, mean and nasty; and trust me I can be, especially when I'm tired, just ask my wife and daughter!

Maybe soon I'll write something a little more inspiring!

A New Direction

The smell of burned diesel and engine oil was heavy in the dusty humid air as we moved through the bus terminal in Rawalpindi. This is the place where you can get anything - and sadly I mean anything.

Throughout the terminus are 1,300 small workshops where you can buy anything from fast food to vehicle parts, a shalwar kameez to a refurbished motorbike. Like shadows little children, as young as 5, wander through the crowds, the buses and the shops. Some are covered in black sticky oil which they have been soaking into sponges and squeezing it into containers in the hope of selling it to mechanics; others carry sacks on their backs, the days rummagings that they hope will give them something to eat. Some are workers in the surrounding shops, working for less than 'minimum wage'. Many others scavenge for food and eat what ever they can find. They are all wearing threadbare clothes and have filthy faces, and their eyes are scared, despairing and hopeless. 

At night the terminus lights up and takes on the appearance of a street party. But behind the flashing lights children are bought and sold, some sell themselves in competition with pretty much any other form of sexual exploitation you can imagine.

This is the backyard of a project that is working to bring new directions to children and families. It's a three story building where street children can come and play and learn in a safe, clean and encouraging environment. As I walk into the room where 12 little kids sit playing with the most basic of toys, they stand and greet me with shy smiles, and eyes that are beginning to show some sparkle. They have all been taught to wash, to use soap, to brush their teeth. 

Next door are the bigger kids, they too greet me, and I them with my rudimentary Urdu, which makes them laugh. They are about to have a test on the day's English words they've learnt. But their happy about it! Again shy smiles and happy eyes welcome me.

Up the stairs a group of teenage girls are working together to learn how to make frocks. At the moment they learn how to cut a design out of paper, but soon they get to turn a piece of cloth into their own design. As we chat, they, shyly indulging this strange white man, they tell me that they love it here. Their parents are happy for them to come, and they feel safe and they like their teacher. They may have a chance of making some money for their families out of this skill.

And just down the corridor there are 8 mums, their kids downstairs, learning to make bags, sewing, leatherwork and painting. At the end of three months of training they will graduate and get a sewing machine. Hopefully they too will make some money to help their family.

It's a small project. There are millions of children living in extreme poverty and working to help their families survive, and there are only 80 in this program. Is it enough? No! But its a start. 

Maybe one of these kids will find a voice that will convict the lawmakers. Maybe one of them will become a lawmaker. Maybe...

Expensive Shoes

Another day, another 50 cents: if your lucky!

About 0.5 cents from a pair of quality, hand sewn leather shoes bought in Dubai airport, (or wherever) went to the 6 year old boy on my right. He is one of the (about) 10 links in the chain from flat leather sheet to shiny black leather shoe and for 10 hours a day he paints glue on the sole. Along with 10 other 6-8 year old boys he is an apprentice in one of about 350 small shoe factories in the city.

Just down the road another boy, 8 years old has been kneeling beside a bright red stretched cloth, stitching sequins and beads into a design that will become part of a wealthy woman's wedding dress, or perhaps sold in a high end material shop in Melbourne. Each stitch hand sewn, each bead picked up at an amazing pace by one of maybe 40 young boys in a concrete room. These boys too, will work for 10 hours, the 18 year old will make about $20 a week, the younger boys less. They will be able to do this work for about 15-20 years before their eyesight fails and/or they have spinal problems from the crouching.

The city I visited is known to be one of the two worst cities for child labour in the country. But for many families there is no choice, if their son doesn't work, they don't eat. Dad is often working as a labourer, in a tannery or perhaps driving a donkey cart; Mum wasn't educated and so cannot earn, daughters are protected at home because abuse is a very real issue - that leaves the son/s, who can earn enough to help a family survive. But it means that they too will never go to school.

One mother we spoke to said: "I can't afford to feed my (4) children properly, how can I justify spending money to send them to school?" 


So what do we do? At the moment two 'small' things:

1. we are going to educate, train and empower Mums. If we can help them make an income, probably home based, then they will not have to send their kids out to work. (No Mum wants to!)
2. we have set up a drop-in centre for working kids. Parents can register their child, and with the permission of their employers, we are educating children (boys and girls) up to a minimum standard after which they can be main-streamed into local public schools. 

Is it enough? Will it stop child labour? No. But its a start. And hopefully within the next 3 years we will have redirected 1,200 children from factories to school, and we will have assisted Mums to believe in themselves, to learn a new skill and set-up a home enterprise.

$1,000.00! That's All?

The water is red, and I could swear it's bubbling! The animal byproducts from over 300 tanneries and the rubbish from the city is putrefying under the midday sun. You might be forgiven for thinking that the scene is out of some sci-fi movie set on a distant planet - and you could be right. the scene and the reality that I have just left behind is a long way from the reality of most of us.

I have been in a provincial city in Pakistan which supplies about 1/3 of Pakistan's leather. Over 300 tanneries provide the cities population with its major source of income. But the leather products, your jacket, shoes, bags, come at a huge cost for the majority of the population.

There is a perpetual haze over the city from the fires that boil the animal offal for oil to produce soap, and from the brick kilns that produce another of the regions specialities. The stench from the mountains of freshly stripped animal skins, drying carcasses (that will eventually be turned into gelatin) and chemicals that are used to treat the skins is unforgettable. And the unnaturally blue stagnant, putrid, viscous, water, (the result of chromium, which eventually turns the water red after prolonged sunlight) slides down the open channels into numerous seepage ponds throughout the area, and eventually seeps into the ground water and the river.

This environmental disaster area is home to over 300,000 people. The water should be undrinkable, but what if that's all you have? The air is polluted, toxic with numerous chemicals, not to mention the smell. And the ground should be nigh on unusable, spoilt for agriculture. But alongside one of these red water refuse dumps lives a mother with two children. Javan (16) and his sister Samina (14) were normal healthy children - until one day they were struck by a disease that rendered them mute, blind and lame. They were found scraping themselves around in the dirt by a local NGO who took them to hospital and after some treatment they regained their sight, but not their legs, or normal speech. "For another $1,000.00", we are told, "they could be cured, they could walk and speak".

But of course it's not that easy. There are hundreds that need this kind of intervention, and unless something is done about the water and environment there will be hundreds, maybe thousands more in the future. The "easy fix" is a $1,000 for Samina, but the best fix is awareness and advocacy. The real problem can be fixed: legislation exists, public servants exist, infrastructure can be built - but whilst profit driven by desperation exists the will and ability to change seems to be the deficit.

Bandi Maira

Deep in the valley below Nathia Gali a village community of 490 people appears as if out of nowhere. This time its a hike into the village proper, up a rock strewn pathway cut through the rocks and trees. The village is spread out over a large area, and steadily rises "to the sky" my host tells me.

High up, "in the sky" on top of the mountain is the only water source for the village. Dr Adbul Hai, Imam and President of the village smiles at me as he tells me that together we have built a wall in the sky to protect the water source and make the village safe from the seasonal flood due to snow melt and rain fall.

Together the Imam and the Officer walk hand in hand through his village as he proudly shows me poultry sheds, goat herds, fish farming ponds, orchards, kitchen gardens, new rock pathways and carpet weaving. He looks at  me and says of the World Vision Team, "What they promised, they have done. What the say they will do, they do. There is no limit to what humanity can do if we do not care who gets the credit."

Earlier in the day I had visited another inaccessible village, Sukka Kas, where the village together with assistance of World Vision had built a rock Gabrian walled water channel. This village too is constantly flooded by monsoon rain and snow melt, but this year they are prepared because of the new channel. They are hopeful that the water will not destroy this year, but rather will be directed to a safe and useful location. The water will assist the crops they now grow, which have meant they have no need to buy vegetables for part of the year.

As I begin the tramp out of this village, (the shalwar kameez makes it easy to stretch out and climb) a young man says to me: "Americans, they don't like us. They think we are all terrorists. What do you think?" First, I was quick to point out that I was Australian, a brother in Cricket! Adam Gilchrist and Ricky Ponting are heroes, fellow Australians - a little bit of association never hurt. But after we chatted for a while I was invited to lunch!

For the last day, the Abbattobad team has been telling me that I look like a Butan Pashtun, apparently they are fair and red/brown haired, so Dr Iqbal (Development Team Manager) assured me that as long as I kept my mouth shut I could pass as a Pakistani from the Butan area. Today, to finish off the transformation they presented me with a Pashtun cap and shawl - apparently I really look the part now. Nathia Gali has been a wonderful experience.

Tourist Dream, Resident Nightmare

I woke early this morning to that unmistakable sound made by a straw broom sweeping away the leaves and rubbish on a road. It was early, it was dark, it was cool and other than the sound of scraping straw, it was quiet as we set off from the city on our way to the village of Nathiagali - a tourist mecca high up in the mountains.

During summer both national and international tourists flock to the little village partly because of the amazing natural beauty, but also because of its cooler climate. About 2 hours from Islamabad the road approach is litterred with rocks and debris from innumerable landslides that obscure half the road, leaving the vehicles to squeeze through a narrow neck of road that drops off to the valley. Around the hairpin bends we slow to dodge a donkey train, a family of monkeys, or a group of school kids walking to school.

It is beautiful scenery, and I imagine that in winter, when covered in snow, it's a picture perfect view to rival any alpine scene in Europe. But below this tourist dream, lie numerous mountain villages, home to families that have lived and survived off their ancestral heritage since the Moguls conquered the land. These are villages difficult to access, some inaccessible by vehicle. They are desperate for water, for health and education facilities. In winter they are cut off from resources. It is quite a paradox that it is desperately hard to survive in this apparent paradise.

There are so many stories that could be told of the way in which lives are being transformed by the project interventions I have come to see. But just a couple of quick snapshots:

• In one village they are now growing their own vegetables and as a result they have not had to get to a market, or spend limited funds to buy this season.
• In this 'fairly' conservative Muslim area, women were confined to the village, but as a result of awareness programs and community dialogue women "feel confident to go outside the village, to attend training in the village, to walk children to school, to shop and to sell". Through specific skills training they are making candles, tailoring clothes, tending goats - and through awareness programs and entrepreneurship training they are identifying markets to sell their produce. For the first time they are making an income that has not only raised their self-esteem, but built the social capacity of the community and raised the standard of living for children.

There is much more that needs done. But the biggest thing that they are grateful for: "you have raised our awareness and now we know who to talk to, how to talk, and we can speak for ourselves". Lives are being transformed by the sharing of hope.

In the Office

It is always interesting to see what you get when you transplant a group of passionate people from all over the world into a brand new context. They have come from Australia, Britain, Denmark, Zimbabwe, Russia and Tanzania to partner with Pakistani staff to deliver life transforming ministries. Alone each person, regardless of their origin, is clever and committed but essentially ineffective in the enormous task, but together, as a team, they are delivering some pretty impressive life changes.

It still feels like a drop in the ocean, but for those who today will eat, read, deliver a healthy baby, or find a job as a result of the efforts of this team and the money of hundreds of donors, it is a chance at life - a life that most of us take for granted.

I wish that I could transport donors, and potential supporters, to the field and introduce them to the people: let them look into the eyes of the proud new mum and see the simultaneous look of hope and concern; let them see the uncertain smile on the face of the school kid who got his first pen; or the relief on the face of the young girl that doesn't have to walk miles to get the days water supply.

It's when the case numbers become faces and stories that lives are transformed - and its not just the lives of the recipient - it's my life too.

Welcome to Islamabad

It's been a couple of days, but after 20 hours in planes and a day sleeping in Dubai I have arrived in the beautiful city of Islamabad. The airport was relatively quiet, until you got outside the secure doors, then all hell broke loose. Although I haven't seen much yet, because it's 4am, the roads are wide and clean, and if you didn't have to weave around the security posts, straight and smooth.

So, later I'll have a look around but for now, I think it's time to find a bed for a while. And then I guess I should do some work, since that's why World Vision pay me!

Welcome to Florida

It was tight, very tight, but last night, after travelling for almost 24 hours, I arrived in Fort Walton Beach, Fl, before being whisked away to Panama City, Fl. My plane navigated the circuit for landing as two airforce jets screamed past below us and scrambled onto the landing strip before disapearing into a crowd of similar fighters. Sedately and almost comically, my small plane landed smoothly and taxied to the opposite side of the airfield. Welcome to the U.S.!

Earlier in the day I had to run from terminal 2, to terminal 4 to make a connection to Dallas. Thanks to some pretty rough air over the Pacific we were late in, and then as seems to be standard for me, my luggage was one of the very last onto the carousel. I was still waiting for luggage 5 minutes before I was supposed to be boarding my connection. I still don't know how it happened, but running, resigned to the fact that there was no way, I made it through the full body xray scans, and with boots still under my arm squeezed through the doors as they tried to lock them.

So, I reckon I should get a recognition of prior learnng credit for this training. Watch out Amazing Race, here I come.

I am here to do some Security and Safety Training with World Vision, a requirement for working in the countries for which I am responsible, but particularly Afghanistan and Pakistan. So over the next 5 days I will be 'learning' what to do in the event of... you dream it up and they probably have too.

Sometimes You Just have to Jump

I remember arriving in Sri Lanka as a young kid and “helping” my Dad build furniture for our house. He taught me how to handle a hammer - how to build and how to paint. I wanted to be just like him. In my Salvation Army Officership I would have been proud to be just like him. I wished I could be like him, but I never could, he is an amazing Pastor, I am not! I have my own gifts and abilities but I can’t measure myself against my Dad.

There have been others that have influenced my life and my ministry; people I have copied, people I have wished I could be like. At the same time, others have told me to be like them – these people made me feel like who I am was just not quite good enough! (My Dad never made me feel like that.) But sometimes, I did compare; sometimes I did take their critique to heart; sometimes, I did measure myself, and try to be like ‘them’.

A rabbi named Zusya died and went to stand before the judgment seat of God. As he waited for God to appear, he grew nervous thinking about his life and how little he had done. He began to imagine that God was going to ask him, "Why weren't you Moses, or why weren't you Solomon, or why weren't you David?" But when God appeared, the rabbi was surprised. God simply asked, "Why weren't you Zusya?"

In the last few months my ministry has taken an unexpected turn. I find myself in an appointment that is simultaneously fulfilling and overwhelming. The writer Annie Dillard wrote: “You’ve got to jump off cliffs all the time and build your wings on the way down.” At the moment I feel like my wings are only partly formed and that I am still in partial free-fall, but I am also feeling energised by the clear, fresh, icy wind blowing against me – but I feel like me!

The lessons my family taught (and teach) me and the qualities I have seen in others continue to influence who I am – but right now I feel like God would see Daryl. God designed, equipped and taught Daryl to be a partner in the ministry of transformation and an ambassador of reconciliation. (The example of my parents and the encouragement of my wife and daughter bear witness to God's equipping.) So, (for now) World Vision is the agent through which I get to partner with God in this - God’s latest appointment.

Victor Hugo wrote: “Each man should frame life so that at some future hour fact and his dreaming meet”. This unexpected (and still scary) turn is just the latest divine-detour that is helping me to define my dream and shaping me to be the person God designed me to be. Right now God would recognise me from God’s own blueprint. (But most days I still feel like I am faced with another cliff and another jump!)

Break The Chains of Injustice

This is the kind of fast I’m after;

   to break the chains of injustice,

   get rid of exploitation in the workplace,
   free the oppressed,
   cancel debts.

What I’m interested in seeing you do is:
   sharing your food with the hungry
   inviting the homeless poor into your homes,
   putting clothes on the shivering ill-clad,
   being available to your own families.
Do this and the light will turn on,
   and your lives will turn about at once.

Your righteousness will pave your way,

   the god of glory will secure your passage.

Then when you pray, God will answer,

   you’ll call out for help and I’ll say, ‘Here I am.’

 

(Based on Isaiah 58)

This is what severe malnutrition looks like: a compelling photograph by World Vision (US) photographer Jon Warren has become the picture of the Horn of Africa response.

Mr Warren visited Puntland - an area in Somalia that has not received much coverage in the news but one where hungry people are flowing. In this picture, he captured a moment that is reflective of both great need and great hope. The image shows Layla Mohamed, 23, holding her severely malnourished one year old son, Zam Zam. Layla fled the Mogadishu conflict with her husband and children to Puntland in the north, but now finds herself fighting to save her baby.

If you think you can spare some money to help, why not go to World Vision Australia's Horn of Africa Drought Appeal web page and make a difference.

Somebody to Wish Them Well

Many people are hungry not for bread only,

    but they are hungry for love.

Many people are not only naked for want of a piece of cloth,

    but they are naked for human dignity…

Homelessness is not only not having a home made of bricks,

    but homelessness is being rejected, unwanted, unloved, uncared for.

People have forgotten what the human touch is, what it is to smile,

    for somebody to smile at them, somebody to recognize them, somebody to wish them well.

Mother Teresa

Small Steps Towards Healthier Mums & Bubs in Afghanistan

Laila: BORN

One of the projects I have the privilege of being involved in is located in Afghanistan. This is Laila's story...

When Laila was born in Jan 2009 in the Herat maternity hospital she weighed just 800 grams and her chances of survival were smaller than her tiny arms. Nargis, a midwife trained through World Vision’s midwifery programme played a large role in saving her life. Nargis quickly applied an intravenous drip, kept Laila warm and watched her slow progress. “I spoke with the relative who informed me that the baby's mother had been trying to get pregnant for 10 years, and this baby was her last hope”, recalls Nargis.

Laila: 2 Years

The tiny baby who weighed just 800 grams is now a bright-eyed two-year-old that weighs a very healthy 15 kilograms. She is testament to the importance of midwifery and nursing training and the critical services that the neonatal unit provides in Herat, Afghanistan. Her healthy, shining face also instills hope for the thousands of children born every year in Afghanistan where the odds are sadly still against them.

Read the details of the story inbetween from World Vision Afghanistan here.



That's My Dream - Haiti

James Tabuteau has been living in a ramshackle tent camp in Haiti's capital since last year's catastrophic earthquake wrecked his home, struggling to find enough unskilled temporary work to feed his young family.

But as one of the first graduates of a free vocational training program set up by Haitian-American hip-hop star Wyclef Jean's Yele Haiti foundation, Tabuteau is now a newly minted carpenter with hopes of rebuilding his life and his nation.

"The day of my graduation there was an engineer that was attending the ceremony who told me he was interested in hiring me. So I am now talking to them and I am confident I'll find the job. And they also know I was one of the best students," said Tabuteau, a 25-year-old newlywed with a baby son.

"Now I can have a stable job and you never know, I could soon have my own shop. That is my dream."

Yele Haiti has teamed up with several other organizations to help expand the skilled workforce that Haiti needs in order to recover from the massive January 2010 quake that killed up to 300,000 people and made hundreds of thousands homeless.

A class of 106 trainees graduated on July 29 in construction crafts such as carpentry, masonry and plumbing.

"Now, as a plumber I see my future differently," said 29-year-old Jean Luckson Louis-Jeune, a graduate who said he had never held a job before.

"I finished high school, but I did not have the means to enter a university. But one does not have to be an engineer, agronomist or doctor to be useful, the country also needs the professional I have become today," Louis-Jeune said.

Phorgotten Philatelics

The things we forget.

I received an email this morning that reminded me of another life. "In a land of myth, and a time of magic", 13 years ago, I joined with Nihal Hettiararchchi, and Subasinghe (Salvation Army Officers) to design a stamp. One of the more unusual things I have done.

And this morning I am informed that there is a Salvation Army Historical & Philatelic web presence that records this moment in history. Sri Lanka Stamp

The things we do!

The Triangle of Death

I recently read a speech by the Dalai Lama in which he suggested that most of the world's problems are caused by religious preciousness (my phrase not his). Today about 10 Million people are starving because of the protectionist agenda of a religious militant group who display a gollumesque preciousness that makes adherents seem as ugly as Tolkien's selfish creature.

An anti-foreign agenda that orders people to starve rather than seek assistance is not a mandate of Islam. I think that all my Muslim friends would denounce this as violently, if not more, than I do. We have the capacity to feed the hungry, heal the sick, transform our world, but whilst religious groups (Muslim, Christian, Buddhist, Hindu etc, all of whose sacred texts speak of love, compassion, care and acceptance) are more concerned with protecting their own precious agendas we will continue to see this kind of evil abuse which results usually in the suffering of the least powerful - whilst the 'fanatics' keep up their strength for the fight.

____________

MOGADISHU, July 22 (Reuters: Ibrahim Mohamed) - Islamist rebels in Somalia - who control the parts of the country where famine was declared this week - have said aid agencies they expelled from those areas last year cannot return, reversing a previous pledge.

The al Qaeda-linked al Shabaab militants imposed a ban on food aid in 2010, which the U.N. and Washington say has worsened the crisis, before appearing to reverse it last week.

The U.N. World Food Programme (WFP) was among several groups ordered out of rebel areas which are now preparing to return, describing the situation in Somalia as "extremely dire".

The United Nations told Reuters it had not heard about any new position from the rebels and planned to take last week's pledge at face value and push ahead with food shipments by air and sea.

Al Shabaab had promised to allow relief agencies with "no hidden agendas" greater access to their territory.

"The so-called aid agencies that were already banned and named are not part of the agencies we free to work in al Shabaab areas," al Shabab spokesman, Ali Mohamud Raghe, told a news conference late on Thursday in a rebel-held part of capital Mogadishu.

"They had problems with people and had a hidden agenda. We shall also expel any agency that causes problems for Muslim society," he added, urging hungry Somalis to stay in their homes and wait for the rain to come rather than going to foreign-run refugee camps.

Some 10 million people are affected by famine and drought in a region, dubbed the "triangle of death" by local media, that straddles Kenya, Somalia and Ethiopia.

Investing in Hope and Happiness

I have been at World Vision Australia (WVA) now for 5 weeks, and it's been quite a learning curve! It felt as if even before I arrived my diary was full - orientation and introductory meetings, interrupted the few days I had with my team members before they all went on holidays and left me to manage the cluster. “Welcome and See you later...” he said trying to hide the smile and the desperation to get away.

So here I am: My time so far (other than the meetings) has been spent appraising and designing development projects:

• in Azerbaijan we’re going to work to reform education systems so that the business sector has faith in young people (with a focus on the disabled) who are trained in technical trades. And we are going to train and assist Internally Displaced People (IDPs) in diversified crop management and marketing.
• in Afghanistan we’re going to work with women to develop livelihood projects, (with a focus on Bee keeping) so that women and children will become self-supporting and hopeful for a future. And we’re going to work with communities to prevent the spread of HIV/AIDS.
• in Pakistan we’re going to train teachers and assist rural communities to educate children, especially girls. And we’re going to train and employ midwifes so that the horrific under 5 mortality rate can be arrested
• in Georgia we’re going to work with the Ministry of Health to decrease the prevalence of HIV/AIDS as a result of migratory work patterns and gender mores, through training, awareness, counselling and testing.

World Vision is a Christian relief, development and advocacy organisation that seeks to transform the lives of children and communities by tackling the causes of poverty. They do this in numerous ways. One of the many exciting ways is through VisionFund. So, if you’re looking for a different way to invest in Hope and Happiness check out the video clip (below).

Afghanistan, Pakistan & Azerbaijan

23 years and 6 months (almost exactly to the day)! That's a long time to work for the one organisation. And to say that I have few regrets is perhaps even more miraculous.

[With Sandy and Alexis] the Salvos allowed me the privilege of living in three countries; learning to love, respect and trust many people that have influenced and transformed my life. Add to that the opportunity to serve in a number of other countries; to offer hope in moments of despair and you have a (so far) eventful life journey. In all these years God has been good to me - to us.

But today I move aside from this avenue of ministry into another. Soon I begin with World Vision Australia as a Country Program Manager - Middle East and Eastern Europe Region (MEER). Whilst based here in the Melbourne office, my countries of focus will be Afghanistan, Pakistan and Azerbaijan where I will work with World Vision and its partners to deliver long-term development and sustainable community building projects.

So, my ministry continues in a different uniform (no tie) but the same passion - transforming lives and reforming society by claiming dignity and worth for all (disadvantaged) people.

Our vision for every child,

Life in all its fullness;
Our prayer for every heart,
The will to make it so.

(World Vision: Vision Statement)

The Cost of Discipleship

I think I have probably preached on the theme of "The Cost of following Jesus" a few times in the last 23 years. Scripture verses come to mind: "take up your cross", "if anyone isn't willing to give up...", "by [love] will they know you are a disciple". It's all great in theory. But right now, at this moment all I know is that being a disciple, or trying to be, hurts!

The cost of discipleship for me, at this moment, means doing what I honestly believe God wants me to, even though I feel like I am letting all my heroes down. I feel like I am deserting the people I respect the most in my life. People who have been ministry examples to me. People who have taught me and supported me. People who have encouraged and equipped me. People who love me and have sacrificed for me.

I know that's not what they feel - but it's how I feel. So, right now, today: doing what God has called me to hurts. Even if it is the right thing - or perhaps, I know it's the right thing because it hurts so much.

The easiest, safest, most secure thing to do is to stay where I am - I can do that, I can be good at that, I can make a difference there. The most comfortable thing to do is to stay put. But I suspect that's also the reason I can't stay. Because I wasn't taught to be comfortable. (I have preached a number of times that God's job is not to make us comfortable, it's to get us home safely, and our partnership with God is to get others home safely. Time to practice what I preach.)

The cost of discipleship, for me, today - is to leave the secure, known comfort and dive head first into the unknown - trusting and believing that I may just have heard God right.

"Christ did not give you a car and tell you to push it.

He didn't even give you a car and tell you to drive it.

You know what he did?

He threw open the passenger door, invited you to take a seat,

and told you to buckle up for the adventure of your life."

(Max Lucado)

Thanks Salvo Studios for the chance to tell some of my stories. Keep up the good work Ben and David.

WHAT GOD REQUIRES OF ME

“Because, like Christ, Christians are to love the world and be agents of its redemption, God’s callings also relate to human needs, whether those needs are in the church or beyond it. When a Christian perceives a genuine human need and has the abilities needed for attending to it, that need becomes a spark of God’s calling to him.” (Douglas J Schuurman)

Those that have read my blog before will no doubt have picked up on my ministry and life theme – transforming lives. I am fairly passionate about the ministry opportunities that exist to partner with those less fortunate than I to bring about improvement in their circumstances.

From my earliest recollections my parents have taught me, in their living and teaching, that we are all equal, and that we all deserve the same privileges. But since this is not a reality, where there exists an obvious disparity (in opportunity, in voice, in privilege) that I exist to give priority to the poor, the marginalised, the ignored and the rejected.

I am convinced that God has grown, equipped and called me to be engaged in ministry within the humanitarian relief and development sphere. This passion and equipping has been assisted by The Salvation Army (Australia Southern and New Zealand Territories) in their willingness to support my ongoing graduate and post-graduate education and to release and support me to be engaged in humanitarian ministry. I am extremely grateful for this support.

I have had the privilege to attempt to put my actions where my mouth is on a number of occasions now. Each opportunity has served to remind me that I am a man of privilege and that whilst I can rationalise this unfairness of my privilege, a pure accident of birth and my resultant upbringing, I am not able to forget it, nor allow it to pass as an academic life-framing exercise.

So, when World Vision (Australia) offered me an opportunity to become fully engaged in aid and development work I decided that it was time for me to follow my passion and what I believe to be my calling, and make the most of my equipping. On June 3 I will remove myself from my current Salvation Army appointment and commence a new chapter of my life.

I am so very grateful for the Salvo investment in my life, but at this time there is no opportunity for me to grow my talent (Matthew 25:14-30) within this movement. I was born into The Army and have served for 23 years as an Officer and had some amazing opportunities and met some incredible people. So it is not easy to say thank you, and move away – but I believe that God requires that we each, as individuals, are accountable for our service.

This is what God requires of me (and frankly it scares me at the moment)!

AUSTRALIAN RECONCILIATION BAROMETER

The Australian Reconciliation Barometer is a landmark study which provides a detailed snapshot of the views of Australians about reconciliation and what barriers affect people from taking action.

The Barometer measures four core areas that are considered essential to progressing reconciliation - awareness, attitudes, perceptions and action - and is designed to be repeated every two years.

The research tells us that attitudes are improving, that we value the relationship and that we all have part to play in reconciling. Here are some of the key findings.

We agree the relationship is important (Indigenous 99%, Other 87%)
All Australians see the relationship between Indigenous people and other Australians as important and are optimistic for the future of the relationship. There was a 99% agreement with this statement from Indigenous respondents and 87% other Australians.

We agree the relationship is improving (Indigenous 52%, Other 48%)
Both groups are most likely to agree that the relationship between Indigenous people and other Australians is improving according to 49% of general community respondents and 52% of Indigenous respondents. Though contact with Indigenous people is limited results show we want to interact more.

The Apology has improved the relationship (Indigenous 58%, Other 42%)
The survey demonstrated that the Apology was important for Indigenous people and the relationship between us. Around 3 in 5 Indigenous respondents and 2 in 5 Australians believe this statement. The survey also identified that Australians believe that there should be government specific measures to address Indigenous disadvantage, though most thought that government programs to address disadvantage have been unsuccessful.

We know a lot about Indigenous cultures (Indigenous 89%, Other 39%)
The general community’s knowledge of Indigenous history and culture is fairly low. However, the research showed that around 4 out of 5 Australians believe it is important to know about Indigenous history and culture and are therefore open to learning more.

We believe past policies still affect Indigenous people (Indigenous 91%, Other 64%)
Both groups agree that previous race-based policies continue to affect some Indigenous people today. However, both groups ranked different perceived reasons for Indigenous disadvantage. Indigenous people identified external factors such as poor access to health care and education services, while other Australians identified Indigenous people as being responsible for their own disadvantage.

We believe in the special place of Indigenous people and their connection to the land (Indigenous 96%: Other 59%)

Australians believe Indigenous culture is important to Australian and Indigenous heritage. Many agreed that Indigenous history should be a compulsory part of the history curriculum in schools. However only 44% of all Australians identified that they believe Indigenous people are open to sharing their culture.

We don’t think the media presents a balanced view of Indigenous Australians (Those who think it does present a balanced view, Indigenous 9%, Other 16%)

Only 9% of Indigenous respondents agreed that the media provides a balanced view of Indigenous Australia. The survey also identified that the general community’s attitudes to Indigenous people comes from secondary sources like the media, rather than from personal experience. However, the survey found that many wanted to interact more.

We agree we are prejudiced against each other (Indigenous 93%, Other 71%)

There was strong acknowledgement, particularly from Aboriginal and Torres Strait Islander respondents (93% agreed), that there are high levels of prejudice between the two groups. From the other respondents 71% agreed with this statement.

We trust each other (Indigenous 12%, Other 9%)

The study revealed that levels of trust between the two groups are very low. This shows that while Australians see the relationship as important there is general acknowledgement that there is a lot of work to be done to build the quality of the relationship and how the two groups see each other.

To read the full Barometer go to www.reconciliation.org.au/baromter2010

Kia Kaha Cantabrians

In the last 24 hours there have been 23 aftershocks, including "the jolt" as it has become known. The 5.3M quake rocked the city at about 5:49pm last night. Located in Sumner the site of numerous landslides already this 'aftershock' awakened the not very deeply buried fears of Cantabrians.

I was out for dinner with the leaders of the Salvation Army when we watched with fascination, and in apparent slow motion, as the concrete slab outside their lounge room window rose and fell like a bizarre Mexican wave. The garden beds, resplendent with some kind of pink flower, seemed to bow in reverence to the staked roses that alongside them swayed as if hit by a sudden gust of wind.

It seemed like seconds, but must have been almost instantaneously that then the ceiling, the walls, the glass doors and windows seemed to bend and rise, before falling back into place with a thud. The laughter, masking the uncertainty and fear perhaps, followed soon after. Our hearts pounded as the reverberations and shocks continued like rolling thunder.

Ten minutes later another shock, laughably smaller (3.4M), interrupted us as we sat down for roast lamb with mint sauce and roast veggies. Numerous other little shakes interjected their presence into our evening before the last one for the evening (4.1M) signalled the end of the entertainment for the night.

This morning the church was buzzing with bravado: "is that the best the best the Moon Man can do?" "Bring it on, that was a pathetic attempt". But behind the bravery there is still uncertainty and fear.

With the predictions that these aftershocks could go on for years, and the results of recent surveys that say they have found a new fault out into Pegasus Bay which could go any time (raising the fear of tsunami) and of course the Moon Man - this is a city on the edge.

But despite all this there is an desire for community and a atmosphere of ingenuity that gives rise to a tangible hope that like the mythic Phoenix, Christchurch will somehow rise again.

Last Things (Again)

Many years ago, my grandfather taught me to play a brass instrument and the song that he chose for my (and my brother's) debut performance, on the eve before our family went overseas for four years, contained the words "Now is the hour, when we must say good bye..." There wasn't a dry eye in the house, and that wasn't because we were leaving!

Once again I need to say goodbye to a group of people that I have had the privilege to work alongside. The last weeks (since February 23) have been an amazing experience and mostly because I have had the opportunity to work alongside almost 1,000 people from all over New Zealand and Australia as they have endeavoured to meet the needs of the people of Christchurch.

As always there have been some great days and some not so great days. There have been some extremely grateful people and a minority that have tried to play the system. There has been much laughter and some tears. There have been many meetings, and many flow charts and budgets. But most of all there has been the privilege of using talents and abilities to serve a people hurting and in need. The opportunities of ministry and worship have been many - but it always comes at a cost.

One of the costs is having to leave a people that I have come to respect. So, thank you to all that have allowed me to be part of your life for this time, but now (or soon) is the hour when I will say good bye!

Kia kaha Christchurch.

It's Time for Some Fun

In a suburb of Christchurch, within line of sight of the leaning Hotel Grand Chancellor a public park was turned into a place of fun and screaming kids on the Saturday. There was a bouncy castle and other fun rides, women 'performing' zumba on the stage and lots of 'fare' food - deep fried dagwood dogs, candy floss and red drink.

The sun was shining, the sky was almost clear, the wind droppped - it was a beautiful day. The kids were running wild, and the parents were happy for them to do so. The Sallie Community Care Mobile Office was in prime location adding to the mayhem and the sugar levels (as Robbie Ross tends to do) by handing out lollies, chips and drinks.

As we have experienced so many times in this period of response, the reception the Sallies received was wonderful. The expressions of gratitude overwhelming.

It doesn't take much: just people being genuine and available, offering service without discrimination and with love.

Small World

Almost 31 years ago I, with the rest the Class of 1980, left Hebron High School in Ooty, Nilgiris Hills, South India (yes I am that old). These many years later and half a world away, I looked down at the people that formed the new team of Relief Workers for Christchurch and there, in amongst the many faces I didn't know, was the face of a man I remembered. Graeme and Rosemary Wallis, who live in Wellington, were amongst the teaching staff those many years ago in India - and I remember them quite well.

As the week progressed, and as we reminisced about those golden days of schooling, another man too, older and wiser than I, introduced himself to me - Dr. Bramwell Cook (Jnr), he was a Breeks Boy - he too had lived at Lushington Hall, through those gates next to the Botanical Gardens, in the beautiful Hill Country of Southern India.

I was remembering that my first dorm mother was Miss Reid had punished me with her bamboo cane (2 cuts across the bare legs) for not going to the school clinic to get my cough  medicine. We were recalling 'emergency relief' that we provided during floods that impacted Ooty and other towns. I am glad to say I don't remember being punished by Mr Wallis - but I do remember the "Hebron Hot Shots"!

It is amazing that this far away, this many years later and in this most unlikely of scenarios the tendrils of Hebron, (Lushington and Breeks - all associated schools) continue creep into my present.

Thanks Graeme and Rosemary for the week you gave us (and for the opportunity to reconnect). There have been so many non-Sallies come and join our teams in the last 5 weeks - you have all been awesome and we appreciate your support.

42 Years to Save, 42 Seconds to Destroy

I had the privilege of meeting a couple today who finished building and moved into their dream home last April. Semi-retired and looking forward to the future they were set. But then on September 4, a 42 second long earthquake destroyed the house they had worked and saved 42 years to build.

That night their house rode a wave that carried their house 10" toward their neighbours, before it slid 4" back again and settled into liquefied earth about 3" higher than it was designed to be.

Before Christmas their dream was "unofficially" written off by 3 engineers, but no one would make an official decision so they put their house back together again with rubber bandages and carpet, they barrowed out the 2' volcanoes of liquefaction that had erupted in their yard and they went out to volunteer their time to assist others through the Sallies.

Life was becoming sane again, (except for a broken house) when on February 22 their house moved again: this time 2" to the side. This quake, more violent than the last turned the inside of their house inside out and their yard was once again visited by a river of liquefied earth. On the same afternoon they picked up their furniture and belongings and headed out the door, Lyndsay got back behind the wheel of a Sallie truck and Elizabeth got back into the production line to produce food parcels.

They have been going now for a month, and they would have it no other way: "That's our family out there hurting: we can't sit in our broken house frustrated and useless - we have to help." 

Out of the Fog

The Sallie Army arrives at Hagley Park early this morning.

Christchurch Memorial

As I sit in Hagley Park, Christchurch it is hard to imagine the reason I am here (if it wasn't for the liquefaction on the ground). The Maori welcome and blessing has just concluded and we were reminded that "in unity we are one", and now in the next few minutes we will sing God Save Our Queen and God of Nations.

The atmosphere is quite electric - thousands of people have gathered on a beautifully sunny day. The sky is clear, the mountains in the distance seem to stand guard over a grieving city and a people in pain. As the Emergency Services personnel arrived the crowd stood as one and applauded their efforts, as bereaved families sat in an area set aside, there were tears and audible prayers.

Following on from 14 minutes of scenes of a devastated City, vision of crushed vehicles and destroyed buildings in the Red Zone that will be behind fences for another 6-12 months, a lone conch shell sounded to mark the beginning of a period of intentional memorial.

Moments later, thousands of people stood as one, the hairs on the back of the neck stood up, as with one united silent voice we remembered...

Christchurch has a long way to go to regain its hope, but maybe today the seeds were sown as united the city grieved and gathered.