CELEBRATING DIVERSITY

Ban the Tie

2011-12-16T09:57:00.000+11:00

"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

2011-12-02T14:43:00.000+11:00

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...

2011-11-14T21:04:00.003+11:00

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

2011-11-03T05:03:00.001+11:00

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

2011-11-01T14:52:00.001+11:00

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

2011-10-29T17:46:00.001+11:00

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

2011-10-27T02:49:00.000+11:00

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

2011-10-25T02:06:00.001+11:00

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 probablyleave 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 shotpast huge impressive buildings that made me feel like I was in some kind ofalternate 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 hugestone walls of a fortress, and drove through a narrow gate between loomingstone 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 OldCity. The original site and buildings of Baku. Narrow, cobble stoned roads windlike a maze inside the walls. (And the way we sped through them made me feellike I was in a scene from a Bond or Bourne movie.) I am living 1 minute walkfrom 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 jamas we made our way to the office. Up past the construction of the new symbol ofBaku, the Baku Flames, (the photo of the tall glass buildings) and againpast shops bearing the names of international brands, huge Russian stylegovernment buildings with bronze statues of Presidents and Bolsheviks and newand old apartment complexes with washing hanging out the windows and cats whichseem to be everywhere.

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

Too Long in a Flying Can

2011-10-24T18:09:00.001+11:00

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

2011-10-21T01:28:00.003+11:00

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

2011-10-19T00:53:00.001+11:00

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:

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!)
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?

2011-10-18T03:30:00.001+11:00

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

2011-10-13T02:01:00.001+11:00

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

2011-10-12T01:11:00.001+11:00

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

2011-10-11T03:24:00.000+11:00

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

2011-10-09T10:43:00.000+11:00

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

2011-09-24T00:36:00.000+10:00

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.!

Earlie 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

2011-09-02T09:28:00.000+10:00

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

2011-08-29T12:37:00.000+10:00

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)

2011-08-23T10:55:00.000+10:00

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

2011-08-19T09:11:00.000+10:00

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

2011-08-16T16:23:00.000+10:00

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

2011-08-15T12:01:00.000+10:00

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

2011-08-05T09:02:00.000+10:00

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

2011-07-25T15:44:00.000+10:00

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

2011-07-20T14:30:00.000+10:00

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

2011-06-03T08:44:00.000+10:00

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

2011-05-26T09:51:00.000+10:00

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)

2011-05-26T09:14:00.000+10:00

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

2011-05-19T13:40:00.000+10:00

“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

2011-05-05T08:59:00.001+10:00

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

2011-04-17T10:33:00.000+10:00

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)

2011-04-15T12:48:00.000+10:00

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

2011-03-27T07:15:00.000+11:00

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

2011-03-26T12:15:00.000+11:00

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

2011-03-19T20:17:00.000+11:00

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

2011-03-18T12:29:00.000+11:00

The Sallie Army arrives at Hagley Park early this morning.

Christchurch Memorial

2011-03-18T10:57:00.001+11:00

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.

The Flags Are Raised Today - Symbol of Hope

2011-03-08T08:23:00.000+11:00

In the distance the now familiar sound of the rolling-roar signalled that another shake was on the way, seconds later the glass and ornaments in the restaurant began to shake, and the large commercial drink fridge that stood beside were I sat moved, worrying some that it was going to fall on me. the 4.9M aftershock was the strongest we had had for a few days.

The staff were running for the door, the locals were tentative and waiting - but in all their eyes was the familiar look of fear - the quake lasted only a few seconds and then it was past, leaving in it's wake the sound of nervous laughter from those of us gathered. As Kiwis and Aussies are prone to do: the (probably) tasteless jokes followed soon after as people allowed the tension to vent from deep within their souls.

Much attention is focused on making the city, her buildings, her roads and public places safe. It is essential that these visible forms of society, especially significant symbols such as the Cathedral and sports grounds are restored: but the spirits, the souls of Canterbury's people these are not so easily healed, these will not so easily trust again - and it is this healing to which the Sallies are tasked.

Soon (March 18) massed people will meet to remember, many will see the reality with their own eyes rather than through the lens of a camera - some will weep openly for their city and the lost, some will harden their minds to the reality and bottle up their emotions - but all will tread through the city as if through the most magnificent cathedral - in awe and reverence.

The Trust Factor

2011-02-26T15:01:00.000+11:00

In the last few days we have had over 60 Sallies out visiting affected people and properties. Partnering with the government’s engineers and earthquake commission officials our people are the first point of contact for the affected people. Whilst the engineers and officials inspect and determine the safety of properties it is our people that are talking to the people, advising them of the services available and determining the psychological and material needs. In some cases it is the Sally that delivers the ‘worst feared news’ that a family member has been identified.

Under the New Zealand Civil Defence agreement, in a disaster the Sallies are called on to feed, and provide food for affected people. At three ‘welfare centres’ (sports ground, school, community hall) the Sallies, with catering partners, are feeding up to 1,500 people a day, whilst other personnel are providing counsel and ‘a listening’ ear to these people who have lost homes and property.

At the end of the day, after the visit information has been collated we have an army of volunteers that will deliver about 600 food parcels to those who are unable to get into our food distribution centre. That’s on top of the 250-300 parcels that are given to people that have been able to come to the centre and find food and support.

At the moment and for the foreseeable future we have a team of about 100 people out there, (not including those of us in the incident command centre) making a difference and caring for people in the most basic but essential of ways. At the end of any day numerous affected people have had a Sallie give them the time of day and offer them a moment of hope in a context of utter devastation.

Every day, but reducing, we are rocked by aftershocks – the glass, the floor and the walls shake, the locals in our team take a deep breath - and hold it, then it is gone. Someone usually makes some inappropriate joke (about the lack of laundry facilities, or the fact that their wearing dark trousers) and we get on with the work of getting Sallies out there, amongst the people.

There is a long way to go, and there is so much to do – but the Sallies (Salvos) out there should be very proud of what is happening here. The reputation of our ‘flying squads’ is unbelievable: the partnerships that are being formed will both enhance our ‘trust factor’ and demand that we be accountable to the community, but it will also increase our capacity to transform society.
People will only be influenced by those they trust!

Building Sand Castles

2011-02-25T06:46:00.001+11:00

I saw evidence today that the people who live down the bottom end of our world have a unique sense of humour… even in the face of unprecedented destruction some people have the ability to laugh and to make the most of a bad situation.

I have heard the saying “every cloud has a silver lining”, but I have not, until today, seen someone turn copious amounts of silver-grey liquefied earth, (liquefaction) into their own personal playground. I was taking a tour of Christchurch City and the Sallies properties when I noticed two ‘lol’ moments:

We drove up one street, not unlike numerous others that looked like a pre-school sand pit, complete with Tonka toys. Heavy machinery worked alongside men and women with shovels and wheel barrows as they worked to clear their properties and roads of the liquefaction. It looked some spoilt brat of a giant had broken a mercury filled thermometer and the mercury had flowed freely into any available space. And in amongst this hive of activity a small boy climbed to the top of a pile of the silver-grey with a board nailed on a post and with what I imagined was the same degree of satisfaction as Neil Armstrong planting a flag on the moon – the young mountaineer planted his sign at the top. On the sign were the words: “Free Sand”.
A few streets later, in a similar street, a pile of liquefaction was adorned with large ‘sand castles’ – evidence that some frustrated Mum may have said – “just go out and keep yourself busy”.

But in contrast to these moments of ‘joy’ there are the moments of panic and fear. As we were rocked by aftershocks at fairly regular intervals during the day the people who had lived through the ‘big ones’ grabbed hold of each other, some couldn’t help crying out, others just took a deep breath and held it until someone broke the trance – people reached out to one another and supported each other.

The city looks pretty much like any war zone. As we walked through it today the smell of burning buildings still hung heavy in the air. 4 building sights still remain burial sights with undetermined numbers of dead. Street corners are manned by military personnel and hardware, police and firemen. The city - cordoned off to the public, is eerily quiet and in places has taken on an almost reverential status as machinery and men dig in silence – watching carefully, hoping, but not expecting.

Christchurch is in trouble – and they need support of just about any kind imaginable.

Privileged: So What?

2010-12-04T08:22:00.000+11:00

I was privileged to spend the day with a few hundred other people today - or at least that's what I was told over and again!

The fact is, I am privileged! I am privileged to spend time with some passionate, talented and committed people. I am privileged to have the freedom to meet in worship. I am privileged to belong to an international movement of people that has the potential to make a difference - and often does. I am privileged to have the resources to live a very comfortable lifestyle.

But if that privilege results in me being pleased because I can become absorbed in a self-indulgent celebration of my privilege then I have lost the plot. My privilege is my greed unless it is spent on others. If I settled for adequate rather than extravegant imagine what I could give to others.

I am privileged, but so what? We are privileged, but not for our own glory.

Christchurch 2010

2010-11-21T16:41:00.001+11:00

Like most of the population of Christchurch, 'Alison' was in bed when the 7.1 magnitude earthquake hit in the early hours (4:35am) of September 4. Her eyes well up with tears as she remembers the confusion and fear as her bed began to rock in all directions. Getting out of bed she discovered piles of silvery-grey dust (liquefaction) erupting like miniature volcanoes through the concrete slab and carpet in her lounge room before it mixed with the water and sludge that was pouring through the doors.

In the 42 seconds that the (main) quake lasted, her house was split down the middle, her doors were jammed shut by the 3 foot deep piles of liquefaction and she was stuck inside - the night was pitch black and cold - and once the sound "like a run away train" had subsided she stood paralysed by uncertainty and fear.

Eventually she forced her way out the front door by kicking at the door to force the silt away, and stepping out into the night she sank up to her neck in the silver-grey 'quicksand like' that used to be her front garden. As people looked for candles and torches the neighbours called out to her asking if she was alright but scared that they too would get stuck in the suddenly unstable ground she told them to stay back as she pulled herself out and gingerly crawled to what was left of her concrete driveway.

When the light of dawn finally chased the confusion of the night away Alison saw the extent of the damage to her house. She had to call in an earth mover to dig her car out of the garage; the foundations of her house had moved both north and east about 3 to 4 feet; the rook had collapsed in the middle; but in what was her lounge room a display cabinet with her collection of 100 year old crystal remained unscathed - not one piece had moved.

I had the privilege of joining a team that visited people like Alison over the last week. Hers is not an unusual story. About 10 weeks on, and despite many aftershocks (my first night in Christchurch was punctuated by a 4.9 magnitude aftershock) much of the liquefaction has been removed, many of the streets have been cleaned up, but the numerous physical scars remain - and are matched, if not outweighed by the emotional scars - some of which are buried deep and are yet to find ownership and voice.

One of the most encouraging results observed is that new community relationships have been forged. Where in the past relationships between neighbours were civil enough, now there are partnerships formed in a determination to not only support and encourage but to overcome and rebuild - together.

Insignificant Casualties - (Very General Ranting)

2010-10-27T12:25:00.001+11:00

On Monday night (Indonesian local time) another tsunami, caused by a 7.7 magnitude quake, devastated the coastal villages of Sumatra, in Indonesia. At this stage at least 113 people are dead, over 500 missing and according to local government sources 10 villages have been destroyed - which means that in the days to come the death toll will rise, and the cost to the local communities will only begin to be realised as the emergency subsides.

Here in Australia though, you could be forgiven for wondering if there were any casualties at all! Having read the local (Melbourne) papers and listened to the local news reports, it appears, as one reporter said, "there were no significant casualties". Apparently what is meant by 'significant' is that there were no Australians killed or injured. The search for 9 Australians missing after the tsunami has finished with the Herald Sun newspaper claiming a "Great Escpae". (Don't get me wrong, I am glad they are okay!)

Do the editorial staff of our largest newspapers really believe that their readers consider all other nationalities, (in this case Indonesian Muslims) as insignificant? Are their editorial decisions based on any genuine data? If so then we are a sorry people.

It would appear (acording to our news reports) that for the cost of a humanitarian disaster to matter to Australians an Australian needs to be affected - or unfortunately killed!

Offices of Shame

2010-10-19T08:59:00.000+11:00

I would consider myself a fairly averagely educated Aussie bloke able to understand most concepts and navigate my way through most of life’s application forms. But, when it comes to Centrelink (an Australian Government Assistance Office) forms and dealings, I am filled with dread.

Recently, Centrelink made a mistake! And when I rang to discuss this, the officer admitted it was their mistake, "but", he said, "we cannot override the computer, you will need to start the whole process of justifying yourself again, Sir."

I couple of days later I received a 27 page application in the mail. These forms are hard work, they are ambiguously worded, they are repetitive, they are (necessarily) personal, they are confusing; they are exhausting and frightening, because if you make a mistake you can be prosecuted! And that's how a "fairly averagely educated Anglo Aussie" feels. I can only imagine how a new Australian, a person desperately trying to fit in and be 'normal' would feel.

And then it got worse. Instructed to appear at my nearest Centrelink office I walked into a large building were the first person I saw was a security guard. There were long lines of people with their eyes down to the floor and heads bowed. Most people didn't look at each other, they either stood in line, waiting to approach the high counter were an officer waited, or sat and waited in impersonal waiting areas staring at a large plasma screen.

There was a tangible heaviness in the air; it felt like any life and joy had been sucked out, (reminiscent of a scene with Dementors from Harry Potter). There was nothing about the place, or the people working, that made this office anything but a place where I felt like I was on trial. People were ashamed to be here – and nothing or no one attempted to mitigate that reality.

I felt desperately ashamed of what we make people go through to receive assistance – I felt like I was being challenged to beat the system if I could and if I dared.

Let me add quickly that I am not criticizing all the staff – when I did see an officer she was lovely, helpful and, miraculously – she agreed that it was their mistake and the computer could be overridden!

There has to be a better way Centrelink – just making the waiting areas a little less sterile and unfriendly would help. But maybe in the meantime we need to get some people to conduct stealth missions. Maybe we could get some people to infiltrate Centrelink waiting rooms and see if they can inject some hope and, whatever the opposite of shame is, into these offices of shame.

COMING HOME

2010-09-13T19:13:00.000+10:00

I walked home from work today!

It was a nice day, the sun was shining through breaks in a cloudy sky and the air was cool. As I meandered from the office I passed beautifully landscaped gardens, green, colourful and heavily scented with spring flowers. I crossed even, flat, un-cratered roads at traffic lights where vehicles where orderly and drivers, for the most part, patient. I walked along sidewalks that were clean and uncluttered - void of street food and markets.

As I walked the three kilometres home, past houses that were intact, clean and obviously well maintained: I was struck by the contrasts to my life of the past 8 weeks. I was walking alone, no military, no Haitian escort and guide; I was outside a compound, a safe zone - and I was alone! The piles of debris and mountains of garbage were strangely absent. The smells of street stalls and clogged gutters were replaced by roses and fresh cut grass. The helicopter that passed overhead was not a huge throbbing military bird sweeping low overhead - it was just the police!

"How do you reconcile your two worlds?" I was asked today. This is home: this comparably sterile, privileged community of order and security. This place where I am free to be who I want when I want. This place where food is plentiful and security is assured. There is no comparison, it is not appropriate to compare the two contexts. I just have to take a deep breath and intentionally recognise that this is my home reality - Haiti was for a time: an amazingly influential time - but it is not my life.

I believe that 'now that I have seen I am responsible' to continue to do all I can to influence others (individuals and organisations) to consider the reality of life in Haiti (Pakistan, Chile, etc) and to encourage and show them how to become partners in 'majority world' development and renewal.

I will not, and cannot forget! I live a life of multiple personalities, but now I must be home, I must be engaged with my family, and in my ministry here.

[So now I sign out for a few weeks - I'm going away on holidays with my family and will not be blogging. This post will mark the end of my Haiti reflections.]

TIRED & JUDGMENTAL?

2010-09-08T14:18:00.000+10:00

As I sat waiting for my flight in Miami I watched fascinated as the world walked past. There is no other place like an airport to capture an image of the diversity and the idiosyncrasies of humanity. Here, in a (relatively) small place many of the different languages and cultures come together and interact together: we coexist together and whilst there might be much that we do not understand about each other - we are here - together.

So it was like nails on a blackboard when my brain realised what it had just heard on the television. It was an advertisement for a CNN special. A fairly famous CNN reporter (he had been in Haiti too) was now in Pakistan. Images of the reporter in a boat chugging down a swollen river with familiar images of devastation and frightened, wet and hungry people filled the screen as the narrator told us that coming soon was this man’s special report on the worst disaster the world has ever known and “its impact on the United States, and what it might mean for American interests”.

Now, I don’t want in any way to assume that this last phrase represents the reporter’s agenda, but I couldn’t help but be instantly furious. Maybe after just coming out of Haiti I am a little too sensitive: but seriously, is that what the important issue is – how a natural disaster and the suffering of over 20,000,000 people might impact the United States?

Are we humans really that selfish that in moments of crisis we are worried about how it might impact on me? My experience tells me that we aren’t! That whilst we do forget quickly, at the moment of crisis – even when we cannot possibly understand what it actually feels like - we look for ways to draw together, to unite and to share.

But it seems there will always be people, media, governments and religious fanatics (of all persuasions) that will try to capatalise even on tragedy to engender fear and to perpetuate difference all to further their own narrow agenda? (But maybe I am just a little hypersensitive and therefore too judgmental at the moment!)

LESSONS FROM HAITI

2010-09-06T06:15:00.000+10:00

Today marks the end of another deployment for me. To those that have followed my journey and sent messages of encouragement, thank you.

As I look back on eight weeks in Haiti I am once again humbled by the people that I have met; the lives that I have become part of and the experiences that have forced me to consider my accidental privilege. As I reflect on my deployment the lessons learnt include:

HOPE: Despite the abundance of physical evidence that surrounds the people they find a reason to hope and believe that better days are ahead. Despite years of neglect and bad representation they hope that the coming elections will change things. Despite a horrific natural disaster, the latest “worst the world has ever seen”, they hope that their Creator, the God they worship vigorously and enthusiastically will again renew and refresh their country.
WELCOME: Despite having little and having no opportunity to obtain much they make complete strangers like me welcome. “Welcome Home” they said to me, time and again.
ACCEPTANCE: Not only do they welcome strangers, but they accept them and invite them into their lives and to become family.
TRUST & RESPECT: Sustainable and indigenous development facilitation is (almost) impossible without these characteristics. If you really want to transform lives you need to be informed by the ‘experts’ - that is the indigenous people, and you need to be willing to not only be sensitive to, but respectful of the customs and idiosyncrasies of the culture, even if you don’t understand. Only in being willing to be a student do you earn the trust and respect of the people, and only in doing that do you earn the right to be a partner in their transformation.
DISAPPOINTMENT: You can put in place all the safeguards you like, (personally and organisationally) but most probably there will be at least one moment when you are disappointed by the character of humanity. It is that moment that marks your character – does it destroy you and turn you into a cynic, or does it drive you to deal with the disappointment and move on for others?
KNOW YOURSELF: You need to know when to stop and take time for yourself. Failure to be ‘selfish’ causes you to run the risk that you go home early, or that you become useless to the people that need you at this moment.

There are other lessons; many (but I’m too tired to think of them all at the moment). So as I wait in the airport lounge at Miami International it is with a sense of release that I know I am on my way home. I know that there is so much more that needs to be done in Haiti, but I have done my best, I have worked my smartest and I know that I have made a difference. My Haiti ‘venture is over and soon I get to see my family again.

So, goodbye from me to Haiti: but whilst you may stop reading about Haiti here, can I encourage you to keep informed about this destitute country, and when you can make a difference.

TRUST AND SECRETS ARE ENEMIES

2010-09-05T09:29:00.000+10:00

We all keep secrets, most are meant to be harmless, like Christmas presents or nuts and cherries. But in my experience it is very hard to trust a person, (or an organisation), that keeps secrets. Some organisations have made it into an art form; they demand loyalty and obedience but withhold vital information, secrets, ‘for my own good’.

I have written before about the principle of PQT, or Prior Question of Trust, but I do so again because I believe it to be perhaps the single most important ingredient in any relationship – and in my current context – in a relationship with local leaders and an organisation for the purpose of transforming communities and empowering individuals. A lack of trust can be devastatingly destructive, whilst the nurturing of it can be exponentially transformational.

I have observed both aspects of this trust relationship in Haiti. Too many NGOs come to this disaster already convinced that the people cannot and will not help themselves. So in the interest of expediency, and with the excuse of emergency, they import and implement programs without due regard for the need and the long term results. Sometimes this results in a stubborn allegiance to a log framed agenda for the purpose of satisfying and maintaining a donor relationship – rather than admitting the needs have changed and the project is not of benefit to the beneficiary.

One of our partners has succumbed to this donor driven temptation. The money is big, the reputation to be made is important; the relationship to be maintained could be of long lasting benefit (in another disaster). But does that make it right to perpetuate a project that is not ‘building back better’? A project that was needed 7 months ago but is still only just beginning, and will now give the impression that this Soccer Field IDP Camp, this potential slum ghetto, is a permanent housing solution. The secret, ‘a silent insidious agenda’ has been uncovered by the leaders of the community, and now, where there was once trust and respect, there is dangerous anger, unwillingness to cooperate and this impacts on us all.

Into this cauldron of disappointment and distrust walks a short, wiry, Haitian man. A man that has had his own dance of disappointment and disempowerment with well meaning donors. It took almost six of my weeks for this man to trust, but then he started walking alongside me. He started talking with and for me. This relationship of trust with an alongsider began to transform what was a mechanical relationship, a meeting of others into a communion of brothers.

Today when we met with a group that days before had threatened our partners, we sat together, expats and local leader, and he spoke in the heart language of his people and even though the message delivered was not all good news, the people listened, they trusted and respected this insider, this trustworthy man, and they thanked him for his honesty and for ‘no more secrets’.

WHEN ALL WE HAVE IS NOT ENOUGH

2010-09-03T13:08:00.000+10:00

The distributions are complete: in the last two weeks we have given over 7,000 cots to about 3,600 families. Today as the last cot was thrown off the truck there was a combined sigh of relief from one or two of us, and a moan of disappointment as about 150 families realised they were missing out. It wasn't ideal - but it was reality.

As we got to the last row in the truck I called the UN Commander over and explained the situation, we looked together at the numbers, and realised that we had the potential for a riot. There were all kinds of suggestions from well meaning people, but the reality was we didn't have enough. But we would of had enough if:

the 120 people that got through the system and got two lots had not been selfish
a number of cots had not been stolen from the warehouse and sold for personal gain
some of our payed employees had not taken cots during the four days

It continues to disappointment me that selfishness is the default of humanity. There are many that fight this urge daily and moment by moment, there are many that are generous and selfgiving - I know many. But in this context when people are fighting for survival there are two sides: I can understand people scrambling to get all they can, but then I find myself annoyed because in doing so they deprive someone weaker, or less fortunate.

As the cots decreased people began to get more and more vocal, the UN soldiers got closer and closer and the atmosphere became electric with the tension and the disappointment. I took cots off people that were not supposed to have them only to receive a look of complete surprise: one member of our staff asked why she couldn't have two: I wanted to say because I have seen you take cots before today. But instead I explained that we paid her to help us, enough for her to buy cots, we didn't pay these others. Her response: you don't pay me enough, give me more!

There are some that will never be satisfied - but in my experience these selfish people are the minority. The overwhelming majority thanked us, shook our hands and smiled - even one or two that got nothing today.

YOU OK, YOU WORK LIKE ME

2010-09-02T12:13:00.001+10:00

It's been a long day. It started at 4:45am (as most of my mornings have in Haiti) thanks to the rising warmth, the rooster, the donkey and the cow in the yard behind. But it has been a good day.

Some days you have to make an effort to find the silver lining don't you? It's easier to allow the tough things of living and working to dominate our efforts and impact our moods. It's tougher to make the decision to rise above them and to maybe even use them as the extra fuel you need to transform your attitude and your influence on others.

Today was one of those days for me. I woke knowing it was going to hold some tough spots, and I was tempted to allow myself to be carried through the day by that mood - to operate on auto-pilot and just survive. But, whilst the tough stuff still loomed before me, the people that came across my path today made it impossible for me not to celebrate living and life.

The highlight of my day was a moment when with a few others I was unpacking 1,600 cots and loading them onto trucks for tomorrows distribution. The guys I was working with knew that at the end of the day they were without work. No wonder the afternoon started tense - the boss is here, why - oh no! But after 4 hours of working and sweating together I had stacked as many as most and to their surprise I was still going. It was at that moment that one of them went and got a water bottle and offered me a drink - and said to me - you ok, you work like me!

I had earned their respect! I was for a few hours one of them. And that was a nice place to be.

SHINY SHOES

2010-09-01T06:28:00.003+10:00

About 5 years ago my daughter Alexis came into my office at Mont Albert (Melbourne) to tell me that in the little second hand shop up the road there was a pair of new looking Doc Martin boots for sale - for $10.00. (Alexis has an eye for shoes: 43 Reasons Why I Need to Make Some Changes...)

I had been after a pair of these boots for a while – and now they have been my preferred option on every deployment. They are comfortable, I can walk in them for hours, and they are tough, and yet stylish!

But after a few distributions, walking through the dirt and garbage of Delmas 2, they were looking a little worse for wear this morning when my driver, who always has shiny shoes, told me it was time I had my shoes cleaned. So across the road we went to a man that I have seen sitting in the same spot every day I have been to town. He sits on a small wooden stool, with his shoe shine box in front of him and he never says a word. But every one that comes to this building knows him, and they all have shiny shoes.

From under his Dodgers baseball cap his dark eyes looked at my boots, and then glared at me! I’m sure I didn’t imagine the look of disgust – and so the process began. Again no words were shared; with a knock of his brush on the box my right foot came to rest on his box, a brush took away the grime, a cloth took away the dust, a second brush applied liquid polish, a second cloth dried the polish before black nugget was applied by hand and then with another knock the process was repeated on my left boot. The next knock told me it was time to change feet and a third brush shined the boots before a prized piece of felt came out of his shirt pocket to make the boots gleam. After the process was complete and with boots shinier than I have ever seen them he sat back and smiled a gap-toothed smile.

My shoe shine man sits at his post for about 8 hours a day, and in that time he will shine about 50 pairs of shoes, and will make about Gds 300.00 (that is about USD 7.50). He didn’t say much to me, he just made my boots shine, he smiled at me and as I handed him my Gds 20.00 (about $0.50) he said, “Merci, Monsieur”. In that moment I remembered why I was here.

I know it doesn’t make much sense, but it reminded me of a Celtic blessing I have spoken so often which finishes with the words:

May Christ who loves with a wounded heart open your heart to love.
May you see the face of Christ in everyone you meet,
And may everyone you meet see the face of Christ in you.

GUTTED BY SELFISHNESS

2010-08-31T07:53:00.000+10:00

I know it happens, but not to us!

Today started well. We arrived at Place de la Paix to find the UN had sorted the people: the site was under control. The people too were, almost patiently, waiting. The worst part about the morning was that the weekend's garbage had not been removed and, with the dead dog in rigor mortis, the site should have been classified as a biological weapon. (It took all my will power to keep my vegemite toast in the right place!)

After a fairly uneventful distribution to about 700 families and before the sun climbed too high in the sky (although it was 38C when we left at 10:00am) we climbed back into our vehicle, into the soothing gale of sterile air-conditioned air and we headed away, quite pleased with our efforts.

That's when the sinking feeling in my stomach commenced. Rumours of theft and profit at not just The Salvation Army's expense, but at the cost of the beneficiaries began to surface. I can't prove a thing, other than that the stock is gone, but the people I trusted, the people I pay to be on our side have apparently let me down. But not just let me down; they have stolen from their own people, for their own profit.

It has left us in an awkward position with promises made. But mostly it has gutted us. You start analysing every little thing; wondering if there is more below the surface. You start wondering if there is anything you could have done better or different to avoid this happening. And of course now I have to decide what I do about my people - I know what I feel like doing! (And I have a few suggestions from US Military personnel that secure our sight.)

BALANCING ACT

2010-08-29T12:01:00.000+10:00

It's not easy to make a living in Haiti.

Like all countries there are those that are doing very well: they live in the expensive areas, in the palatial houses with the manicured lawns and drive the expensive cars. Then at the other end of a very long spectrum, or perhaps in a completely different Haiti, there is the man that sleeps during the day on a mound of sand alongside the main road, or the woman that hides under a broken down bus chassis, avoiding the sun, or maybe avoiding other people. And then of course there's the kids... wandering the streets looking for food and water; playing with whatever and allowing their imaginations to fashion it into the toys they know exist, but will never afford.

And amongst the chaos of the roads, in between the UN vehicles, the rich people's shiny rides, the colourful taptaps emblazoned with "Merci Jesus" and other religious clichés, you'll find all kinds of sales people.

Running through the cars vying for business, balancing 'insulated' rice bags or boxes with a slab of ice to keep the bags of water or sodas cold boys and men compete against each other to sell and make between 1 and 5 Gourdes (4 - 12 cents) per sale. Women, equally if not more acrobatic, balance boxes of soap and beauty products. Others sell deep fried banana chips and bottles of washing liquid.

But slow down at an intersection or stop and before you know it a little boy who can't even see in your window or an older man will descend and start dusting your vehicle for you. Some intricate hand gestures are exchanged and a deal is struck, or he goes away looking for someone willing to pay to have a shiny car - for a few minutes.

As this intricate balance of vehicle, sales agent and unbelievably ineffective traffic cop plays out on the roads you pass innumerable street stalls selling bbq chicken, fried bananas, DVDs, TV aerials, books, clothes, shoes and so much more. It seems that everyone is selling the same thing, and yet day after day the same people will set up the same stall.

When you're desperate you will try anything in the attempt to make some money to eat and to live. Haiti is not alone of course in the sense that there are millions of people in many countries doing the same thing - whatever it takes to survive and to give your kids every chance to thrive.

There are no easy answers, there is no quick fix, but from those of us that have so much - we need to keep trying - please don't throw your hands in the air and argue that there is too much need, that there is no way you can make a difference. You can! You can choose one project, like sponsoring a child, or one appeal, and you can give until you can't give anymore.

We, our generations, have the assets to change the world for the better - all we need now is the inclination.

MEDICAL SUCCESS

2010-08-28T10:45:00.000+10:00

I had the privilege today of travelling west to visit a Salvation Army Clinic that has been started in the last month. My job was to make sure the key activities were being met and the budget wasn't being blown. But when you actually hear the stories and see the faces of people waiting for the clinic - it makes you forget the project mechanics (almost).

In the last 4 weeks the clinic has seen an average of 20 people a day, and has treated and diagnosed presentations from sore ears to a heart attack which happened in the compound while the person was waiting to be seen for a sore throat.

Located in the Army's compound at Petit Goave, the clinic operates out of two classrooms from the school (holidays at the moment). Outside one classroom a nice young man takes blood pressures and triages patients; in the room behind a doctor sits behind a bare table and attends to his patients and if necessary sends them next door to the nurse who fills scripts from a pile of medications on a desk behind her.

It may be nothing flash to look at, but this clinic has made a difference to the community. People that couldn't access the normal clinic because of distance or cost now attend here and pay about $ 0.75 for an adult consultation and $0.25 for a child.

This community is one of those devastated by the January 11 earthquake. Evidence of the quake: collapsed buildings, piles of rubble, fields of tents and temporary shelters bear evidence to the impact on this ocean side city. But of course it is many of the people that still bear both the physical and emotional scars. Almost eight months on and tremors (albeit very small) are still felt regularly in these areas, and these people, hyper sensitive to the movement are still afraid.

The money that you gave to earthquake appeals has gone toward things like this project. It is a relatively small project which will run at about USD 20,000.00 for six months. In month five an assessment will be done to see if its continuation is viable and the funding is available.

It's basic and it's low cost, but it's literally life changing.

COTS & GREMLINS

2010-08-26T10:58:00.000+10:00

Today was a much better day for distributions. At 8am, when we arrived at the canal alongside the camp it was only about 38C, there wasn't a cloud in the sky, the people were already barricaded behind two UN Military Vehicles, the top of the road was blocked off by another team of Brazilian militia one of whom I swear must have been called Goliath: he was huge and no one was messing with him.

If there were such a thing as Swiss precision in relief good distribution mechanics, all indications were pointing to us pulling it off today. Most of the UN Military was in place, the rest were with the trucks which were 5 minutes out, we were there, and the people were waiting.

It was then that the gremlins began to show their furry faces - the guy that had the key to some of the required material wasn't there and he didn't have a phone - we went without him. Some of our committee decided to try and hold us hostage to their selfish demands - we went without them. (I'm sure I'll hear about that soon!) One of the beneficiary checks (not an important one) was taking too long, our people were playing god - we went without them! As each gremlin was dispatched the Swiss movement began to kick in.

Within two hours of arriving we had distributed 2,486 cots to 1,243 families (plus a few that grew legs and walked all by themselves). The Brazilian military were amazingly effective and helpful today, and with a few adjustments to our delivery mechanics people were shepherded through the process with as much dignity and 'comfort' as is possible in a maneuver like this.

As we drove out of Delmas 2 toward home, we noticed a new stall at the market - apparently there are new cots available for about 2,500 Gourdes!

DOES BEING RIGHT MATTER?

2010-08-25T11:38:00.000+10:00

You have to be a jack of all trades in this business. About a week ago an arrangement with a local businessman blew up in my face. I had succeeded in pulling off a minor coup (very minor) in which we would share a facility which we were renting but were not fully utilising: the result was that a large INGO had space to store some much needed relief goods and The Salvation Army would recoup some money from a much more financial organisation. No harm done?

Unfortunately a local business leader didn't agree. I received a letter advising me that I was in breach of all kinds of agreements, (most of which did not exist), but one of which did. It just so happens it was in French and my French is a little rusty. (I can tell my wife I love her!) No excuse, legally, I know, but now unless I rectified the arrangement (kicked the INGO and all their goods out) he would pursue "other options".

Life is never dull is it? It turns out that, as well as my oversight, before approaching me the INGO had been in discussion with the other man to hire his facility, so my arrangement has resulted in him losing business. Phone calls flew in numerous directions, meetings were held in numerous locations, and after a number of negotiations with all parties the man has graciously allowed the arrangement to continue.

It's all very well to have a knowledge of development and emergency management, it would even be good to have language skills, but these skills and abilities must be subservient to a willingness to be a diplomat. There are times when being right is not that important. There are moments when it matters more that the job is getting done than that I am doing it. There are days when feeling good is a luxury. And the instant it matters more that I am known for it - that's the moment I need to give it away.

DISTRIBUTION OF COTS

2010-08-24T11:08:00.000+10:00

The radiant heat off the concrete road was already hot enough to be uncomfortable when the Brazilian Military rolled up in support of our three trucks at 8:00am. Today was the first day of a distribution of camp cots that we had been working to get released from the docks for months.

The aim was to deliver 2 cots to each of 2,000 families (half the population) today - it was always going to be a big ask. But despite the heat and the impatient people, things got off to a chaotic, but good start. The people filed through in some order, had their registration cards scanned and collected their 2 cots. As they passed me I was grateful to receive that universal sign of thanks, the thumbs up, or a smile that we had not seen for a while. Some even shouted their thanks as they passed by; at one stage a crowd chant issued from the recipient with the words: Armee du Salut repeated with a clap.

Life was good. We were doing well. This is what it's about... but then all good things tend to come to an end. The impatient shoving got worse, one of the soldiers in crowd control ended up with a split finger somehow, people were starting to test the UN Military resolve.

The Brazilian Lieutenant asked how many more we had to distribute, we were about half way there, but then with a shout from the crowd a man took a dive off the side of the road into the canal about 8 feet below (luckily unhurt) things began to get dangerously out of hand. What was a chaotic but managed distribution was turning sour quickly.

With the military I made the decision to close up trucks and withdraw. Leaving about 1,000 people waiting! But when it gets to the point where lives are at risk, the IDPs, the Militaries, or my teams, there is no choice. We drove away, escorted by the armed militia with a truck and a half full of cots.

So now we regroup, and we de-stress so that Wednesday morning we go again, we try and distribute to the rest of the group we left waiting this morning.

EXCEPT I AM MOVED WITH COMPASSION

2010-08-23T12:02:00.000+10:00

As we swung off the tarmac onto the dusty corrugated dirt track into the bush it felt like we had just left whatever civilisation there was behind. My guide and companion, Major Lucien (The Salvation Army Haiti's Leader) knew the track well and his familiarity led to the gusto with which he threw the vehicle around bends and through flooded areas. We flew round a corner only to startle a couple of horses that looked at us like we were in the wrong place, and by this stage I was wondering if we were.

The only life I had seen since leaving the main road to the Dominican Republic were the horses and a couple of startled goats; for as far as I could see, all I could see was salt bush and desert foliage - in the far distance the largest lake in Haiti spread out below the cloud shrouded mountains - it looked idyllic. (Unfortunately the lake is salt water and not much use to the people in the area.)

All of a sudden, as we crested another mound and the 4 wheel drive settled onto all 4 wheels, I spotted the reflection of the sun on some flat tin roofs. There was a village of mud brick, coconut frond, tinned roofed houses in the middle of this nowhere. As we drove through the village, as parched as any desert, Major Lucian commented that we had arrived in "Balan, the poorest place in Haiti that The Salvation Army works".

The Salvation Army has the biggest 'compound' in town which houses 1 school classroom, a canteen ("for when we can get them some food"), a ministers house, and a church. [Photos opposite] surrounded what can only be described as an arid playground. 150 children attend school here.

I wish I could do justice to the emotions that this place evokes in me. (But I'm not good at feelings at the best of times; just ask my wife and daughter!). The walk to the Church was another sensory overload: the sun was already beating down hot and dry, the breeze through the bush was timid, the lizards scurrying away from potential threat, the drum being assaulted in the Church accompanied by the most enthusiastic singing and the spotless white dresses of the little girls running to join the chorus.

Here in the middle of the desert in Haiti, in a village that has no water supply, no electricity, no resources of any kind; in a community that boasts about 1,000 people in the ultimate minimalist environment I joined the 30 or so Salvationists and sang (in Creole):

Except I am moved with compassion / How dwelleth thy Spirit in me? / In word and in deed / Burning love is my need; / I know I can find this in thee.

It is not with might to establish the right, / Nor yet with the wise to give rest; / The mind cannot show what the heart longs to know / Nor comfort a people distressed. / O Saviour of men, touch my spirit again, / And grant that thy servant may be / Intense every day, as I labor and pray, / Both instant and constant for thee.

The worship this morning went for about 3 joy filled, enthusiastic hours and whilst the people of Balan lack physical resources it was never going to stop the utter conviction they have that God, Creator and Friend, is their constant resource and their reason for living.

YOUR ACTIONS SPEAK LOUDER

2010-08-23T08:05:00.000+10:00

I have written about this before: in a different country and a different disaster, but once again I have been disappinted by those Christian T-Shirt Evangelsits who appear at every disaster. Haiti has had its fair share, probably for a long time, but certainly since January 12 of "Mission Teams".

The flight I arrived on had it's obligatory collection of bright coloured Mission TeamT-Shirts and cargo pants, and just about every time I pass the airport (which I do daily) Haiti is welcoming another crowd of Christians coming to spend a week putting back together another church or mission centre. (Forgive the cynicism dripping off my furrowed brow!)

Today it was about 20 assorted lime green shirts of varied shapes and sizes, khaki cargo 3/4 length trousers and cameras and ID cards dangling on red lanyards around their necks. In sunflower yellow writing the back of the T-Shirt announced that "my love of Christ compells me to bring hope to the victims of the Haiti earthquake", followed by the name of the Church, and the front of the Shirt reminded me that "God sent his Son because he loves the whosoever".

Now, I have a natural aversion to T-Shirts like that: maybe because I am actually quite a shy guy, maybe because I am a bad evangelist, maybe because I am not willing to be a 'fool or Christ'. But mostly because if you are going to wear the shirt, your actions -the way you show respect and love to others - must match your message.

And today, without going into details, let me just say that the actions of some of these evangelists of hope and love did not match their message. Just because you are white and wearing a lime green shirt does not make you more important than the kid who is trying to get enough to eat by dusting your vehicle as you idle at the lights. Just because you have 'come to do mission' does not make your place and time in the line more precious than the three Haitians that were waiting already.

I am reminded that some people in the world have just enough religion to be dangerous, but not enough religion to love. Either don't wear the shirt, or make sure your actions, at all times and in all circumstances, match your advertisment. (Maybe another reason I don't like the to wear the T-Shirts.)

CHILDREN'S TENT

2010-08-21T11:30:00.004+10:00

It is always nice to spend time with the kids. It helps refocus your energy and your intentions.

It's been a day of fighting with adults who seem to be out to get as much as they can for themselves as quick as they can and while they can. But at the end of my day I had the chance again to sit with these kids. All of them come from the Place de la Paix IDP camp. All of them have been living in some pretty ordinary conditions for almost 9 months now. Some of them have learnt to walk in this tent.

But as I arrive, they begin to sing as if I am the only person that matters; they start to dance and act up, and for a moment they make me forget my surroundings, they make me feel like I am the most important person in their world - and you know what, it feels good.

They finish their song and they sit down in groups that make me realise that this process has become their routine. They are handed a biscuit and a drink - and the kids closest to me don't just offer to share, they offer me the lot, trying to force me to take it from them. I swallow hard and fight back the effects of the dirt that just got in my eyes, and I kindly refuse the offer.

It is such a contrast from the meeting I have just come from where the not so hidden agenda was all about what they could make out of the earthquake and the resources coming through their company - to these kids who have nothing and yet will share what little they have.

Thank God for the kids who make you realise why you do what you do, and make you feel good doing it.

HONEY AS AN ANTI-CORROSIVE

2010-08-20T11:47:00.005+10:00

As I reflect on my day it is pouring again, I almost fell off the chair as a clap of thunder that sounded a felt like a jet breaking the sound barrier shook the house and the lightning that followed lit the house like a magnesium flare. Almost instantly the temperature has dropped and there is a cool gale blowing in the windows… I realise that the camp populations will hate this, but from a purely selfish point of view, the rain and the coolness is refreshing after a long hot day.

I have spent another day driving the predictably frenzied roads. If it wasn’t for the sheer anarchy and overwhelming stimulation of oncoming tap-taps, potholes the size of Texas, motorbikes buzzing in all directions like angry wasps and of course the ubiquitous UN, travelling in Port-au-Prince called almost be termed chaotic.

I had a meeting today with a company that we have not had a great deal of cooperation from. They have been ‘representing’ us in the fight to release some containers of relief goods which have been in port since April. They have requested, and we have supplied a forest load of papers; numerous people have tried to scrape away the oose of bureaucracy; and over time the relationship has become close to caustic. So after numerous phone calls, today was my turn to venture in and try to knead a result out of, what I was told were some overly officious and self-important technocrats.

They looked up to see me walking towards them and I swear you could see the quills spring out and create a simultaneously protective and offensive barrier. Apparently I wasn’t the first NGO in to do battle today and before I could say ‘sakpasse?’ (how are you? which usually makes people smile) the files were out and the ceiling was suddenly the most fascinating specter.

It was then that my companion, who had been here before, began to return the freeze, but noticing a magazine featuring cricket on the desk I asked if the man played, and before long we were talking about Steve Waugh and Alan Border. The conversation moved on to other sports including the Soccer World Cup and before long it just happened to swing around to how important it is to try and get the sporting venues back for the Haitian people; and wouldn’t you know it, if only we could get some of the things in the ports out and to the people, we may well be able to move people from the Soccer field where our IDP camp is located!

We walked out of the office with a new promise, (I’m not naïve enough to believe its anywhere near a guarantee), but for the first time in months, aided by our new Franchise certification, we have the papers signed, sealed and on Monday, delivered.

This interaction reminded me again of the truth of that old adage: you catch more flies with honey than with vinegar. When people take the time to connect, to identify common ground and to treat each other with respect, rather than stand on their status and throw their moral indignation, we, together have the potential to make things happen.

TRUST, RESPECT AND INTEGRITY

2010-08-19T10:41:00.017+10:00

This week has been a tough one (so far). Not because of sad stories or terrible sights (all though there have been those), but because of difficult decisions, intense negotiations and the resultant actions.

But even in the instances of conflict; when emotions were high, tempers were flaring and the air was thick with fear and frustration there were micro-glimpses of grace and milli-moments of hope. These instantaneous moments of encouragement were enough to keep me focused on the big picture, not because I was right - but because I was not alone.

Since arriving I have been trying to win over the trust and respect of local partners. It has been a tough gig because some feel like they were ignored, trodden on and bullied by imported 'professionals'; people who made it clear that they knew best and that being informed by local knowledge and relationships was not a priority. (Some may not feel this accusation justified - but that is irrelevant - it is how the locals felt!)

It has been a long slog of meetings and meals, conflicts and concessions but it all came good this week when we stood united, and together we fought down the fears of abandonment and the frustrations of broken promises. We were like a well practiced doubles partnership as we took it in turns to back each other up and keep the rally alive long enough to finish the match off with what looked like a well rehearsed play.

The ultimate compliment came, for me, when the day after, my partner said that he appreciated the way I finished off the meeting; the way I honoured his people and yet stood firm and fair; it proved, he said, that he could trust me and my word.

Deep lasting transformations (not surface level wardrobe changes) occur when there is a mutual atmosphere of TRUST and RESPECT. Without these you will not transform society or individuals. Without these essentials of RELATIONSHIP you are just a 'resounding gong' - you will make an impact, and there may be some change - but it will fade away in the winds of confusion and fear. On the other hand, a relationship of trust, respect and integrity will take time, and it will be messy - but when it connects it not only mobilises an individual - it can transform a world.

PLEASE, FIND MY SON

2010-08-19T00:19:00.006+10:00

It is over 7 months since the earthquake that shook Haiti entombed over 200,000 people beneath tonnes of concrete and steel. And today as the machinery and the people scrape away the mountains of debris in Port-au-Prince they don’t stop when they see a human bone or two, the machinery and the work only stops if there is an unmistakable skeleton; whole, or almost!

International Agencies and their workers are not allowed to remove remains, a member of the relevant government agency must be present to verify and catalogue the remains. Only once this has been done can the bones be removed and the clearance works continue. It is a callous reality, but the fact is that in Delmas (where the Salvos are working) and I imagine in other sections of the city too, there is not many debris piles that do not contain the remains of people who long ago were counted as dead but unaccounted for – and to stop work for one or two bones has become unrealistic.

The Salvation Army is not involved in this debris clearance work, but yesterday I spent some time with some men that are. They are big, tough construction type guys, but as they told their stories and visualised their work their eyes revealed a sadness and a deep pain that they were finding hard to deal with. Today they will begin to clear the remains of a house where they know the body of a young boy is buried. The father has told them stories of his little boy; toys and reminders have already been found and collected, but today as he watches them work, he has asked that they do all they can to uncover his boy whole so that he can bury him properly.

Work like this continues daily in many sections of the city – but there are many areas that even now are still untouched - the very obvious signs of death ever present. Some commentators and 'experts' have told us that people should be going back to 'green' houses by now, "they should be forced to go back": and some of them could, and some of them have gone back to areas that are cleared and reserviced - but would you go back into a neighbourhood with only yours and one or two other houses standing and everywhere you look signs and smells of death?

LETTING PEOPLE DOWN

2010-08-17T12:16:00.000+10:00

I know I’m not alone in this, but do you remember how you feel when you believe you have let people down? I feel like that tonight!

I had to propose a strategy for our work here in Haiti that required me thinking rationally and, in many ways, unemotionally. I had to argue the strategy, I had to defend it and explain it to the decision makers (as I should). And then when we agreed on the strategy, when the theoretical had been examined to within an inch of its hypothesis I had to implement it.

That’s when the theoretical becomes personal. Today, when I had to stand before a group of earthquake survivors and deliver the news, and outline the strategy – when I had to watch the looks on their faces and see the reactions in their eyes, that’s when I needed to know why I believe that what I am doing is the right and best thing.

When they reacted by yelling at us, as many would; when they accused us of broken promises, as some do; when they pleaded their case, as we all would – that’s when the hypothetical hurts.

Rationally I believe the decision is right, emotionally I feel like a real lousy person. No matter how good the strategy, no matter how well researched and examined, today I felt like I let people down that relied on me and needed me to be on their side.

WHAT ABOUT DEPENDENCY

2010-08-16T03:03:00.007+10:00

In the next couple of weeks some of the IDP camps around Port-au-Prince will begin to close down. Many of the camps are on private land and the owners need their land back to remain self-supporting. So, now that the Government's 3 month ban on evacuating camps is finished INGOs are trying to work out how we relocate hundreds of thousands of families.

But like many things in this humanitarian disaster world not everything is plain and uncomplicated. For example, we know that there are people that have moved out of our camp because they have a home to which they have returned, and so they do at night. But then in the morning they return to their shelter in the camp - just in case there's a distribution. Some of them need the support still, but others, (like the 'gamblers' I mentioned yesterday are abusing the system).

Surveys have been done on most camp inhabitants and people's houses have been labelled: Green - they could go back; Orange- they could go back with some support to repair damage; Red - their house is destroyed.

So, now has come the time when the NGO Community and the Government together have agreed that it is time to ask the 'Green' people to go home; assessments are being carried out to determine a viable means of helping the 'Orange' people repair their houses and move out of the camps. It leaves the problem of the 'Reds' but together with others we're working on that.

The issues that we are dealing with here are obviously numerous, but perhaps most sensitive amongst them is the issue of dependency. If the NGO community continues to distribute supplies and develop temporary camps then we make them permanent. And for many the temporary is already better than the places they were in before. In fact many families have moved into IDP camps from the country areas because they heard there was free food and water etc.

In our camp, not on private land, there are about 4,000 families - many from one of the most disadvantaged neighbourhoods - we cannot, and the government will not, let the camp continue indefinitely, but how do we make sure they get to live life with dignity and yet not be the means by which a completely dependent and unsustainable community is established on a soccer field?

GAMBLING FOR SOAP

2010-08-15T08:11:00.013+10:00

Last week one of our Partners in Camp development decided to distribute some materials to the IDPs in Place de la Paix. They did most things right: they had our committee distribute the vouchers to about 1,800 familes; they contacted the UN Security and arranged escorts and security for the day. They got there early on the day; the area was secure, the route in and out was clear and their station was set up. Soon after 'orderly' distribution began: each family was to receive 12 bars of soap worth about 80 Gourdes (that's about USD 2.00).

It became obvious very soon after the distribution commenced that the 'orderly' part of the event was under threat. There were raised voices in teh crowd, and that was very quickly followed by some scuffles: and then it happened, some began throwing rocks at the NGO personnel and the UN Military Escort. When the first rock hit a Brazilian UN Soldier on his blue helmet you could tell that this was not going to be a fair fight!

The UN Militia quickly surrounded the NGO personnel and escorted them to their vehicles and down the cleared exit route as the first shots rang out. Firing into the air the crowd very quickly got the message - the distribution was over. (No one was hurt.)

So what happened? Allegedly (no doubt actually) certain 'business men' approached a number of IDPs and offered to buy their vouchers for between $5 and $7 each. Some had bought 10 or more vouchers - unfortunately they didn't know, and didn't think to ask, what the distribution items were. When they discovered that their gamble had cost them, they were, shall we say, unhappy.

Lessons to Learn: As The Salvation Army has always said: Gambling is not a good habit to get into. (Especially not if you take your losses out on heavily armed Brazilian soldiers after their team has lost the World Cup - Not Happy, Jan!) And, maybe you should get yourself a blue helmet!

MINISTRY OF PLANIFICATION

2010-08-14T12:11:00.003+10:00

It is a real place and I spent most of my day there today. What used to be the US Embassy (before they moved to a grander more 'Fort Knox' like building) has become the new home of a number of Government Ministries after the January 12 earthquake levelled their offices next to the Presidential Palace.

As part of the process of importing container loads of relief goods The Salvation Army has been undertaking the lengthy process of obtaining a Franchise Certificate. This will allow the Salvos to be on a priority list for importing, and on many occassions waive the customs duties and taxes. You would understand it is an important accreditation - and today - after months of paperwork and stress by many people before me WE GOT IT!

The promise of the Ministries of Planification and Finance is to set up a sub-office at the port which will process these import issues and their hope is that, providing the paperwork is in order, containers for INGOs with a Franchise Certification will be processed within one day.

Great news! But also more work as it means the potential arrival at our warehouse of 8 more 40 foot containers containing food, tents and other relief items. Which means more distributions. So it looks like the team is going to be busy - but good busy.

Thank you Minister of Planification (who didn't look anything like Voldemort for you Muggles our there) for listening today.

MEET EDWEESSA

2010-08-13T14:01:00.007+10:00

Late last year Edween and Pauleene got married and moved into their first house together; they were excited soon after to discover that they would also welcome their first child into their lives. They celebrated Christmas together, hosting their families at their place. Life was tough, but it was good!

Edween was employed by the Railways as a porter and whilst he didn't make much he had a job and an income - he was one of the lucky ones.

Then on January 12 this year, when Edween was at work and Pauleene was home, the earth shook. Edween watched as a 15 foot high concrete wall fell on market sellers, killing hundreds; awhilst Pauleene ran as their house fell down around her burying most of their meagre belongings and destroying the furniture they had managed to buy together.

Edween and Pauleene moved back into his parents house, Edween lost his job because the railway station was damaged and Pauleene was 3 months pregnant.

Soon after that time Edween began to work as a driver for The Salvation Army's International Emergency Services in Haiti, and on July 23 (8 days 'late' and adding much to the stress levels of an expectant and impatient father) a beautiful little girl, Edweessa was born - mother and baby were healthy. The family is happy, they are alive, they are well, but life is still a day by day existence.

But today was a good day: thanks to the Children at Joyville in the Phillipines, (Manager: Captain Debbie Serojales) who raised some money to assist someone that had been affected by the earthquake I had the privilege of having the family over for lunch and then taking them out shopping. We were able to buy some much needed baby items for Edweessa, some nutritional supplements and 'luxuries' for Mum and Dad even got a couple of 'luxuries' too!

Edweessa says thanks kids, and thank you for allowing me to make some people very happy.

THE UNFAIRNESS OF MY PRIVILEGE

2010-08-13T01:57:00.003+10:00

There’s often moments of guilt in this business – for me anyway. That moment when I realise how much I have and how privileged I am. The latest moment came for me this morning.

I was sitting on the verandah of our house having breakfast; I had just made two pieces of toast spread with that most delicious of spreads, vegemite (brought from home) and grape jam, and a cup of black tea. In that moment I was struck with the now indelible images of the families in our camp – little grubby half naked kids running to me, calling out ‘hey Joe’ and asking for bags of water, for food, for money. Reaching up to grab my hand and walk with me, touching my arm to see what this hairy white skin feels like, stand still long enough and they reach down to lift up my trouser legs to see if it’s the same down there! The older teenagers ask for food and a soccer ball. The Mum’s ask for milk, and for food. The Dad’s ask for food, water and ‘cash for work’.

As you walk through the camp you can’t help but be struck by the ingenuity of the people. In the context of a mass camp, there are some impressive structures. Some have laid concrete to strengthen their footings and make their tin shelters water proof, (at ground level anyway) most have hacked into either the mains power or our generator power to hook up lights and some TVs. One man has built a theatre by enclosing his 12” TV and Video player and charging people to come and escape the camp while watching movies.

But all of them last night endured another night of heavy rain, in a camp with inadequate drainage and as the light breaks on them this morning it’s to another day of cleaning out the mud, drying out the clothes, saving what food they can. They will again take their water containers to one of two communal water bladders where they will line up to get their water, and most will do that twice if not more in the day. Mum’s will try and clean their kids. Some kids will make their way to the Concern tents where they’ll join with others to sing, dance and do craft – and get biscuits and juice.

And as they do that, every single day; I will wake in my dry bed; I will get some bread from a fridge that works most of the time (power permitting), I will run around my cold water shower trying to get wet, I will boil water, which I buy in bottles, on a gas stove and I will have a few moments of solitude before my day begins in which I can try and centre my thoughts and prepare myself for another day. I will go downstairs to the office and someone has made a pot of coffee, I will have a light lunch, and later tonight, dinner prepared for me.

I am able to rationalise the unfairness of my privilege but I am not able to forget it. Maybe that’s a good thing?

PLATFORMS OF THE MOST HIGH

2010-08-11T23:10:00.011+10:00

[As I look out my bedroom window I look to the high mountains; often shrouded from sight by mist, but ever present. It is as I reflect on this reality that I presume to speak for the people of Haiti and offer this prayer and pronouncement of hope.]

Mine is the land of high mountains, Ajiti.
Where do I find God?
I live in the poorest of lands,
Where do I find hope?
When my land quakes and the buildings fall,
my people die -
Where do I find tears?

I look around me and I see the high mountains
But angry scars now gouge their sides;
Even these platforms of the Most High,
The magnificent symbols of my land,
These handiworks of God are changed –
But not forever –
They, like me, will recover;
Together we will heal.

And there is my Hope found,
There in the Creator’s handiwork
I find my reason for believing that
God has not forgotten me.

My God who hears the heavens and the earth
Will not let me be forgotten,
My Creator who does not engineer mistakes
Will not overlook me,
The Architect of the universe
Will not be found sleeping!

My Hope and my Guide watches over me
The earthquake has not destroyed me
The hurricanes will not defeat me.
Despite appearances
My Protector is watching out for me.

You may ask – where is your God now?
And I will answer:
In my people, [In you?]
In my high mountains,
In my Dreams and in my Hope.

THERE WILL BE HOPE

2010-08-10T12:36:00.004+10:00

Place de la Paix used to be the venue for one of Haiti’s most passionate past times, soccer. Home to the Black Eagles soccer team this sporting venue was the congregating point for hundreds of people seeking to escape the daily grind of life in Delmas 2.

Delmas 2 is one of the most infamous ‘suburbs’ in Haiti; the leader of The Salvation Army in Haiti, (Major Luciene Lamartiniere) who lived in the area for over 13 until on January 12 this year his house caved in around him, says that it was not unusual to hear gunshots, to come out of church and see dead bodies in the road. But despite the reputation Delmas 2 has been home to The Salvation Army’s Children’s Home, School, Clinic, Church (Corps) and Headquarters for over 30 years. The Salvation Army is known here, and respected.

So when, after the earthquake, other NGOs refused to enter the area ‘because it was too dangerous’ The Salvation Army was already there, and continue to serve the community. Today the soccer field and the surrounding Plaza are home to about 20,000 people. Most used to cheer for their soccer heroes on this pitch; this morning, after very heavy rain again last night, many were trying to dry out belongings, and throw out stagnant muddy water.

Right down the bottom of the camp, fenced off, are two large tents. Managed and staffed by Concern these are the Child Friendly tents. Here, this morning, there were about a hundred kids and when we walked in it was as if the King had arrived. The greeted (yelled at) us and sang the songs that they had learned about hygiene, and as I sat with them they offered me their High Protein biscuits that they had just been given for lunch. A tent full of beautiful smiles, gorgeous kids, reaching out to touch ‘le blanc’ and to welcome him into their space.

Here in the poorest country in the Western hemisphere, in the middle of the most infamous suburb in the city, at the bottom of the second largest (by population) IDP Camp in the country, right alongside the mass grave of who knows how many earthquake victims, are the reasons we do what we do. These kids – they need food, clean water, safety, education, love and hope. Most other things are luxuries and I am humbled by their acceptance of me and their desire to share with me the little they have.

"Somewhere amidst all of the confusion, there will be hope, there will be love, there will be God!"

EVEN THE WINDOWS BOW IN SUBMISSION

2010-08-08T23:21:00.003+10:00

It's Sunday and Haiti is eerily subdued. The roads are quieter, (the UN vehicles are hiding) the street markets are almost empty and even the weather seems shy. It wasn't that way last night mind you; we had one of those extreme electrical storms, accompanied by floods of rain, that I have come to associate with hot, humid, tropical countries. It was an awesome display of light and sound, an extreme power event that had the man made electrical supplies quivering in their circuits. Even my bedroom windows bowed in submission to the fury of the heavenly torrent and had me relocating my bed so as not to be showered (although the coolness of the rain made it tempting to stay where I was).

But as awesome as the display was, it was not what the Million or so people living under canvas needed last night. As we head into the middle of the hurricane season, this rain brings new challenges for us, but new misery for people that have already experienced so much. Despite this, as we check the camp, most people are restoring their reality; they are smiling and laughing as they sweep the viscous milk chocolate brown fluid out of their shacks and resettle their worlds, and their meager belongings.

As we walk we notice again that despite the confined and depersonalising conditions people have created homes. Some have laid concrete footings to keep the waters out whilst others have raised wooden beds and furniture on concrete blocks to allow the water free flow access, whilst they remain aloof and oblivious. Many, if not most have electricity, thanks to some ingenious (and illegal) wire tapping and from many come the strains of familiar tunes even though the words are sung in a language not understood by me.

It's Sunday - it's Church day - and it's serious. Those that can't go to church are listening to songs that for centuries have brought comfort and hope to others disempowered, homeless, voiceless and marginalised. Some of the songs, sung by the enslaved of years past provoke questions and emotions that find their genesis in the reality of the Haitian context. Here, in a country built on slavery and then their freedom the songs have new and evocative meanings.

It's Sunday and it's a day to be at home, to be with family, and to intentionally look to a Creator that is beyond the circumstances of their reality and beyond their understanding. But not beyond their faith to believe that somehow, because they exist and God is present (as evidenced in the awesome display of nature last night) that HOPE exists. So, the roads are quieter, the weather subdued and the people? They loudly and enthusiastically worship the God who is present – and wait and hope that the world will not forget.

GOD WHISPERS THEIR NAMES

2010-08-06T23:12:00.006+10:00

Yesterday, waste management personnel found the bodies of three ‘unborn babies’ in the waste tank of a portable latrine in Place de la Paix, the Salvation Army managed camp in Port-au-Prince (Haiti) that is home to over 20,000 earthquake survivors.

How do you process the raw emotions - the fear, the desperation, the hopelessness - that would force a woman to make a decision that resulted in her baby being dumped in the sewerage? This isn’t the first time we have made a discovery like this, and once again we have no idea why this had to happen; we have no idea who the mother or the parents are, so this is pure speculation.

Were the babies aborted in a ‘back-yard’ procedure and then unceremoniously and surreptitiously dumped because they were the result of rape and the cause of shame? Were their lives terminated because a mother has spent the last six months fighting to survive in an IDP camp; hungry, scared, hopeless and she doesn’t want to bring a baby into an existence like that? Were their lives ended because the mother is sick and she felt she had no choice, no access to medical support or no money to pay for it?

Or were the babies miscarried or still-born? Is there a woman, somewhere in that camp, grieving a terrible loss and fighting the guilt and the sorrow of losing the greatest and perhaps only hope she imagines she had in the world? Is there a woman hiding in the dark shadows of that timber, tin and tarpaulin jungle wondering why it matters that she fight anymore? Is there a wife, hiding in shame from a husband who doesn’t know? Or is it a frightened teen, orphaned by the earthquake that has no idea how to deal with what just happened and no support to help her?

And as selfish as this sounds what do we, the Camp Managers do about it? And how do we help our team deal with the terrible cost of hopelessness and fear? How do we help them understand that this is not their fault; that there is no amount of vigilance, no amount of care and concern that could have avoided this? How do we assist them to overcome the shame and anger they feel? How do they process their feelings of inadequacy?

Don’t tell us it’ll be okay because God is good; don’t pronounce us faithless because when we hurt, we doubt God exists. Don’t condemn me as unchristian because I want to hit people that take advantage of powerless and hopeless people. Don’t tell us to love because God is love! And don’t tell us you love us, (in the Lord), despite our apparent uncertainty, and what you call disbelief!

All it does is convince me that some have never looked into eyes of utter despair and complete hopelessness – and seen God! All it does is remind me that faith can be so shallow that it doesn’t allow for doubt, for hurt, for suffering and complete despair – and simultaneously, God! I have been preached to in religious clichés about a theoretical faith – but ‘they’ show me, by their determination to survive, a deep faith in a God they trust to love them - even if they can’t love back.

How do we help women like those described above? Truthfully, I don’t know; but maybe we’ll start by sitting, saying nothing, just being present. Somehow honouring the lives of these, and other discarded babies and restoring the dignity of life. We’ll remind them, and ourselves, that God doesn’t make junk. And maybe, by showing we care, by being present, by loving them even when they reject us, shove us away and yell at us – just maybe they will begin to like themselves again.

PACMAN ON REDBULL OVERDOSE

2010-08-05T23:22:00.003+10:00

You ask the NGO Coordination group and they will tell you that since the earthquake there have been up to 900 different NGO and Humanitarian Agencies of various sizes in the Haiti. Each of these requires at least one car if not many more. One NGO I know of has 5 brand new specially designed Land Cruisers on the docks, and that’s a small fleet. (We hire local drivers with their own cars, and have bought three vehicles, including two trucks.)

The roads are in terrible condition, I have not travelled on a road yet that does not look like Swiss cheese, the 'pot holes' (more like bunkers guarding the 18th) are unforgiving, and the traffic is like something out of a dodgem circuit – though miraculously there are fewer accidents. Between the ‘assertive’ taptaps, the self important government cars and the seemingly immortal motorbike riders the roads were chaos before January 12.

But now, add in what must be hundreds of UN vehicles which range from the infamous white SUV with the obligatory flashing lights, to the troop carrier and ‘tank’, the mega-fleet of USAID dump trucks, and the multitude of water-carriers, and chaos has become the ultimate understatement.

But my biggest whinge (complaint) - since that’s what this is – is the way the UN vehicles treat the rest of the road users. You would be forgiven for thinking that the UN are the most important people in Haiti and they couldn’t possibly wait in traffic like the rest of us peasants – they act like a giant Pacman on a Redbull overdose. They are the single most visible vehicle on any road and you can’t miss them with the huge blue UN emblazoned on the vehicle. And who would defy them, they usually have some kind of weapon visible and threatening as they pull alongside and refuse to acknowledge your existence as they force their way in front and through.

I live 10 miles from the IDP Camp we manage, and some days it takes 1.5 (the other day 2.25) hours to drive one way. I know this time/distance compares favourably with some places, like Manila - but seriously, Mr. and Ms. UN if you treated other road users like your mandate suggests (with dignity and respect) you’d make life on the roads just a little better – and who knows maybe others would follow your example – oh, wait a minute they already do!

Ok, whinge session over: sucking it up and getting on with it now :)

FUN AND GAMES

2010-08-05T07:49:00.003+10:00

I get all the good jobs!

Negotiating allowances and position descriptions after people have been working for a few months is more akin to dentistry than HR! I have spent the afternoon making sure everyone knows what is expected of them and, of course, how much money they can have for it. That's the bit that we always seem to get stuck on, and it is due in part to the knowledge that the BIG INGOs pay BIG bucks, and in some cases way above the national average.

People know there is "plenty of money" (how often did I hear that today?) and it doesn't take some of them long to want their share of it. But there is a balancing game to be played: that is paying a person their worth, in the context of a country like Haiti, paying them what we can sustain and what we can afford within the limits of being accountable to donors who give their money to make a difference in the lives of the Haitians.

Then you have the person that argues with you about the amount because he wants to make sure that the programs and the survivors are getting enough. Despite the fact that he lost his wife and house in the earthquake, and has four kids to support he says, "but Sir, you have come to help Haitians, you have come here for us, I should not take this (pay envelope) from you I should be thanking you for letting me help you help my people".

So tonight I am all negotiated out and to make matters worse I think our cook/housekeeper hates me now :(

PROGRESS UPDATE

2010-08-04T13:31:00.004+10:00

The first container was released today! (To all those that went before, Jean Robert, pulled it off and we should have 4 containers unloaded by the weekend - without a Franchise Certificate.)

But before I go there let me say that I had the privelege of seeing some beautiful unspoilt forest today. I travelled along the coast to the city of Petit Goave. Like all the urban areas I have been in so far it is a place filled with detroyed buildings, rubble and shelters of all sizes and materials. Situated on the coast it is a nice place. But to get there I had to pass over a mountain that cut through a fairly unspoilt forest area, with cocounut and fruit trees framing the relatively wide, smooth road (of which there are very few in Haiti).

The Salvation Army complex is quite large with a church (Corps), school and offices - but as of Monday it will also be home to a new Clinic. Finally, the project has been approved, the reporting structure has been designed, and the money has been delivered (today). Soon more people will be able to access medical care. This is another good initiative and a win.

And then to add to that we have had a number of containers of relief goods, including camp cots earmarked for the IDP Camp held in customs for a number of months now - but today the first one was released and arrived at our warehouse. So tonight the first 2,500 cots have been unloaded and are ready for distribution. As soon as the rest arrive, (hopefully tomorrow) we wil begin the process of distirbuting these to the families in our camp. This means liaising with the UN Forces to provide security, and splitting the people into probably two groups to do the distribution over two days.

If it is anything like today (40C, 88% humidity) it is going to be warm work. But at last some of the promised can be fulfilled!

HOW TO FACE WITH DEATH

2010-08-03T13:30:00.003+10:00

Today's blog is shared with the permission of The Salvation Army - Haiti's Assistant Camp Manager: Rodney Belain. It is a piece he wrote after a particularly rough day.

--------

Life is something that you cannot understand and you can even spend all your time, you will never understand it. There is something that says death is easy but life is hard. All you have to do is to live your life as it comes and do not let anything to bother you, you’ll find a lot of people who will bother you but, don’t let them do it.

You need someone to comfort you when you do not feel good, I mean miserable, I just want you to know that God is there for you, bring him all your burdens, cause he cares for you.

Sometimes, I ask myself why God has created us, because some people need help and some spend a lot of money without thinking about the others.

It’s only one thing that I would like to ask you, give Jesus your life, let him guide you, let him teach you how to live and how to help the others. I know that no one is perfect, but a part of you is. Even if you don’t see it in you, sometimes you want to do stupid things, fight yourself and try not to do it. As you know God can make a way where there seems to be no way he works in ways we cannot see. I will follow him ‘till death, cause he is the almighty God.

I suggest you pray before sleeping, talk to God let him know what you think, ‘cause he’s your best friend you ever have. And he will bless you all the time.

For you my friend, think about that brothers…

THE ROAD TO JACMEL

2010-08-01T08:15:00.014+10:00

As the car laboured up the steep slope all you could see was where the track seamlessly joined the sky, you knew there had to be more track at the top but it still came as a surprise when we reached the apex and there it was stretching out before us. Like a monsoon rain burst on a scorching Haitian afternoon it was a relief – we were on flat track, and we could see the track ahead - it appeared to stay flat for a while before the hairpin bend to the right and more flat and straight before it dropped off at an alarming gradient.

We motored along on the flat and straight, watching the scenery go by for as far as the eye could see, the hairpin bend arrived and the front of the car seemed to disappear over the edge before you were suddenly whipped around to the right and stabilized for a few seconds before plunging down the next valley. Mad Mouse had done its thing again. Kids screamed as the cars flew around the track and as they were flung first left and then right, for a momentary illegal touch (and shy knowing smile) against the girl they liked but couldn’t say. For the 60 or so seconds the ride at the Melbourne Show took it was at once exhilarating and down-right scary. But when it was all over the destination was wonderful – you had conquered the ride.

Yesterday, I took Haiti’s answer to Mad Mouse from Port-au-Prince to Jacmel, a place famous for Pirates (I reckon saw a painting of Captain Jack Sparrow on the dock) and now almost 600 Salvation Army (SAWSO) Temporary Shelters.

We came over some beautiful green covered mountain scenery that dropped away to the beautiful azure coloured ocean on both sides. We hung on with white knuckles as we were thrown from one side of the car to the other. As we swung wildly from side to side - dodging tap taps, motorbikes, people, potholes, and disappearing roads created by the earthquake - we were assured that our driver was very good.

I watched fascinated though, (trying to think of something else other than the 2,000’ drop) as four beautiful large hawks slowly rose on invisible mountain thermals alongside the road, they seemed to keep pace with us without moving a muscle, their wings locked in and their heads pointed towards the ocean. As they rose and fell with apparent ease alongside us I was reminded that I can be like the thermals, I can be part of that which lifts people up, which sets them above their circumstances. I have an amazing privilege.

JUST WHERE HE (GOD) NEEDS ME

2010-07-31T21:35:00.007+10:00

24 years ago I stood before my session at The Salvation Army's Officer Training College in Melbourne and sang "Just where he needs me, My Lord has placed me, Just where he needs me there will I be..."

I'm not sure that I really understood what I was saying! Nor did I ever imagine that my promise would take me to the places and require me to make the choices I have. You see I believe passionately and completely that God has - through my life experiences, through the models of my parents, through the studies that I have completed and through confirmation of my wife and daughter - asked me to be available; to go and to leave!

Let me be honest: I love travelling, I love flying, I love immersing myself in other cultures, I love being able to help others, I love being part of a life-transforming experience in a persons life. But I really don't like being away from Sandy and Alexis as long as I am at times.

But you know what: I will continue to make the decision to go as long as I can and when/if I am asked because WE believe that this is exactly where and what God made US to do. It is not a choice we make because we're trying to get away from one each other, or trying to frustrate our leaders, it is a choice we make because we know (through accident of birth and no merit of our own) that we are so privileged and have so much.

Emergency Services work is, for me, simultaneously the most amazing privilege and the most painful decision. God, just where you need me, there will I be.

FRUSTRATIONS

2010-07-30T07:55:00.007+10:00

So this week again our Camp Manager and her team were reminded that the heroes can quickly become the enemy. It's a natural part of the cycle of disaster recovery and one that is not limited by culture, language or cause of emergency.

In Sri Lanka following the Tsunami (2004) we saw this reversal of fortunes after about 4 weeks. In Whittlesea (Australia) after the Black Saturday bushfires (2009) we saw it begin a little earlier, after about 2 weeks. Here, in Place de la Paix, Haiti (the IDP camp comprising about 20,000 people that The Salvation Army manages) the tide of emotions manifest through blame and anger, celebration and joy has ebbed and flowed over the life of the camp. But this week it got nasty again and took a few by surprise.

It often starts because survivors know, or believe, that there are resources available, but they remain hungry, cold, wet or sick. They hear that the material they need is on the dock, but isn't being released. They see reports claiming that the government has the promise of millions of dollars (and euros etc) but it isn't coming. And the only people that they can see, the only people that they can get to are the rescuers - the only people that continue to be present with them are the relief agents - they have been there from the beginning. So who else can a survivor vent their frustrations on, who else will listen - the people that make the big decisions aren't around, and seem to be deaf and blind to the reality.

So when the frustrations, anger and yelling comes, and it will, remember that's what you signed up for (that's why you get the emblazoned vest with all the pockets). It's hard not to take it personally, but you know what: it's not about you. You have to cop it, you have to manage it, but remember why you're here and like someone else said "do it for the least, the hungry, the tired, the cold, the naked, and after they've yelled, do it again" (my paraphrase) and by these acts they will know who represent.

LET THEM EAT SOUP

2010-07-28T05:45:00.006+10:00

On January 1, 1804, Haiti (Haitian Creole: Ajiti, land of high mountains) proclaimed its independence and became the second independent state in the Western Hemisphere and the first free black republic in the world. This unprecedented victory over a colonial power symbolised the aspirations of enslaved and exploited peoples around the world.

Today (206 years after independence) outside the now destroyed Presidential Palace in Port-au-Prince you will see (an unscathed by earthquake) statue that symbolizes this struggle for freedom. Called “Neg Maron” (Brown Man) it depicts a slave blowing a conch shell while holding a machete in his other hand with a broken chain and handcuff. The conch shell was used to call escaped slaves to gather; the machete was used to cut sugar cane and to fight off the French; and the broken chain symbolises slaves breaking from bondage and reclaiming their freedom.

[By the way: When the French ruled, they established a law stipulating that only they, the ruling class, the rich and free, could eat soup. Their New Year's Day tradition was to eat soup. But when Haiti proclaimed its independence, all Haitians - slaves and generals, land owners and cane cutters – all ate soup. It was their way of demonstrating that everyone was equal and the tradition has been adopted – now Haitians eat soup on Independence Day!]

Neg Maron has become one of the ubiquitous symbols of Haiti. At just about any, and every, souvenir stall in the city you’ll find wooden, stone; large and small representations of Neg Maron.

I wonder if anyone has contemplated the paradox of symbolism that exists today. Looming huge in the background the now imploded and inevitably demolished (White House) Presidential Palace. One of the country’s most powerful symbols of authority, its sterile whiteness and imagined luxury protected from the commoners by fences and guns. The seat of power and some would say the blockade of progress. In the foreground, casting a shadow on the manicured lawns of the broken Palace, Neg Maron, historical symbol of freedom, equality and enterprise; image of celebration and new opportunity stands unprotected and disaffected by the forces of nature. I wonder if you can imagine the disdain with which he faces another attack, and stands! Which symbol will dominate, or perhaps inform Haiti’s future?

WHERE AM I?

2010-07-26T01:19:00.010+10:00

Have you ever asked that question?

I remember as a little boy, (for those rude enough to think it, yes even shorter than I am now) our family went camping. My brother and I went exploring alone, and we got lost. I remember being frightened and I remember my big brother yelling out for Mum and Dad, only to discover that we were actually only about 50 meteres away, we just couldn't see them!

Anyway, wouldn't it have been great if we had GPS technology back then? Well we do now, so if you have Google Earth you can check out where I live, where I work, and some of the places I visit. (Just be careful when you plug in the coordinates if you're in Australia, it is quite a dizzying ride from Australia around the globe to Haiti.

Home/Office: 18°35'22.95"N / 72°14'23.00"W
DHQ (New Site due to earthquake damage of old buildings): 18°33'26.69"N / 72°19'37.93"W
Place de la Paix (Salvo run IDP Camp): 18°33'25.04"N / 72°20'15.20"W
Children's Home: 18°33'24.13"N / 72°20'12.58"W
School: 18°33'21.69"N / 72°20'11.94"W
(Old) DHQ (Back) & Clinic Front: 18°33'23.93"N / 72°20'9.84"W
Port-au-Prince Corps: 18°33'23.18"N / 72°20'11.08"W

Just note that the images (I get) are dated 25 January 2010, (13 days after the quake) so it looks like the IDP camp is half full, let me assure you that it is now completely full and overflowing. (In the 'Fly to' box type in coordinates in the following format: 18.332318, -72.201108, you should be near Port-au-Prince, if not navigate using the coordinates that appear at the bottom of the screen.)

JAN 12TH EARTHQUAKE KEY FACTS AND FIGURES

2010-07-25T08:51:00.004+10:00

Almost 3.5 million people experienced strong-to-extreme shaking in the January 12 earthquake, including the entire population of Port-au-Prince (2.8 million, equivalent to the City of Chicago, or Madrid (2.8) or Taipei (2.6)). Source: Office of the Special Envoy

The Haitian Government estimates that 222,570 people have died and 300,572 have been injured, but the true death toll will never be known. Source: DPC, referenced in OCHA Situation Report #25, March 2010; Haitian Government referenced in the Flash Appeal

1.5 million children and young people under 18 were directly or indirectly affected by the quake – approximately 720,000 are aged between 6 and 12. Source: Education Cluster referenced in the CAP

Displacement

At the peak of displacement, around 2.3 million people left their homes including 302,000 children. Source: Department Protection Civile referenced in the CAP; Education Cluster referenced in the CAP

1.5 million people are living in spontaneous settlements across the affected area including an estimated 309,000 children. Source: IOM; Education Cluster in the CAP

At their peak, over 1300 spontaneous settlements were identified by the Camp Coordination and Camp Management cluster. Source: DTM May 2010

After the earthquake, 604,215 people left Port-au-Prince and the West Department. An estimated 160,000 persons moved from Port-au-Prince to the border area with the Dominican Republic. Source: OCHA Situation report #25, March 2010

Destruction

188,383 houses collapsed or were badly damaged and 105,000 were completely destroyed. Key buildings destroyed including the Presidential Palace, the Parliament, the Cathedral and the majority of government buildings – in total 60 percent of government, administrative and economic infrastructure was destroyed. Source: PDNA and the Government of Haiti

4,992 schools were affected by the earthquake – 23% of all schools in Haiti. Of these, 3,978 were either damaged or destroyed – 80% of the affected schools. These schools closed after the quake. Source: Ministry of Education assessment referenced in the CAP

80 percent of schools in Port-au-Prince and 60 percent of the schools in the South and West departments have been destroyed or damaged. Source: UNICEF

Eight hospitals were totally destroyed and 22 seriously damaged, more than half of the 49 hospitals in the three regions affected by the earthquake. The Health cluster recommends that all 30 be rebuilt. Source: Health Cluster referenced in the CAP

The total value of damage and losses caused by the January 12 earthquake is estimated at US$7.8 billion (US$4.3 billion represents physical damage and US$3.5 billion are economic losses). The damage and losses are equivalent of about more than 120 percent of the 2009 gross domestic product (GDP). This represents the highest economic impact of a disaster compared to national income in 35 years. Source: PDNA

750,000 women and girls of childbearing age were affected by the earthquake. Of these, approximately 63,000 are pregnant, and approximately 7,000 babies have been delivered every month since earthquake. Source: UNFPA

The earthquake reduced Haiti’s gross domestic product by 70 percent. Source: Office of the Special Envoy

HAITI BEFORE JAN 12TH

2010-07-24T06:45:00.011+10:00

Many Haitians, when they speak of the earthquake, refer only to “before” – before, in 35 seconds, they lost so much: friends, family, homes, schools, churches – and their visions of the future.

What happened here on January 12th was a disaster of a magnitude that would have set any country reeling. Over 222,570 people have died, 300,572 injured and a staggering 2.3 million – nearly one quarter of the population – displaced. Despite these very difficult and painful circumstances, the humanitarian response was one of the largest of its kind ever mounted and continues every day to help survivors of this tragedy. It is the largest urban natural catastrophe in recorded history, and it devastated a country already deep in humanitarian crisis.

In 2009:

58 percent of children were under-nourished.
58 percent of the population lacked access to clean water.
55 percent of Haitians lived on less than $1.25 per day.
Per capita annual income was $660.00
Earthquake followed devastating hurricanes in 2008, which affected 800,000 people.
Deforestation had left the nation with less than two percent forest cover.

Source: Office of the Special envoy

On UNDP’s Human Development Index 2009, Haiti came 149 out of 182 countries, the lowest in the whole of the Americas
Probability of not living to 40 was 18.5% - higher than Eritrea
Life expectancy 61 years – worse than in Myanmar
Source: UNDP HDR 2009

40% of households did not have reliable access to adequate food
More than half a million children between the ages of 6 and 12 did not attend school
38% of the population over 15 was completely illiterate
In 2001, 56% of Haitians were living below the $1-a-day line. Source: PDNA March 2010
Unemployment in Haiti was up to 80%. Source: Protection Cluster referenced in the CAP

Children

Up to 173,000 children regularly exploited as domestic workers
50,000 children separated from their families in institutions
At least 2,000 trafficked annually through and to the Dominican Republic
Source: Child Protection Cluster referenced in the CAP

50-55% of children were not enrolled in school
Source: Education Cluster referenced in the CAP

Infrastructure

Only 3,400 kilometres of road, of which only 800 km was paved
Only 12.5% of the population had access to electricity

Agriculture

60% of the active working population lives in rural areas and depends on agriculture.
Source: PDNA
Haiti was still recovering from the hurricanes of 2008 which devastated 70% of the agricultural sector. Source: CAP

Health and Nutrition

44% of seriously ill or wounded people were unable to access health services prior to the earthquake due to lack of money for fees. Source: CAP
Acute malnutrition was 4.5% in 2008-9 – including 15,967 children and 1,549 babies under six months
Up to 60% of children and 46% of women suffered some kind of anemia
Source: Health and Nutrition Clusters, CAP

SOME GOOD NEWS?

2010-07-23T07:02:00.003+10:00

The Haitian Government, and hopefully the people of Haiti, have recieved some good news, even if it is beyond the horizon of caring for the majority who are living under canvas or tin in crowded IDP camps.

On a day when the Transport Union called for a day of stop-work and protest against what it labels "a corrupt government", the International Monetary Fund (IMF) member countries voted to cancel the $268 million debt owed to the IMF and approved a new loan worth $60 million to boost the international reserves. This new three-year loan carries a zero interest rate until the end of 2011 and then, they say, the rate will remain 'low'.

The protests can turn violent and in fact did back in May when students were tear gassed by UN troops to return order. Many residents of Port-au-Prince stocked up on fuel and food in case the worst happened.

I'm glad to say that we have been holed up in our new compound and we have heard and seen no problems and in fact have been told that "nothing happened". The team has spent the day re-organising our world and getting down to some of the administration side of emergency response. After all we need to know what money we have, or don't have, and where it is going.

TEAM HOUSE

2010-07-22T08:58:00.005+10:00

Today was "D" Day for IES Haiti. The old has gone, the new has come!

After much energy expended by previous team members we moved our accomodations from the Coconut Villa Hotel and our office from DHQ today and we are now located at #9 Rue Laraunt, Santos 23, Port au Prince. It's a bit of a drive into town, (about 40 minutes - give or take) but this is 'ours' for now!

It is a 'never been lived in' two storey house, actually two identical flats. The bottom floor will be the office and will also have two guest rooms, the top floor is our living quartes; three bedrooms, two bathrooms, kitchen and a lounge. Thanks to Vicki Poff we even have beds and some other 'luxuries'. The mains electricity is on its way, so at the moment we operate on generators and inverters, the internet too is on the way, so at the moment, thanks to Bob Poff, we are on borrowed internet time.

Tonight, I am sitting on the verandah, looking out over a ten foot high concrete wall topped with razor wire, but beyond that, and beyond the row of half built houses, I see a wall of green trees that attempt to hide the cloud covered mountain range in the distance. The rain is pouring down, a slight breeze is moving through the house and, if it wasn't for the generator, it would be nice and quiet.

ONE OF THOSE DAYS

2010-07-21T07:13:00.008+10:00

Believe it or not! Not every day on deployment with International Emergency Services is a good one! It's been a day of mental gymnastics in the stadium of disaster and the gymnasium of politics.

Yesterday I spent the morning doing, I think, what most people think of when they imagine emergency services. For me it was distributing food, but it could be building temporary shelters, or providing medical care, or cleaning wells - anything that involves the messy, frustrating, unpredictable, chaotic but amazing adrenalin rush that goes with meeting the needs of a person that has, through no fault of their own, been left in need.

Today was not a poster day for emergency services for me. I spent the day on administration and management, analysing and evaluating the way ahead for the team. The part that makes it all the more difficult is that it will result in me having to terminate the employment of a number of people who have worked with The Salvation Army teams since just after the earthquake.

All of these people have stories, some have been impacted by the quake and all of them have become friends and valued team members during what has been an emotional roller coaster ride for Haiti and the team. They have befriended the imported 'experts' and said 'welcome home'. And in the western hemisphere's poorest country, with over 60% unemployment, they could all do with an ongoing income.

So, to put it bluntly, today sucks. (But that's why I get the T-Shirt!)

DISTRIBUTING BABY FOOD

2010-07-20T11:15:00.008+10:00

I could see the delicate aroma that rose in gentle waves from the piles of rotting garbage that lined the thick brown molasses like substance that crept down the canal. 1,400 patient (at this stage) people were already lined up down the bottom end of the canal waiting for the two organisations to deliver on their promises. Brazilian (UN) Soldiers in full gear, an assotrment of armaments and light blue helmets, were already closing down the roads and keeping the people in check.

At 8:30am when our team and two trucks arrived it was already 30 degrees, and 89% humidity. The roads were in grid-lock thanks to our trucks and the huge white UN VW truck; someone had forgotten their job to clear the rubbish from the road so that the trucks could get off the main road and access the distibution point.

We waited while men shoveled garbage and then watched as trucks got bogged in it, spinning wheels creating a beautiful brown sludge waterfall effect with mulched warm garbage. Eventually, trucks, people and material in place we began to fill the bright red Red Shield bags with two slabs of mushed sweet peas or smashed fruit. Sweat poured and muscles ached as slabs of baby food flew from truck to bag - but laughter and smiles (together with litres of drinking water) drove the energy levels and people were served.

The Salvo team worked hard today, and enjoyed their work. You would have been proud to watch them work: to see them not just hand out food, but stop to offer a smile and a word of encouragement, to help an old lady carry her load, to kneel down to look into the eyes of a child - to offer people that had lost much if not all a moment of dignity and respect.

MRE

2010-07-19T06:24:00.003+10:00

I have now been introduced to the MRE!

Meals are (very) expensive at the Coconut Villa Hotel (our team accomodations in Port au Prince) so, thanks to the US Military, the team has been eating MRE packs on the weekend. Thanks to those that have gone before me we have a box full of the reject bits and a few complete packs left.

These Meals-Ready-to-Eat (MRE) packs are always like a lucky dip. But yesterday I won the jackpot! I chose a Vegetarian pack which came complete with a pack of M&Ms and a Chocloate (flavoured) energy bar. And then today I 'enjoyed' two crackers sandwiched together with jalapino flavoured cheese spread.

There's always a new experience to be enjoyed on deployments with The Salvos!

PARADOXE DU HAITI

2010-07-18T05:26:00.010+10:00

In a place like Haiti and a time like this you see sights that have the ability to move you to tears, sights that make you laugh and others that leave you nonplussed. Today has been a day that has travelled the spectrum.

The day began with a tour of Place de la Paix IDP camp. (This is the IDP camp that The Salvation Army is managing that provides shelter and security for approximately 20,000 people in Port au Prince.) It takes about half an hour to walk the circumference of the camp (if you don't get stopped too often) and on the way you might see:

An amazingly well stocked tarpaulin and tin shop that sells all kinds of things: medical pills of all colours and sizes; tins of Jack Mackerel and condensed milk, televisions, pregnancy pottery, rice, salt, grains, beans, fried dried fish and so much more
Two UNICEF child safe tents, one with rows of little smiling children copying the words of a teacher who is instructing by use of a mega phone, the second tent with teenagers dancing to Celine Dion and Amazing Grace
Children playing in the dirty, smelly water - the older one pushing a small suitcase on wheels with a younger brother sitting in the half unzipped case
Women sitting on the ground with large metal basins full of soapy water washing clothes until they are spotless
Young girls doing each others hair
Food cooking on small charcoal fires: deep fried fish and other unidentifiable delicacies
Little children chasing us, holding our hands and feeling your arm to see if the white comes off, and what all the hair is doing on your arms. Then trying to lift up your pants legs to see if you are the same colour down there (only to find socks that hide the skin)
Children racing to see us and shouting the ubiquitous greeting: "Hey you!"
Older people greeting you and saying: "Welcome Home"

All of this within the context of about 3,500 shelters of varying construction: plastic sheeting, tin, wood, cardboard; on an area the size of a soccer field (which it was: the goal posts have become the stabilisers for a lucky few). A wide, mostly stagnant, canal runs parallel and carries away some of the sewerage.

And in amongst all of this, even as your mind is trying to make sense of the myriad informants - the smells, the sights, the sounds - and convinces itself that in any normal world this whole experience is offensive, a young man walks confidently into the frame, obviously dolled up with hair slick, clothes smart, small bag hanging off one arm and a beautiful, brightly coloured, sweetly smelling bouquet of flowers carefully protected in the other. What could his story be: is he courting one of the young girls up the next corridor getting her hair done, or is he visiting a relative who has lost family?

Even now, just over six months after the earthquake, an average of 12 bodies are recovered each day. As I drove past a wall in town this morning, I saw some amazingly beautiful graffiti on a broken wall. It was a relief map of Haiti; but look closely and buried in the colours that form a mountain range are two eyes from which two tears are falling. Alongside the map, the words: "We Still Need YOUR Help".

SHELTERS IN HAITI

2010-07-17T00:52:00.002+10:00

If you laid all tarpaulins that have been distributed by Shelter Cluster agencies end on end, they'd reach from Sydney to Perth, London to Baghdad, Lisbon to Moscow or New Delhi to Beijing.

The earthquake created approximately 20 million cubic meters (26 million cubic yards) of debris that have to be removed. To put this into perspective: after the Pakistan earthquake in 2005, that number was 2.3 million cubic meters (3 million cubic yards).

If you put all the debris in shipping containers and put them end on end, they would reach from London to Jerusalem, Melbourne to Perth or New York to Las Vegas. The majority of Haitians are removing debris from their plots by hand.

Over 18 months, Shelter Cluster agencies are planning to build approximately 125,000 transitional shelters. These will provide safe places to live for approximately 625,000 people. This is slightly more than the number of people living in the cities of Las Vegas, Gold Coast or Glasgow.

Shelter Cluster agencies are planning to build enough transitional shelters for 55,000 people per month. This equals the population of Hereford, UK; Wagga Wagga, NSW, Australia; Limerick, Ireland; or Cheyenne, WY, USA.

Welcome Home

2010-07-16T12:10:00.002+10:00

In my experiences of emergency and disaster relief I believe I have proved that it is people that have suffered most that are often the most gracious.

One of the men (JR) that works with the Salvo Team here in Port au Prince has suffered terribly, (and is indicative of so many). His wife was killed in the earthquake, leaving him with three young children. He volunteered to help in any way he could in the early response and has stayed on with us, and eventually was offered a role. Whilst working for us JR visited a remote area, and the truck he was travelling in rolled over the side of the road: stunned and bruised he crawled out of the wreck, picked up his cell phone and dialed his wife, only to get a message saying the service to that number had been cut – and remembered that his wife was dead.

JR is one of the most gracious and grateful people I have met so far. He works hard and refuses to accept a wage, instead asking that his wage be placed in trust for his children’s education.

When I am introduced to a Haitian person they always greet me with a huge smile and the phrase: “Welcome Home”. I love that. For me it immediately puts you off guard and makes you feel that you belong. JR’s story, of course is not unique, but despite the destruction and the human tragedy the Haitian people are gracious and welcoming.

First (Day) Impressions

2010-07-15T10:36:00.003+10:00

It was in Sri Lanka as a young boy when I first heard the harsh scratching of a straw broom on hardened ground in the early and cool hours of the day. So when I was wakened, on this, my first full day in Port au Prince by the warm breeze and that familiar sound, I was a little disorientated. “Where was I?” It took a moment, but then I remembered, and the next question was; “Why?”

I was soon on the already (at 7:30am) congested road to the office: a road pockmarked by potholes and bounded by remarkably neat piles of rubble scraped from the road to the curb. Street stalls selling everything from pungent deep fried fish, bags of water, and FEMA (camp) cots to medicines of all shapes and colours were already doing business in front of mounds of torn concrete and bent steel, the remains of houses and shops.

Erroneously I had assumed that when an earthquake struck, along a defined fault line, that the destruction would be more ‘ordered’, that there would be some sort of pattern to the demolition, but this is not so. The destroyed buildings reveal only how indiscriminate, and unpredictable the destruction is. Alongside a mound of torn and broken concrete there is a building that looks like it was the same, little affected. Buildings that may not have been up to any code, remain intact whilst buildings, like the Presidential Palace, (which you would assume were well built) had imploded and looked like a Lego house after a tantrum.

New communities of tents and shelters of all shapes, colours and sponsors have appeared around the city. One of these is the Place de la Paix, (in Delmas 2, Port au Prince) an IDP (Internally Displaced Peoples) camp which is managed by The Salvation Army with the help of some other NGO partners. About 20,000 people live in this camp, on a soccer field, next to the Salvation Army Haiti Headquarters. These shelters, which range from sticks held together by tarpaulins through to wood frames and corrugated iron roofs are crowded together and offer little to no privacy, but this is one of the good camps. Some enterprising people have converted their shelters into variously stocked shops which offer the necessities of life – and, amidst this colourful and aroma filled canvas life goes on.

On the Way

2010-07-13T21:54:00.003+10:00

I am sitting in Miami International Airport watching CNN tell me that the world is failing Haiti - that despite the huge outpouring of sympathy and money people are dying as the money fails to arrive at the places where it matters.

It is easy to fly expert commentators in and say nothing is happening; to show images of dying children and debris strewn streets and to make bold statements that suggest that Aid/NGO Agencies are failing to make any difference. I think we may need to stop and define what 'success and progress' looks like.

To import key activities and outcomes without contextualising them is a mistake too often made. And from a person that has still not arrived in Haiti that sounds like it may be the case in Haiti. So in about 4 hours I will land in Port au Prince, and God helping me I will make a difference.

Haiti Disaster Recovery

2010-07-05T15:50:00.002+10:00

I'm off to Haiti for eight weeks where I will be joining the International Emergency Services team in Port-au-Prince.

Just in case you forgot: the earthquake hit in January 2010 and The Army has been invloved in recovery programs from the first day. At the moment we are running an Internally Displaced Peoples (IDP) camp for about 20,000 people and running a number of other programs throughout the country.

I'll tell you more in a while.

When people's sense of injustice is engaged, mountains can be moved.

2010-06-08T14:15:00.002+10:00

I'm not an environmental scientist. I don't pretend to understand all the intricacies of climate change but I'm not blind either, and like you I have noticed that there appears to be a number of 'extreme weather' events that could be a result of changing weather patterns; which could be a result of a 'rich humanity's' exploitation of the environment; and which seem to impact most, the poorest and most vulnerable.

Climate change and its impact on the world is not just a scientific debate, it’s primarily a social justice issue. But until now all the rhetoric and argument has been presented as a problem of collective guilt. ‘We’ must repent and mend our ways.

This assigns blame in a way that mocks democracy and pretends that the poor and the rich are somehow equally responsible for the political gamesmanship that drives the agenda of governments and multinationals. Meanwhile the real crime – the very existence of rich and poor – continues to create havoc.

There are rich and powerful interests who will be quite content if social justice stays out of the climate change debate and no doubt will fight (as Copenhagen suggested) to keep it off the agenda. There are also climate change activists who seem to care little about the rights of their fellow humans, let alone their happiness.

But we had better start taking an interest because until the grievous infringements of dignity that most of humanity endure are addressed there will be no answers to climate change and its increasing influence on our world.

I am a Human Being

2010-05-11T07:46:00.004+10:00

It was 'revealed' this morning that a number of Asylum seeker families have been 'detained' under security in a suburban Motel in Queensland - without the knowledge of the locals. But now that it has been revealed that their neighbours are asylum seekers they are not happy.

One of the residents interviewed suggested it was 'not right, who knows what is in that hotel'!

It reminded me of the hysteria whipped up in the wake of the Tampa incident when Australians objectified the situation. With our capacity to blur out the individual faces and ignore our shared humanity we are able to depersonalise the story and claim that we are only protecting our own.

The human tendency to prejudice and xenophobia is born and grows in a climate of ignorance, selfishness and unwillingness to learn.

The unfounded and irresponsible reporting of the TV journalist further inflamed the situation when she claimed that the hotel borders on 'a playground, a school and a main road'. What was she suggesting: that the 'asylum seekers' (let's keep them faceless commodities) 'were paedophiles looking for a quick get-away and an opportunity to silently melt into our community'? And what made it worse apparently was that the school is one of the areas most respected.

This kind of irresponsible reporting will result in tragedy. I hope I am wrong, but I bet this is not the last we will hear of the small motel in the suburbs and the frightened parents that have sacrificed a huge amount in an attempt to provide their kids with a new, safe and hope-filled life.

Be A Lifesaver

2010-05-06T18:02:00.005+10:00

Australia has a proud history of helping refugees fleeing war and persecution. But in 2010, in the lead up to a Federal election, our politicians are trampling on this record and punishing these most desperate of people to score political points.

On Saturday 8 May, people around Australia are gathering to form human life rings, and show our politicians on all sides that they've got it wrong - Australians do care about saving lives and we won't accept punishment of people to win votes.

JOIN US on SATURDAY 8 MAY to create a human life ring, wearing your brightest red and yellow clothing.

SYDNEY - Bondi Beach11am - 1pm
For more details - http://www.amnesty.org.au/nsw/event/22927/

MELBOURNE - St Kilda Beach- front of surf lifesaving club11am - 1pm
For more details - http://www.amnesty.org.au/vic/event/22926/

BRISBANE - King George Square1pm - 3pm
For more details - http://www.amnesty.org.au/qld/event/22928/

ADELAIDE - The Human Rights Wall, Barker Gardens, Corner of Prospect and Alpha Roads,1pm - 3pm
For more details - http://www.amnesty.org.au/sa/event/22925/

Australia is a lucky country - most of us don't have to worry about persecution or the horrors of war. But do we care about people who do?

This event is supported by:
Actionaid - http://www.actionaid.org.au/
Amnesty International Australia - http://www.amnesty.org.au/
Asylum Seeker Centre - http://www.asylumseekerscentre.org.au/
Asylum Seeker Resource Centre - http://www.asrc.org.au/
Australian Council for Tamil Refugees GetUp - http://www.getup.org.au/
Hotham Mission - http://asp.hothammission.org.au/
Human Rights Law Resource Centre - http://www.hrlrc.org.au/
Jesuit Refugee Service - http://www.jrs.org.au/
National Council of Churches - http://www.ncca.org.au/
Refugee Council of Australia - http://www.refugeecouncil.org.au/
Uniting Justice Australia - http://www.unitingjustice.org.au/
Rise (Refugee Survivors and Ex-detainees) - http://riserefugee.org/home-page
Union Aid Abroad (Apheda) - http://www.apheda.org.au/
Liberty Victoria - http://www.libertyvictoria.org/

Crystal's Story

2010-04-19T13:46:00.004+10:00

A few weeks ago a young woman walked into our building. A friend had given her a Bible, and she was trying to read it but wanted to know more about God and faith - that was the beginning of Crystal's journey with us here at Preston Salvos.

Crystal's story could be a movie script. Fighting addictions and 'demons' from her past she is a survivor and through her regular involvement with The Salvos and the mentoring of local leaders she has become a vibrant part of our family.

Crystal listened to the stories of need in countries far away during our recent 6 week Self Denial Appeal and at the invitation to bring a sacrificial gift of money she was the first one to walk down the aisle and place her envelope on the altar. This was new to her, she said, never before had she thought about the poverty and the need in her world.

Three days later Crystal was at church again, talking with a mentor; she looked pale and drawn; just a little melancholy, not the usual bubbly, excited person we have come to know. On questioning (and insisting) Crystal explained that she had not eaten for three days because she had put all of her money in the self-denial envelope. She explained: "I listened to the stories and saw the need; and after all, I was asked to deny myself, I was asked if I would give a gift that was self-sacrificing!"