Friday night with Stan Getz-Joao Gilberto

Once friday nights were the most fascinating nights of the week. What you did on that night revealed a lot about who you are. As a student, everyone’s insecurity was to be caught out on a Friday night doing absolutely nothing. You want to be somewhere, doing something that others would nod in approval and preferably, be seen with the right person.

Years later, (the author does not have a good sense of time), I sit at home on Friday night with Stan Getz-Jao Gilberto, soaking in the magic of bossa nova with a cup of white tea. One beautiful thing about summer in Western Europe (even though the sun still refuses to show its face on a predictable basis) is that you can still see shades of blue in the sky even at near midnight hours.

As I was about to begin replying to emails and doing seemingly productive things, I stop, I stare at the screen and wonder what on earth am I doing. Can’t I just sit back and enjoy the music? What is so urgent that the first thing I do when I get home is open the mail box with traces of disappoints if the inbox alert does not show new mails, relevant or totally irrelevant ones?

It’s at times like this that I am suddenly at loss. What do I do now when I don’t particular feel like replying to emails nor eager to get into Utrecht “down town” (loved the way my housemate termed the historic center of this beautiful city)? What if I don’t feel particularly eager to update myself on the latest current events nor sensing eagerness of listening to a moving sermon or open a book? Right now, there’s nothing more attractive than just listening to Stan Gertz-Jao Gilberto who obviously know how to just enjoy the moment. The oddness of that feeling makes me question my everyday mentality. So do I always live to “do” something?

What can happen in times like this? Do I dare venture in and just be?

Living in Bangladesh

Another neglected blog…there goes my chance of ever becoming a writer.  Whether it’s been overwhelmed or pure laziness or lack of reliable technology, I try for the 100th time to keep up with regular documented reflection.

Not wanting to go into too much details about living in the Indian Sub-continent, here are a couple of things that has characterised my experience in Bangladesh:

• lots of uneven roads
• not drinking from the tap
• cars don’t stop for pedestrians but that doesn’t mean that you should be courteous to the traffic either-just go
• floods are regular but life goes on
• old people and kids begging in the street, who’s the real beggar?
• people throw rubbish out of the car window (followed or reinforced by foreigners)
• you don’t wear seat belts
• they drive on the other side of the road
• taxis without meters and drivers never having change
• lots of people who live in one room
• goats, cows and humans live together on the street
• people take time to be with people
• the fruit and vegetables taste better but expect diarrheas in the beginning (worse, food poisoning)
• Most importantly: people are very hospitable even in poverty

This seems to be a good start to resume blogging. Let’s see.

Finally Speechless: am I off to a good beginning?

Folks, I think I’ve finally found my match in the People’s Republic of Bangladesh.

I’ve travelled fearlessly ever since my first trip overseas; riding into the unknown just to discover a non-touristy island in Thailand, endured an 18+ hour bus trip travelling on the edge of a cliff, famous for gang hold-ups with peasants & chickens in Southern China, put up a good fight with fierce, butcher-knife equipped Urumuqi people in Shanghai, cried shamelessly in the center of Istanbul when I discovered I had missed my unethical chatered flight and managed to learn how to survive with a champaign taste on a beer budget.  I thought I was ready to face Bangladesh, with a few hiccups here and there, I would find my way in no time.

Like many things in life, I was dead wrong on this one. Nothing could have ever prepared me for Dhaka, let alone the fact that I didn’t even try to envisage what it would be like until 2 hours before my arrival…that’s when I really picked up the LP guide and frantically started to memorise some key phrases.

So, what was so shocking you may ask. After all, we’ve all familiar with the images of extreme poverty, begging children, pollution and environmental degradation and shocking infrastructure in the media. True, but I think there are things unique to Bangladesh and its people that breaks your heart and challenges all your faith in wanting to devote your life to poverty allevaition, human rights and sustainable development.

The good news is that Bangladesh did not not suffer from a “resource curse” like many African countries, people are nationalistic with strong family values and the country has a strong competitive advantage in the textile industry as evidenced by its export numbers and the increasing number of foreign investors and partners (especially from China). There is a vast array of NGOs, missionaries and many other humanitarian and aid organisations in Bangladesh to reverse the damage done by colonialism, new diplomatic aid agreements are created almost everyday and the media is relatively independent with an keen eye to monitor the politicans.

However, given the pride that Bangladeshis take in the country, I find it suprising to read that Bangladesh ranks as one of the most corrupt countries in the world. How can you love your country when you misappropraite aid/tax papers money and/or try your best to leave the country? A local professor at the SouthEast University told me that although the country is poor, “people here are very happy” because they have strong family values (in comparison to Europe where people “are not happy” due to lack of family bondage). I could only look at him and say “I’m not sure”. Given the state of extreme poverty that I witness at the very first moment I step foot into the country, the crippling infrasturcture, the lack of women on the streets, the sheer number of unemployed men who spend their time sitting around sipping chai, I really need strong compelling evidence to be convinced of that happiness statement.

I think you’d be hard fetched to find any visitors who falls in love with Dhaka from first sight. But I will learn to savour the words of a doctor that I met today:

‘Expatriates in Bangladesh cry twice. First after arriving and watching the shamble conditions. Later, after staying here for a while then cry before leaving this country thinking about the hospitality they had received from the people’

It’s true. After a mere two days, I’ve received invitations from every single person that I have met (and been able to communicate) for meals and outings…genuine ones too.  I have not received this kind of hospitality from any other countryMore interestingly, after trying to gather the courage to leave my hotel room and step into the “action”, I have discovered that this is the only way to overcome my initial fears & sense of vulnerability. Nothing has changed on the facts, only my perception has. So, after inviting myself to the Fifth Founding Anniversary of SouthEast University and feasting with the university officials, I found myself drinking Borhani (sour yoghurt drink) to Bangla folk music, been invited to many more homes and even to speak at a seminar about Peace & Justice in Islam (I know not what to say….) and collected more business cards in two days than I had managed to do in my entire life.

What an exciting country!? Every corner, you could step right into someone else’s life and be invited to take part in it. Only, now I have to research more about Islam, fend off, sleazy Bangladeshi men who seem to have no regard to the fact that they are married and learn some Bangla so I can understand what people are saying about me.

This may not be so bad after all…after I get rid of that headache.

Why Torch?

So, both my LP guide and the nice lady from Grameen advises me to bring a torch. I haven’t thought twice about this until now. What could this mean? Does it mean that my fear is finally confirmed: there’s no electricity after 5pm? Does it mean that there are no lights in the toilet and I will have to feel my way to the loo and hope for the best? Does it mean that every time I go to sleep I must check under my covers for cockroaches? Does everyone go out at night with a torch?

Making a list of “must buys” and accumulating those goods is all well and good but when I think about the implications of my purchases, I realise the implications of my next destination:

1)      5 bottles of anti-malarial antibiotics: I’ve never been to a country where I’m remotely threatened malaria.  The closest I’ve been to is Thailand and even then, the sheer number of tourists overtook the natural habitats of the parasites.

2)      1 pack of tablets for extreme diarrhea and 1 pack for “normal” diarrhea: Okay, can I avoid all this by only eating 2 min noodles and boiling, filtering and re-boiling even the bottled waters?

3)      Super UV protection sunscreen + raincoat & rain boots: so I’m gonna have to burn in the pouring rain?

4)      Loose and conservative clothing: I’m not going to be able to feel the joy of summer for a while (seeing that I missed two years worth of summer already) + more suffering in the heat

5)      A list of emergency numbers: I will have to memorise some

Having come this far, I don’t think I’ve ever been to a “developing country” like Bangladesh before.  Shanghai doesn’t count and other parts of China & South Eastern countries were only for transient travel purposes only. Do I really know what’s ahead? Am I really prepared to immerse myself into this city and not just hang out in the travelers’ clubs? I don’t really want to be caught dead reading my LP guide there but is there a point to pretend that I’m not a tourist? Have these people ever seen their cousins from Eastern Asia before or should I just join the Pandas from the zoo? 

Still wondering whether I should bring some toilet paper rolls… must research toiletry etiquette…. 

A Healthy Church

Before attending Church in true faith, I was part of a group of self-righteous skeptics who believed that there is very little place in our community for churches. I gladly interpreted the reports on the declining attendances and youth participation across the globe as a sign that the world is finally coming to its senses and the “invisible hand” of Adam Smith is finally getting into gear to better direct limited capital for more efficient uses. The main stream media certainly hasn’t helped in reflecting the true image of the Church with making headlines the rare cases of sexual abuses and corruption by Holy Officials rather than directing the public’s attention to the incredible work that millions of man and woman are doing aross the globe through the body of the Church. Don’t get me wrong, I think that like the UN, the Church is also made up of human beings who are far from perfect. However. as a body with such high esteem, mission and principles, any unscruplus behaviour should be publicly scrutinised and condemned accordingly. It’s just that there is perhaps a tendancy for people to take for granted the good works that many Christian organisations such as The Salvation Army, World Vision and even their local churches are doing. I really had to laugh when my friend told me that when she thinks of a Christian, the first image that conjures up in her mind is an African missionary, with flies and all.

Having the leader of the most powerful nation of the world basing his entire policies on the divine battle between “absolute” good and evil rather than upon facts, logic and reasoning doesn’t exactly help in portraying the truth of Christianity either. History has both relentlessly and tiredlessly shown us what tragic consequence can result when religion partners politics and vice versa. I can’t help but fully endorse Al Gore’s observation on human nature when he wrote “there is good and evil in every person…each of us lives everyday with an internal system of checks and balances and none of us can be relied on to be virtuous if we’re allowed to attain an unhealthy degree of power over our fellow citizens. “(Assault on Reason).  In fact, no successful democracy today can function without this stringent system of checks and balances. Yet, since these preventative rules of government are man-made, they can also be subject to erosion by man’s efforts. I won’t begin another thesis by delving into how this degenerative pattern is spreading across the globe with immigration, security and political processes.

Yes, I have gone off tangent again. What I mean to say is that out of all these bad publicity, there is a growing number of Churches and Church leaders who have refused to retreat into defeat and are unrelentlessly working to stand up for the truth.  The message of these churches is simple: we want to reach out to our community through the love of God.  Taking a look at these churches, you’ll find unity among diversity, both the young and the old groving to the same (often rock) music, families and singles, locals and immigrants, city ppl and farmers, the poor and the rich, the homeless, the broken hearted and the triumphant. These Churches really fight to build the Kingdom of God in this fallen world. They are well versed with PR with good connections to other churches, the government and councils, they reach out to the needy domestically and internationally, encourage the young and comfort the old, make the new immigrants and international students feel welcomed and constantly challenges its constitutents to give a little more, love a little more and get to know Him a little better.

Of course there are challenges too. A friend has gently warned me that a healthy church does not pretend that everyone is happy. The real test is to see whether newcomers are truly welcomed, do people fill the seats in the front or try to hide at the back, how quickly do people leave church services after service close, are those who are volunteering representative of the average churchgoer? Does the Church keep doing doing and doing (Marther-Mary syndrome) without providing time and space for reflection and prayer? A couple of days ago, I was told of a sad story of a man who died of liver problems but the saddest part was the fact that he was plagued with the disease for over 15 years but no one in Church had known about it. What does this say about the Church as a place of healing and a place of acceptance when all else fails?

Like any organised institution, a Church is not immune from changes and challenges. What’s important is not how many flat screen TVs it has in the foyer, how large its constituents or how many missions it has overseas. I’m hopeful though, that by what I’ve seen, the Church will become more and more relevant in people’s lives and in becoming the “nation’s conscience”.

Candles, Cake and Champagne

It may have been easier to write about the result of the recent US-China Economic Strategy Dialogue or reemphasizing the gravity of the Israeli-Palestine conflict and probably more entertaining but I decided to scrap that plan tonight, thinking that the last eve of my 22^nd year warrants some form of self-reflection.

Like most of us, the coming of age of yet another addition to that number which says as much as people like to think it does, invokes a strange feeling. Sentimental at best, alarming at its worst. Somehow, more so than New Year’s Day, our birthdays calls us to revaluate how much we have grown, account for the past and start the guessing-game into the future. For many of us, this day calls for us to take a break, take our eyes off from the road, turn around and assume the role of a critic on the picture that we have already painted.

Unlike the increasingly common/annoying question that we often get asked: “where do you see yourself in the next 5/10/20 years”, I’ve never pondered what I would be like in my early twenties. My imagination had always carried this vision straight into the thirties, middle age, retirement and beyond. Life after university had always seemed distant, something which will unfold smoothly and work itself out. An innocent optimism that looking back now, is a luxury that only few people can afford, rather than the obvious.

For me, it was probably a good idea not to idealise what it is to be an early twenty-something in this day and age for the fear of greater disappointment. I’m still a bad driver and an even more horrendous parker, I still catch myself out on vanity, pride on a daily basis and cannot always distinguish between rightousness and self-rightousness. Some insecurities are still lurking in the subconsciousness with many more weaknesses to strengthen, mistakes to be accounted for and forgiven, anguish to be extinguished and disappointments to be accepted.

Yet, I figured that whatever people may make out of it, Youth itself is a great gift. The feeling of being invincible, believing that we are anointed to something greater than life and that we are called to be an indispensable character playing in this great adventure is all part of the privileges of youth. A gift that I believe should not be deprived from any young person, ever. Youth is also not without its traps. The ancient rebellion that resides in every single human being professes itself in countless camouflages. The battle with social acceptance, emotional promiscuity, constant seeking of approval from those who can never fill that void, the feeling of being misunderstood by our families and the folly belief that we can be our own Gods in more than one ways, has sadly been the experience of growing up for many. I am reminded that many well into their adulthood are still battling with unfinished struggles from their youth when I see men in their thirties still trying to pickup in clubs, woman who just can’t seem to withdraw their dependence from violent partners and those who stubbornly refuses to acknowledge their addictions in order to seek for help.

Before I get ahead of myself (again), undeniably, the 22^nd year of my life has been a blessing in many respects. This is the first year that I had spent more time away from home than at home; the year where the vigorous journey of self-discovery has been pumped with enough biofuel to take an entirely independent course of its own; a year where I had truly experienced what it is to be part of a greater adventure. Moreover, taking another step towards understanding what it means to truly stand in the shoes of another and to judge people not by the external but by the “content of their character” helps me to paint my life with full, rich strokes of colour. However, as any Wall Street analyst will tell you, life is like business cycles, what goes up must come down. The year is marked as significant not only in a positive sense but also by the harsh forces. It is no overstatement to say that I was only able to survive the quicksand pits because of those who have unselfishly poured their love, generosity and wisdom to me. In this particular age, I had understood what it is to be heartbroken, how tormenting a quarter-life crisis can be and what it means to be truly financially insecure. An age marked by new insecurities, higher expectations and competing demands: all calling for a heightened pursuit for faith, hope and peace in order to preserve that integrity, honesty and authenticity that we are all capable of.

 

All in all, progress is on track, the pilot knows where the plane is headed even though the cabin crew may be sidetracked with popping that champagne…

Empathy-lacking Politics

Having come away this weekend with spending sometime with those who are in the political blind-spot of our country, collecting social graces in my neighbourhood, thinking about the Church, the State, the US presidential elections and whether I would vote for Obama over Hillary, the writer in me nudges.

Having a somewhat unfounded curiosity for American politics as if it’s a gigantic social experimentation, I sometimes think that if the whole world lived in one village, it would be the United States of America.

A country which is quick to polarize its domestic and foreign stakeholders, a country that is quick to anger and also quick to love. America captures and warrants our close attention not only because it’s constitution is one of the most impressive and significant turning points of our modern history for it clearly spells outand upholds man’s yearning for freedom, equality, opportunity and the pursuit of happiness but also because many of us see the journey of this country, as a guide, an alarm or a blue-print (depending on your political philosophy) of how the future of mankind in general, will unfold.

As the 2008 presidential election takes off in full flight, with the regional and national debates heating up, the candidates fighting to seal as much corporate sponsorship as they can whilst appealing to as many class, age, background and sex as they can and a shark-like media who can smell a good story at the first hint of scandle, I have a very high expectation for the show that this most expensive ($1 trillion) and technical-savy campaign will cook up (thanks to the gossip-hungry social networking sites such as MySpace and Youtube).

My question is: who can most readily discern and meet the needs of this value-starving nation. Who can bring together the conservatists, the liberals, the hispanics, the african-americans, the asians, the old, the young and the oddballs. Who is able to protude through this unhealthy deadlock between the Republicans and the Democrates and prevent them from tearing the nation apart and actually join hands to reform the desparately crippling health system, the widening disparties between the schools, the worries of the everyday American.

The bottom line: whoever can satisfy corporate big brothers by maintaining their tax incentives whilst convincing the rest of the population that their pensions are in safe hands, whoever can start mending America’s diplomatic relationship with Venezuela, Iran, N.Korea whilst at the same time, justify why American soldiers still need to be in Iraq, someone who can ensure that civil liberties is still kept intact, constitutional values upheld whilst assuring the American society is safe from terrorism, someone who can start pushing Americans to save rather than blaming developing countries for its deep budget deficit, someone who can keep America competitive yet competent to care for those who can’t compete.

Most of all, I think that there is definitely room for empathy in politics these days. I think your average Joe next door; Jane at the bakery or John who works on the other side of the office table, is not stupid and don’t expect politicians to solve all their problems. As Obama illustrates, putting ourselves in the shoes of others offers much more than sympathy and charity.

“We are all shaken out of our complacency. We are all forced beyond our
limited vision… No one is exempt from the call to find common ground.”-Barack Obama, The Audacity of Hope

Most of us are waiting, yearning if not screaming for a honest being who understands, someone who puts him/herself in the shoes of the average person, who stands by his/her conviction no matter what the media may unleash and acknowledges problems whilst offering hope. Is it really that hard for a politican who can truly unite to come by?

On a more personal note, I’m still debating my presidential choice, maybe I should set up a poll or write to Hillary or Obama on their myspace to ask them why people should vote for them ^-^.

Political Mahjong

Have you ever wondered what everyone is thinking in a museum? Those people who stand in front of a painting for a quarter of an hour with a profond expression as if they’ve discovered the meaning of life? The common perception is that these people must be “cultured”. Well, I may be missing something but more often than not, I can rarely make sense of the combination of shapes, figures and colours, let alone realise the hidden message. I definitely am a long way away from “cultured”.

Having said this, I can’t help but to be awed by the cleverness of this painting, evicting an important message, even prophetic, hidden behind this seemingly harmless setting. A masterart of itself for anybody studying political science or remotely interest in global politics. Without any form of exaggeration, this painting, can indeed say a thousand words.

Without more, this painting seems to be perfectly innocent, if not erotic and perhaps even offensive to the those out there who may misinterpret this to be some form of demeaning pornography with racist connotations. Upon closer analysis, the author (unknown) has clearly laid out the current power struggle between USA, Russia, China, Japan and Taiwan (can you guess which is which?).

China is presented by the woman with her back turned against us with phoenix tatoos on her back. Interestingly (or ironically?), tattos on one’s back (or any where for the matter) is reserved for the lawless maffias in China’s south who are politically and econoimcal dragons in their region and conduct their illegal affairs in a business-like manner (even today, HK’s music and entertainment industry is run by those maffia networks). Furthermore, although we cannot see her expression, we can tell by her tense posture that she is serious about winning the game. Up close, she is cheating with two mahjong blocks (“pai“) hidden behind her back. The author is clearly convinced that China is cheating in this global race for power (and energy). More interestingly, she is wearing western launderie, although stripped to the hips. It can be a sign of disregard and perhaps even ridicule to the West but the more likely explanation is that China, although clothed in Westernisation, is unable to fully appreciate and fit into this new cultural outfit.

Sitting opposed from China is America, the geopolitics of which is definitely not a coincidence. She’s the only one who is fully clothed in Western attire with a strong hint of European presence. She is not fully interested in the game and stretching her arms as if undecisive about whether to continue her participation in the game. Rather than setting her eyes on the game (would therefore have caught China cheating), she is gazing warily, even disheartedly at Taiwan, symbolised by the little girl.

At the far left is Japan, the woman completely stripped to the bare. She is probably the most honourable player of the game and definitely the most vunlerable as depicted by her perfectly made hair and sincere expression. Unlike America, she is focused on the game; like America, she is totally unaware of the hidden politics behind the game. Her confidence in a fair game being played definitely arouses some sympathies from the viewer.

Sprawned across the floor is Russia. From first glance, she seems to have the least regard for the game and probably drunk with excessive vodka. But she’s probably the most important player behind the scenes with one hand helping China to cheat and the other leg upon America’s lap. In this game, she will not win but without a doubt, she will not lose.

Lastly, the little girl with a duduo (traditional Chinese undergarment) represents Taiwan. In the age of rapid modernisation with a big G, Taiwan grasps on tight to traditionalism (if you go to Taiwan today, you’ll witness more of the traditional Chinese culture than any parts of mainland China). Frightenly, this little girl is carrying a knife for self protection against all the grown woman, hidden behind a wodden fruit plate. She fixes her eyes intensely at America , not knowing whether to trust or to take the exist.

Some other contextual details which are just too good to leave out:

• The painting on the wall (far left): Chairman Mao’s face, Sun Yat-Sen’s (“father of modern china” and co-founder of KMT) mustache.
• The game is played under a roofless, windowless abandoned shab with storm emanating in the background

Has anyone picked up other details which could mean something?

Finally, I must keep future posts shorter….

My Heroine

Mother’s Day. The day where the florists reap 50% of their yearly profits (The other being Valentine’s Day), the day where beauticians and chocolate factories have to work overtime. It’s not everyday that we can celebrate the centenary of such a special day (yes, 1907 was when Mother Day was officially established world-wide), thus prompting this long overdue blog entry.

I was, and probably still am, a skeptic of those days in the calendar, which are publicly designated to a certain person in my life. I don’t like having anyone telling me when to celebrate and appreciate my mother, my father, my future kids and when to have a romantic night out with my partner (to be). The only institutionalised days that I tolerate is Easter, Christmas and maybe New Year. Mind you, I’ve even skeptic of those days sometimes, especially when I’ve reminded of the fact that our solar calendar has undergone many changes (thanks to authoritarian dictators who decided to name months after themselves) since the birth of Jesus. As a statement against the underlying conspiracy brewing in the interest groups, I did not buy flowers for mom today, I pretend Valentines Day is for a separate group of species of which I am definitely not a member (just on that day) and I try not to feel too sorry for the Australian Santas who have to clad themselves in layers of red nylon in the boiling summer heat.

In all honesty, my (at times annoying) conscience did not let me get away from joining in with rest of the population from celebrating their mothers today. I did act extra nice today and did my best to make mom feel special. What is worth reminding ourselves of, and this I do give the inventor of Mother’s Day credit for, is the amazing gift of Motherhood.

From memory, I’ve never dedicated any writings to my mother, even in my early years of education where kids are forced to write about how wonderful their parents are. It doesn’t mean that I don’t appreciate her but her dedication and impact on my life has rarely been brought up as a serious topic worthy of in-depth reflection. It wasn’t until I have entered into the age of “potential” motherhood myself (thanks to all those who remind me of this), that I am beginning to look closely at how my mother has raised me.

Recently, a LA based newspaper conducted an investigation to find out the annual salary of a typical housewife if we were to monetarily evaluate her work. The shocking result is that my mother is, by far, the highest wage earner of the whole family put together. If we (me, Dad, Alan or the govt) had to pay Mom for all that she is doing right now, we would have to fork out at least $AUD130,000 a year. To put all this into perspective, the average working hour of a housewife is estimated to be 92 hours a week or 13hrs/day, every single day of the week. Now that is 40 hours at base rate and 52 hours of overtime. Now, I’ve yet to meet an investment banker who works 13 hours a day, 7 days a week or anyone in the so called high-flying jobs that can multitask his/her day as a housekeeper, cook, laundry cleaner, doctor, nurse, accountant, CEO, CFO, psychologists, lawyer, counselor and protector at the same time, without pay and probably without a holiday for decades and, does not really complain (have you?).

I’ve simply flabbergasted. Shocked doesn’t even come close to how astounding this all is. Realising that the most difficult and most underpaid career on earth is motherhood makes me just want to shrink, dig a hole and hide. Ashamed at all the ungrateful words, gestures and actions that I have inflicted on the single person on earth, who has given me the gift of life and loves me unconditionally from the first moment of breath.

My mother is not perfect. This I am beginning to realise and accept as I choose my own path and develop my own autonomy. However, she is my heroine and is the world to me. The following passage summarises perfectly the enormity of motherhood and why, choosing motherhood is not any less than choosing a career as the first female CEO of Microsoft or the WorldBank or even becoming the first female President of USA or the first female Secretary General:

“How can it be a large career to tell other people’s children about the Rule of Three, and a small career to tell one’s own children about the universe? How can it be broad to be the same thing to be everyone and narrow to be everything to someone? No, a woman’s function is laborious, but because it is gigantic, not because it is minute.”

- G.K.Chesterton “What’s Wrong with the World”

She has chosen to abandon her dreams, skills as a business woman, raised me by herself for many years as Dad was away. She has accepted her fate as a housewife (whilst I still wave my fist at the sky asking why this and why that), accepted that her family, let alone the society, will never fully endorse nor recognise her sacrifices. She’s right. We don’t see how much she has done or how many hours she’s dedicated to making sure that we are well fed, clothed and live in a warm, clean and loving environment. We come home to a table full of steaming delicacies, folded laundry, a smile and a hug. Because it is consistent, because it does not change, we forget that she also worries about the next meal, worries about her family, finances, external relationships, the well being of her husband and children.

As much as I would love to become a mother and dedicate my life to my family, my abilities may just limit me in an office, seemingly glamorous, seemingly perfect but deep down, I know that the greatness and impact of her career, exceeds all.

The following link is a beautiful song called “Fly Away” by Corrinne May that rings true to many of us. Hope this speaks to you too.

Fly Away

When will you be home, She Asks,

As I watched the planes take off.

We both know we both have no real answer, to where my dreams may lead

She’s watched me as I crawled and stumbled

As a child, she was my world

And now to let me go, I know she bleeds

And yet, she says to me.

 

You can fly so high, Keep your gaze upon the sky,

I’ll be praying every step along the way.

Even though, it breaks my heart to know we’ll be so far apart,

I love you, too much to make you stay.

Baby fly away.

 

Autumn Leaves fell into Spring Time and, Silver painted hair.

Daddy called one evening saying, we need you please come back.

When I saw her laying in her bed, fragile as a child,

Pale just like an angel taking flight,

I held her as I cried.

You can fly so high, keep your gaze upon the sky

I’ll be praying every step along the way

Even though it breaks my heart to know, we’ll be so far apart

I love you, too much to make you stay

Baby fly away

3G Europe

What does priotising globalisation, fighting climate change and alleviating world poverty have in common? Not much!

These three goals have  been the central goals of many big European reformers including David Cameron (leader of the Conservative Party & also higly sceptic of “European federalism”) and  José Manuel Barroso (President of the EU Commission) when addressing an equally eurocentric audience.

My problem? A lot! How can you priotise globalisation by denouncing trade barriers and driving home the importance of having a competitive Europe; have energy security as a number one concern whilst at the same time, trying to use less energy to fight climate change; give billions of subsidies to European farmers to make sure that products from developing countries can’t compete in your market whilst at the same time want to alleviate global poverty, especially in Africa???

The hypocrisy and the inconsistency is astounding.

There’s nothing wrong with wanting to join the globalising parties whilst at the same time trying to use less energy and pumping more aid into Africa, lots of countries are doing this but then to support other policies such as agricultural subsidies and blocking privatisation of energy sectors makes very little sense.  It’s a vicious cycle.