decluttering

i am amazed at how losing furniture and junk can change one's outlook.

i am a hoarder. i like to keep things.

space, however, is something i aspire to have more of. on the one hand there is more space to have more things, but on the other it is to feel a degree of freedom. freedom from things and clutter.

i'm realising that the cost of things and the value of freedom from things. tyler durden's words ring vividly in my ears: "things you own end up owning you"

how much of it do i actually need... how much do i use.

mostly, in my "hoarder's mind", it brings comfort through the very thought of it being near.

it's time to turn over a new leaf and do what is best... i moved it to the attic.

out of sight...

snow

it snowed yesterday. albeit for a morning only before there was no trace left.

we managed a walk out in it. twas beautiful.

felt hopeful about a white christmas.

enterprise

this week- apart from sharing the room with the prime minister, assist with a social change event with the entrepreneurs of the next generation, take on a new volunteer, meet some of the trustees and plan for the coming year... i did something... wait... i saw something that just turned me into a child, uncontrollably excited about the future.

the marketing gurus got it right. and this is the bit where i potentially lose some street cred... i saw the latest star trek movie trailer. i was quivering watching it.

i grew up on re runs of trek. monday nights to be specific. you see i had poor health as a kid and while my brothers used to get to go to clubs and scouts, my mum and i used to watch the rockford files, star trek and later on blue thunder, manimal (pretty much your seminal 80s american tv shows). my mum and i loved watching trek. we'd sit snuggle in on the couch and watch kirk save the galaxy, spock recount the odds and bones vent his frustration.

so when i hear people talking about trekkies as nerds and trekkies as the weirdos trying to learn the grammatical correctness of the klingon language... it saddens me.

don't they know it's "trekkers".

peace one day

today i was at an event called chain reaction.

it's an event based on the premise that we can't create change by ourselves, but we can do it together. it's designed to connect, collaborate and commit.

i sat there listening to jeremy gilley, founder of peace one day stating that ideas need energy and passion. from what started with anger and frustration with the way things are led to a reaction. this, then, triggered a series of events and connections that went on to create a day that is declared an annual day of peace by the un and the governments of the world.

i thought, it seems great, but is it a gimmick. the cynic in me spoke.

... but he went on... to say that he heard those questions and went on to find out what this day of peace actually means... is it a gimmick... well this one day has enabled charities and un agencies to scale up and gain access to troubled areas for vaccination programmes. it allows the opportunity to reach places that are political hotspots and have carried threats of bombs, attacks and gunfire to cease. it is more eloquently put here.

very soon i begin to realise that a day can be a long time and much can be achieved.

footy game

i am uncontrollably excited. it's a little immature really.

we just won a game of football. it's a fundraising game at our church. the oldies vs the youngsters. i'm not one the youngsters.

we have played about 4 or 5 times before and to date we have been runners up on all occasions.

this time, however, we got the edge. after being 2- nil down in the first half. we got it together... plus i got on the score sheet with a beauty, chipping the keeper... magic :)

obama fever

well i've been swept away by the obama fever.

i even spoke to people who have been to breakfast parties with o(ba)m(a)lettes... hmm

but what i have after the whole fiasco is hope. hope that a new era is coming, hope that people can make a difference and hope that change is coming. i'm guessing that this maybe as good as it gets with regards to politics and from now on we'll be seeing a decline in policy and perhaps more of the same frustrations as before.

but when i read of 10,000+ people hearing the call and giving up their time and effort, unpaid, to try to bring about change in the states through talking to people. millions. millions of voters and even the billions of the world getting quite involved in this political contest, you can't help but be affected.

my pal, the angry african, sums it up all too well here: http://angryafrican.net/2008/11/04/crying-and-alone-in-my-room/

i didn't think change was going to happen. now all i keep hearing is the words of sam cooke ringing through my ears... it's been a long time coming indeed.

lebanon#10: fatherless

we visited the home of hope orphanage in beirut today.

based on the outskirts of the city. on a hill. overlooking the city all the way to the mediterranean. stunning location.

here lived anywhere between 20 to 170 children that have been referred onto the centre. the children (defined as between 3 to 18 year olds) have been found on the streets, been know to cause troubles. many are half syrian and are a testimony to the impact of the occupation.

the word "orphanage" is not one that those working in these community and social programmes like to use. instead this is called a "home".

the children have anywhere up to 2 years in this place before they are moved on. this place aims to give heathcare, education and love whilst within their care.

i've been to a number of "homes", like these, in my time. some have been horrific others breaming with hope.

we just spent over an hour speaking with the founder. he's certainly a passionate character.

as we moved down we interrupted lunch hour. 30-40 kids having lunch. they were wearing similar clothes and munching on their grub.

naturally they were curious with the visitors. i talked to two lads, who were trying to talk english to me, and very well i might add. they wanted me to laugh with them and i naturally talk about liverpool fc. the international language of football. it doesn't work, but i do notice that one of them was sitting on a stash of recorded dvds. so we look through them, laugh at the pictures, find out which one they like best. the ice was broken.

before long they wanted to fight me. playfully of course. we settle for an arm wrestle (i spend a long time to try and avoid fighting and getting my boys to not do so)... but boys they are.

a few other lads comes over. one thrusts two stones in my hands and gets me to hold them together and then does an array of circles around my hands with some other stones and before i know it my hands are, by magic, stuck together. we laugh. we smile. we leave.

my heart drops as we walk away.

i've been to many "orphanages", never once have i walked away unaffected.

Lebanon #8: Every tattoo tells a story

1.
I notice that one of our drivers has a tattoo on his arm. At lunch I asked him about it. Problem number one- he doesn’t understand a word of English. Thankfully, my host, Dennis, fluent in Arabic, was near by to lend his services.

It’s a dragon tattoo. Pretty cool.

On his other arm was another a tattoo: this was of a heart with a dagger through it. I asked him about it, via Dennis. He tells me it is of troubled love. I asked was it about him. No... not him. He goes on to mention his girlfriend. Her father will not let them be together. You see he is a driver and this is a dangerous job.

The father is a well educated man and even a man within education. He should know better. Even the mother has not condoned their relationship.

The daughter has lamented and vented at her parents. She once starved herself and locked herself in her room for several weeks. They only could speak to her via her widow. She has even stated that she would prefer death than be without him. Real Romeo & Juliet stuff.

Currently the father has said that he will decide in 2 months what the outcome will be... whether he will grant his blessing or not. The two months will be up in January.

I asked him to let me know the outcome.

Lebanon #7: Conservation Work

I once heard Sir Ghillean Prance, visionary for Kew Gardens and the Eden Project, speak. I remember how I was moved by his words. Somehow I mentioned it to a friend and I somehow got enrolled into an Eco scheme.

It was eye opening.

Now here I am in Lebanon, listening to a man called Chris Naylor speak about the hopes to get Lebanon thinking about conservation and bringing the people in touch with their environment. It is somewhat odd in a country where there seems to be little hope that people would take pride in their land.

After hearing him speak it was like going back and showing the people that they have a rich legacy. One too be proud off, not just because of its political value, but of the natural or environmental value. That it allows a place of resting for migrating birds, that many can walk around and see the hills around a place that can be restored. I was impressed.

Lebanon #6.5: Baalbeck

1.AA temple that is truly wonderous in this biblelands territory and persevered well over the centuries.

It’s like stepping onto the set of Jason and the Argonauts. Sword in one hand waiting for the legion of skeletons about to arise from the ground.

Lebanon #5: Inside a Palestinian Refugee Camp

In 1948 the Palestinians fled their region due to the Arab-Israeli war. Hundreds of thousands of people were forced out. Many went north over the boarder into Lebanon. The hope was, that someday they would return home.

It is now 60 years later. Over 395,000 refugees are living in Lebanon and still waiting to go home.

Over 10,000 refugees live in Al Bass refugee camp in Tyre. It is a condensed camp. Interestingly built around a hospital. The Lebanese soldiers do not go in. They hover, instead, around the entrances at their checkpoints. Around the edges are high houses with barbed wire around them.

I am told the reason is that there is supposed to be no commercial or building activity to go on from within the camp. This is clearly not the case.

We went in. I was, naturally, nervous.

Inside there were narrow lanes, a few vending shops nearby. The roads inside were remarkably well kept. The houses meagre, yet homely. There were young guys on their motor bikes. A school. A brand new PLO centre (new building materials are not, by any means, allowed inside!) Students on the sides of the roads shouting hello. This camp was... it was very pleasant. The atmosphere was quite peaceful. We saw mechanics at work, kids smiling and even a small electric vendor with some IT equipment. This was not what I was expecting.

80% unemployment. But my guide tells me that the 20% that do work ensure that they feed their families, their friends and beyond.

The two Palestinians that meet me sit down and start to speak speak. They share that all they would like is for the recognition of their human rights and would like... to go home.

Lebanon #4: tinker, tailor, soldier, spy

Just had lunch next to the spice souq (market) in Tyre, Lebanon.

As we were sitting eating our falafel a man with a moustache, comes and sits on the table behind us. As Jerry gets up and takes a photo of us, he moves away. After the photo op is over he sits back down behind us again.

Later Jon mentions that it was highly likely that he is from the secret police listening into our conversations.

Lebanon#3: Muslim Women

Muslim women are great fun.

Or perhaps I should rephrase, in my experience of muslim women, they are great fun. At the our hosts house yesterday I was really struck by the fact that it was the women who were taking over. Once the welcoming and traditional honouring of guests with teas and drinks came we settled into a great bustle of jokes, laughing and talking that was all from the women.

It maybe that one of our party was a chiropractor and had treated a lady for her bad back. But it was the mother who was babbling away with wonderful animation and humour. Her daughters who were leading the chats and sub points and her grand daughters who were making any attempts to speak in English to us.

Simply put, the ladies of this muslim household were great fun :)

Lebanon #2: Bananas, Terrorists and Roberto Carlos look alikes

I am in Lebanon as I type this. I am here to be “exposed” to business ventures that are seeking to aligning themselves with development priorities (job creation, social justice, transportation, health, education etc.).

After attending one of their conferences I was convicted that I needed some field experience and here I am in the southern town of Tyre.

My goal here is simple: observe.

Lebanon, in 2006, was invaded by neighbour Israel. After 34 day assault and bloody battles, embarrassment, thousands killed, the Israelis retreated. The devastation that they left were not just physical, but also financial, political and economical.

In disasters there are what is known as the 3R stages: Rescue, Relief and Recovery phases. The first two stages are concerned with the first few months. The Recovery phase is about rebuilding towns, villages, infrastructure and stability. This last stage is often not seen as disaster work, but it is perhaps, arguably, the most important. I wont go into vast details, but to illustrate this phase: there’s no point rebuilding a school when a hurricane has taken the roof off only for it to happen again. It would be better to rebuild to prepare for such eventualities.

I’m here visiting an NGO called MRDS that are seeking to operate in these manners. I wanted to find out how recovery projects/efforts actually form and speak to the practioners and the businessmen that are seeking to rebuild.

Today I visited a Banana Plantation grower, his business has suffered. Not only has his product decreased in value by 50%, his overheads have gone up exponentially, and he have a distinct lack of opportunity as the government are only allowing him to sell his goods to Syria and with limited selling capacity in Lebanon itself.

We went round his plantation. We went round his house that he built himself talked politics and we even we went round his brother’s house whose son had just got engaged to celebrate.

Some delicious Lebanese sweets were brought to us (simply divine in taste). We laughed and I even got likened to Roberto Carlos. I opted against retorting about his legendary banana kick technique to the banana farmer.

This was supposed to be the dangerous south. Where the people are terrorists. Instead all I see are people trying to make a living.

Here I was in a muslim man’s brother’s house who supports a supposedly terrorist group, yet has named his son, Isa (meaning Jesus), has pictures of his dead family that were killed in war by Israel and looking for ways to make his business work. I certainly feel some of my muslim preconceptions being challenged.

Lebanon #1: Lebanese Sweets

Lebanese sweets never really registered with me. They look rich, probably too rich and a bit odd in appearance for my liking. You see I’ve been brought up on Indian sweets and I have often found them incredibly rich and a bit too much for my palette. This is not to say that I don’t like them, but rather I do have to be in a state of preparedness to eat them.

So here I am in Lebanon, in Tyre to be precise, feasting my eyes on piles of assorted yummies. Pastry: check. Nuts: check. Syrup: check. Am I salivating: check.

Whilst we didn’t buy any of these I had heard several descriptions about the sensual explosions and bringer of delight that these small foods have brought about... as a result I quickly revised my opinion: I need to consume one, some, or perhaps, maybe many of these sweets very soon. Did I mention the salivating?