Monday, 24 December 2012

19.12.12




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Location:Hardinge Avenue,Tunbridge Wells,United Kingdom

'twas the night before Christmas

We're preparing for Christmas and writing a note of thanks to Father Christmas listening to some Sufjan Stevens.




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Location:Cambrian Road,Tunbridge Wells,United Kingdom

Saturday, 22 December 2012

Thursday, 20 December 2012

Gig review from my big bro

My big bro sent me this review of last night's gig


SLEIGH THE UK 2012, O2 SHEPHERDS BUSH EMPIRE

As the Rolling Stones start their 50th anniversary tour with many people excited and horrified in equal measures, questions are being asked “When should a band stop performing, should you still go to concerts in the same capacity as a teenager, and is the music still as good it was then?”

I found myself asking these questions last night as I caught up with three bands that dominated my teenage years, Jesus Jones, Pop will eat itself, PWEI and the Wonder Stuff who all played at O2 Shepherd’s Bush Empire. It was very interesting finding myself face to face with the teenager I once was moody, spotty and with long hair. This was MY music back then and now it gives me a chance to reflect on who I was and who I am now.

In the late 80s early 90s the guys that went to see these bands were mainly white middle class and wanting to be outside the mainstream of the pop music of the time. The music was a mix of skate punk and dance for Jesus Jones. Dance, sampling and heavy guitars for PWEI and indie country music for the Wonder stuff. Looking around the theatre auditorium yesterday it was still white middle class guys, some even came with children, some with band t-shirts that were odd to look at the whole package, I mean guys in their forties wearing band t-shirts looks exactly like guys over 30 wearing football shirts for anything other than sports, not the best of fashion statements! Looking around and taking in the chatter from my fellow concert goers, there were Project Managers, Solicitors and consultants from Harley Street. But once the music started middle, aged moshing began, very fun to watch and watching 40 year olds crowd surf, alas I’m too heavy for that, but yeah I wanted to do it.

First up was Jesus Jones who faces I once got my artistic friend to paint on the back of my jacket, the face now were older rounder but still with the glint in the eye that I saw over twenty years ago and the boundless enthusiasm on display. Now whilst I don’t have the energy the boys on stage did, they may have been a bit slower but were all giving it 100% and not even the sample sounds breaking down ruined my enjoyment of a sharp 35 min set which they knew not to disappoint their audience with and they stuck with predominantly material from their first couple of albums and not their lesser known later albums.

PWEI came on and had their own rubber carpet laid down as they do plenty of stage jumping and bumping. Only one original member left, Graham wearing a rather groovy combo of white trainers, red knee length shorts and t-shirt along with a group of fine musicians. They did play some of their best known material and they encouraged the 30 and 40 something guys to jump harder and faster whilst singing along. Again the energy was amazing and they had the crowd eating from the palm of their hands, especially when playing classics as Def Con One.

I was one of those guys that loved the Wonder Stuff when they released their first two albums but a combination of the Bass player leaving, the band appearing to start playing children’s theme tunes and hanging around with Vic Reeves made me go off them. Last night I was thrilled and less than thrilled with their set but then towards the end they pulled me in from the cold by surprising everyone with a cover of ‘Planet Earth’ by Duran Duran and by playing the earliest material that I had once held so dear to my heart. They ended by inviting everyone back next year as they do it again, will I come back? Yes and I think I’ll wear the t-shirt, to hell with age that teenage boy is still around!


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Location:Cambrian Rd,Royal Tunbridge Wells,United Kingdom

Wednesday, 19 December 2012

First gig

I believe it was 1991.

The turn of the decade behind us, the eighties behind us. The Iraq war still a vivid memory. The iron curtain had fallen and afresh with freedom, optimism and newness.

Music was coming alive with Stone Roses and the indie bands. The competition with dance was fierce. Guitars versus drum machines.

It was the group Jesus Jones that were creating a freshness to being a punk. With their dirty sounds, guitars and bouncing around that I was listening to.

It was out of the Wonder Stuff domination of the indie world that I was starting to despise that the rawness of Jesus Jones that I liked. Correction. I was follower of my brother's record collection and JJ were the flavour of the month.

I loved it. I loved them. But I worshipped my brother more.

Together with my two brothers we ventured up to the then Town and Country club to watch JJ supported by Soho.

Wow, what a gig.

Nearly 20 years on I'm seeing them again.

On the train on the way up now.

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Sunday, 16 December 2012

Christmas Tree

Last year Joshua shouted out with both arms stretched high "I love this house!" after finishing decorating the tree. It was a real moment.

This year... It was a little more sedate. Illness taking over a little more. But it was still a moment that we were able to cherish.

I love this house too!




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Thursday, 6 December 2012

A memory of warmer days on such a cold one

It snowed yesterday. Today it's freezing.

I don't like putting on layers. Prefer to crank up the heat. Not very efficient or popular.

I'm resorting to some memories of warmer days.










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Tuesday, 20 November 2012

Gaza Bombing: A post today from my friend Allie


Dark days. This weekend I completed my third intensive training in treating traumatised children, learning to help victims heal from the trauma of rape and violence, to have faith in the power within. It is the stuff of inspiration - of hope in the power of human empathy and the body's miraculous ability to heal itself. Yet I have not been able to take it in fully, as the place that has my heart is in flames, and my friends are suffering, one of whom was killed just a few days ago, and I am still in shock.

Sleepless and on the verge of tears, I have been working to listen to every human story under the roaring of the bombs and violent rhetoric. My phone has been ringing and buzzing off the hook from Jerusalem and Gaza to London and even Hong Kong and Bangkok with friends and journalists bearing questions and anger and panic and so, so much grief. "Exactly how bad is it going to be this time?""What do you think will happen?" "Whose fault is it?"
"Why do we deserve this??" "I don't want to die". I tell them the truth - that I do not know, certainly not what the next hour or days will bring, except that no one deserves such violence and brutality, and that I helplessly wish I could do something. I ask them to text me every few hours (please) so I know they're still alive. I panic when they do not pick up the phone. I tell them "I love you" - a lot. One particular refugee child I used to teach dance had the heart to ask me if I was doing okay. I sort of lost it.

And so my love and I have been holding our breaths, our heavy hearts stuck somewhere in our throats, taking turns to hold each other's despair and watch the news and my Twitter feed when it gets too much for one of us. For once, I struggle to "Give thanks in all circumstances" (1 Thessalonians 5:18) - a core element of the Chen family's faith. I don't quite know how to give thanks in this circumstance.

And yet if this weekend's training taught me anything, it is that empathy between human beings has the remarkable ability to empower the most despairing. And that because we all breathe the same air, and all need nourishment and love to survive in our world, our lives are vulnerable in each other's hands. We owe it to one another not to abuse that vulnerability. We owe it to one another not to look away. I am in awe of the unexpected friends who have emerged out of the woodwork to express their solidarity for the victims of this ugly war - as far as South Korea, as equally besieged as Afghanistan. As Yvette Christianse says, when all else fails, be kind. Their voices give me hope.

And so perhaps Daoud Hari puts it best, in The Translator: A Tribesman's Memoir of Darfur: "How can you be safe if your people are not safe? And so who are your people? Perhaps everyone is your people."

Monday, 19 November 2012

Movember

Well against my usual senses here's a pic of my Movember efforts




There's still 11 days to go.

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Location:Silverdale Road,Tunbridge Wells,United Kingdom

Thursday, 15 November 2012

Operation post

He's out... Phew.

Praising.










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The Operation

I took Joshie down.

I was trying to dare him to count to 10 before the anaesthetic kicks in. As soon as the catheter is in he counts.

He did it. Joy fills his face.

They then put the anaesthetic in. Barely 3 seconds. He's out. And I'm ushered out. Fire a string of prayers and give my boy a kiss as I leave.

Nerves pulsate and the clock is ticking.

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Operation Pre

Just stepped of a plane. Dashed home.

Just stepped into my home. Bombarded by human missiles. Phone goes to ask whether Joshua can come in early for his operation to put in grommets and take his adenoids out. Sister in law arrives and we shoot off.

Been nervous all week about this op. it's a routine one.

Doesn't calm the nerves.

Joshie exclaims as we go in his room is "room 5" and reminds me that my room number for my op was "room 8".

He has a better memory than I.









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Friday, 9 November 2012

Romania: what next?

So what next? Great trip and time to be with the NGOs, the slums, the hospices etc. But why? What use is it? What difference can I make.

A very real question hitting me right now as I head to the airport.

I do not presume to have the answers for all the need that I have witnessed.

I have hardly any money to give. I hardly have any money at all.

I have hardly any possessions to give too.

What can I do to make a difference. The needs are too many. I feel dwarfed by it all.

Last time I was feeling like this was in Haiti two years ago.

What next? I don't know... But I will remember these people I met, hugged and shared space with.

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Romania: 2.30 in the morning

2.30 in the morning. Heading back now.

Been in the "homes" of the homeless. Been amongst the poorest of the country, the sick, the forgotten and the fatherless.

Not many words are coming right now to describe how I feel.

As I descend down from this mountain I am trying to remember each person I met, each person I embraced, each person who I spoke with.

Grateful for each of them.


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Romania: ... The Arc today


Romania: My colleague wrote this several years ago about a place called the "Arc" that we visited today

Romania's orphans: Where are they now?

The images shocked us all. Romania’s orphans lay in their beds, staring unblinkingly through their cot bars at cameras: victims of physical and sexual abuse, their behaviour controlled by drugs. Some were lying in their own excrement. Some were tied to their beds. All had lived a sub-human existence that had, in many cases, resulted in quiet, unnoticed, death.

It happened to be Christmas Day when Nicolai Ceausescu, Romania’s former leader, was executed, together with his wife Elena. Given the West’s intense interest in the fall of Communism, the press was watching. With the regime now overthrown, the press could venture where it had never been before. So Romania’s orphans received a Christmas gift they could not have anticipated: the world discovered them and, outraged, took action.

Among those who responded was UK charity, Epiphany Trust. Bill Hampson, director, voiced the thoughts of the watching world when he called the situation “a total violation of human rights by anyone’s standards.” The charity mobilised goods and funding and has worked with Romania’s orphans ever since.

Twenty years on, after its prolonged emergence from the shadow of Ceausescu’s regime, much about the country has changed. Romania is now a part of the European Union. Free trade, and privatisation, has dramatically increased income generation and quality of life is slowly on the rise.

Where have these changes left Romania’s orphans? Mercifully, many, though not yet all, of the orphanages are largely unrecognisable from those of Ceausescu’s regime. Epiphany, for example, has seen vast improvement in a major orphanage it has supported at Lugoj. Two decades ago, its nearly 600 children had no more than 28 carers. Today there are around 400 children, with 240 staff. Epiphany has helped create a centre of excellence at this institution which is now used as a model throughout Romania.

Yet Bill Hampson has identified a gap in the system which, as yet, is not being met. At 18, when children leave these orphanages, they are in no way prepared to make the jump into normal life.
While under care, children do not, for example, even own their personal clothes as this, along with every aspect of their lives, is institutionalised. It typifies a much broader set of skills that the orphanages do not equip the orphans with. Epiphany has therefore built a half way house to help them transition. Its Romanian coordinator Sorana Puscas explains. “City centres are full of young people sleeping rough on the streets, having left an orphanage… For those with learning disabilities this can be a death sentence….” At the half way house, she explained, they “for the first time had their own possessions. They felt more important, as they could call things ‘mine.’ They now have to learn how to share, learn how to live in a normal house, and how to live together.”
When Epiphany set up its first half way home, four years ago, it found resources through the Global Hand network. It partnered with Crossroads’ Global Distribution services, who provided a 40ft container with which to furnish it. Sorana was there. “I was impressed because of the furniture”, she said, “but also the other things included; the small things that make a house a home. The handmade rugs had the address of the people who had made them. The children wrote to thank them, and they wrote back saying how happy they were to hear from us.”

Epiphany is currently in the process of building a second half way home at Sinaia, one of Romania’s mountain locations. It will house more young people, and also provide employment opportunities in the form of skills workshops. Once again there is a need for all of the furniture and smaller items to make a home for the new residents. Now that Romania is a part of the EU, shipping items from the UK is infinitely easier.

Romania’s orphans were once abandoned in their infancy. Today, although childhood care has largely improved, they may yet be abandoned in their adulthood.

If you would like to partner with this new project, please contact The Epiphany Trust

Romania: "from Glod to Gold"

This was his idea... To go into the gypsy town of Glod, where Borat was filmed, and document how they actually live.

I listen as he tells me all these ideas. He has many indeed.

20 years ago he had one which resulted in 120 orphans to visit the city of Chester (at the invitation of the then mayor). This was just after the scenes of the orphanages in Romania. He described the flight as taken up entirely by children and his 11 helpers. Must have been a sight.

He was glad to have helped and dreams to take the same people back in 3 years. He said he's already promised so he'll see me in Chester.

This I got to see.


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Location:Romania

Thursday, 8 November 2012

Romania: back at home

My son is confirmed for an operation in a few days.

I feel nervous. He excited.

Right now he's asleep with his bestest and faithful pal.

Sleep well son x



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Location:Romania

Romania: soup and bread variation

Instead of soup and roll for lunch I had soup in a roll.

Amazing.





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Location:Romania

Wednesday, 7 November 2012

Romania: morning

Here's my view right now. The wind is gentle. The air crisp. It's a beautiful morning.



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Location:Romania

Romania: 59 years

She's lived in this "village" for 59 years. Has 12 children and many grandchildren.

When asked what she needs she said a washing machine would be nice for all the clothes of her children and children's children.



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Romania: The Hunting Lodge

I'm on Mount Sinaia right now.

Just come back from a hunting lodge restaurant. The walls were covered in hunting memorabilia and trophies.

I counted 8 bears.

The waiter was telling me about how these bears dated back to the Ceausescu era.

There was even bear on the menu.

Romania: ticklish

All I was trying was to get my photo taken with her. And she kept tickling me. Every time. Seriously... Every time.

Man she rocked.

Quite amazing this hospice. We've just seen some performances by the schools here. The local tv were here and I even got interviewed by the reporter.

We were suppose to be interviewing a girl about life here and ended up speaking to the medical director and whilst trying to get a photo with her she kept tickling me. Seriously. She didn't stop :)



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Romania: "He lives alone"

Hearing words through a translator often says things as they are.

We stop as we are venturing to a school in a village made up of Roma and Romanians. Or as we were told people of the land (or peasants) and the people.

We stop because a man strolls out towards us. His face full of history.

The translator states he found this home 4 years ago and has lived here all this time.

He ends by stating "and he lives alone"




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Romania: train station

I'm on a train now in the beautiful hills of Transylvania. Tis stunning.

Here's my view:




We're heading up the hill to a place called Mt Sinaia.

As we ascend I recall the last train station I was at. Just under 48 hours ago. I wasn't catching a train. I wasn't even thinking of train travel. I was there as this was a place where the homeless are.

People throwing cigarettes on the floor and people rushing to enjoy the remainder of it. A solitary man standing with his possessions in a small case.

One man approaches. He has 2 daughters and a son. His two daughters are in London and he's given his apartment to his son. His home: the streets.

We're here because we've been taken out by the night mobile team from the Romanian NGO, Samusocial. Their mission to reach out to the 5500 homeless of Bucharest.

Our team are good and hot off the mark. The social worker straight in there talking and assessing, the driver getting out sleeping bags and hot soups, the doctor writing notes furiously. They not only do their job but they act honourably and listen to each person.

Recently I approached a homeless/workless person in my hometown she was concerned with her washing and not having little money for it. We escorted her around and through doing so listened and at the end whilst not changing anything was able to say thank you for speaking to me.

We leave and each night mobile team makes a point to say goodbye in person.


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Romania: fatherless

Being up since 4am sucks.

So tired. All I'd like to do is crash.

We're being shown our guest room. Three beds. Three men. Little time before the next appointment. No time for rest now.

There's a knock at the door.

We open and its our host the founder of the Educational Centre for the Hospice dropping in, between his numerous appointments with seemingly all the time in the world to say "welcome" and "hello".

A quiet man. But boy does he have presence. You meet such people from time to time and spend time afterwards with gratitude for such moments.

Amongst the chat a boy walks by. He's our neighbour. A 26 year old. Our host kindly introduces him and then the lad goes on. We are told he has cystic fibrosis and to excuse his coughing. I was going to preempt him by asking forgiveness in advance for any snoring that emanated from a room with 3 men each with proven track. We are then told a little more about the boy.

His father died when he was young. Mother remarried. The father-in-law murdered her. He was imprisoned. The grandparents tried to care and he was taken into the wing of this place. Our host talks like a loving father of this boy.

In a land of the "fatherless", Romania still remembered for those scenes of the orphanages, we find small pockets of un-doing that perception.



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Tuesday, 6 November 2012

Romania: Hope





We've all walked passed that person on the side of the road. Been approached by a poorly dressed person with their hand out pressed towards us. Seen the begging placards.

The Homeless, the workless evokes different feelings. Confusion, compassion, frustration...anger and much more.

I was just in the "home" of a lady who has two kids (ages 6 and 2). She, we were told, does not have psychiatric problems by the Psychiatric doctor who is part of the night mobile team that survey the streets for the homeless. Their job: interact, identify and react to them. There are approximately 5500 "known" homeless in Bucharest. The team we're in consists of 4 people.

This is our first stop and we're greeted by a man who cheerfully escort us into this place. It's through behind curtains across derelict land into a shabby old hut like building. We pass the religious icons with a dim light above into a room.

The immediate impression was the child proof wooden plank to stop the toddler I presume getting out. The man invites us in.

We barely fit in. And huddle around the mattress with a tv blaring out some children's programme. Above the bed a window and next to it a solitary picture of the 6 year old daughter in her students outfit proudly adorning their wall.

The night team are cuddling the kids and the doctor making notes. She on they other hand has not stopped talking, showing off her kids colouring in book and talking us through every achievement proudly. She's mesmerising with her intensity of description. Her daughter just quietly plays around us and son goes wonderfully excited as only 2 year olds do.

The lady was "born on the streets". She lived on them. Married on them. Lost their first child on them and now raises her family on them. Her husband lost his house in a fire and due to not having insurance lived on the streets where he met his wife to be. They, we are informed, "just want to raise a family."

She continues turning each page gleefully of this exercise book. The husband quietly towering in the corner whilst she continues her excited monologue.

As we leave we say a flurry of goodbyes.

Our team leader says it is we who learn our lessons in life from people like this. Oh and her name is "Hope".

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Monday, 5 November 2012

Romania: homeless

Some photos from our time with the night mobile team who reach out to the homeless of Bucharest.

A family living in a squat



Distributing sleeping bags to a lady who sleeps in an old car with her two children.



Here's her home.



Stopping by the side of the street to speak to those who lie by the sides.



Our escorts say "its us who learn from them these lessons in life."

Location:Intrarea Bobeică,Bucharest,Romania

Romania: touchdown

Arrived and picked up by a group determined to support people as they face death through palliative care.

We drove through Bucharest and he shares how his life was changed when his only son was diagnosed with terminal cancer. The hospice helped him meet global specialist and transferred the boy and parents to the hospice just miles from where I live in the UK.

He works to help build a centre of such excellence here in Bucharest.


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Sunday, 4 November 2012

Romania: 5am

Sitting in the car waiting for a colleague. He's taking his time. It's 5 am.

Been awhile since we last met.


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Location:Saint James' Park,Tunbridge Wells,United Kingdom

Wednesday, 24 October 2012

Mussels, chocolates in Brussels

A good, but tiring, day at Aid Ex.




Followed by some Moule n Frittes with the team.


Jo even had a kid dance with her outside a chocolate shop!















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Location:Lambermontlaan,Schaarbeek,Belgium

Tuesday, 23 October 2012

AidEx 2012

I'm in Brussels for an Aid event.

Here's the view opposite our event hall.





It's strangely warm here for a late October evening.

Great guest house too and we've been well fed... Just in bed now with that Pre event feelings late at night.


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Location:Lambermontlaan,Schaarbeek,Belgium

Monday, 22 October 2012

The Malevolence

They built The Malevolence (Joshie's b'day pressie).

Very tricky but they worked well together.

Good job troops.



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Location:Cambrian Road,Tunbridge Wells,United Kingdom

Monday, 15 October 2012

Saturday 11th November Sevenoaks Chronicle article

About 40 years ago the local newspaper welcomed the Solanky family.

My father yesterday showed me the paper.



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Location:Gate Farm Road,,United Kingdom

Today is a significant day. 40 years ago...


My brother was 6 months old when he boarded a plane at Entebbe airport. My father said "little Rajan was so thirsty that he begged the stewardess for some water for his throat."

That was 40 years ago when my father, mother, little Rajan, my grandfather and grand mother her sister and 2 aunties boarded a plane leaving their lives behind.

Today, "little" Rajan, forty years on, wrote:

Today is a significant day. 40 years ago my family arrived on a cold windswept tarmac at Stansted airport, after being expelled from Uganda, with little more than the clothes on their backs. They survived and thrived in the face of social, economic and political unrest, I've been inspired by you my whole life.


Wednesday, 10 October 2012

Some photos from Joshie's Birthday

The eve before:



In the morning:



The hamster cage:




Party time








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Sunday, 23 September 2012

Cousins

It was great to have Lilly over today and the boys loved her... We're going to miss her but looking forward to our Skype time.














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