A thirty two year wait...

There were rumors in the playground.

There were stories of what happened next.

Today at 4 o'clock I woke up having slept on the couch after a game of football.

I went collected my brothers to drive to get a train to London to find out the answer to a question that many had in 1983 following the Return of the Jedi.

Today, thirty two years later, my brothers and I ventured to the imax in London to find out.

Here's the moment captured at 6.20 this morning.

Oh and it was amazing!

Sounds of the jungle

The jungle camp in Calais was not the likely destination for my guitar.

It was found for me by my sister in-law when I was looking to play again. My family and friends brought me a new one earlier this year. I had two and I only needed one.

I recently accompanied a group of Mums, dads, music leaders and others with a whole heap of socks, jackets, carefully made up dignity packs for women, gloves, hats and... and did I say socks? 

None of these people were aid workers- they were citizens who all felt that they can no longer sit and watch a disaster unfold in front of us. One more death on our doorstep is one too many. 

I watched as they spoke to people saying 'what can we do to help you' and 'we will come back to help you'. Working in aid, I know the heaps of training people take before heading out... But this isn't 'out there' it's 'in here'.

I too felt that I can no longer watch this unfold in my armchair. 

As I walked through the camp I met a man named Jonathan and he was part of a church. We spoke to him. He showed us their centre for women. The small area they had made from make shift materials and even offered us some food.

When back at the car I asked our host, Dominique whether she would be kind enough to take my guitar and somehow get it to Jonathan and the group.

She took it from me.

Recently she sent me a few photos of Jonathan and the guitar. 

Enjoy bro.

Possessive and possession

Homework. Man it's endless. We even came home early from ukulele night as Caleb whacked his head on the short walk there saying "oh no, I need to hand in my homework tomorrow". He said he couldn't stop thinking about it whilst playing away at the jam. We left early.

After the short walk home we sat at the table learning about possessives, possession and where to place the apostrophe. 

At the end he said:

"Oh yes papa and this is from Joshie, Reuben and me" as he pointed to a small bowl of coins and a note.

"What's this for, Caleb?"

"It's for buying food papa. I put in the ten pounds and Joshie and Reuben gave the coins."

Days earlier we were sharing with them how we are praying for money and asked them to join us to pray that we may have enough for food.

Today, this evening, I hear my son say in not so many words 'don't worry papa, we're in this together'.

I'm pretty certain it was me that was taught about possession and the possessive this evening by my children.

Those Solanky Boys!

This photo makes me smile :)

Apparently he was mesmerised :)

A Mile in My Shoes

The other month alongside London’s Southbank I stepped into, together with a friend, a giant shoebox.

The Shoebox was the Empathy Museum’s ‘A Mile in My Shoes’ exhibition as part of the Totally Thames festival.

Inside was an emporium of shoes each carefully 'laced with a story'. 

The idea: you walk in exchange your shoes with a pair of shoes from their store that belong to some of the people who lives within a small radius of where you are standing and then you are given a snippet of their world, as told by them, through a pair earphones.

The steps involved are simple: step in, check your size, find a match, choose a pair of shoes and then step out and walk down the river with the ‘owner’ as your companion.

Personally, I couldn’t resist the subtle encouragement from my shoe shop attendant who asked “do you fancy trying the waders, they’re a match for you?!” despite the possibly peculiar looks it may attract, I accepted.

After getting fitted, the founder of the Empathy Museum, and if I’m honest a bit of a hero of mine in recent years, Roman Krznaric, came and pointed us in the right direction and said “enjoy!”.

We hit play and walked.

It was fiddly walking around in the waders I must admit. I soon forgot the ambient noises around me as a focused in on his voice and gazed out on the beautiful river that I walk passed so frequently yet take for granted it’s vital lifeline for this city. I learn, too, about the history of the man whose shoes I was wearing: how he loves seeing a different side to this city around and in the river. Each adjective he said carefully lit up his tone for his work and I slowly was absorbed.

After a while I swapped stories with my friend and listened to a man who worked on boats and shared about his older friend who kept an eye out over him.

We walked back, said thank you and took off their shoes and slowly laced up our own shoes stepping out and away.

For a brief moment these creative and imaginative empathy steps transported me into the world of strangers and their lives. It even fueled more empathy through the fascinating conversation that followed between the friend and I comparing our experiences and sharing what struck us about our time with these people.

If asked that classic empathetic question: how do I feel... hmmm...well I would say: I feel grateful for this insight, albeit brief, into a complete stranger's life. Thank you whoever you are for sharing this with me.

... jokes

I brought some gifts back from Eden for the boys.

I got Joshie (as he wants to be a writer when he grows up) a really cool Elephant Dung paper note book.

After a few seconds he said "Papa, what did the cow say when she saw a cow pat?"

"I don't know Joshie...."

"Poooooooooo"

Back at Eden today

Love this place. Fourth time here and keeps getting better :)

Football in the fog

Watching Caleb play at Ridgewaye is among my fav things to do. 

This morning it was a foggy affair. 

A couple of wins and a stint up front. Very enjoyable. Still waiting for his first goal :)

The Solankys 28.09.15

Inset day. 

A day off. 

And a fine afternoon for a walk in the woods with the family.

72 hours

Travelled over 800 miles over ground.

2 concerts. One with the after back stage party.

Night drive to north Wales.

Coasteering and jumping heights of nearly 9m.

Watching England get schooled by the Welsh in the rugby World Cup... In a Welsh patriotic pub where the locals said "you're brave coming in here".

There's a lot you can achieve in 72 hours.

Crawler

He's crawling properly now!

I hate charity adverts

A couple of months ago Charlotte Whittaker wrote a guest blog entry... She's been helping me at Empathy Action a little bit and she wrote another great piece that I edited.

Confession: I hate charity adverts

by Charlotte Whittaker (Empathy Action volunteer)

I know I shouldn’t, but I do. 

I hate watching them as they bring the suffering of those affected by war, poverty and disease into my comfortable cream living room. 

I hate my impulse to turn them off or distract myself on my phone, because I know that ignoring them doesn't make the situations in Syria, or Nepal, or Libya any less real. 

I hate the pictures of starving children who belong to a nameless number beyond my help even if I text £2 a month to the number flashing on the screen. 

I hate the jarring contrast of the Loreal model’s sleek waves with the wispy hair of the old lady rocking back and forth in grief, a juxtaposition which seems like an insult to her suffering and yet is part of the crazy world we live in. 

I hate that organisations which I believe in and support are driven to use manipulative music and images because we are all so deadened to advertising that nothing cuts through. 

I hate the one-sided picture of the world that adverts give; Africa reduced to cracked earth and crying children and people with hopes and loves and individual quirks transformed into a sea of pitiful faces. 

I hate that even when charities see the more nuanced picture they feel they have to tug on our heartstrings to raise the money they need.

I hate charity adverts even though I think they’re necessary and all the more because I believe that those who live comfortable lives like me should be reminded of the suffering of the world and spurred to act. 

I suspect I’m not alone too. I’m sure others would join me when I own up to wishing I could empathise more sincerely with the people who appear so fleetingly on my TV screen, newsfeed and google sidebar. The problem is: it’s very difficult to empathise with someone you’re being encouraged to pity. 

I’m not really relating to them through conversations, sharing of stories, taking time to do things and building up that shared-ness that empathy so powerfully helps deep connection with one another. But I am pitying them and settling to relate to the next best thing, a charity or even the TV, tablet or phone. 

This suggests that seeing the positive aspects of the lives of those living in even the most horrendous conditions is essential for relating to them as people rather than as symbols. 

I was recently impressed with the call for seeing 3 year old Aylan to be remembered as a happy boy rather than the refugee boy who was washed up upon a beach last week. This seeing and taking a new vantage point, however, is not easy. And that’s the thing: pitying is easy and empathising, perspective taking, understanding others, is hard. Convenience is winning all around us. 

We are not winning the war against convenient judgements that reinforce our stereotypes.. 

Rather the battle is much harder. We need to seek out the hope, creativity, fun, laughter, bravery, sacrifice and beauty that exist alongside the pain and tragedy. We need more modern films and novels about the experience of poverty to give depth to the people in the adverts and more direct interaction, particularly over the internet, to help create the real human bond on which empathy depends.

Inevitably this deep human connection is missing from most charity adverts that have barely 90 seconds to convey a deep message, despite the real efforts many do make to put a name and face to their appeals. Different styles of advertising that go beyond pathetic appeal may be part of the solution, but the onus should not rest solely with the charities. After all, their first duty is to the communities they seek to help and where the need is so great who am I to suggest they change the way they advertise because it makes me feel uncomfortable and guilty? 

On the contrary, I think the responsibility rests with people like me, watching the suffering of war torn countries flash onscreen between men selling deodorant and PPI claims. At very least I think we have a duty to educate ourselves. We cannot let a minute of emotionally evocative images be our only guide to complex political situations, awful conflicts or even whole countries. 

I think it is almost impossible for most of us to instantly empathise with the little girl we see drinking dirty water on a poster, rather than pity her. I wonder whether one way to start to empathise, and in doing this unlock a more genuine response to her suffering, is to try imagining her as she is - a whole person, with a best friend, a favourite song, talents and dreams. I hope that maybe empathy might be a way to break through the impenetrable barrier of the TV screen and a better motivator for me and others to take action through giving and working to combat the atrocious injustice of global poverty. After all, I may not like charity adverts, but they remind me that I need to understand others.

"Welcome" by Rachel Salter age 7 (from 1972 to a family fleeing a violent regime)

"Welcome"

While wars are raging far away,
People sent out of happy homes
Including you we sadly say
So join with us here, be merry do
We're all so eager to help you
We stitched a matres
Made up a cot
We've empty draws for all you've got
A jolly room with curtains bright
A flowery wastebin
A purple light
Welcome welcome that's what we say
So do please join us any day

by Rachel Salter age 7 (October 1972)
(typed up with the original words)

These words were written in a beautiful note to my father, mother, eldest brother, grandfather, grandmother & auntie as they were thrown out of a country forced to flee and entered into their house for but a short period.

Rachel, along with her family housed my family and gave us a second chance.

Afterwards a community group, St Nicholas Church in Sevenoaks helped us slowly rebuild our lives.

Humanity has not failed. This has happened before and the solutions came through children, their parents, community groups and others who helped their brothers and sisters in need. From what I am seeing right now: the will is there. I'm overwhelmed by the mass public and their response to this Refugee crisis.

#refugeeswelcome

Today I cried

Yesterday I cried because of a picture. 

I actually cried. Tears came flowing down. 

It was the picture of a boy washed up on a beach in Turkey. He was fleeing with his parents a country that all its citizens are leaving in fear of their lives.

I don’t cry.

If I do, it’s rare.

I can hold my tears back no more. I’ve watched and watched and watched this crisis unfold. I’ve even been to the place (the World Economic Forum) where it is about “Improving the state of the world” about this very issue. Even right now I’m working on ways to help and events to help more engagement. But I’m still stunned by these pictures. I read one group say about this that “Humanity has failed”. I don't believe it especially as a person who was saved as a son of refugee, but right now, at this specific time, I'm a doubter.

Today I have run out of words, efforts and all I can do is cry.

#nowordsjusttears

Lucy Masi's Thanksgiving

We buried and gave thanks to Lucy Masi yesterday. 

She lived to 89. 3 of her siblings died before her. Her mother passed away at 4. She lived through Indian independence. Fled the partition between India and Pakistan in 1947 during her third year of medical school (she never finished this degree). Became a teacher. Studied in London and Dublin. Taught in Uganda. Thrown out by a tyrant. Started again in Sevenoaks and continued to teach. Cared for her elderly father during his final days. Brought up 2 generations. Loved to read, especially her bible. 

We said farewell... Thank you... And remembered how much you loved others above yourself.

Going to miss you Masi, but thank you for all you have shared with me.

Angie :)

Yorkshire holiday

Some snaps from our recent holiday 

Virtual reality

(from several weeks ago)

It was in necropolis, of all places, in the middle of London, that I was made to feel alive and living in a refugee camp in Jordan.

12 year old Sidra, from Za’atari camp in Jordan was my guide. She took me to her school, showed me her home, introduced me to her family. Showed me for all but 15 minutes of what her every day life was like.

I am at the ‘Feelies’, a virtual reality film experience with extra sensory input of smells, touch and more at the Shuffle Festival in Mile End. This year the festival is exploring ‘Movement, Migration and Place’ and it celebrates film, storytelling, food, music, comedy and much more.

Feelies made me question, not simply what reality is in itself, but more so what reality is for other people. It is a completely immersive experience, which allows you to step into the life of somebody else. You are given a headset which allows you to look around, 360 degrees, as if you are actually in the film that you are being shown. Whilst seeing there are technician enhancing the experience through giving smells, giving you items to touch and moving you around I even felt the rain from Jordan splash me.

For just 15 minutes I was with Sidra in her world and walked with her. I walked around the home to 84,000 refugees. I saw the sun set. People playing football. Visited schools. For 15 minutes I was far, far away. This was much more than just a film.

Filmmaker Chris Milk believes that virtual reality can create an empathy machine and says:

“We’ve just started to scratch the surface of the true power of virtual reality. It’s not a video game peripheral — it connects humans to other humans in a profound way.”

Just as soon as I stepped in. I stepped out. Left Sidra behind and found myself back in the place of the dead.

Lucy Christian d 17.08.15

This was the last time I saw her when she was explaining life when she was 7 to Joshie, Reuben, Caleb and Ezra.

She passed away, peacefully, about an hour ago. 

Feeling a wave of sadness from missing her, but full of gladness to have had Lucy Dadi in my life all these years.

She now dwells in a wonderful place.

Guns with history

I've been researching 'Empathy' stunts that have sought to forge a deep connection between people and issues.

The best seems to be the immersive ones... the ones that invite us into an uncomfortable yet poignant places.

This one is truly inspired.

Three Months On

(this thought provoking article that I edited is written by a friend who took part in one of the simulations we ran and has come back to do some research on empathy. She's a guest contributor!) 

---------

Three Months On

by Charlotte Whittaker

‘NO, I don’t care. Show me pictures of coffins, show me bodies floating in water, play violins and show me skinny people looking sad….

Make no mistake, these migrants are like cockroaches. They might look a bit ‘Bob Geldof’s Ethiopia circa 1984’, but they are built to survive a nuclear bomb. They are survivors.’

Do these words ring any bells?

On the 17th April Katie Hopkins published them in her column in the Sun under the headline,

‘Rescue boats? I’d use gunships to stop migrants’.

The following night on the 18th April, a ship carrying fleeing migrants sank during a storm off the coast of Libya. Over 800 people lost their lives.

The combination produced a perfect social media storm.

Katie’s comments went viral alongside news of the disaster and the country gave a collective shudder. The story lingered on for a couple of weeks while election focussed immigration rhetoric flooded the media. Then, as quickly as it had come, the issue disappeared beneath the tide of the unrelenting news cycle.

In trying to examine Katie’s massive failure in empathy as symptomatic of the larger empathy deficit in society I have discovered something else in myself and others- our lack in venturing from an indignant reaction to bailing ourselves out of the pandemic empathy bankruptcy.  

Like so many others, my immediate and instinctive response to Katie’s comments was one of disgust.  An overriding tone of many of the criticisms I read too. This response isn’t wrong. What she said was in severe bad taste and this is where I, and so many others’, knees jerked to react. We all found ourselves thinking: “where was her empathy and compassion for the least of these” or “where was her compassion for people choosing to make a perilous journey with their children across a sea”. Our fingers were pointing and wagging. Unfortunately the response, however, was not one of empathy with migrants. Sympathy yes. But not empathy.

There is a temptation to be indignant at her lack of empathy but miss the fact that our response also frequently lacks compassion for the 800 who died and the millions whose future in Europe is uncertain.

Why should I bother removing myself from my screen to place myself in the shoes of terrified, drowning migrants as a truly human and natural response. The mere thought of it is massive. Clearly indignation is much easier than empathy making our empathy debt that much deeper.

So how can we tackle it? There’s certainly no easy answer. All we can hope for is small steps; one person-at-a-time expanding their capacity for empathy and making the painful choice of investing emotionally in others.

Roman Krznaric, one of the influential thinkers of the empathy movement, believes it is possible to learn to empathise more and gives some ideas in his article ‘6 habits of highly empathic people’.

Empathy begins with contact, connection and company. It begins with the migrants, whose suffering most of us cannot begin to imagine but whose experiences we should nevertheless make an effort to understand. One place to start is with Hakim Bello’s personal account of the journey in the Guardian. Another resource is the BBC’s ‘Syrian journey’ simulation which lets you make the decisions of someone fleeing their home as a result of the war. Collective empathy is an essential motivator of policy in this situation, with potentially huge consequences such as the decision to reinstate search and rescue teams in the Mediterranean since the sinking.

Empathy is so desperately needed here with Katie and her thousands of supporters and elsewhere. It is possibly even hard to empathise here because we don’t want to admit that we share some of Katie’s lack of empathy for the migrants. Uncomfortable as it may be, it is important, because empathy might just help us understand, and even possibly influence, the point of view of this politically powerful group. Similarly, empathy with EU decision makers will show us that the migrant crisis is a terrifyingly complicated situation, so that we can understand and support those who are honestly searching for good long term solutions. Looking back to the debate around this story 3 months on reminds us how desperately we need to learn radical empathy.

Circa 1986-7

An old photo with my dada, dadi, brothers and cousin.

We used to jump over that fence! 

The morning Ezra sandwich

"I keep saying to myself I have to take it everywhere. I can't take it out of my sight!"

Caleb has just comeback from the Ridgewaye presentation day.

They had a cage tournament. Teams of three and Caleb won. He WON!

He even scored. His first of the season.

I was proud. I would have been proud wherever he came. He was even more chuffed.

It's 9.30pm. I've just cleared up a spilt tea (my clutz-ness!) and Caleb popped down beaming.

He said: "I just can't sleep" clutching his trophy and then exclaimed.

"I keep saying to myself I have to take it everywhere. I can't take it out of my sight!"

Mummy let him have a choc chip cookie on his way back up. He left with an even bigger smile :)

A family snap

“It’s part of our giving back to the community” (On Generosity)

I’ve just spent a day with professional IT gurus from IBM on a course titled “How to develop a Technology Plan”.

I’m buzzing having been blitzed with their theory, ideas and words that I didn’t even know existed and techniques that I thought were only for the big organisations and the super nerdy. How wrong I was about these lovely guys & gals... and how thankful I am for gaining a brief exchange of their wisdom.

I was reminded in a great way of the subtle yet superior craft of 'keep it simple'. This is how to formulate your plan.

The IBM UK Citizenship team, facilitated by Jeremy, taught us a few of the steps they follow to plan with simplicity and then to enhance your capacity as a small charity through technology by understanding who you are and what you are trying to do. The hard part, by far, being the introspective aspects.

A lot of what we were taught is actually just common sense. I know most of these principles. I still hear words of Socrates echo "know thyself" ring out from my days as a student, and even more so in a charitable organisation where our identity is our most important thing but getting down to do such things like this is not so simple.

It’s certainly not so when you’re a teeny tiny charity.

A day of planning can easily be hijacked by the printer that has just gone on fatal error vacation or when the milk runs out. Or when one of your volunteers ring in sick meaning an entire team reshuffle and there goes your entire week. The list goes on.

All the people, save for the IBM army, in this room are from small charities and most described themselves in the introduction as managers, directors and other auspicious type titles that connote sage like leaders that are inspiring, imparting and firmly directly their band of volunteers. Yet each, over the course of the day, described how far from managing they feel. "Manager" in fact may have seemed a pompous title that is more aptly described as “General Dog’s Body” whose day job is simply keeping the whole thing, barely at best in some cases, ticking along. Anything to do with thinking about common sense guidance principles and strategy is not so simple. It’s a luxury.

Small yes but resourceful oh my. These gals & guys are as I shared and learned are used to being under resourced, over ambitious and way over stretched as an modus operandi.

It was a great mix of sectors in the room today. I am glad to be part of this session together with small charities and a big company.

At some point I ask myself why would a big company deal with the lowly groups like ourselves. Who thought of it and why were they motivated about being helpful to others. What was their empathy story. I didn’t find out on the day, but I did hear one of the IBM volunteer, who was at lunch with us say “it’s part of our giving back to the community”.

There is was. Ah ha. Generosity. The practice of giving.

Generosity, in full blown action, I believe starts with the empathy.

At some point someone somewhere in this company must have thought about others who are in the sole operation exists to help others. They considered the powerful side of empathy, “what if it was me”. What if it was us who were starting up, who were overstretched, who were under resourced scraping by with little donated time by others and desperately reaching out with their all to get to those incredibly hard to reach people that it seems everyone else has forgotten. How would we feel in their place and what would we want a big company to do to help us out.

They then must have reasoned that “it is better for us to share than to safeguard what we have for the greater good”.

Generosity is more than just a good idea... it’s powerful one, it’s a strategic one, it’s an effective one… and when generosity grows it’s ‘wings’ through becoming a practice it ‘flies’... soaring across our communities, criss-crossing and connecting us much, much better together just like today in this session.

It's nice to have a community "Big Brother" to help their little siblings out. Thank you IBM for allowing my charity, Empathy Action to be part of your generosity.

For more information on IBM’s Responsible Citizenship or the Small Charities Coalition events for small charities click on the embedded links.

June 15th-20th, 2015 week also marks Small Charity Week #smallcharityweek

Today @IBMUKCitizen are running a Developing a Technology Plan workshop for #smallcharities. Happy #Smallcharityweek! pic.twitter.com/DVrWHTDtxo

— Small Charities Cltn (@sccoalition) June 15, 2015

15 weeks

Ezra at 15 weeks and 2 days. 

13 weeks

All for one...

... And one for All.

Thank you Elizabeth Ward: A Tribute

I recently read a tweet, as it happened a final one, that read:

“A life is like a garden. Perfect moments can be had, but not preserved, except in memory.”

Today I look back and remember Elizabeth Ward, a lady who has been an encourager, helper and one who opened her doors to serve others.

Whilst this Easter weekend was a great time of reflection that not even death can hold a good person down it also delivered the news that Elizabeth had herself breathed her last. She had been battling a crippling case of cancer that suddenly took hold of her in the autumn of last year.

Up until 18 months ago all Elizabeth to me was some parent to some of the kids from a youth group that I served in and I vaguely knew that she helped with the international students around our town.

I didn’t know that she lost her husband to cancer several years ago. That she was quirky, forthright with her thoughts and extremely loving.

I also didn’t know that she was willing to help out with other’s needs.  Especially in that hour, or hours, that comes to us all where we desperately need one another. Our need was for the charity that I worked for, operating with next to no resources, needed to pull off a minor miracle in the production of paper bags for a client. The client was a prestigious car company but the makers of the bags, the ones who we were really trying to help were from a small charity looking to help educate and opportunity for street children in New Delhi.

Elizabeth and others came to stick, glue, tie labels and carefully prepare these bags. Each done individually. All 4000 of them. Oh the monotony of it. 2 weeks with a small band of volunteers we persevered together.

After Elizabeth attended one of our simulations where we recreated, somewhat poetically, an activity that is based on making paper bags.

Then some months later a chance encounter allowed me to share a waiting space with her and she was highly animated around the persecution, in particular of Christians in Northern Iraq. Proclaiming to write to politicians, to leaders, to others in order to see how she could serve and in particular to open her house to help others.

I did not, personally, know any refugees. Earlier in the year we had helped with galvanising support for Syria and seen the UK welcome a number of displaced people. I also knew many groups operating in the area who were all highlighting the human tragedy of displacement but none the movement of people to here. However, I did happen to know a girl, from Kazakhstan, who was on a life journey to return to where her origins were, in North Korea, and her heart to serve. Her recourse was leading her to both work with us whilst undertaking a doctorate so she could become a teacher for others about the values of empathy, “one another-ness” and serving. She was only supported by a small group of friends. Elizabeth thought hard and said yes she’d love to help and offer a home to help her along.

It was here that I got to know the kind hearted woman who willingly opened up her doors to a stranger, who helped someone get to where they were going, who stopped to listen to the needs of another and sought to do something with what she had. At one time in my family’s history others too opened up their doors to us strangers after being unwillingly removed from our home country and into a strange one and allowed us the time to find our feet.

I’m grateful for sharing in this small part of her life and to walk albeit briefly with the saints in this world. Thank you Elizabeth. I will remember what you have done for the least of these.