Legacy part 2: we were too late.... she died

Thinking of legacy right now. And what really counts. I once heard it like this: “The only thing that counts is faith expressing itself through love.”. Here is the second part of two legacy moments.  

She died.

Same age as my boy.

I met her on the one day that I arrived at that hospital. On that exact day. Being in a different country. Just dropping in.

The doctor hovered over her body and said:

"We know what to do. We have the skills and training. We have the doctors. We just don't have the tools.... it is a good month we have money to get through it"

Just following we went to clear not just one but three containers that were stuck in ports full of medical equipment for this hospital that I had a very minor part in getting to this place. All of a sudden these container seemed like maybe there was hope in saving this girl's life.

(here's a video that I made following this encounter at that exact time)

She didn't make it. That following morning after unloading and that very same doctor coming back and seeing all the amazing equipment that came out of those containers (he was so thrilled and struck by it all). It was amazing to see. When all the excitemnet had died down I asked about the girl we met only 24 hours before. He shook his head (it could have been a seen in a film).

For all we did we failed that girl. Why didn't we listen more, treat this as more urgent... why didn't I try harder. I had the choice.

I'm not trying to beat myself up, but these were many of the thoughts and feelings that this girl taught me in that precise moment riding in the back of that truck.

I'm not much of a crying person. But I remember those tears in that truck. Each one.

This weekend my colleague and good friend (godfather to one of my boys) sent me a photo of a few of those items that came out of those containers (incubators) that have gone on to help many others since.

Here's his post on looking back 9 years ago.

#Legacy

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I first visited the @hopehealthaction hospital in Haiti after the earthquake in 2010 with @solon1975 following a donation of incubators for premature babies, and have been back a number of times filming for the hospital and for @walkaboutorg on wheelchair distributions. Some of the many highlights over that time include filming one of the first caesarian sections in the brand new surgery in 2013, and following spinal cord injured patients from the earthquake go on to complete in the London 2012 Paralympic Games. It’s been an absolute joy to be back here again this week. Seeing those same incubators in action, and meeting the same dedicated staff providing first class healthcare in a near impossible situation. Much of this week Haiti has been in flames yet their service never stops. . . . . #prospectarts #filmmaking #paralympics

A post shared by Thomas Williams (@_thomas_williams) on Oct 11, 2019 at 2:17pm PDT

Legacy part 1: “He helped my nephew when he was being bullied”

Thinking of legacy right now. And what really counts. I once heard it like this: “The only thing that counts is faith expressing itself through love.”. Here is part one of two legacy moments.   

I was in the pub earlier this week.

I was having a difficult meeting with a friend. Well at least it was for me. 

It was one of those meetings following a throwing, what I felt, was the proverbial ‘toys out the pram’ over a particular matter. The friend was simply following this up and taking me to the pub for a chat through.

I’m never a fan of these meetings.

The meeting went well. It was actually very amicable and I was able to express how I felt about the matter, he listened and then the conversations moved swiftly on.

As we did I shared about a recent tragedy of a 10 year old boy Charlie who is the same age as Reuben. He used to play in our house and his family are good friends of ours. He was fighting cancer. It was a two year battle. His mum and dad had documented the journey powerfully on facebook and Charlie’s fight involved the whole community getting behind him and even Crystal Palace Football Club. “Team Charlie” as we called ourselves. We all willed, prayed and supported the family as best we could. 

His loss on the 1st August shook us all. We were following, praying and supporting right to the final seconds. I still remember it vividly.

We lit candles as a family and community the following day. At his thanksgiving service the road through Southborough were lined with many people paying their respects (the Scouts, the football community, the school and others). 

It was somehow lovely speaking of him again and remembering some of these good moments. He had an infectious smile.

The meeting ended and it was time to go home. Just as we were about to leave the barman, with tears in his eyes, stopped us and said “I couldn’t help but overhear that you were speaking of Charlie Grist. When my nephew was being bullied at school that boy stood up for him”.

Thank you Charlie. 

#TeamCharlie

Gaius Hamilton Solanky: Celebration 20.9.19

Said "Thank You" to my papa today...

:') xxx

(video by his nephew Jerry Das)

Gaius Hamilton Solanky: A Celebration of Life 1400 20.9.19

Husband. Papa. Grandfather. Brother. Uncle. Follower of Jesus.

Gaius Hamilton Solanky (77) passed away peacefully on 28th August, 2019.

A celebration of the life of Gaius will take place at St Nicholas Church (Sevenoaks) at 2pm, 20th September 2019. Car parking at church or the Stag Car Park (other car parks in Sevenoaks available).

All welcome and light refreshments and cake will be available following the service in the Church undercroft.

Instead of flowers, the family would kindly request donations towards the charity Empathy Action. 

Death in the family: Gaius Hamilton Solanky

“Wait... Is Dada going to be dead forever?”

Penetrating words of a four and half year old.

My father passed away last Wednesday. This week has been a bit of a blur.

Israel: About that wall

Boasting the “worst” views in all of Bethlehem Banksy’s ‘The Walled Off Hotel’ sits adjacent to the separation wall of Bethlehem that leads to Rachel’s tomb. This top class hotel sits alongside mesmerising graffiti all long the monument of separation bringing in the tourists to see for themselves ‘the wall’. It also has a very impressive museum to walk through too. 

With self playing pianos and interior the experience was surreal. 

Later that week ‘the wall’ cast its shadow upon us as we sat there feasting on a BBQ on a long table in the Wi’am Peace Centre as the sun went down. 

A saying came back to me whilst the sun started to descend and the cool of the evening came “when you have more than you need build a longer table not a higher fence”

Israel: "Our existence is resistance"

It’s been 71 years. 

There’s not much sign of improvement here. Perhaps a new tactic is to give up and give in. 

The Palestinians we met were in the 2nd and sometimes 3rd generation of living in exile. When asked about the solution… it seemed that all else is failing. The government are getting stricter. More restrictions. More sanctions. Increased difficulties in travelling around and movement. The odds are stacked up and every form of resistance is becoming more and more futile... save for one… the very virtue of existence. 

The last stand.

We heard the phrase “Our is existence is resistance”... and we witness beautiful acts of such resistance… resistance in the form of an ancient Palestinian dance called ‘Dabke’, in the form of theatre groups telling stories, of music, of acrobatics… and even of conservation. We visited a farm called The Tent of Nations and the main conservationist said: “we need to be creative… we would love to have a school here but we can’t build, but what if we had a school that was moveable and on wheels”. 

Here I witnessed acts and ideas of beautiful resistance. And what a beauty they were too.

Mesmerising.

Israel: broken

Our guide, a Barcelona fan (I know this as we shared about retelling the story of the Liverpool Barcelona game), tells me that he can’t join us as we cross to the other side of the road. 

He’s Palestinian and his movement is restricted. 

Earlier he had been showing us the tourist attraction of the grave of Isaac. This has two access points. One for the Jewish people and the other was for the Palestinians. One side has bullet proof glass. 

As we left an area we say three Palestinian teenagers get serached. We keep walking and our guide says I’ll meet you at the other side. 

We walk through deserted streets. And streets with posters saying “Welcome to Hebron: the cradle of Jewish Civilisation”. 

A few days later on the top of the Alrowwad centre in Aida Camp. I was staring at Rachel’s tomb. It was hidden behind a wall. Earlier that day I had read a poem of another child dying in the shadow of her tomb. It was all too much for me. 

Broken.

(a friend sent this to me as I was starring at Rachel's tomb... the moment it all seemed too much)

Israel: Are you feeling settled?

Nothing struck me more than learning about the term “settlers” and “aggressive settlers”. 

This was referred to a group of Israelis who have “settled” deep in Palestinian territory. 

There are two sides to this: one fulfilling a deep sense of religious entitlement and indeed hope, the other seeing a further incursion into their ever diminishing land. 

The settlers are supported, encouraged and often well subsidised by the Israeli government to settle. Some come from abroad to do so.  

Their presence serves to build a foothold in to the area and impose further ‘rights’ to the land. These settlements increasing have walls around them, there's barbed wire and restricted access for the Palestinians as the safety of the settlers is at risk. 

Whilst there we saw a group of children on the school run, they were surrounded by a civilian private guards with radios and guns. 

As for me, I felt very unsettled.

Israel: Break Fast. Stand Fast

Then in the evening we travelled to Aida refugee camp where we waited patiently till the sun going down and helped prepare food with families. 

Upon sunset we all shared in dates, breaking of bread and a delicious meal in the small corridors of walkways sitting on the ground. 

As we broke fast together… there were lots of smiles and trying to pronounce the names of the dishes. And a lot of satisfied "hmmmms" and then that glorious food silence from us all. A few nods to our chef. 

This meal seemed much more than just an average dinner as we enjoyed a moment in the cool of the evening. Thank you.

Israel: to tear down and to build up

It’s Ramadan and today I spent the morning in a house that was recently rebuilt. 

The previous one was demolished. 

The people who lived there had received a demolition order. In the night the army came. Surrounded the area. They proceeded to demolish the home. They destroyed the plants. 

Just a month earlier an international team had come to help rebuild their home. The one we are being invited into just now.

It could not be built in exactly the same place to avoid another demolition order. The hostess was in tears as she welcomed us in. She was so proud of this home that was gifted to her and her family after the horror of losing her other home. She said they still have restless nights. Her neighbour ran in and wanted to tell us about the group who came months earlier here to help rebuild it. She had a massive smile with tears saying what courage she had drawn from this small bunch. 

They worked hard. Some senior in their years but very 'junior' in their work ethic. She said in her small but limited English: “thank you and may god bless you”. 

They then served us some food and drinks despite having to hold back due to Ramadan.

Israel: I am the uncomfortable tourist

I came to see and experience this land that I have only learnt about from books, friends, family, Aid workers and newspapers. I thought I knew stuff about this place. But the more I explored the less I felt I understood. 

Before I came, I spoke to my Dad and colleagues about coming and they kept saying how amazing it would be to walk where Jesus walked and be where he was. 

The reality is… wherever I followed in his footsteps and walked where he was supposed to have been… he was not there. Instead was the frenzy of those around me in search of a special moment to meet their Jesus. 

I kept searching and all I found was relics and icons. I also found check points, restrictions, walls and separation. 

I’m still searching.

Israel: what to expect

41 minutes to Tel Aviv.

It seems a usual occurrence to not contemplate what I’m about to undertake until the journey there. Before that it’s just something else.

Most of the time preparing for going away consisting of practicalities. What I need. How I’m going to get places. Who is needed to help me get there. Who do I need to speak to. What do I need to say and to whom. 

But I find myself thinking what am I to expect of stepping into a country that has so much history and is so entwined with my own story and that of my family’s.

Is the best preparation, actively shutting down expectations, questioning assumptions and being open to what and where you find yourself. 

“Being open”, there’s a phrase often banded around. Perhaps just “being” is better. More to come.

Israel: I am a pilgrim

Heathrow airport. It’s getting late.

Long story but due to being car-less and a host of other things I’ve decided to come to Heathrow tonight ahead of the trip tomorrow. 

It’s billed as pilgrimage.

And it starts in an empty airport terminal with a few stragglers. Like me they’re waiting. 

The space is distinctively empty but pregnant with anticipation. 

These are the liminal moments.

I have a man crashed out in the adjacent set of chairs watching a video on his phone. He chooses not to use his headphones. I hear everything. Including his text updates that interrupt the show comedy show with its canned laughter. As for me I’m watching the last Match of the Day of the this season. 

Only 6 hours before the meet up and I’m thinking how many of those will actually have sleep in.

The journey starts here.

Yorkshire Easter Holiday

We had no car but we were gifted a house to take our family near Skipton.

Should we go or shouldn't we. Angie was desperate to go (sometimes it's juts a desire to get away) but our car is looking pretty bad.

Amazingly, a friend offered to pay for a hire car to get away. Amazingly we had a special time away. 

Reuben & Papa Roadtrip

When we started out our mission to serve those in poverty we wanted to do it as a family. Involve the children.

We thought around 10 is a good age to meet others and gain a broader sense of the world and its people. In the past I’ve taken Caleb (in 2016) and Joshua (in 2018) to Kosovo.

It’s Reuben turn. Not quite 10, but in Year 5.Due to issues of Brexit uncertainty we decided to not go to Kosovo yet and maybe take some time out together. When looking at options (costs and opportunities), we thought: rooooooaaad trrrriiiippp! Let’s use the Caravelle to the max and sleep in it and head out somewhere cool for a few days. We needed up thinking: “Let’s do Snowden!” (Not “Mount Snowdon”, apparently that’s the first thing not to say)

So here’s our trip in pics:

1. Stopping at a waterfall in Wales (Reuben wanted to capture it)

2. The sheer view heading into Snowdon National Park against an awesome sunset.

3. Then trouble struck (the battery light went on and the car stopped and we broke down by the side of the Road (just after the photo above). Oh and we had one bar of phone signal and due to the beautiful sunset meant the light was going.

4. Just in case you want to see a man, in fading light, with his broken down car on the A5 (note the sun has gone)

5. After a lovely Policeman stopped and stuck with us whilst waiting for the roadside recovery. Kev, the policeman even let us stay in his car when it started to get cold and let Reuben put on the siren (Reuben later said “why would he do that? That’s really kind of him.”. We ended up being towed to a lake where we pulled up beside and spent the night. The RAC were going to being called in the morning, when the light was better.

6. Not a bad place to breakdown. Though we had no signal now and Angie had to make the calls for us (agreed the night before when we did have the one bar of signal)

7. Found some signal (one bar) on this rock.

8. The RAC man said he can’t fix it the timing has gone (usually indicates something more serious than just the alternator belt). His question, where do you want it towed to? We went back to TW. I’d given up. Let’s go home. Reuben however was in tears. We’d already wasted time and energy being here. How do I help him understand: we can’t go on.

9. As we waited a text came through (don’t know how as we didn’t have signal) to say your insurance entitles you to 3 day complimentary car as onward travel. I was spent. Just wanted to go home. When I looked at the broken boy beside me and told him about this he said we can’t stop here.

10. We managed to get a courtesy car (it needed to be delivered to a postal address... unfortunately lay-bys don’t have postal addresses!) Angie found us a youth hostel where the team said we can stay and use the postal address to receive the car. We were dropped off by the towing company and then decided to do climb after receiving our new car.

11. Stunning!

12. The views

13. We thought we’d go even further up.

14. No stopping now.

15. Still ascending.

16. Reuben was stoked to find snow.

17. We had each other. Spirits still high!

18. More Snow…

19... and some!

20. He was shattered and had to rest.

21. “Stop taking photos, Papa”

22. Day 3 after a night at the Youth Hostel. Starting the day with a porridge.

23. The Llanberis path up Snowdon

24. The halfway station. We were hoping to get a train down. Feeling a bit tired now.

25. This was approaching the hardest part of the walk up (after another hard bit). Reuben was fairly broken.

26. Made it. But oh so shattered!

27. Together (at the top)

28. Resting on the descent and admiring the views

29. Train station (but no trains)... we had to walk down. Even lost my phone and ran back up (around 500 m) to find it placed by the side. Someone said they saw it placed there. Grateful!

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