From Jinja to Sevenoaks (part 2) - interview with Ben (19/3/22)

Nearly 9 years ago, Papa told this journey to the church that helped him. I was privileged to be standing next to him as he proudly shared.

A few weeks ago I shared it to my church in St Johns. This time I was alone.

We also were able to hand out some special bracelets that are made by Syrian friends about something that meant a lot to us during a time of crisis, friendship. 

Amazingly these were sponsored by a handful of friends to give away to each attendee with the message that friendships are a powerful thing that we can each bring to displaced people. Certainly our family can testify to this power. 

If ever you are wondering what to do during a time of disaster: choose to be a friend.

Ben Solanky · Jinja to Sevenoaks - Ben Solanky at St John's Breakfast - 19 Mar 22

Wonder Space

I was recently interviewed by a friend Steve Cole on his podcast about wonder spaces. A great podcast series exploring wonder.

I'd love to hear any comments... let me know!

80th birthday for Mercy Solanky 14.11.21

Celebrating 80 years of my mummy yesterday! 

We had phonce calls, zoom calls, drop ins and drop bys, fires, food and some fun... there a lovely tribute video made from some old footage too.

Happy birthday mummy :) xxx

 

God’s own county

Here’s a few photos from our holiday in God’s own county. We could only go thanks to some friends lending us their amazing home. 

Such a beautiful place.

The kids are growing into a teenage phase more as the appetite to do anything is waning. 

Podcast Interview with Ben on Teacher Talks Radio (from Feb)

From a few months ago, but here's me being interviewed by David Cunningham about 'empathy' and the work of Empathy Action.

(I'm on for the first half!)

 

A (covid) death in the family

India has been getting from "bad to worse" in the ongoing diary of a global pandemic.

Yesterday we heard that my uncle in Ahmadabad had "been tested positive". Shortly followed by the words please pray. 

When hearing this you hope that he will be on the stats of "mild" and "with little impact".

My uncle was a good man. My most memorable time with him was about 20 years ago when I stayed for about 2-3 weeks for my cousin's wedding. He was a great fun. I recall enjoying a whiskey in a 'dry state' with him and his best friend. We both liked our whiskeys. I also loved going around Ahmadabad on the back of his scooter.

His next 24 hours were to be his last. One that reduces his entire life, his very essence, all those memories to a growing statistic.

It's was hard to hear that when he was eventually in hospital with all the worry and with his weakened heart he was being sent away home once they knew it was covid. He was asked to leave. Whilst they were in a hospital, they were not 'a covid hospital'. They were scared. Instead of a place of healing it became a place of sanctioning an oncoming 'timing-out' of my uncle's life in bureaucracy. The clock was ticking down as they sent him away. The one saving grace, or perhaps a way to justify their expulsion of him, was the sending him away with a canister of oxygen. Tick 

It was hard to hear that the specialist '108 Ambulance' - the only way to get to these specialist covid  hospitals was unresponsive. Tock.

Many people, from around the world too, were trying the hotline. It was not working. Trying time and time and time and time again. Tick

What alternatives were there. One was even trying an 'Ambulance on Wheels' service. Tock

Another came in the form of looking for other people to help. This was hard as it was now the early hours. Everything was shut. It was harder still when someone was eventually found to help and said I'll be there in 30 minutes. It was a glimmer of hope. Tick

In the mean time the oxygen canister had run out. Tock

When the ambulance eventually came it was too late. Uncle had passed.

It was hard to come to grips that this pandemic had taken my uncle away. Until now it hasn't hit home with a death. Today it has.

Remembering him with fondness and grateful to have had those memories. Most important to me is that he is at peace and I believe in a wonderful place. 

He was buried today barely 24 hours since that whatsapp message.

____

“My Father’s house has many rooms; if that were not so, would I have told you that I am going there to prepare a place for you? And if I go and prepare a place for you, I will come back and take you to be with me that you also may be where I am. You know the way to the place where I am going.’”

‭‭John‬ ‭14:2-4 

The envelope

These envelopes come and keep us afloat.

Anonymous and affirming.

We don’t know who you are.

We don’t know why you do this

But we do rejoice and give thanks for who you are.

Thank you and it’s been 17 years of this envelope economy for us. 

Every time it never ceases to blow us away. 

Praising.

Spotlight session with Ben Solanky

Recently I was invited to share my perspective with one of the teams from Christian Aid. Here's the interview.
 

Holibobs

A few photos from a short time away before a season of change. Again.

Thank you Matt

Today I say farewell to my Co-director and Co founder of Empathy Action.

We had the initial idea for this charity around 7.5 years ago and the last five and half years have been about building a foundation for this.

The idea that we're never going to solve the world's biggest problems without concerned people and that there is a growing dispassion, apathy, quick to judge any effort as futile and not worthwhile, and the countless delegating of our responsibilities... we had a vision to see an end to poverty, brought about by concerted, compassionate, community action. We'd both grown within deprived backgrounds. We've also both seen the sheer force of concerned people to that deprivation to make a world of difference that lasts into the next generations. It was more than just the actions and efforts. It was almost like looking directly into the face of "hope".

It's funny as some of the early names that we thought we right for the organisation were "The Ripple Effect" or "The Empathy Foundation"... (there were a few cryptic ones like "Petrachor" or "Pebble"... but we'll leave that!). But our name 'Empathy Action' says it all. That's exaclty what we both said. It says what we want to do. I recall that exact moment when we realised that we needed to stop being clever with this and embrace our name... this is who we are.. and start to grow with this identity.

We realised this as we were in the business of partnerships at that time and we saw the ones that worked were down to the energy and drive of the people. I once heard someone "say we need good champions and the resources to make a world of difference, but if you were to ask me to choose, I'd choose champions as good ones will find the resources."

We sought to anchor the whole movement in empathy and particulalry based on the old proverb "to understand another you must first walk a mile in their shoes". We'd been involved in projects that were using empathy and we saw what a powerful force it could be to help build understanding and cultivate that compassionate action.

One of Matt's finest moments was stating these beliefs on the global stage at a UN summit (see the video beneath).

The other thing is we're both volunteers...  and that's perhaps the real miracle of all this... the whole operation is entirely built on that 'will' to see a different world. Our whole team choose to do this. And it's not just the team too but its that bunch of others who have enabled each of us to step out and up to serve. Both Matt and I have both been supported financially and much much more by a small bunch of people who got behind us. Somehow that togetherness has taught us much more than any course that we could have done to bolster our credentials. It certainly not the money that has motivated us (nor our team)... but something much deeper: our belief and conviction of this mission. 

Thanks Matt and I will miss directing along side you but know that you will always be a co-founder and my friend. I promise that the best is yet to come for Empathy Action building upon the strong foundation that you have laid.

Excelsior!

By Parties unknown

I was recently shown this picture called "By Parties Unknown" by Hale Woodruff. It depicts a lynched black man left on the doorstep of a church.

The significance of 'a tree' and 'hanging from a tree' are deep within the Christian tradition. But for me it's the unknown person here that seems to be powerful when I look at this picture.

My friend who shared this with me said the following (she cites James Cone's reference to it in his book 'The Cross and The Lynching Tree'):

For Cone, this imagery is something that black artists and poets and writers and musicians could see clearly and spoke about clearly, but theologians and ordinary Christians did not...

You can’t see it too well here but where the rope in the Parties Unknown image meets the ground, flowers are growing. There is beauty to be found in the midst of pain.
 
As James Cone writes: “The beauty in black existence is as real as the brutality, and the beauty prevents the brutality from having the final word. Black suffering needs radical and creative voices, prophetic advocates who can tell brutal and beautiful stories of how oppressed black people survived with a measure of dignity when they were not meant to. Who are we? Why are we here? And what must we do to achieve our full humanity in a world that denies it?”

Black Lives Matter - an interview with me by my church

[UPDATE: Postscript and link to follow up chruch service at the end of this post]

I was interviewed by my church last week about the issue of racism.

This was a really hard subject for me to discuss as it’s something I’ve spent my whole life trying to cover up. 

I’m not proud of this nor do I blame anyone. It’s just I’ve realised how incredibly adept and masterful I’ve become in this covering up process.

My brother wrote a powerful post following the Black Lives Matter marches (see beneath).

I guess I’m just sad that it has come to this and harbour a sense of shame that it has been something that has happened my whole life. Whether it has been my survival instincts or just how I needed to navigate life. It makes me sad.

There is a "however" though... something else...

... I believe that this sadness does not have the last word on this matter. Instead I choose to believe that hope has the last word on this... and faith is all I have to see this hope right now.

_______

Why didn't I take part in the protests yesterday???

(by Alwin Solanky June 7th, 2020)

What a great question… After all I’m a PoC; a BAME, someone of South Asian heratige. I feel that I DO have A LOT to say, but feel trepidation that I won’t be heard.

I’m a lighter shade of brown than George Floyd, Breonna Taylor Ahmaud Arbery. I’ve probably never faced the intensity of abuse they had in their lives and I'm still alive. So why am I feeling so raw?

Even as I’m writing this, I can feel the judgement of others, this is why I don't post about racism. The truth is I've had so many racist experiences during my lifetime that I can't possibly write them all down here. I would dearly love to be heard but I feel that what I say will fall on very deaf ears, like it has time after time. I don’t have the platform that some of you who I’ve known for an age have.

I’ve experienced little incidents and microaggressions since probably the first day I went to school. From the teachers who thought I was not as intelligent as others with other skin tones and smiles turning to closed pursed lips, to those that tried to give me a chance to speak only to be ridiculed by my fellow classmates. By trying to say something, I’m normally talked over with a, "that doesn't happen rhetoric". This has been going on for so long that I almost stopped trying.

I'm exhausted from trying to make my voice heard. I have tried to say things on various platforms but how many have ever liked, shared or even read what I have to say? I have not been the popular person, the person who is sought out at the party, when there is a gathering is one of the first people make a beeline for or even on here, when something is important to me ever paid attention to?

The legal definition of justice is to act or to treat an individual justly or fairly, meaning that everyone should be treated the same way, independent of their race, ethnicity, creed, socioeconomic background, sexual orientation, or gender. Essentially, this means that everyone must receive the same treatment regardless of who they are. But I feel that this does not apply to me because of who I am. Let me make one thing crystal clear: I'm NOT feeling sorry for myself in the slightest, in fact I despise myself for even trying to say something because I feel I’m on a hiding to nothing. Yet there is that little voice that says please say something it deserves to be heard. That voice is trampled on by those that I thought would help. This is why I feel I have no voice and yet there is hope that some of you are in a more privileged position than me would at least back me, but from past experience I doubt that this is the case.

Yesterday those that protested did a wonderful thing: you risked your health for something that has been trying to be said for years, however will you still say Black Lives Matter, tomorrow, next, week, month, year, decade etc? I’ve been wanting change since a policeman spat at the feet of my father when I was probably only four or five, I can still see the look of horror and disbelief that it happened. He was holding my hand at the time. I have been told on the few times I have shared this, that this type of thing does not happen including adults in positions of responsibility.

To answer the big one. I lost my father last year and my elderly mother who is vulnerable and not in the best of health. I do not want to risk any chance of her getting infected by COVID-19 due to my actions in protesting with others. She is my only parent left and I don't want to lose her. You may see this as a cop out, fair enough, my mother too has been on the end of some pretty dreadful racial abuse, that's a story for another time which needs to be listened to.

*********

[POSTSCRIPT (27th July): there was a follow up church service that can be viewed here]

John David Price (dad) part 1

A few weeks ago my father in law passed away. He was less than a month before his 87th birthday.

Today we cremated him.

He loved the garden. He loved watching the birds. 

Angie read some memories, a psalm (same one as at my papa’s thanksgiving) and ended with this quote (a final ever tweet from someone just before he died):

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

Rest in peace (in that garden), Dad. We will miss you.

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

View this post on Instagram

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