Kosovo #4: after a long day...

Kosovo #3: "we're with Ray"

Ray has invited me to Kosovo multiple times.

I have tried to come many times too. It's just not worked out. 

Right now I'm lying on a bed in house in Gjakova. I would never be here being welcomed in this home. With these lovely people who give their beds up for Caleb and I. 

Aferdita cooked a meal. Suzanna, the mother, baked the bread. Ramadan, Aferdita's older brother, his wife Miki and their son Heckuran played. Luan, Aferdita's fiancé, drove us from the airport to here. And Albina, one of Aferdita's younger sisters, said to me we all know Ray. He has known me since I was 13. He is known by many people around here and is their friend. 

She ended saying: "Ray is a really good man"

Kosovo #2: at the airport

Early start. Continual checking of documents. Missed breakfasts. Traffic. Farewells. Must be the day of departure.

Kosovo #1: The day before

In 1998, I was a year out of graduating.

I had just secured my first 'real' job as a fundraiser in a small to medium charity that worked in Eastern Europe and China. I was recruited to phone up companies and ask for surplus stock to include in shipments heading out to around 7 countries on the other side of Europe that the charity supported.

Just a few months in. We had news of the mass exodus from Kosovo into the neighbouring countries. The scenes in TV were of bombing, buildings on fire and lines & lines of people walking.

The small charity that I was working for was quick to respond. Particularly in what were termed as "unstructured" settlements.

I recall calling many groups for help and receiving a lot of support from pharmaceuticals, clothing companies and food.

The numbers of people being displaced were estimated well over a million at 1.5m into surrounding countries.

I watched the figures rise on the UNHCR website daily. I desperately made calls and sent faxes every day during this time. Some calls were more fruitful than others.

Tomorrow, eighteen years later, I'm travelling to country that I followed so closely for the first time. I'm meeting people who were attacked, lost family, friends and their homes... and were then ignored. I'm told that we will meet people with disabilities, those in Roma settlements and others on the wrong side of the 25% that do have jobs.

A lot has happened in eighteen years. The region is now a country. People are trying to pick up the pieces. As for me: had several more jobs, got married, had children.

A lot has changed.

Tomorrow I travel there, 18 years later, and I travel with my son, Caleb. Updates to come.

Ezra at the pub =)

And then carriages home

My friend Matt Gow shares about his itchiness

I worked with Matt for over a decade.

Quite closely on many projects too. He's an extraordinary visionary. And very humble.

Here he is speaking from the heart at TEDxHongKong. Go Matt!

There's a Triceratops in Tunbridge Wells

Not a usual sight. A prehistoric dinosaur drives past our office.

Oldest and youngest

So these two are now sharing a room... And Caleb hasn't once heard Ezra at night time.

:) :)

Superheroes

Just found this photo. Made me smile :)

Generational empathy: Papa shares his journey of leaving Uganda at a school Lent assembly

Quite a moment. 

Still taking it in really.

This morning I was able to share the story of my Dada (grandfather) and the family's exile of Uganda back in 1972. 

My Papa then joined me to share the poem (called "Welcome" by Rachel Salter) to the sixth formers and year 11 at Trinity School as part of their Lent services. Their theme of doing good. 

Papa was particularly glad to share about the acts of good by so many during those days and how these acts have travelled through the generations of his family right the way to his grandchildren, my boys.

As I dropped papa off home he whispered the words: "thank you for letting me come along and share today".

These guys :)

Busted!

I've cancelled the call to the ghostbusters. 

The poltergeist has been found and there's photographic evidence.

I ain't 'fraid of no ghost.

"Hey! I'm walking here!"

We have a walker in our midst. 

1 step on Friday.

6 steps infront of grampa yesterday... And 10 at Dada's (other grandfather) today.

Also he does not perform on request either... Hence no video evidence as of yet despite numerous efforts.

Oh Ezra... :)

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"