"During my lifetime I have dedicated myself to this struggle of the African people. I have fought against white domination, and I have fought against black domination. I have cherished the ideal of a democratic and free society in which all persons live together in harmony and with equal opportunities. It is an ideal which I hope to live for and to achieve. But if needs be, it is an ideal for which I am prepared to die."
(Extract from I am Prepared to Die – Nelson Mandela’s statement from the dock at the opening of the defence case in the Rivonia Trial, Pretoria Supreme Court, 20 April 1964)
How may times have you been regaled about the early verbal adventures and the profound statements made by their 2 or 3 year old and you thought, hmmm surely mummy or daddy are embellishing a bit there? Anyway, I can assure you, seeing as that time is upon with our 2 year-old. Perhaps jolted into action by the early arrival of his brother, E has started making some of those unexpected and mostly smile inducing pronouncements and observations.
For instance, the other day, as he was walking through a mall with mummy, he randomly called a total stranger Chad. There was no doubt as he actually pointed at this 'Chad'. Glad to say the man took it in good humour and found it amusing!
We certainly do not know any Chad and in fact have rarely ever come across the name here in Ireland. We figured that the only other place he could have come across this name was in creche, where perhaps there's a delivery or handy man called Chad (all staff in his creche are female). If this was a just random name he picked up, we are none the wiser why he went for Chad instead of the locally ubiquitous Sean, Patrick or Conor, etc?
Perhaps a perfectly plausible explanation is that he's been secretly watching those American soaps or reality TV shows in which Chads are a dime a dozen!
And then a couple of days ago, he asked mum again (I see pattern developing here): "Are we going on holidays?" Momentarily stumped as to where this was coming from, mummy thought of answer, but before she could answer, the follow up question was: "Where is holidays?"
The only way I was ever going to ‘support’ England at the EURO 2012 soccer tournament starting this Friday in Poland-Ukraine was if I somehow 'picked' up England in the office pool. Well, I did just that and as such Roy Hodgson’s men get my grudging support. If only to finally win something for the first time.
To be honest, I'm not really counting on finally getting my hands on those doubloons come July 1, judging by England's woeful tournament underachievement since 1966. Also, it doesnt help that I picked what is considered the auld enemy in these parts.
Actually come to think of it, the widespread antipathy - in fact you could even call it animosity – towards English national teams in these parts is bizarre to say the least, especially when you spot the countless number of Liverpool, Manchester United and Arsenal replica jerseys on the streets on of Dublin. You would think they are handed out for free at pub entrances instead of going for around €50 a pop in the high street sports outlets.
Anyway, club football allegiance makes this ‘support’ somewhat palatable mainly because this English side is surprisingly and inexplicably packed with Liverpool players and captained by no less than Stevie G. Having had yet another largely disappointing season, Liverpool has somehow ended up with a quarter of the English squad.
Of course, Ireland having qualified for its first major finals since 2002 means I can once again support my adopted homeland at a major finals and I hope the boys do well despite being in the same group as current world and defending European champions Spain and former world champs Italy.
However, stranger things have happened on the soccer pitch and Ireland’s chances cannot be discounted on the basis that they face two of the world’s best sides. If anything Ireland under the pragmatic and obstinate stewardship of the old schemer il Trap have proven extremely hard to beat. So hope springs eternal!
I had the great pleasure this morning of meeting and listening to Imran Khan (as he joked, no, he’s not that other famous Imran Khan, the former legendary Pakistan cricketer and ex-husband to Jemima Goldsmith), the highly regarded human rights lawyer probably best known for representing the family of Stephen Lawrence, the black young man who was murdered by racist thugs in South London in 1993.
That eponymous and long struggle to achieve justice brought to the fore the deep rooted institutional racism that was endemic in London’s Metropolitan police force.
I won’t reproduce Imran’s entire excellent speech at this morning’s conference on racism in Dublin, but he made some very salient points, on how to deal with and tackle institutional racism, most of which you could say are a given, but always worth repeating and emphasising every now and then.
The following ten points (in bold & italics), he believed, were essential in tackling and challenging institutional racism wherever and whenever it reared its ugly.
I suppose in certain parts of Africa, particularly Southern Africa, where I’m originally from, you could also easily substitute racism with tribalism, which is another societal and social scourge that needs to be tackled.
1) Recognise and acknowledge that racism exists: In some countries, especially here in Ireland, there has been an apparent reluctance at official/political level to publicly acknowledge that racism exists at all or that it is a problem. In fact some very ill informed and feckless politicians, who do grudgingly admit that racism is a problem in Ireland, have the brass neck to imply that racism only became an issue when black people started migrating to Ireland in the 1990s.
2) Adopt a reality spectrum: Understand and acknowledge the lived reality of those who suffer directly from racism. Suspend the disbelief.
3) Treat people according to their specific needs: It shouldn’t always be about treating everyone equally. Nor should it ever be about tolerance either. Once you tolerate others, the implication is that there is something negative about them, that your tolerance is showing them a kindness.
4) Introduce affirmative action: This always divides opinion which sometimes is based on gender or racial lines. Usually those who are vehemently opposed to affirmative action insist on a meritocracy that conveniently ignores centuries of white (usually male) privilege which totally ignores the considerable barriers that black people (and women) have faced for centuries and in many cases still do. I personally am not a fan of blanket affirmative action, but realise that it may be necessary in certain circumstances as long as capable and qualified minorities are given a chance to progress.
5) Good Leadership: Especially at political and at service provision level (police, immigration, health service, etc). Good leadership sets the tone on how the rest of society deals with racism.
6) Diversity/anti-racism training: Basically ensure that people are aware how detrimental and debilitating racism is to the victims and generally raise awareness. Promote the positives about diversity in society but also develop ways with which to deal with the issues that may cause misunderstandings and conflict between different cultures and races.
7) Exert your rights: Challenge racism wherever you find it. 8) Adopt human rights agenda: We are all entitled to our human rights.
9) Institutions must learn to acknowledge mistakes: No matter how big or powerful, institutions, especially those that are there to serve the public (police, health service, social services, etc) should have the humility to acknowledge mistakes and not be prone to cover-ups.
10) Integrate equalities in everyday life: Equality should not be an abstract concept.
If judged solely on the basis of how it has gone massively viral online, the KONY 2012 campaign by the American nonprofit organisation, Invisible Children, has been a rip roaring success. As I write this, there have been well over 50 million views of the video on You Tube and Vimeo.
If you are one of those steadfast souls that conscientiously avoid jumping on bandwagons and opening any old viral web-clips that are bombarded into your inboxes, timelines and virtual walls, then you likely have not viewed this web phenomenon. Even then, unless you are hopelessly illiterate or never listen to news or have never opened a newspaper in your life, you will have heard or read about this somewhere.
Well, if you still have no knowledge of this somehow, you are not in luck then, because here it is in full.
Basically the half hour video tells the story of tens of thousands of children who have been abducted and turned into child soldiers and sexual slaves by the notorious and despicable Joseph Kony and his cultish militia, the Lord Resistance Army, which has waged a vicious and bloodthirsty reign of terror in northern Uganda and neighbouring countries since the mid 1980s.
The organisation behind this ‘campaign’ argues that they are making Kony ‘famous’ to put pressure on US policymakers to ensure that he is removed. Indeed, even before this online phenomenon, the US had sent in 100 special forces in 2011 to assist the Ugandan army and other countries in the region to hunt down Kony. Reports suggest that he has not been in Uganda for a few years and is probably somewhere in the dense tropical forests of the Democratic Republic of Congo or the Central African Republic.
Why now, is one of the many questions that have been asked? I first became aware of Kony and the LRA back in the 90s when I was working as a journalist in Zimbabwe and was writing a series of articles about Zimbabwe’s involvement in the conflict in the Great Lakes Region (the second Congo War), which pitted the Democratic Republic of the Congo, supported by Zimbabwe, Namibia, Angola, Chad and Hutu aligned forces against Uganda, Rwanda, Burundi and Tutsi aligned forces. Even though he was not a central figure at all in that conflict, Kony’s name came up a few times, mainly whenever child soldiers were mentioned. Equally attention grabbing was his proclivity to turn Uganda into a theocratic state ruled by his bizarrely self-styled version of the Ten Commandments.
By then, the world had heard about the child soldiers of West African conflicts, particularly in Sierra Leone and Liberia, but for me, it was the sheer scale of Kony’s abductions of children from villages in Northern Uganda and later neighbouring countries that was quite staggering and caught the attention. Estimates range from 30,000 to 66,000 children abducted and brutalised into being child soldiers or sex slaves.
Anyway, the KONY 2012 video or rather the organisation behind now faces the inevitable backlash for something so high profile (a host of well known names have jumped on the bandwagon – Bill Gates, Diddy, Mia Farrow, Juliette Lewis and Zooey Deschanel amongst many others and the video has even received praise from Barack Obama).
Questions have been asked about the motives of the NGO, how it raises and uses its funds resources; why it always should take these ‘pesky western do-gooders’; why cant Africans sort this out themselves (never mind it’s 20 odd years since Kony started his reign of terror); accusations of self promotion by the film-maker; accusations that the discovery of rich oilfields in the region may now finally be focusing attention and resources (US involvement) on something that has been going on since the 1980s without much western involvement or interest and also why nothing has been done to capture Kony after he was indicted by the International Criminal Court at the Hague in 2005.
Lots of valid questions, cynicism and concerns, but my take on this is that by any (legitimate) means necessary, Kony and his ilk must be stopped to save the thousands of children and put an end to the terror that is visited upon them daily.
I work for a big Irish children’s charity and in my work I come across so many children from the developing world lucky enough to have escaped from the clutches of monsters like Kony and it is only when you look into the almost soulless eyes of some of the more traumatised children that you realise that some of these so called principled stands against ‘neo imperialism’, ‘unwarranted western paternalism and interference’, cynicism about the bonafides of seemingly well meaning western charities are mostly selfish self posturing that won’t change much for these children.
Yes, I agree sometimes some of these interventions are naively set out and perhaps I agree to a certain degree that some ‘western’ solutions are not always a perfect fit for African problems but peddling simplistic ideological mantras in response to this campaign should not detract from doing all that is in the best interests of the children.
The focus should be on the bigger picture and if it means that KONY 2012 results in the capture of Kony and the routing of his LRA thugs, then I say well done to those behind the video and I would hope that this is only the start of an effective form of 21st century cyber-based manhunt for the world’s most wanted and despicable tyrants who cause so much untold suffering to so many.
You hear that Assad? ASSAD 2013 is probably being filmed somewhere right now.
A couple of weekends ago, the boys were left to their own devices, when Her Gorgeous Self decamped to the neighbouring kingdom to visit her siblings who are Her Majesty’s subjects.
Yes, the long anticipated first solo trip without E finally happened. HGS had finally relented and reluctantly agreed that at this point in time, her precious offspring would be well looked after by his dad for a few days. Hmmm!!
In my mind and only in my mind, this boys only weekend went something like this:
• Dawn to dusk in our comfy PJs (do they have those all-in-one baby jumpsuits for adults?)
• TV remote firmly stuck on the sports channels, volume turned up (none of that Reality TV muck or Jennifer Aniston rom-coms);
• Use the blender to produce concoctions that are probably illegal in Utah or some such place;
• Connecting electronic and entertainment gadgets that normally have no symbiotic relationship whatsoever;
• Chicken wings for breakfast and lunch, ribs for supper all downed with Kombucha;
• Toilet seat up all the time, etc, you get the drift?
In reality, the weekend with my son was one of the best I have had since he was born all those 20 months or so ago. We bonded like never before, mainly because that ‘distraction’ called mummy was nowhere in sight (and with E out of sight is truly out of mind).
As most dads do discover, its all about mummy when she is around and there is less attention on dad (in fact, I would say more like clingy in the toddler years). Of course looking at that list up there, certain things happened: the TV and subwoofer volume was loud and there were certainly less greens on the plate, certain laddish gadgets made a rare apperance, personal hygiene was somewhat parked for the weekend but we had a grand old time.
The absolute glee on E's face when we 'danced' to music, lay on the soft carpet with our feet in the air, played piggyback, played all his favourite nursery ryhmes, ate all sorts of snacks or stayed up a little bit later than usual was just priceless. This fatherhood lark is a peach!! Ahem!!!
Next challenge is to convince mummy that the boys are now ready to take that ‘boys only’ trip to Anfield or perhaps further afield to the F1 Grand Prix in Abu Dhabi or Singapore.
Br Martin Duncan, who passed away, last week in South Africa after a short illness, was an educationalist par excellence. A principled and good man to boot.
And judging by the heartfelt condolence messages posted on various social media by so many old boys he taught over many years, his positive influence seemingly affected hundreds who attended the Christian Brothers schools at Embakwe and Bulawayo in Zimbabwe and CBCs Welkom and Springs in South Africa.
I can certainly say that Br Duncan was one of a handful of educators who shaped and moulded my egalitarian world view early on. He saw leadership qualities in me which I did not realise existed or in fact, truth be told I was too lackadaisical to utilise.
Such was his faith in me that he convinced me to become head prefect in final year of secondary school. I say convinced, because I was not particularly interested in the role, seemingly content in being just a prefect and in the shadows.
Many years later when I became one of the country’s youngest sub-editors at a leading national newspaper, he would remind me of my initial reluctance to take a leadership role and how even back then he realised that I would always be there and thereabouts.
Many were an evening when I would sit down with him in his office and we would discuss events taking place in the school and more generally about what was happening in the wider world. Generally, I can credit him with instilling in me, a keen interest in current and world affairs and a politically inquisitive mind.
I know he was also puzzled by my occasional predilection for rowing with teachers even as he counted me as one of the school’s ‘bright sparks’. Indeed, I was permanently banned from History (in 4th year) and Maths (in 3rd year) classes as a result and generally did not endear myself that well to most of the teaching staff, more so when I became head prefect.
Br Duncan was stern when he needed to be (as any principal or head teacher worth their salt can be), but mostly had a smile that set you at ease when you least expected. Like most educators of the era, he had a little ‘whangee’ (a padded little strap for meting out discipline to delinquent pupils). Strangely, despite my subversive relationship with the teaching staff, me and the ‘whangee’ never got acquainted.
I last saw Br Duncan a week or so before I headed for Ireland and he was palpably excited that I was going to the land where his Christian Brothers congregation had been founded by Edmund Rice in the early 19th century in Waterford, Ireland.
He had lots of advice and most importantly gave me contacts that proved to be invaluable when I landed in Ireland and set about establishing myself.
There are so many young to middle aged men now scattered all over the world who are very thankful that they had the fortune to fall under the considered tutelage of Br Martin Duncan.
Well, here we are now (so sang Kurt Cobain). At 15 months, E finally decided that the time was right to try out his little tiny feet at a spot of walking – well wading and bouncing around the house with much glee painted on his face.
Whilst we had been told that there is no real set timeframe for when toddlers decide to start walking, we kinda felt young Master Ethan was taking his sweet, sweet time particularly around the time he turned 14 months.
Then one day, he just got up and started toddling around the house, toppling over harmlessly on his little bum and immediately getting up and setting off again.
Now at 17 months, E reckons he has mastered the simple task of putting one foot after the other and propelling himself forthwith! That – when we are out in open space – mainly entails him launching off in the opposite direction of wherever we are meant to be headed. Stubborn little fella that he is, it’s his way or hit high road mum and dad.
Such is his zest for ‘walking’ that we both reckon if we let him, E would just walk from where we live all the way to Cork, some 256 km away. Frankly, with his favourite peeled apple in one hand and a spoon in the other, I bet he could too!
Ah yes, the spoon. E has thing with spoons. Whilst his contemporaries tug a much cherished teddy, squeaky toy, or some such toddler paraphernalia, E loves his plastic spoons. And I am not talking here of these contraptions that they peddle nowadays that look like a Disney or Pixar character with a little obligatory ‘spoony’ bit at the end – basically a toy that pretends it is also a feeding utensil. No, E’s ‘toy’ this is a basic toddler spoon.
We have tried to foist on him numerous soft, elaborate and noisy toys which now litter the house, but no, the humble spoon is his soother and calms him down when he is agitated, such that early, he would clutch one whenever we took him out in the car.
We have never figured out why he is attached to a spoon.
A chap who stayed a city hotel overnight was presented with a bill for €250, which he felt was too much. When he asked why, the hotel manager told him it was a standard charge. She added that the hotel had Wi-fi, satellite TV, a pool and a spa. When the chap insisted that he had used none of these services, the manager told him that they were available and he could have. So the man took out €50 from his wallet and told the manager he was deducting €200 for sleeping with him overnight. “I certainly did not,” spluttered the stunned manager. The man replied, “Ah, but I was available and you could have.”
I usually dont cut and paste stuff from the web for this blog, but I couldn't resist when I came across this lot. If you were asked to take any word from the dictionary, alter it by adding, subtracting, or changing one letter, and supply a new definition, what would you come up with?
Here is a list of what Washington Post readers came up with:
1. Cashtration (n): The act of buying a house, which renders the subject financially impotent for an indefinite period of time.
2. Ignoranus: A person who's both stupid and an asshole.
3. Intaxicaton: Euphoria at getting a tax refund, which lasts until you realize it was your money to start with.
4. Reintarnation: Coming back to life as a hillbilly.
5. Bozone (n): The substance surrounding stupid people that stops
bright ideas from penetrating. The bozone layer, unfortunately, shows little sign of breaking down in the near future.
6. Foreploy: Any misrepresentation about yourself for the purpose of getting laid.
7. Giraffiti: Vandalism spray-painted very, very high
8. Sarchasm: The gulf between the author of sarcastic wit and the person who doesn't get it.
9. Inoculatte: To take coffee intravenously when you are running late.
10. Osteopornosis: A degenerate disease. (This one got extra credit.)
11. Karmageddon: It's like, when everybody is sending off all these
really bad vibes, right? And then, like, the Earth explodes and it's like, a serious bummer.
12. Decafalon (n): The grueling event of getting through the day consuming only things that are good for you.
13. Glibido: All talk and no action.
14. Dopeler Effect: The tendency of stupid ideas to seem smarter when they come at you rapidly.
15. Arachnoleptic Fit (n): The frantic dance performed just after you've accidentally walked through a spider web.
16. Beelzebug (n): Satan in the form of a mosquito, that gets into
your bedroom at three in the morning and cannot be cast out.
17. Caterpallor (n): The color you turn after finding half a worm in the fruit you're eating.
When asked to come up with alternate meanings for common words, The Washington Post readers produced these gems:
And the winners are:
1. Coffee, n.. The person upon whom one coughs.
2. Flabbergasted, adj. Appalled by discovering how much weight one has gained.
3. Abdicate, v. To give up all hope of ever having a flat stomach.
4. Esplanade, v. To attempt an explanation while drunk.
5. Willy-nilly, adj. Impotent.
6. Negligent, adj. Absentmindedly answering the door when wearing only a nightgown.
7. Lymph, v.. To walk with a lisp.
8. Gargoyle, n. Olive-flavored mouthwash.
9. Flatulence, n. Emergency vehicle that picks up someone who has been run over by a steamroller.
10. Balderdash, n. A rapidly receding hairline.
11. Testicle, n. A humorous question on an exam.
12. Rectitude, n. The formal, dignified bearing adopted by proctologists.
13. Pokemon, n. A Rastafarian proctologist.
14. Oyster, n. A person who sprinkles his conversation with Yiddishisms.
15. Frisbeetarianism, n. The belief that, after death, the soul flies up onto the roof and gets stuck there.
We knew life would never be same again, but we honestly did not fathom how much you would totally overhaul and enrich our lives and add a new purpose to our very existence.
The past 12 months with you in our lives have taken us on an incredible journey. Of course, it is only but the beginning.
You have reminded us that we have this limitless and boundless capacity for love (for you, each other), that patience is indeed a virtue (especially for your ol’ dad here), that positivity can take you a long way. I could go on.
You have invigorated your parents’ relationship in so many ways. Ahem, not that it was ever ailing, of course.
Of course, on your first birthday, we should take stock and acknowledge that there have been challenges in these past 364 days. There were moments of doubt when we were unsure we were doing right by you and whether our boundless love for you would simply be enough.
We may have initially differed in our approach as parents, espcially on how to get you through those critical early days and weeks, but even if we say so ourselves, we are happy with how you are turning out.
So as you start your second year, we want you to know that we love and cherish you more than your cute little self can even imagine and we want you to know that we will always be there for you in every way you can think.
It’s the least we can do, in return to what you are giving us.
I came across this in cyberspace and thought you might appreciate it (well, when you can read, of course – which I hope is soon. No pressure!)
A year ago, we welcomed Ethan A baby of our own. Nervously and sleepily, We took him to our home.
We figured out the nursing. This goes how? and where? We were told there would be crying, And how to show we care.
A year has gone so quickly, Yet we have learned so much. We've felt a love so strongly, In a baby's gentle touch.
His laughs and smiles. His pouts and tears. Wow! He can get so mad! But we wouldn't trade a minute, As a thankful mom and dad.
When my good friend and colleague Salome asked me to write something for AkiDwA’s (Akina Dada wa Africa) tenth anniversary celebrations, I felt honoured but at the same time apprehensive as to how I could do justice to this remarkable organisation with a few words.
It is great testament to Salome and her colleagues that AkiDwA now easily stands as the premier non-governmental organisation in Ireland dealing with issues pertaining to migrant women and certainly one of the leading migrant-led organisations in the country.
I have had the pleasure in recent years of working closely with Salome and her team, particularly when I was on the organisation’s Advisory Board. I was able then, to see firsthand, the passion, dedication, professionalism and expertise that was clearly obvious within the organisation.
Besides that advisory role, I would have interacted quite significantly with Salome, Nobuhle, Alwiye, Kerry and the rest of the AkiDwA team in various capacities working on equality, human rights, immigration, refugee, gender and children’s issues. Because of the proficiency that the organisation has gained over the years, I have been able to call upon their expertise, particularly in the areas of strengthening the voice of migrant women in Ireland, applying a gender perspective to existing policies and practices and the promotion of equality of migrant women in Irish society, free of gender and racial stereotyping.
Lately, it has been a pleasure to work closely with AkiDwA in its campaign for the prohibition of female genital mutilation (FGM) through the enactment of effective legislation in Ireland. It is with great credit to the organisation and its partners that the FGM Bill was published with much cross party support in Dáil Éireann and it is hoped that progress will be made in the 31st Dáil to push and properly implement this much needed legislation.
It is gratifying to see that 10 years on, AkiDwA is widely regarded as an authoritative and representative body for migrant women, irrespective of their national/ethnic background, tradition, religious beliefs, socio-economic or legal status.
It is particularly praiseworthy that AkiDwA is celebrating 10 years in an environment where the majority of migrant-led organisations have a very limited shelf life due to extreme funding constraints that exist in the sector.
Congratulations are most definitely in order and may the next 10 years be even more eventful and fruitful!
This morning I attended the Service of Thanksgiving for the life of Salome Angelina Vijayakumar in our local Methodist Church.
Salome lost her battle with leukaemia on New Year’s Eve at the age of 20, leaving her parents, Elizabeth and Vijay and brother Deepak devastated and our congregation feeling bereft.
After all, this was a beautiful, bubbly, intelligent and personable young woman full of life who only a few months ago, was singing in front of us in the church choir and was heavily involved in most church activities (the photo slideshow played during this morning’s service bears testimony to that) and yet 7 months later here she was, taken away in such heartbreaking fashion.
I may not have shared many moments with Salome apart from being her fellow Methodist congregant, but amidst all the grief and sadness, the excerpts read by Rev John, from the diary she kept in her final weeks, as tear-jerking as it all was, was quite inspiring and left a remarkable imprint to all who were present.
In one of most touching excerpts read from a diary – which was exclusively directed at her parents and brother – Salome assured them that she knew what was coming and was at peace with her impending death.
Having thanked them profusely for being the best parents she could have ever wished for and, Deepak for being a wonderful and amazing brother, Salome’s only deep regrets were the heartbreak her illness had caused them, the grief they would suffer when she was gone and that in some regards she felt that she had not been a worthy daughter (sorry to disagree with you on that one Salome, but I’m certain all who knew you would also disagree).
She was that kind of person.
In fact, such was Salome’s dignity and calmness in her last days, that according to one of our parish pastors who visited her in her last days, the psychiatrist who had been brought in to prepare her for what was coming, was somewhat unprepared for her fortitude and resoluteness even as life was ebbing away from her body.
She is an inspiration to those she has left behind.
Rest in eternal peace, Salome and may your family find great comfort in the life you lived.
Please accept with no obligation, implied or implicit our best wishes for an environmentally conscious, socially responsible, low stress, non-addictive, gender neutral, celebration of the summer solstice holiday, practiced within the most enjoyable traditions of the religious persuasion of your choice, or secular practices of your choice, with respect for the religious/secular persuasions and/or traditions of others, or their choice not to practice religious or secular traditions at all ...
And a fiscally successful, personally fulfilling, and medically uncomplicated recognition of the onset of the generally accepted calendar year 2011, but not without due respect for the calendars of choice of other cultures whose contributions to society have helped make Australia great, (not to imply that Australia is necessarily greater than any other country or is the only "AUSTRALIA" in the southern hemisphere), and without regard to the race, creed, colour, age, physical ability, religious faith, choice of computer platform, or sexual preference of the wishee.
- DISCLAIMER OF WARRANTABILITY -
By accepting this greeting, you are accepting these terms. This greeting is subject to clarification or withdrawal. It is freely transferable with no alteration to the original greeting. It implies no promise by the wisher to actually implement any of the wishes for him/her or others, and is void where prohibited by law, and is revocable at the sole discretion of the wisher.
This wish is warranted to perform as expected within the usual application of good tidings for a period of one year, or until the issuance of a subsequent holiday greeting, whichever comes first, and warranty is limited to replacement of this wish or issuance of a new wish at the sole discretion of the wisher :).
I am in Bangkok for a few days and I must say, the place's certainly grown on me and has definitely caught the imagination. Even though it is my first time in this part of the world, I have felt much closer to 'home' (Africa) than at any time spent that I have spent living and travelling extensively in Europe. Perhaps, it is the lovely and welcoming Thai people that I have met or maybe the blast of heat in my face when I step out the doors of the hotel (quite a pleasant contrast from the freezing cold I left behind in Dublin) or the food. Perhaps it's the teeming hustle and bustle of life in this vast city that brings life to even the most staid and boring individual, but dodging tuk tuks, scooters and bright pink cabs certainly has its exhilarations. It is certainly more than enough to make one to momentarily forget the dreary weather, depressing politics and economic malaise back in Dublin.
Vladimir Putin recently hosted a summit where a gradually dwindling number of countries where tigers are still to be found discussed a plan to save the endangered species from extinction.
Well, Mr Putin is several weeks, or some would say, a couple of years too late to save at least one erstwhile prominent Tiger – that of the Celtic variety.
I am no economist (Ireland’s new ‘celebrities’) and I wont even attempt to chronicle how Ireland’s previously much touted ‘Celtic Tiger’ boom years (aka property bubble) have dissipated to the extent that the country is at the mercy of the dreaded IMF and EU technocrats. I would leave that to this almost concise summary of how Ireland came to be where it finds itself now.
This spectacular fall of a country that only up until two years ago was held up as poster boy of free market neo-liberalism is manifesting itself in many ways – record unemployment levels, increase in mortgage defaults and home repossessions, drastic cuts in public and social spending, the dreaded return of mass emigration and as yet an unleashed fury at the political and the banking elites.
However, as someone who grow up in a developing country and worked as a journalist and saw first hand real poverty, despair and hopelessness, some sense of perspective is certainly needed right now.
There comes a time when all the hand wringing in the world will only result in painfully dislocated wrists and nothing else.
Indeed, it is absolutely disheartening and heartbreaking to see families lose their homes, see bright young graduates and the economically active being forced to emigrate or poverty levels rising.
However, this could be the chance for Ireland to reform its shambolic political system, clean up its financial regulation systems and perhaps even recover some of that community camaraderie that pre-Celtic Tiger Ireland was better known for and emerge with a more equal society.
I would like to think that we are not yet at that stage where Ethiopian jazz legend Mulatu Astatke will feel obliged, after seeing harrowing images from Ireland, to arrange a series of charity concerts in Addis Ababa.
Although judging by the headlines, you would be forgiven for thinking that Mulatu is, as I write, currently rounding up Africa’s A-list musicians to produce a charity single, Éire Aid justin time for Christmas.
