sufistiblog

Seeding the Future

2008-10-21T20:32:00.005+07:00

A man known as the Indiana Jones of agriculture may seem an unlikely 21st Century hero. But his work is heroic in every way and I would like to pay tribute to his and others' selfless efforts in this field.

A documentary on Australian TV highlighted his search for the ancient seeds of our staple food crops - wheat, barley, and even the humble chickpea, of which more later. Faced with constraints of time and finance, unreliable transportation and travel across warzones, and reliant only on his team of assistants, knowledge of the world, sheer determination and belief in his mission, Ken Street set out for the mountainous terrain of Tajikistan in search of what he describes as "green gold".

Wars are being fought over oil, he points out, but these ancient seeds are the holy grail that will ensure humanity's survival into the future.

The problem as he sees it, is that we have lost the biodiversity that made our crop gene pool so resilient. Now our only hope is to reintroduce those elements of genetic strength and capacity to withstand disease back into the genetic "soup". In an article he is quoted "We have lost something like 80 per cent of our agri-biodiversity in the last 100 years. That's shocking. Let's not lose any more. China used to have 10,000 different forms of wheat. Now they have only got a thousand of those left. It's the same for all of our major crops, fruit and vegetables. Which means that really useful diversity - unique sequences of DNA - have just gone extinct."

It could be depressing, except that Street and other agricultural scientists are working against the clock to ensure this precious resource is saved for generations to come and ensure that these seeds will produce crops that have the ability to withstand what would spell out a doomsday scenario (drought conditions, extremes of temperatures, etc.) for less robust strains of crops that we rely on now.

And to make sure that these seeds will be safe, somewhere deep under the permafrost in a remote place called Svalbard in Norway, a vault (befittingly nicknamed the Doomsday Vault because it has been built to withstand all manner of disasters) has been built to house them. You have to love the Norwegian government and those who support the foundation that manages it!

But coming back to the chickpeas - what is it about this humble little bean that makes it so valuable? Well it's a great source of protein and carbohydrate for a start. It's low in fat and very high in calcium (equivalent to yoghurt) and zinc.

And they are great to eat - chickpeas form the basis for heavenly hommous and fantastic felafel, and can be cooked in curries, couscous and salads.

Best of all, though, it could mean fewer people in the world will go hungry because it is an excellent source of cheap nutrition. At the moment most of the world's production goes to feeding livestock!

Live simply that others may simply live

2008-10-15T21:22:00.006+07:00

It's a maxim we could all do well to adopt if we are serious about the issue of poverty.

I was having a conversation the other day with a friend and we were bemoaning the fact that moving is such a chore because of all the Stuff we accumulate and think is important. It really isn't. The less we have, the less we have to worry about. But more importantly we send a message into the world of increasing consumerism to stop producing so much. If we all reduced by even a fraction what we spend on unnecessary items, we would be making a significant contribution to conserving the earth's resources, and that in turn would have a knock-on effect on other issues.

Moving back to Australia has made me value the simpler things in life. Away from the crass commercialism of the busy shop-till-you-drop hub that Singapore has become, I delight in gazing out over the lie of the land, listening to the silence of the night, seeing nature in close-up. Tonight, as I arrived at the Canberra Baha'i Centre (set in a particularly beautiful location overlooking the surroundings), the sun was painting the sky pink and gold, and as I admired the view, my eye was caught by a group of kangaroos nonchalantly grazing in the nearby grass. They are regular visitors to the grounds apparently. I walked down the slope from the car park where the trees were still in their Spring finery and had to smile at the thought that it was just such small things that bring joy and contentment.

I remember the comments of a group of Junior Youth (12-14 yr olds) who visited a Baha'i community one year in Sarawak. There, conditions were spartan in comparison to Singapore, food was simple and there were relatively few modern conveniences. Yet it was obvious to the visitors that the people there were perfectly happy and really wanted for nothing. It was something of a revelation to the urbanised youth.

This year my friend said she didn't want anyone to give her any gifts. But maybe we could all make better choices when giving. Unicef, for example, has a range of ways to enable us to contribute to making life better for those in need - for $40, for example, you can give the gift of mosquito nets for a family to protect them from malaria. Better than something your relative will chuck into the back of a cupboard after a couple of weeks.

Charities like the Salvation Army or St Vincent de Paul take contributions of clothes, household items, toys and books. I have picked up some really good bargains for next to nothing and I am helping the environment by reusing someone else's discarded items in addition to contributing to helping the less fortunate. It's a double win-win!

Other ways to make a difference range from supporting local businesses, joining the library, buying fruit and vegetables in season, purchasing fairtrade products whenever possible and taking part in service projects.

It's simple really.

Pervasive Mateship

2008-09-30T21:31:00.000+07:00

It’s now almost a month to the day since I left Singapore – my home for 28 years – and moved back to Canberra, where I last lived in 1971 and have visited on and off since. Not much has changed really. There have been changes made to the centre of the city, of course, and there is urban sprawl aplenty, but the relatively relaxed atmosphere prevails.

This is most evident in the way people take the time to pass the time of day and be generally friendly and helpful. I have been struck by the way the bus service operates here, for example.

Even in their design, everything in the way the buses operate is geared towards the needs of the user. As the doors open to let passengers in, the entry is lowered to enable them to step on or, more importantly, to allow wheelchair access. There’s a space at the front for baby buggies, heavy bags or walking frames, and front seats dedicated to wheelchair users or the disabled and parents with children. Even bicycle users are able to put their bikes onto a specially designed rack on the front of the bus and keep them secure during the journey.

But what has impressed me most is the helpfulness of the drivers. They get out to help the disabled, the elderly and people encumbered with children and shopping. I have also seen passengers lend a hand – and once this was a youth sporting a Mohawk, tattoos and multiple piercings, and another time it was a slightly doddering old gent, himself in need of assistance! Passengers and driver share a friendly greeting and leave-taking that is not just a formality but a genuine friendly exchange with eye contact. In once instance, a young man was talking very loudly on his mobile and, at a stop sign, the driver – also in his youth – turned and politely asked him to keep his volume down, at which the young man said “Sorry, mate,” and duly complied with the request.

In the shops and offices where I have had to apply for all the usual cards, licences and registrations, I have had more than the usual cursory exchange with the service personnel. Granted not all of them have been Australians by birth, but it is certainly a reflection of the general modus operandum.

Perhaps I have just not been here long enough to have sampled the ugly side of my fellow Aussies, but for now I am happy that my experiences have been pleasantly positive. It makes me miss the hubbub of the busy metropolis of Singapore a little less, at least.

Moons and blooms and other splendid things

2008-09-30T21:23:00.002+07:00

Canberra, September 2008

As I was driving back the other day from visiting my mother in one of the northernmost suburbs, the sun made its spectacular exit from the sky in a display of burnished gold across the majestic outline of the Brindabella ranges and then softened to a soft glow to end the day. Other days, the sunset has been a palette of pinks and oranges. After close on three decades living on the Equator, I had forgotten how beautiful these extended displays of artistry could be.

On another occasion, I exclaimed aloud at the sight of a huge rainbow that arched across the dusty brown landscape after a brief rainshower. We even saw where it ended – in a field about 300 metres from the road which took us across country between the suburbs where my brothers live.

Spring is in evidence here in the trees in full blossom – clouds of pink and swathes of white against the black branches of recently hibernating trees. The wattles are in profusion, camellias putting forth their blousy blooms and the daffodils and other bulbs are nodding their heads welcoming the warmer weather and longer daylight hours.

There is not much green in this dry land and I miss the lush dark greens of the tropics but there is much to appreciate in the diversity of the plant life. Even the eucalypts are surprisingly different – from the ghostly white bark of the snow gums to the discarded skins of the stringy bark gums.

During the day, the chortling of the magpies, the squawking of the cockatoos, the flash of red and green of the rosellas and the gentle pink and grey feathering of the galahs all provide colour and interest.

And then when the night falls and envelops the city in its velvet cloak, the full moon illuminates the sky already carpeted with stars. Fortunately the lights of the capital city still provide little competition to the splendour of the heavens, and at night when I turn off my bedside lamp I can’t even see my hand in front of my face.

Royalty

2007-07-28T21:07:00.000+07:00

Why do we delight in seeing how are the mighty fallen, whether it is actual monarchy, or those who have assumed such titles from their fame on the silver screen? It's actually rather sad. When they are reduced to public humility, we tend to gloat, "Ah! You see, not so great after all!"

A monarch thus reduced to but a shell of his former self must be that old King of some undefined time in England - Lear. Unfortunately, by the time I knew the RSC were in town to put on the play all the cheaper seats had sold out, and I decided my pockets were not deep enough to be able to pay for a premium seat. However, due to a stroke of luck I did manage to attend the press conference since I am now writing for a teen magazine.

I dusted off the cobwebs in my brain that had been gathering around my memories of that great play that I studied in my final year at high school and found a script that essentially makes you ponder how temporal and transient all those trappings of fame and fortune really are. Poor Lear realises too late where his true treasure lay - in the love and loyalty of only one of his daughters, the other two only feigning love to get their greedy hands on his estate and wealth.

"Be not content with the ease of a passing day," are Baha'u'llah's words of wisdom, "and deprive not thyself of everlasting rest. Barter not the garden of eternal delight for the dust-heap of a mortal world. Up from thy prison ascend unto the glorious meads above, and from thy mortal cage wing thy flight unto the paradise of the Placeless."

I love how that really makes us think of the transient nature of this physical life, how we need to be mindful of that for which we were truly created. Hopefully we will not be as naive and trusting as Lear but ensure that we recognise the value of family, friends and being of service to others. Whoever can do that is a King or Queen in my book!

Nasi kerabu

2007-03-11T10:47:00.000+07:00

After 25 years of living in Singapore I have only just been introduced to what I suspect is probably a rarity on local menus: nasi kerabu. What a treat! It is rice tossed in a variety of jungle herbs called ulam, probably no longer all available in the wet markets, but apparently still growing in isolated kampung gardens, notably on Pulau Ubin.

I was lucky enough to be able to taste the real thing because the volunteers from Unifem at SCWO's International Women's Day bazaar had it on sale. I had some for breakfast and it went down very well with some sambal belacan and a cup of hot linden tea.

One blog I found mentioned that it is best made with the local Sarawakian rice, which is unrefined and a mix of brown, black and red rice, and without the coconut milk that some recipes include. Another told me it was a dish from Kelantan, often tinged blue with the addition of a flower called bunga telang (or blue dye nowadays).

So for you foodies without access to the real thing and who like a taste of something different, try this recipe made with ingredients you probably can find in your Asian or specialty vegetable market stall. It is refreshing and delicious!

Not a pretty picture

2006-10-08T00:43:00.000+07:00

The PSI has just gone into the "unhealthy" level at 150 as the blanket of smoke descends on our little red dot, drifting across from wanton burning off by Indonesian farmers. If it gets worse the schools might close (if the spate of food poisoning cases has not already), people will stop going out for the national pastimes of eating and shopping, and everyone's business will suffer

How long is it going to take to convince people that they have to start thinking not just of their short-term gains but of how what they do in their little corner of the earth affects someone a few hundred miles away as well? But I suppose it is an easy enough thing to say by someone living in relative comfort, and yet another for a poor cash-cropper worried about how to clear his land of the undergrowth in order to plant for the next season and make enough to sustain himself and his family..

So where does the solution lie? Really, nothing short of a transformation of human values is going to do it. As is stated,

We cannot segregate the human heart from the environment outside us and say that once one of these is reformed everything will be improved. Man is organic with the world. His inner life moulds the environment and is itself also deeply affected by it. The one acts upon the other and every abiding change in the life of man is the result of these mutual reactions.

If we utilize band-aid solutions when the wound is bleeding uncontrollably, we can not expect the flow to be stemmed. We need to identify the root cause of the bleeding and then staunch it. We can't just tell the farmers to stop clearing the land in the cheapest way possible. They have to be given a viable alternative, and at the same time equitable systems of reward must be in place to ensure that everyone who works for a living does not have to damage the environment that sustains them. People will live by their highest values if they are given a chance to do so.

... and touched the face of God

2006-08-06T18:50:00.000+07:00

Once in a while you see a film that has no fanfare, no hype, no celebrity stars and yet it really hits a nerve and you wonder why it hasn't had more exposure. I have just seen The Snow Walker for the second time and was equally moved and enthralled as when I saw it first

A tiny Inuit actress, Annabella Piugattuk, plays the part of a young girl who helps a white pilot survive the harsh climate and bleak terrain of the Canadian tundra. She is the perfect foil to Barry Pepper's character - a brash but troubled World War II veteran - and shows him an alternative way to be.

When the search team fails to find the pilot, a memorial service is held and a poem read as a tribute. Fittingly, it is a poem written by a WWII pilot during a test flight of the new Spitfire V. A few months after he'd written it, the war already over, 19 year old John Gillespie Magee collided with another plane during a training flight in the clouds over England. Neither pilot saw each other in the clouds. Magee tried to eject but he was too close to the ground for his chute to open. He died instantly. Magee's eloquent poem is often read and has even been quoted by Ronald Reagan(on the occasion of the tragic loss of the Challenger 7 crew).Magee's poem and background can be read here.

Mother's Day

2006-05-13T23:49:00.000+07:00

The founder of Mother's Day, Julia Ward Howe, composed this stirring Proclamation in 1870 for a Mother's Peace Day. It is as timely today as it was then:

Arise then...women of this day!
Arise, all women who have hearts!
Whether your baptism be of water or of tears!
Say firmly:
"We will not have questions answered by irrelevant agencies,
Our husbands will not come to us, reeking with carnage,
For caresses and applause.
Our sons shall not be taken from us to unlearn
All that we have been able to teach them of charity, mercy and patience.
We, the women of one country,
Will be too tender of those of another country
To allow our sons to be trained to injure theirs."

From the bosum of a devastated Earth a voice goes up with
Our own. It says: "Disarm! Disarm!
The sword of murder is not the balance of justice."
Blood does not wipe our dishonor,
Nor violence indicate possession.
As men have often forsaken the plough and the anvil at the summons of war,
Let women now leave all that may be left of home
For a great and earnest day of counsel.
Let them meet first, as women, to bewail and commemorate the dead.
Let them solemnly take counsel with each other as to the means
Whereby the great human family can live in peace...
Each bearing after his own time the sacred impress, not of Caesar,
But of God -
In the name of womanhood and humanity, I earnestly ask
That a general congress of women without limit of nationality,
May be appointed and held at someplace deemed most convenient
And the earliest period consistent with its objects,
To promote the alliance of the different nationalities,
The amicable settlement of international questions,
The great and general interests of peace.

To all mothers who teach their children the virtues of peacefulness, of patience and of love, this is dedicated to you. And, in a similar vein, may we all see the day when the truth of this saying is universally recognised: "Woman rears the child and educates the youth to maturity. She will refuse to give her sons for sacrifice upon the field of battle. In truth, she will be the greatest factor in establishing universal peace and international arbitration. Assuredly, woman will abolish warfare among mankind." (from the Baha'i Writings)

Being Here

2005-07-18T23:06:00.000+07:00

In the past couple of weeks, a number of my friends have lost their fathers. In every case it brings to mind how I felt when my own father died, at the relatively early age of 68. Yet, when I saw the "shell" that housed his soul on this earthly plane, I could not really feel that he was there any more. I knew that he had winged his way to another realm - some "where" he would no longer feel pain or sadness or disappointment, but exist purely in the spirit. And when I think of him, I like how my mother puts it, that when she looks out of the window at the trees in the garden - the almond tree in bloom in the spring in particular - she feels his presence. He was so often in the garden, tending it with care, nurturing the vegetables, pruning the roses, installing a complex automatic drip watering system, or sitting smoking his pipe in an old cane basket chair. That's why I like this poem by Mary Frye:

Do not stand at my grave and weep
I am not there; I do not sleep.
I am a thousand winds that blow,
I am the diamond glints on snow,
I am the sun on ripened grain,
I am the gentle autumn rain.
When you awaken in the morning's hush
I am the swift uplifting rush
Of quiet birds in circled flight.
I am the soft stars that shine at night.
Do not stand at my grave and cry,
I am not there; I did not die.

Oneness

2005-07-06T00:45:00.000+07:00

Human Family by Maya Angelou

I note the obvious differences
in the human family.
Some of us are serious,
some thrive on comedy.

Some declare their lives are lived
as true profundity,
and others claim they really live
the real reality.

The variety of our skin tones
can confuse, bemuse, delight,
brown and pink and beige and purple,
tan and blue and white.

I've sailed upon the seven seas
and stopped in every land,
I've seen the wonders of the world
not yet one common man.

I know ten thousand women
called Jane and Mary Jane,
but I've not seen any two
who really were the same.

Mirror twins are different
although their features jibe,
and lovers think quite different thoughts
while lying side by side.

We love and lose in China,
we weep on England's moors,
and laugh and moan in Guinea,
and thrive on Spanish shores.

We seek success in Finland,
are born and die in Maine.
In minor ways we differ,
in major we're the same.

I note the obvious differences
between each sort and type,
but we are more alike, my friends,
than we are unalike.

We are more alike, my friends,
than we are unalike.

We are more alike, my friends,
than we are unalike.

How to start a so-so day

2005-06-11T09:41:00.000+07:00

It's a Saturday and I have to work - nothing extraordinary about that, but there are many other things I would rather be doing. So I am answering a call on my mobile and waiting for my favourite barrista to get my double skinny latte (yes, that's also a good way to start a day at work!). There's a young mother with a baby of about 10 months in a pram and a toddler in tow in front of me. The baby and the pram are facing me. Then KAPOW! It happens - I smile at Baby and there's this instantaneous connection when our eyes meet and Baby smiles back. It's not just a little fleeting turning up of the mouth at the corners, but an open-mouthed, eye-crinkling, totally amazing complete smile. It almost takes my breath away in its purity and intensity. Then, Mum turns the pram around and is gone, totally oblivious of the magic her little one has managed to create. And if that isn't the perfect way to start any day, but especially a so-so one, I don't know what is! And in the absence of that serendipitous morning meeting, I can always look at this gorgeous photo of one of my lovely nephews in his birthday hat to start my day on the right note!

Trouble in Botswana

2005-05-15T18:32:00.000+07:00

By chance I came upon this series of books about a lady detective "of traditional build" who sets up her business in Gabarone, Botswana. Now I am hooked! They are not detective novels as such, but a combination of a few cases that our protagonist,the delightfully named Precious Ramotswe, is hired to solve and a finely observed description of everyday life in Botswana. The reader is transplanted under the African sun, standing on the kikuyu-grass lawn of a garden or at the edge of the Kalari or sitting drinking a large mug of bush tea in Mma Ramostwe's office. We cheer when she deflates the egos of the vain and gives the cheats their just desserts, and we smile in agreement when she recognises a kind deed and an honest heart. She is someone we would trust with our knottiest problems - as so many of her clients do - and know that she would never betray a confidence. Apparently Anthony Minghella, director of The English Patient, is set to co-producing the film with Sydney Pollack's company, Mirage. But read the books first!

Truth

2004-12-20T04:55:00.000+07:00

Truth

I love the symbolism in this picture. The nine-pointed star with the symbols of the 9 different world religions encloses a spring - perpetually replenishing itself with the Waters of Life. When we partake of those waters (i.e. when we read and act on the Word of God)we sustain ourselves spiritually. Our hearts are uplifted - like the birds that soar upwards from the pool of clear guidance.

And if we but knew it, what that picture also says - that all religions spring from one source - is something we must all acknowledge for us to be able to go beyond our superficial differences, see the underlying unity and work to build civilization instead of tear it down. That truth really is within us all - we just need to recognize it.

It reminds me of this quotation by Robert Browning, which I copied into a notebook when I was a student (many aeons ago):

“Truth is within ourselves,
it takes no rise from outward things,
Whatever you may believe.

There is an innermost centre within us all,
where truth abides in fullness,
And, to know, rather consists in opening out a way.

Whence the imprisoned splendour may escape,
than in affecting entry for a light
Supposed to be without."

Mighty fine ska music!

2004-12-06T21:02:00.000+07:00

The Skatalites

Now this is a group that plays authentic music! They were playing here as part of their 40th anniverary tour. Of course not all the members have been with the group that long, but three of them actually have.

I had never heard of ska until my son mentioned that he liked it, and one day I was playing a Police cd a friend had given me and he said it sounded like it had some ska elements in it. I realise now that they were influenced by the originators of ska music, The Skatalites themselves. In fact there was a ska revival in the nineties, spawning such bands as The Mighty, Mighty Bosstones and No Doubt.

They were predated though in the eighties by one of my favourite reggae/ska bands, UB40. Their concert here was amazing - everyone stood and moved with the rhythm the whole night.

They say that reggae would never have developed had it not been for ska. And where would we have been without the sweet sound of Bob Marley?

So thank you to The Skatalites for their music and for a great concert, which even the antics of a couple of idiots jumping up on stage did not manage to spoil. It was a refreshing change from some of the awful contemporary stuff that passes for music on the radio these days.

A Winter's Globe

2004-10-31T09:04:00.000+07:00

The Globe

Although we didn't see the Globe in her wintry mantle, she is still an amazing sight to behold. There was a slight drizzle as we began our tour of the exhibition and went into the open air theatre to see just what the theatre must have been like back in the 16th Century. Our Guide told us that it had been faithfully reconstructed according to the techniques of the day from a few extant drawings and descriptions and that very little in the way of modern means of construction had been used. The oak beams are held together, not with nails, but with wooden pins, and the walls are made with lime paste mixed together with goat and cow hair.

To make the performances really authentic, the groundling area is still open to the elements, so if it rains the 500 standing in that part of the theatre simply have to pull up their hoods (no umbrellas allowed!). Understandably, the season runs only from May to September and they are also only ever held in daylight - but luckily British Summer Time makes it possible to hold evening performances. Apparently there are no intermissions but, just as in Elizabethan times, there are vendors selling snacks during the plays.

Naturally, there are concessions to the safety of the players and audience. With the only thatched roof in London, the theatre is anxious to avoid the replication of the fire that burnt the theatre to the ground in 1613 and that was caused by the firing of a cannon during a performance of Henry VIII! So there is a sophisticated sprinkler system on the roof, four exits instead of two, and a reduced capactity of 1500 people (500 standing and the rest seated on pine benches.

We were there in October, so there was no chance of seeing a performance and we had only a short amount of time to view the excellent exhibition, including the elaborate Elizabethan costumes and a sword-fighting demonstration. However, even that glimpse was inspiring and a tribute to one person's vision and his dogged determination to see it happen. Although he did not live to see the theatre open, he had spent 23 years raising funds for the Shakespeare Globe Trust, which secured the site just 200m from the site of the original theatre and had laid the foundations and begun building the timber bays before he died 3 years before it was completed.

That person was American actor and director Sam Wanamaker and the Globe theatre, exhibition and education centre are his legacy, not just to Britain but to the whole world. I wonder what his many detractors would say now, when they see how successful the project is in recreating some of the flavour of Elizabethan theatre, and how it has become a fantastic educational resource internationally.

There is a lot more on the Globe website and a lot of pictures here. For a really thorough approach, check out these very detailed lesson plans

And the last word goes to Shakespeare. This, from King Lear:

Blow, winds, and crack your cheeks! rage! blow!
You cataracts and hurricanoes, spout
Till you have drench'd our steeples, drown'd the cocks!
You sulphurous and thought-executing fires,
Vaunt-couriers to oak-cleaving thunderbolts,
Singe my white head! And thou, all-shaking thunder,
Smite flat the thick rotundity o' the world!
Crack nature's moulds, and germens spill at once,
That make ingrateful man!

Stunning medieval tapestries

2004-10-24T13:12:00.000+07:00

A mon seul desir

Like the tapestries that inspired the author Tracey Chevalier to write her novel, "The Lady and the Unicorn" is a complex inter-weaving of various strands that make up a magnificent whole. I loved the book (I first read "The Girl With the Pearl Earring" and envisioned it as a beautiful film - which of course it was later) and since then I have not missed any of her novels.

So, when the opportunity came to visit Paris recently (my close friends were getting married there), I made a beeline for the Musee de Cluny, also known as the Musee du Moyen Age, to see the tapestries in real life.

Nothing could have prepared me for the breathtaking view of the six tapestries hung in a special oval room which uses special lighting so as not to cause damage to the threads. They literally took my breath away because they could almost have been woven yesterday, so stunning are the colours. First created around the end of the 15th Century, they have apparently been restored several times since they were found in 1841 languishing in a French chateau. Then, in 1975 they were restored to their former glory.

The mystery surrounding the tapestries such as who they were woven for and why, and the huge amount of symbolism seen in them, were what inspired Tracey Chevalier to write about them. The background and more pix can be seen on her website.

Learning how to fly

2004-10-23T23:26:00.000+07:00

Learning to fly

"When we walk to the edge of all the light we have and take the step into the darkness of the unknown, we must believe one of two things will happen. There will be something solid to stand on or we will be taught how to fly."

Well it doesn't feel solid right now, so it must be flight! What is it about taking risks - it's a mixture of feeling in your gut that something is right, but wondering if you are going to fall flat on your face if you go ahead with it. But, once the decision is made, that's it .. you have do it and hope that you can carry it off and prove that those who have placed their confidence in you were right!

So it's just 5 weeks before the Virtues Workshops are due to be held and I can't believe I took off in the middle of preparations to spend a week in Paris and London. That's not confidence - that's foolhardiness!

But it was so worth it!

Felines are fabulous!

2004-08-26T23:44:00.000+07:00

captivating cat

I found these soulful eyes on this website . There are some other fabulous felines featured there.

What is it about cats? Some people love them, others can't stand them. Occasionally I have people in my house who, on seeing my cats, react with horror almost as if they had seen a gargoyle come to life and it was hell-bent on draining the life and soul out of them. Actually, that's pretty much how some people do think of them! Or it might be something to do with the superstition that it has some sort of connection with the spirit world (Chinese belief, I think). Must do a bit of research on that.

I grew up with both a dog and a cat, and surprisingly they absolutely adored each other, often curling up in a little embrace to sleep. The dachsund sort of wound herself around my little black and white cat and a loud purring emanated from the furry bundle. Her name was Whisky, so named because I brought her home in a Black & White Whisky box. I begged to be allowed to keep her and so began our long association with the feline. I don't know what happened to Whisky when we packed our bags and left our home in Uganda. Most probably one of the Africans would have taken care of her or she probably could have fended for herself.

As a reminder of our East African days, our first cat in Australia was named Paka, swahili for 'cat'. How original! The first cat I had in Singapore was also a streetwise tabby, and I just called him Mao, Chinese for 'cat'. Another stroke of originality! He ran off when we moved house, obviously miffed at the idea of living in a flat instead of on the ground floor. All the other cats we've had since then have been more sensible - and all have come to us by accident rather than by design.

Cromerty, named after a witch in a picturebook who turns herself into a cat, fancied herself as the Queen of All She Surveyed. A picky eater (aren't they all?), but a loyal companion. Her favourite perch was on top of my computer monitor or on the topmost piece of furniture she could conspire to jump on to. She loved playing pool (I have the picture to prove it!) but mostly she perfected the art of doing absolutely nothing while looking absolutely gorgeous.

When Lucky the jumpy Burmese/Siamese joined the household, Cromerty was most put out and they kept a wary distance from each other. It was quite harmonious until Nikki came along. She was supposed to be a temporary boarder while other owners were found, but somehow she stayed and proceeded to make poor Cromerty's life a misery. Despite her old age, Cromerty was still pretty nimble and Nikki rarely succeeded in catching her when they played chase.

After a good 14 years, Cromerty died and so three became two. And a very uneasy alliance that is with Lucky assuming the dominant role and hissing and carrying on when Nikki tries to get too close. Lucky tends to stay indoors and hides on the edge of the balcony on the other side of a towel hoping nobody will see her and put her out. She hates thunderstorms and begs to be let into one of the rooms that has a really dark cupboard where she likes to go and wait till all the clashes and flashes are over.

Nikki is the opposite and comes in mostly only to eat and then sits by the front door willing it to open so she can go out and catch birds and lizards. That's despite her wearing a bell with a collar, so I can only assume she operates by stealth to catch her prey. She has an odd habit of sitting in a big puddle of water after a rain storm - I thought cats hated the water! So far, though, she has not jumped in the pool when I have a swim, but she does sit right on the edge at one end while I do my few laps. Perhaps she is a cat pretending to be a tiger - she is ginger, after all.

Now that both my kids are off doing a period of overseas voluntary service, my conversations tend to be directed towards my cats. They do talk back, but I don't have to bother about curfews or preparing elaborate meals!

My new picture

2004-08-11T21:08:00.000+07:00

Orange Tree

I absolutely love this picture! I bought it at the weekend at an auction and it was a steal. It's painted by a friend of mine - he's actually a very good abstract artist, but he did this representational piece for a special project, I think.

The two gold lines at the sides of the painting are gold paint and the painting is framed in gold with a black background. It's quite small - too big to be a miniature, but it gives that impression.

It has a special significance actually because it is not just any old orange tree, but one that was planted in a courtyard in a house in Shiraz, Persia. The house belonged to a young man called Siyyid 'Ali-Muhammad, who called himself the Bab or 'gate'. This title indicated that he was destined to announce to the world the coming of a universally awaited 'Promised One' of all ages, Who would bring in an era of peace and justice.

This news attracted a number of followers and soon the authorities and the ecclesiastics were feeling rattled by the support this young merchant had attracted. Historians recount in gory detail the excessive tortures and indignities that the Bab's followers were subjected to. Thousands were massacred for their Faith.

Eventually, the Bab Himself, after a series of exiles to remote places in Iran (in a futile attempt to quell the support He had among the populace) was executed. The circumstances surrounding His execution are themselves quite remarkable, as is the story of how his devoted followers kept his mortal remains well protected and hidden from those who tried to stamp out his influence forever. The same attitude by the authorities led to their destroying the house the Bab lived in while in Shiraz, and eventually another building was put in its place, ironically called "Bayt-al-Mahdi" or "The House of the Mahdi (Promised One)".

The Bab's remains now rest in Haifa, Israel inside a Shrine which is now a place of pilgrimage by Baha'is (followers of Baha'u'llah - that Promised One the Bab had prepared the way for) all over the world. It is also a major tourist attraction in Haifa. There's a picture and a short history here .

Some people preserved the seeds of the oranges of the tree, and there are now two small orange trees grown from them on the terrace immediately leading to the Shrine.

It's a kind of mark of resilience, of survival against the odds - like the Faith that still struggles to be recognised in the country of its origin.

Crazy about all things Japanese

2004-08-10T20:17:00.000+07:00

Grass for his Pillow

This is the second in the Tales of the Otori trilogy about feuding clans in a Japan-like country in a mythical medieval time. Critics have called it spellbinding, masterful and remarkable and I would have to agree. Perhaps it is the gripping storyline, or maybe the perfectly captured imagery of nature, or more likely both. There are at least four versions of the cover that I know of, but this is the most evocative and the prettiest!

For a while, there was great excitement in the publishing world because the writer has used a pseudonym. Once it was clear that the first book (Across the Nightingale Floor)had been universally acclaimed, the author revealed her identity, although many by then had guessed who it was. It was known that she was Australian, and that she had extensive knowledge of Japanese culture. The only person fitting that description was Gillian Rubinstein, a well-known and very well-respected writer of children's fiction. She had spent many years in Japan and used part of her own name in the pseudonym - Lian - and part of the name of a famous commentator on Japanese history - Hearn. Be that as it may, the critics had given their seal of approval and Rubinstein had ensured that she now has a foothold in the growing young-adult crossover market.

All this has got me reflecting on how much I appreciate many aspects of Japanese culture, and to wondering why that might be the case. I remember once my mother dressed me up in a crepe paper kimono for a fancy dress costume competition on board ship (part of the usual activities on our biennial trips back to the UK from Africa before airline travel became more usual - and doesn't that date me!). The black and white photo actually shows I have quite a resemblance to a little geisha! Could my interest have dated back that far?

Though I have never been there, I can imagine staying in an elegantly built inn somewhere up in the mountains where the clouds caress the tops of the cypress trees, and a crystal clear stream trickles nearby. In the approach to the front of the inn, stone lanterns light the way alongside the bamboo lined path, and inside someone slides the door open to reveal a warmly lit room covered in tatami mats. Before retiring for the night, a light meal of miso soup, a few slices of sashimi and some sushi, a small plate of green soba noodles with a tofu salad and a steaming hot cup of green tea. All is quiet outside save for the rustling of the breeze in the bamboo under the moonlit sky. Sleep is deep and undisturbed.

How wonderful if such a place existed!

Certain aspects of Japanese culture are still understated, elegant and refined - the spare designs of ikebana, the richness of the laquerware, the intricately woven kimono and obi, the clever origami, the eloquently concise haiku, the peaceful zen gardens, the art of bonsai, the beauty of a finely wrought samurai sword, the pottery that English potter Bernard Leach (more about him in a later post) so admired, the exquisite cherry blossoms. So many things to admire!

I bought a book once called Blue and White Japan that made me want to instantly replace my beds with futons, remove all my clutter, and strategically position some swatches of indigo-dyed material over the furnishings and purchase a delicate bone china teaset. Even imagining how it could be can send me into transports of delight!

My son, meanwhile, has developed an interest in anime movies and comics, and I know otherwise sane individuals who love manga. Hello Kitty culture was popular to such an extreme degree here a couple of years ago and people were queuing up by the hundreds to get their free Hello Kitty couples from Macdonalds. The Japanese cult of the cute and cuddly is a mystery to me when so much in their culture is so elegant. It's a bit like the difference between Audrey Hepburn and Marilyn Monroe - worlds apart, but both have their fans.

Needless to say, my feet are firmly in the camp of Audrey Hepburn.

Revolutionary science

2004-08-03T00:08:00.000+07:00

Discovery of the Germ

Reading this makes me glad to have been born in a time when doctors routinely scrub up before an operation! Time was they went from one patient (or corpse) to another with no more than a quick wipe of the scalpel on their surgical aprons!

I learned some time ago that the reason why so many women died of puerperal fevel after childbirth was precisely because doctors refused to wash their hands following autopsies and prior to delivering a baby.

Years earlier I remember seeing a series of photographs of the progress of infection of a mere scratch on the ankle of an unfortunate man who either could not get, or refused, treatment. The scratch developed into a nasty wound, the infection spread into his leg and eventually gangrene set in and his leg had to be amputated below the knee. What still puzzles me is how the photographer was able to get the shots and yet the man's foot could not be saved.

Nowadays a simple tetanus shot could have prevented that, and even simply cleaning a wound and protecting it from dirt can help avoid complications.

How we take for granted such simple precautionary measures as isolating infectious patients, the need for vaccinations, basic hygiene in hospitals and food preparation, and proper sanitation.

As Waller says, "only the term 'revolutionary' can convey a proper sense of the magnitude of the change that medical practice has undergone." The rapidity of the identification of various causes of infectious disease was almost overwhelming - medical students found their text books out of date, but more importantly the causes of scarlet fever, tetanus, typhoid fever, pneumonia, anthrax, cholera, tuberculosis, leprosy, diphtheria, gangrene and gonorrhoea were found in the space of just a few decades.

If only science as encountered at school had been as palatable as Waller makes it, I might have been persuaded to study it for longer.

Rhapsody in Australia

2004-07-26T00:54:00.000+07:00

John Williams

Surprise of the week for me was finding out that John Williams is Australian! He lives in London (has done since he moved there with his family when he was 10), but has a beautiful property just outside Melbourne which he visits when on tour in Australia. He has collaborated with Australian composer Peter Sculthorpe and has some of his guitars made by Greg Smallwood, who lives in a remote, barely accessible place in the outback. I learnt all this watching a Film Profile on a DVD which also contains the Seville Concert performed at the Royal Alcazar Palace in Seville. Read more about him here.

What a pleasant surprise also to find out that, belying appearances, Williams is extremely affable, down to earth and delightfully modest, always seeking out others' opinions when he feels he can learn from them. So, for example, if he wants to convey a particularly flamenco feel in a dance piece, he pops in to see his friend Paco Pena. Handy having the world's best flamenco guitar player living just down the road!

This attitude has probably led him into many of his forays slightly off the mainstream classical track, most famously with the group Sky, but also with his many contemporary renditions of modern popular pieces.

But I'm off to buy what sounds like a very intriguing collection called Magic Box, consisting of tracks recorded in Africa with the collaboration of African musicians.

Tropical Paradise

2004-07-24T23:28:00.000+07:00

Lamai Beach, Koh Samui

Imagine waking to the sound of the surf just metres from your chalet, sipping your morning coffee on the terrace right next to the pristine white sand and walking along the edge of the Gulf of Thailand with the sun climbing slowly up into a perfect blue sky. Ah yes, another day dawns in Paradise.

OK, so in reality it was the rooster that woke us all at 5 am, followed closely by the cats yowling outside the chalets, but at least we all slept soundly (in airconditioned comfort!) away from the traffic that we had to endure at the more popular Chaweng Beach.

We all liked Lamai much better. The sea was clearer, the beach much less crowded and the sea clear and devoid of the jet skis that buzz continuously over the water in Chaweng. And it was half the price, if you are willing to stay in simpler lodgings. Ours were new, clean and roomy and cost around S$35 a night. Their food was also better than resort type food and they let us bring in our daily dose of simply incomparably delicious durian every day. It is called Mira Mare if you ever have a chance to go there.

We took a day trip out to Koh Tao for a bit of snorkelling, which wasn't fantastic - at least not compared to Pulau Redang off the east coast of Malaysia - but it was ok. For 1250 baht (about S$52) you get picked up from your chalet, taken to the jetty where you are given a quick breakfast, and then a catamaran takes around an hour or so to get to Koh Tao. It's a marine park so no plastic bottles or bags are allowed on the island (how refreshing!). Whoever manages the restaurant/resort has done a great job. And the lunch they served was excellent.

Koh Samui attracts a lot of Europeans who seem to spend weeks, rather than days, there. They're sun worshippers par excellence - obviously quite oblivious to the warnings about skin cancer - lying out on the beach like slabs of meat sizzling to the required shade of golden brown. I suppose I can't be too critical as I ventured out on my first day without a hat, had a mild case of heat stroke and when I woke up the next day I looked like I'd been dipped in war paint!

A small price to pay for a few days in Utopia!

Good-to-have mutant gene

2004-07-10T23:15:00.000+07:00

There I was believing all I was led to believe about the Black Death and the Bubonic Plague being one and the same thing, and it turns out that it may not have been the case at all. The spread of the Black Death was just too fast - and present in too many climates unfriendly to the black rat carrying those nasty fleas - for it to have been the plague.

Scientists now think that it was a combination of both the Bubonic Plague and something else - probably a viral haemorrhagic fever, something like today's ebola virus, quite possibly small pox in fact - that wiped out a staggering third (25 million people) of Europe's population in just four years (1348 to 1352).

The spread of the disease was about 2 miles a day - in other words, the distance a person could walk. Now, taking into consideration how far you can travel today in just 24 hours and you can understand why health ministries from Vietnam to Canada implemented such strict measures during the SARS alert.

But that is not the most interesting thing about the whole Black Death/Bubonic Plague story. A most extraordinary thing happened in a small town in England's Peak District, a mining community called Eyam. After it was virtually cut off from the rest of the region, most would have expected all the inhabitants to have been wiped out. However, a year later it was discovered that half had survived, and 700 years later scientists are beginning to understand why.

It seems that they had developed a mutant gene - CCR5 Delta 32. In fact of the surviving populations in Europe, about 14% had the gene. This compares to about 0-2% of African and Asian populations with the gene - because they had never had the Black Death in their communities.

And even more amazing is that those with the mutant gene are also almost always immune to the HIV virus. No wonder AIDS is so virulent among African and Asian populations.

The report here gives more of the story and so does this one .

We are all Africans under the skin

2004-07-03T23:23:00.000+07:00

San Bushmen, Kalahari Desert, Namibia

In these faces lies the secret of all our origins, if you believe geneticist Spencer Wells. It all sounds extremely plausible to me.

Wells spent 10 years, and studied 50 groups of people, trying to trace a genetic "spelling mistake" or marker in various groups of peoples, and hypothesises that a group of the San Bushmen left Africa around 50,000 years ago and followed the coastlines all the way around the Middle East, India, South East Asia and across the final stretch of water by boat to Australia. The marker was found in Australian Aborigines, as well as in the Dravidians of India.

It was probably drought that led the Bushmen to leave in the first place, and the ice age in Europe - where his Indian descendants had migrated - that led them across the great continent of Asia, crossing the iced-over Bering Straits into the two continents of America.

Wells' theory has its fair share of detractors, but it does show that we are now able to use much more sophisticated technology in the service of discovering more about our origins. In fact, there is a powerful case for a multi-disciplinary approach to the whole thorny question of the origin of homo sapiens involving the paleoanthropologists, archaeologists, geneticists and historians. You can read more in his book, "The Journey of Man" and an interview.

The attractive thing for me about Wells' theories is the belief that we are all the same underneath. Now we have scientific proof that links all races and colours.

As Wells says, "We are all much closely related than we ever expected. Racism is not only socially divisive, but also scientifically incorrect. We are all descendants of people who lived in Africa recently. We are all Africans under the skin."

Go plant a tree!

2004-06-24T01:26:00.000+07:00

Graduation book

When my daughter graduated from high school recently, she was given a copy of a little book illustrated with woodcuts about a fictional character who discovered the secret and the power of one individual being able to accomplish something really amazing. The book is called The Man Who Planted Trees and is written by Jean Giorno. It was written after one of the world wars, no doubt in the spirit of somehow wanting to see hope in a better future after so much gratuitous destruction and waste of life. It is hard to get the book, but luckily you can read the online story and a bit about the author.

In fact there was a man who made planting trees his life's work. When I started blabbering about him one day, my father recalled having met him during the time he was a botanist and agriculturalist in East Africa. Sir Richard St Barbe Baker was even known as the Man of the Trees and he founded a worldwide organisation called Men of the Trees, which is still active. He accomplished so much to make known the advantages of planting trees - knowledge which is now taken for granted in countries like Australia which cut through whole swathes of lush forest for pasture and ended up with dry, brown, eroded earth. Denuded, scarred, barren earth not even fit for native animals to graze on. It's still there, but farmers are learning to plant trees to raise the water table, to bring the topsoil back, to make the land green again.

Meanwhile, as the annual haze drifts over us here in our beautifully (and deliberately) green garden city, I am reminded of how each generation somewhere has to learn the lessons of responsibility to the environment the hard way. The smoke comes from forest fires in nearby Sumatra, Indonesia, where farmers and plantation owners burn trees to clear land for cultivation, despite a government ban. The air quality is worse in Malaysia and some flights have been diverted, schools are being closed and the elderly and asthmatic advised to stay indoors. In 1997 and 1998 the economic loss to Malaysia (and the region)was reported to be billions of dollars. Not good for us neighbours, but not good ultimately for Sumatra either. Loss of tree cover can lead to tragedy and loss of life in countries which realise too late that cleared land can prove a devastating cause of subsidence, mudslides and flooding on the one hand and the disappearance of diversity in the ecosystem and over-reliance on monoculture, with all the economic precariousness that brings about, on the other.

So it is heartening to hear of grassroots efforts to challenge the way things are done in order to bring back balance in the natural environment and achieve better levels of economic prosperity at the same time. Again it is a true story about one man in Kerala, India who went ahead with passionate determination to green his space. Would that we all followed his example because the warnings are dire and distressing.

So long as greed, corruption and injustice walk this planet so will our fragile biosphere be compromised. We all need to have a bit of the spirit of Richard St Barbe Baker or the farmer from Kerala in us, and never underestimate the power of one, nor the assistance that can be made available.

"Look not at your own capacities, for divine bestowal can transform a drop into an ocean; it can make a tiny seed a lofty tree."

Kahlil Gibran & pumpkin soup

2004-06-20T14:46:00.000+07:00

One of the books I go back to time and again is "The Prophet" by Kahlil Gibran. I love to quote it when I send cards, or read chunks from it if I have to give a talk. When one of my brothers got married, he asked me to read the chapter on marriage. It resonates with everyone, it's universal in its message and the words have a lyrical beauty that wakens your soul from its slumber.

I was intrigued to learn that Gibran had met, and was drawn to, the personnage of 'Abdu'l-Baha, the eldest son of Baha'u'llah, prophet-founder of the Baha'i Faith. He was called by those who revered him "The Master", though he shunned that title and always maintained that his name and his station were simply that of "servant" (his name means Servant of God). Gibran drew his portrait which you can see here and read some more about their meeting.

When I was in New York in November 1992 for the Baha'i World Congress, a group of us set off on a beautiful sunny autumn day to find the house where 'Abd'ul-Baha stayed in Greenwich Village (No 48 West 10th St) at the home of Juliet Thompson in the article mentioned above. (Maybe we were standing right outside the house where Gibran lived!) But the house is privately owned so we couldn't enter. Instead we went a little further down to the Village itself and found a restaurant in the basement of one of those beautiful old houses. All nine of us needed something to warm us up so we all ordered pumpkin soup, and I have to say it was the best pumpkin soup we had tasted or will taste - ever! We called ourselves The Pumpkin Soup Group after that!

Veronica Guerin

2004-06-17T23:58:00.000+07:00

Veronica Guerin

In almost a week, it will be the anniversary of the assassination of someone who stood for truth and justice in the face of greed, injustice and apathy. I had not even heard of the journalist Veronica Guerin before seeing the title on a VCD in the local VideoEzy - and I picked it up because it also had Cate Blanchett's name plastered across it. But I am not sorry I did, because now I know that this woman paid with her life to change the sordid conditions she saw around her.

In 1996, this fearless young woman (she was only 37)was shot six times when she stopped at a traffic light on her way home. She had been previously assaulted by the man who put out the order to murder her, but despite that she had continued to write her exposes of Ireland's leading underworld figures and drug barons. There's an article here which gives more details.

To some extent her death was not in vain as now the law books have changed to make it more difficult for criminals to hide the source of their often ludicrously high income. And the National Union of Journalists and other media associations came up with The Guerin Principles.

At the end of the film it stated that in the 6 years since her death (now it's 8), 196 journalists had died in the course of their vocation. The conflict in Iraq must have pushed that figure up by quite a bit, I imagine.

Mystical traditions

2004-06-11T06:42:00.000+07:00

Doris Lessing, a South African novelist I happily stumbled across browsing through the British Council library (no longer in existence) when I was teaching there, says this about encountering Sufism for the first time:

"I had exhausted what I have described as "the intellectual package" of our time, which consists of material, both philosophic and that assumption of our culture that creature comforts must be everyone's chief aim in life; then, belief in one of the churches of Marxism; a belief that politics or a political party will solve everything; science in the place of God. I was by no means the only one to have tired of this "package." In my case it was writing The Golden Notebook that taught me I must look again."

You can read the full article here Lessing is talking about her encountering "The Commanding Self" by Idries Shah in which it is explained that "his task is first of all to supply information to a culture starved of it, information that is about a genuine mystical tradition. It is an astonishing fact, and one that I first encountered thirty years ago that someone may have gone through many years of our education or--as in my case--be pretty well read within our own literary tradition, and yet have not heard much more about the great spiritual traditions than that they exist."

If we all took the trouble to look into the world's great spiritual traditions, I venture to say the world would be a gentler, more understanding and forgiving place.

Eucalyptus therapy

2004-06-09T01:03:00.000+07:00

eucalpyt forest

This is a wet sclerophyll forest in Australia, and there is no such incidence here, but there are a few isolated copses of eucalypts around the place. One such group graces the nature strips lining the AYE somewhere before the Normanton Park exit. There is another small colony out at East Coast Park north of the lagoon. When I walk over there, I have to go up to them and say hello and stroke their smooth trunks. Don't ask me to which variety they belong, although my father might have known (he was a botanist).

Seeing them definitely makes me smile because they remind me of Australia and the bush. I guess you can tell when an expat has been too long away from "home" when they start doing crazy things like that. The funny thing is that most Australians in Australia wouldn't give their local gum tree a second thought. It's a bit like Singaporeans abroad seeing an orchid and feeling homesick, when they are so commonplace here we hardly notice them.

I read a book about eucalypts once, it was simply called "Eucalyptus" by Murray Bail and it deservedly won an award. Briefly, it concerns a man who would only consider as a suitor for his daughter a man who could name every single variety of eucalypt on his property (and he had them all!). A surprisingly beautiful and lyrical novel which you can read about here

Besides being known as the main food for one of Australia's best known icons, the humble eucalypt (or 10% of the many hundreds of species anyway)has the potential, as yet untapped, to be a developed as a source of chemical oils for a huge number of products. Already we have eucalypt soap, essential oil, candles, incense, rubs, etc. The wood is not bad also - and Australia has some of the most amazing wood turners in the world now. Read more if you like at this rather technical site.

Gum, anyone?

African Diary

2004-06-05T08:17:00.000+07:00

African Diary

It took me a couple of taxi rides to the office to read this so it's not a long book, but it's still a good read. It's worth it just to read about Bryson's fear of flying - which he has every right to fear after his experiences in a light aircraft!

It reminds me of my first trip to Pulau Tioman years ago when flights took off from a remote airfield in Seletar (can anything be remote in Singapore?). Anyway, we had to loiter around the airfield in the open (no departure lounge ...) for a while and then all 12 passengers climbed up the gangway and even I had to stoop to avoid giving my head a bump on the entrance door. Accustomed by then to long haul flights back to Australia, it was a rude shock when the cabin crew (well, maybe he was also the co-pilot)gave us the run-through of available amenities.

"Please fasten your seatbelts, place the earplugs into your ears (what??!!)and if you feel faint use the fan in front of you to cool yourself down." Or words to that effect.

I used both the earplugs - it was noisy! Conversation was impossible above the megadrone. Also it was a pretty rattan fan, so even though I did not faint or anything so dramatic, it was something to do for the 20 minutes we bobbed about in the clouds. Quite an experience but we had a safe, if bumpy, landing.

But I digress. Read African Diary not only for Bryson's laugh out loud humour (the taxi drivers gave me sidelong glances to check I was not a crazy axe-wielding psychopath), but for the humanitarian message. The profits of every book sold go to Care, "one of the world's largest private international humanitarian organizations, committed to helping families in poor communities improve their lives and achieve lasting victories over poverty."

Organisations that help communities help themselves instead of just giving a conscience-satisfying hand-out are worth supporting. They employ consultation with the people who need their assistance, they treat them like the human beings they are and not some anonymous poor starving statistic. I like that.

The Boy from Oz

2004-06-03T23:55:00.000+07:00

The boy from Oz

Forget the wolverine sideburns and hairy ears, just give me Jackman hirsutically challenged! On the other hand, some guys really do look better with a bit of fluff. Depp is best in his gypsy guise or as a tipsy pirate, and Viggo definitely cuts it as the unshaven rough and ready protector of hobbits.

Anyway, back to Hugh, currently starring as Liza Minelli's husband Peter Allen on Broadway in "The Boy from Oz" and on movie screens as Van Helsing, the formidable vampire slayer. No doubt he will pick up a Tony for his role in the Broadway play at the awards in a couple of days' time. Not only can he act, but also sing, dance, play the guitar and play rugby. That's the kind of actor they churn out in Oz, you see. Plus everyone likes to employ Aussie actors, says Mel Gibson (I think) because they are so laid back and don't act like primadonnas. Apparently, Jackman is now tipped to play the lead role in the film version of "The Da Vinci Code"

One of my favourite actresses is also Australian - the accomplished and beautiful Cate Blanchett. Even when she shaved her head for "Heaven", she was absolutely stunning. She made it recently to the list of the top ten most beautiful women. Not surprisingly though, Audrey Hepburn was top, her elegantly gamine face still graces advertisements for expensive jewellery and perfumes.

Royal Fruit

2004-05-29T23:19:00.000+07:00

The King of Fruit

Twenty years ago I had no idea there was a hierarachy among fruit. Now I know different - there is a king and a queen, and for all I know an entire court of lesser subjects. In Singapore we have even given our newest art centre the royal treatment by making it in the image of the King himself. It is fondly known as the twin durians, although I've heard a couple of ignorant tourists asking for the Big Pineapple (which actually does exist, in Queensland I believe).

Why is the smelliest fruit on earth called the King? Quite simply because the experience of the taste is absolutely divine - to aficionados anyway. And I do count myself as one. Selecting the choicest fruit is quite an art that involves a close visual inspection, a shake to listen for any telltale hollowness, and lastly and most importantly a deep inhalation of the fragrance (some would rudely say odour) exuding from the spiny outer covering. I do not pretend to be able to tell a bad one from a good one, or for that matter a 'bitter' fruit from a 'sweet' one (they all taste delicious to me). But if anyone asks me to partake, I don't need a second invitation!

The Queen of Fruit

And as for the Queen, she is more universally accepted. The sweet segments of the fruit are the perfect complement to the slightly sticky flesh of the durian. And it is said that you must have one after the other to achieve a balance. Of course, what! This is, after all, the age of equality.

Tennis legend

2004-05-29T00:30:00.000+07:00

Pete Sampras

Next month will see me as usual glued to Wimbledon. I hardly watch tennis at any other time, but Wimbledon holds a special kind of attraction. Maybe it has something to do with the fact that I grew up partly in a sports-obsessed country (Australia)and it was staple fare every year - cricket in the summer, rugby in the winter, tennis in June, the Olympics, ice-skating, gymnastics, etc.

BBC World Service had an interview today with Mr Tennis Nice Guy who announced his retirement last year. He is a 14 Grand Slam winner, who often played when in a great deal of pain - and still he managed to win.

He hardly raised any objections, was always civil and polite, didn't grunt and groan when service or returning, and yet was extremely competitive and goal-oriented. His departure from tennis was a personal decision - he just had enough and wants to get on with whatever the rest of his life has to offer.

He had a cute smile too, did Pete Sampras!

Chapelle Sainte Blaise des Simples

2004-05-27T00:22:00.000+07:00

Chapelle St Blaise

Inside this tiny chapel in a little town called Milly-la-Foret, south of Paris, is something very unexpected, especially when you are not expecting it! The walls have been decorated by Jean Cocteau (poet, writer and film maker)- in a style quite unlike what you would expect inside a chapel. But somehow it brings the divine down to a much simpler level than we are used to seeing in a place of worship. In a tribute to Saint Blaise, Cocteau has decorated the walls with drawings of the herbs well known in this region and with which Saint Blaise (a bishop and a doctor)used to heal the sick.

There are also religious depictions of Christ, of course, but I like the juxtaposition of a divine luminary and the world of plants - because after all we are told that nature is the embodiment of the Creator and even that every created thing has a counterpart in the spiritual world. Think of all the characteristics we ascribe to flowers and herbs: rosemary is remembrance, lavendar is devotion, lily is beauty, rose is love, and so on. There are virtues reflected everywhere in creation when we come to think of it.

Gardenia Gone!

2004-05-24T20:43:00.000+07:00

Gardenia

They have removed the two gardenia bushes at the bottom of my block! There was no consultation with the residents, and no warning - one day they were gone leaving a gaping expanse of dirt. They left the lipstick palm intact, but that doesn't have exquisitely fragrant blooms that I can bend down to and smell the heady perfume. The next day there was a layer of dark earth. Then a bed of leafy broad-leafed plants and some smaller, very delicate looking little ones. Too delicate. They all looked dead when I walked by today.

They should have left me my gardenias.

An offer too good to refuse

2004-05-23T20:41:00.000+07:00

The Rasmus

Ok this is my first successful photo insertion! So here's a picture of The Rasmus cd I can't get enough of. Now I know what to do so I can make this blog a bit more lively.

Took advantage today of a 20% off storewide sale in Kinokuniya. I really shouldn't buy any more books, but I wanted a replacement copy of "Siddharta" by Hermann Hesse (my original copy has been lent to someone whose identity has long since been forgotten). It is a hardback and I couldn't believe the price at only $15 something. Then I promised my daughter a new book, so I bought her "Frenchman's Creek" by Daphne Du Maurier - I enjoyed when I was her age and she likes historical novels so this should be right up her alley. When I was in the queue I saw a copy of Dan Brown's famous indictment of the Church in "The Da Vinci Code". Of course a lot of it has been dismissed as incorrect, sensational and fabricated nonsense, but it's still on the bestselling list 6 months after publication. I'll read it first and then read all the detractors' commentaries on the net! One of them is at the Opus Dei website.

Not bad - only 3 books. Some people had shopping baskets full! I should start reading the stuff already on my shelves - by now it should take half a lifetime anyway. Some people collect bric-a-brac, I collect books.

I've been searching ...

2004-05-22T23:45:00.000+07:00

There are plenty of songs out there - on the radio, in shopping malls, on mtv - that are so irritating that the moment I hear them I just have to remove myself from the offensive noise! That also applies to certain singers or even instrumentalists.

But I won't mention the ones I don't like, instead I have to admit to being a bit of a fan of The Rasmus. I can't explain what it is that I like about them - the lyrics perhaps, the voice certainly and the fact that I can make out what is being sung, but also the way it all hangs together. Whenever "In the Shadows" gets airtime, I have to turn up the radio and stop what I am doing to listen!

Marsala masala

2004-05-21T22:49:00.000+07:00

For some marsala is a fortified wine from Sicily. For me, since I have foresworn all alcohol, it means masala thosai. Thosai is a thin lacey pancake made of lightly-fermented rice flour and a few herbs and spices. The masala part is a spicy, but not hot, mixture of mostly potato and other vegetable. It is pure heaven! If you don't have access to it where you live, make sure you spend your next holiday in Asia and have it for your breakfast!

Thursday Launch

2004-05-20T23:57:00.000+07:00

This time last year we were all in the grip of the SARS scare. People were afraid to eat out, take public transport, go to the movies, etc. Concerts were cancelled, schools closed for weeks, shopping centres were like ghost towns and taxis cruised around looking desperately for custom.

Coincidentally, I am reading a book about the plague in London in 1665. It's called "At the Sign of the Sugared Plum" by Mary Hooper. Have a look at the Bloomsbury website for more details.

OK, so it's a children's book, but it doesn't mean it's not well written. Some of the things they did with the idea that it would prevent them from getting the plague were just plain nonsensical. In our enlightened times, we wouldn't be so ... unenlightened, would we? Or would we?? ... some of the supermarkets here last year were all out of vinegar because people thought it would ward off the virus. People in Korea were touting kimchi as a cure, others thought kiwifruit would do the trick.

Personally, I was worried about our three cats being rounded up and taken mewing pitifully to the slaughterhouse because SARS had been linked with people eating civet cats in Hong Kong. Never mind that the civet cat is not even remotely related to the domestic cat (actually it is one of the mongoose family).

Well, thankfully, all that is past tense and let's hope it stays in its box and never comes out to scare us all another day.