Seeding the Future

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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.