When do-gooders do bad (1)

"Africa's worst drought in 60 years," screams the banner. ActionAid is seeking donations - as low as £2 a month - to "help a child like Sadia now." We have no clue what country Sadia is from, but there is no doubt as to her continent of origin - Africa. I have a problem with ads like this. A major problem.

For a while I couldn't put my finger on what my problem with these types of ad was. I just knew there was something not quite right about the "cases for support" made by the likes of UNICEF and ActionAid on behalf of "Africa." Donors love that name (Africa), and fall over themselves to use it every chance they get; every self-respecting donor agency has a presence in Africa. But what is Africa?

Some basics. Firstly, Africa's a continent, not a country. That sounds like stating the obvious, which makes me wonder about ActionAid's claim that they are raising money for "Africa's worst drought in 60 years." Is the drought affecting the entire continent? We are not told.

Secondly, Africa is a pretty big continent. To get an idea of how big it is, you could easily fit the US, Spain, France, UK, Germany, Italy, Eastern Europe, Japan, India AND China into its land mass (see here). Once again, is this drought affecting the entire land mass? We'll have to ask ActionAid to clarify.

Thirdly, Africa is pretty diverse, with over 1 billion people in 61 territories, who have different cultures, speak a multitude of languages (Nigeria alone has over 200), run different socio-political systems, and have different climates. Once again, is this drought affecting all these people? ActionAid does not specify, at least not in the ad.

I did some further digging, and "Africa's worst drought in 60 years" is actually in certain parts of four East African countries, and has affected 13 million people of the entire population of about 130 million in the affected countries. It is clearly an unfortunate state of affairs, one that has likely been exacerbated by failings of the respective governments to adequately prepare (especially when such droughts have happened before). It is heart-warming and encouraging to see people from all over the world chipping in, and I applaud the work being done by agencies like ActionAid to mobilise donations. But I have major issues when donors use sensational banners like those of "Sadia" (who likely comes from an East African country).

I am of the opinion that such ads do more harm than good. I'll explain. If you are reading this, you are likely in the West. So imagine you are on Amazon looking for a christmas gift for a friend, parent or lover. Then you see Sadia's ad. The ad has been designed to grab your attention and tug at your heart - "Africa's in pain, help out with only two quid a month." It works. You do the calculations in your head - that's less than you spend on one drink on Friday evenings, so having one less drink on Friday will make a difference in "Africa." You whip out your card and sign up. You have done your bit for "Africa".

To be continued...

Iron Bat

When I was younger I wanted to be Iron Man. No, don't laugh. I really did want to have megawatts of energy come out a cavity in my chest. Hmmm, that doesn't sound quite right the way I just said it. Anyhow, moving on...

Actually, now that I think about it, I wanted to be Tony Stark being Iron Man; I wanted to be the human in the suit, not the suit itself, you see. Okay, so what I said earlier makes sense now - the megawatts of energy would come out of a cavity in the breast plate of the suit. I hope I'm not losing you as I have a word with myself. Lol.

Back to Iron Man...After changing allegiance from Marvel Comics to DC (don't send hate mail, Marvel fans), I dumped Iron Man and wanted to be Batman (or Bruce Wayne being Batman). Tony had money, but Bruce was in a totally different league in other ways: he had way cooler gadgets, and he had that whole mystery thing going for him. The only minus was the exterior underwear. But hey, nothing in life's perfect.

Looking back now, I realise I limited myself to the characters and stories created by others. Why couldn't I be Bruce Stark, and fly around in an iron suit in the day, AND roam the streets of Gotham at night? Or better yet, be Tony Wayne, and have the suit AND the cape and cool gadgets (sans the external underwear and the silly side-kick)? I let others determine the fantasies that played in my head, and never questioned them because "that was just how it was."

I wonder if I'm doing the same today. Am I, are we, silently going along with scripts others have written for us? Are we thinking outside the boxes society "suggests" we play in? Would we know what to do with ourselves for a decade, if we had all the time in the world, and didn't have to work for money, and could do anything we wanted? Are we truly living, or are we just getting by? Are we being Bruces, or Alfreds?

PS. In support of Occupy Wall Street. A luta continua.

View from my window

Looking out my window, I see a road with several cars, the surrounding buildings, people moving on the side-walk, and a few trees shedding their rusty leaves. So much man-made stuff, so little nature, I say to myself. But is that correct? Is that the truth? Let's revisit that list of things I see, shall we:

The road I see was definitely put there by man, but in the process, he may have had to call on nature for at least two resources - gravel and asphalt; the former is readily available in quarries, and the latter is a by-product of petroleum. How about the cars on the road? The major parts of a car are made of steel (chassis and body), plastic (dashboard, other interior elements, and wire coverings), glass, cloth, and rubber. Each of these is a step, two or three removed from a natural resource. Ditto for the fuel that drives the cars (petroleum). The buildings? Let's see - they are made of bricks, glass, wood, roofing sheets, etc. Same goes for them.

In essence, all I see came from the earth, and will "return" to the earth (the people included). The view may not look "natural", and it's unlikely any college resident would rank it as high as the garden in the Square, but still, everything I see is earth derived; all these things (and the people I see as well) owe their existence - and maintenance - to the earth. I think this partly explains why beautiful architecture amazes me - to see someone do something absolutely stunning with what the earth has given is truly inspiring, especially when I could never do the same.

But back to the issue at hand - everything I see can be traced to a natural resource from somewhere in the world (gravel from England, petroleum from Nigeria, wood from Brazil, etc). We have taken from the earth and built cities and civilisations, and like a good mother, the earth has kept on giving. What irresponsible children we make when we do not care adequately for her, and by extension, for ourselves.

Connecting the dots...

One can't always tell what will matter in the future. Last year I signed up to do volunteer work teaching mathematics to children in a nearby primary school, and a year later, I met and spoke with the Queen because of that decision. Who would have guessed? All my work on the college council meant nothing, as a new team was elected under a month before The Queen's visit! Lucky buggers! Reminds me of how Joseph ended up being Pharaoh's number two, despite his downs and downs in his early years in Egypt; one just can't tell how things will turn out. I like the way Steve Jobs put it - you can only connect the dots looking backwards.

The beautiful thing about connecting the dots is you may not have to change your location or vocation when you connect them; you may be in the same exact situation, one you'd grown used to, but all of a sudden you get it, and everything makes sense. Things seem right, and you appreciate what you have a lot more. It's like C.S. Lewis said, and I'm paraphrasing big-time here, when he said something like "we arrive where we started from and recognise it for the first time." That's what happened to me yesterday.

We went back to the primary school for the first time this school year, and started working with a new set of students. Same school, same classroom, same subject, just younger students. But things had changed for me. Not in some radical, out of the world way. It was just a quiet, unassuming realisation that what we do with the kids really does matter. Even if we only help one child develop their skills in mathematics, it does matter. It matters enough that two of us from the group were introduced to The Queen. It matters enough that we had pictures of the other group members on a board for her to see. We would not have been introduced if what we do doesn't count.

And it mattered all the more yesterday because two of us worked with an incredibly bright boy from a minority background, who likes mathematics and history, and also plays the violin (he's been playing for three years). He loves to learn, and he totally engaged both of us for the entire 90 minutes we spent with him. It was such a joy seeing things through his eyes. I have had experiences like these in the past, but yesterday I connected the dots, and I understood, at a very visceral level, what many people have said about how doing things one enjoys can make a way for one in the world.

Whatever you enjoy doing, do more of it. Become prodigious - produce, invest time, just do it. There's no way to be certain where doing so will take you, but at least you'll enjoy the ride. And if you do end up in a fantastic position, you'll enjoy that, as well as the pleasure of being able to look back and connect the dots. And I guarantee that'll bring a smile to your face, like it did to mine yesterday.

Childlike vs. Childish (Part 1)

The earth. It's a mystery, isn't it? There's so much we don't understand. So much we don't know. And it's all the more amazing because there's a lot we do know. For example, we know how to generate electricity, we know how to transport people through the air, and we know how to send data from one end of the earth to another. These are no small feats. As recently as the 1950s, some countries did not have commercial television (see here), and commercial air travel really took of after World War II (see here). Yet despite these achievements, there are so many things we just do not know, and which we can only hazard guesses at.

I will go out on a limb here and suggest that some of our ancestors were likely just as arrogant in their "knowledge" as some of us are today; yet we look back at those days and remark how un enlightened they were. But the way science is going suggests others will do the same to us. And sooner. Children today are growing up with touch screens. Just think about that. As recently as the 1990s, typewriters were still the mainstream in several countries. Now people talk about tablets and touch screen phones in most parts of the world.

But despite the strides in science and technology, there is still a lot we do not know. And our systems are still far from perfect. There are medical conditions that doctors do not fully understand, and the current economic crises all over the world are a reminder that our leaders (elected or otherwise) don't always have the right answers (nor the right questions, it seems). I am reminded of the movie, "What the bleep do we know?" (see Amazon link here). I haven't seen it, but I do recall it generated quite a buzz when it came out; it seems many people thought its makers' were on to something - namely, that we do not know as much as we think we do, and we lie to ourselves when we suggest otherwise.

So let's play a thought experiment - let's assume we all agree that individually and collectively, we do not know much. We all agree to be less sure of our facts. We all question our unfounded assumptions. And we do this with rigour, and consistently. What would the world be like? Well, for one, we would all be a lot humbler, more teachable. We would be more open to new ideas and new information. We would test things in the real world more. We would learn from mistakes faster, as we would have less of a hold on "what the world should be like." In short, we would retain a child-like curiosity and sense of awe for life.

Child-like is not necessarily childish; one is a attitude of mind, and the other is a state of mind - one can have the former without the latter. How do you know which characterises you? Try answering two questions: 1. When was the last time you found yourself in a state of awe, surrender or sheer delight because of something external to you which you did not - and could not - own or control?; 2. How did you react the last time the world did not lay over and give you exactly what you wanted, the way you wanted it, when you wanted it? If your answers were "can't remember" and "very badly," respectively, then I would suggest both the attitude and state of your mind could do with some work.

I especially like the first question, as it gets to the heart of how we look at the world, and at life. Are we moved by things external to us or are we ever cynical? Do we only care about the things we own or control, or do we pay attention to life in all its fullness? Are we in touch with our capacity to feel awe and reverence, or are we so far removed from this capacity that nothing moves or impresses us? Lastly, are we humble enough to accept that there's a reality larger than us, which we do not fully understand, yet which is there for us to enjoy?

To be continued...

The re-beginning...

And so he went back into his body. He had been clinically dead for only a couple of minutes, during which the doctors had battled to save his life by sending pulses of electricity through him to revive his heart. Little did the doctors know it was up to Jake to determine if to come to or not. But come back he did, based on his conversation with the light bearer. The first thing Jake noticed on reentering his body was the shear weight of it. He had felt free and light just seconds before. All the pains he had forgotten about, especially the one in his chest, the pain that sent him out of his body, came rushing back as he opened his eyes to see the smiles and looks of relief on the faces of the doctors and nurses who had done their best to save his life.

‘Shhhh. Try not to talk,’ cautioned Dr. Earley. ‘Just listen to me. You had a cardiac arrest, and we almost lost you. Thankfully we were able to keep you with us. We’ll move you out of the ER in about an hour. Try to relax. A nurse will stay with you and I and the other doctors will check in every now and then. Oh, and the Prime Minister will be here to see you as well.’ The Prime Minister, thought Jake. He’d totally forgotten about her. How strange. She had been the focus on his thoughts over the last eleven months - how to keep her safe, protect her from obnoxious reporters, and even phone hackers. He had lost his own family while protecting another, and in the time he spent with the light bearer, he had not thought of her once. The only people he had thought about were his ex-wife and his two sons, who no longer called him ‘Dad’ with a joyous tone in their voices, but referred to him as ‘Jake’, just ‘Jake’. But the Prime Minister had not asked him to sacrifice his family. He had made that choice. He loved his job, and he was falling in love with her. Or so he thought.

So why hadn’t he thought about her while he was with the light bearer, Jake wondered to himself. At first it had been a shock discovering himself floating out of his body, and it had taken him a while to get used to it. He saw himself on the hospital bed, and watched the commotion as the doctors and nurses struggled to save him. Dr. Earley was shouting at the top of his voice ‘Stay with me, Jake, stay with me!’ Then he heard a strong, yet gentle voice say ‘Its interesting, isn’t it, watching yourself die and losing all you thought was important, and not being able to do anything about it?’ The voice startled him, and he turned round to look in the direction it came from. He turned and saw a small man with golden hair, smiling at him, wearing a pale-green robe that seemed to shimmer with light. The man held an unlit lamp in his right hand.

‘Hello, Jake,’ said the small man. ‘I am the light bearer,’ he continued. Jake looked at the unlit lamp in the small man’s hand, and sensing what he was thinking, the light bearer responded ‘I see you are wondering why someone called the light bearer is holding an unlit lamp. The lamp is not lit because it cannot be lit until you choose to light it, Jake. That is why I am here.’

‘I don’t understand,’ said Jake.

‘You are about to die. However you have some unfinished business in the earth realm. In such instances I am obliged to give you a choice between letting go of the unfinished business and letting your essence light this lamp, or returning to the earth realm to attend to your unfinished business, and letting the lamp remain unlit. Should you choose to light the lamp, I will carry your essence to the other side. That is why I am called the light bearer. So, Jake, what will it be. Do you want to go back, or cross to the other side?’

An image flashed through Jake’s mind as soon as the light bearer stopped speaking - a picture of his wife and sons, watching him as he packed his clothes and other personal items into a bad, got into his car, and drove off. He had glanced in the rear view mirror and seen his older boy Jack, consoling his mom, as John, the younger boy who he loved more, ran after his car for a while, and then gave up. That had been two months ago, but Jake could still see the picture, and the pain on John’s face, as if it all happened yesterday. Though he hadn’t felt any pain since he left his body, he suddenly felt a massive weight in his heart, dragging him towards his body laid out on the bed in the emergency room. ‘I have to go back now,’ said Jake.

‘Okay, Jake, if that is what you wish. One word of advice, though. Try to remember how you are feeling now while you are in the earth realm, and let the realisation that just dawned on you guide your actions every day. Keep this firmly in your mind as you go through the rest of your life, because the next time we meet, you may not have a choice in whether you light the lamp or not. Goodbye, for now.’ And with that the light bearer was gone, and Jake was back in his pain-riddled body.

Jake was still trying to get his thoughts together. He felt the need to get up, to ask questions. He needed to know what had happened to the shooter. Had the other agents gotten him? Had the Prime Minister been hurt? The last thing he remembered was jumping in front of her as the cameras flashed and he saw a gun being raised behind the row of paparazzis. He knew he had been hit twice, the pains he felt in his torso testified to that, but luckily he had been wearing body armour and the bullets had not done more damage. The Prime Minister, Claire, Jack., John, such a mess he had found himself in. Jake kept thinking as he closed his eyes and drifted into deep sleep.

‘Tell me the truth, Jake. You are in love with her!’ screamed Claire, just before throwing the plate she’d just used forcefully on the floor. White ceramic bits of china flew across the kitchen like shrapnel. One caught Jake in the leg. ‘I know you Jake, you’ve held it against me ever since we had to get married because I got pregnant with Jack. You’ve always blamed me because I forgot to use the pill. I always knew you wanted a different sort of woman, one of those Oxbridge types. I was never good enough for you, was I? Why won’t you just tell me the truth? Why?’ Claire started sobbing uncontrollably. Jack and John came in to see what the commotion was all about. They had been playing video games in the den when they heard something hit the floor. They looked at it each other, both thinking it was an accident. ‘Mom’s dropping things with her butter fingers again,’ said John, but then they heard the shouting and knew there was a problem. Jack ran upstairs immediately, and John followed somewhat reluctantly.

Jack was shocked when he entered the kitchen and saw his mom on her knees, weeping inconsolably, as she tried to pick up the ceramic shards strewn all over the kitchen floor. His dad was just standing, looking at her, motionless. Shock turned to anger as Jack glared at his father and shouted loud enough for the neighbours to hear, ‘Why are you always picking on mom, dad?’ He rushed to Claire’s side to console her, and brought her back to her feet. Claire held him tight as she cried. Jack was only 19, but in the last couple of years had come to be the man Claire looked to in the house, ever since Jake Sr. stopped being emotionally available. Jack stayed at the kitchen door, watching events unfold. His eyes darted between the faces of his brother, his mom and his father. He didn’t quite know what to make of  the scene. He didn’t display any emotion, a trait he had picked up from his dad, but deep inside he wondered what the consequences of all this would be. He was three years younger than Jack, and looked up to his brother, but sometimes he differed with him in the role his mum played the issues facing his parents’ marriage. He just didn’t know what to make of everything, but he knew he didn’t know enough to help his parents save their marriage. Jack had tried to get his parents’ attention by joining a gang and getting into trouble, but that had not had the intended effect of bringing his parents together like he had hoped. If anything, it increased the wedge in his parents’ relationship. Jake was livid when he found out Jack had been involved in a gang shoot-out, and had raised hell in the house, asking how the son of a secret service agent could be involved in such activities. He had turned his anger on Claire, insisting she had spoilt him. Claire retorted that he was never home to enforce discipline. Jake and Jack had not sleep at home that night, one going to an hotel for the night, and the other going to stay with friends after the first left. It had been left to John to console his mom, but he didn’t find the words to stop her from crying till she fell asleep. John felt his mother cried a bit too much. He much preferred the silence of his dad.

The Smith’s marriage had been going through a rough patch in the last two years, and things took a turn for the worse when Jake got assigned to the security detail for the new Prime Minister - Sally Templeton. Mrs. Templeton was the UK’s first female Prime Minister since 1990. She became prime minister at 42, which was all the more amazing because she was a widower, and was totally devoted to her daughter, Penny. Beautiful, articulate, charming, well-educated, and very well connected, she had fought against all odds to rise to the position of Prime Minister in a span of five years after becoming a prominent figure in the Labour Party. She was loved by the media, adored by female groups, and respected by political leaders within the UK, and the rest of the world. An American newspaper had called her ‘Britain’s Obama.’ Jake had watched Sally’s rise to fame with interest, so when he was assigned to her security detail a year after she became Prime Minister, he looked forward to meeting her in person. He had been contemplating asking for a transfer to a less demanding department - he had just turned thirty-eight, and was starting to think his age would tell on him in demanding situations. But he put the idea on hold for a chance to protect Sally Templeton. Besides, the members of her security detail were the envy of all the agents, and he had worked hard to deserve a position on the Prime Ministers security detail.

Jake started his new role with little fanfare. Mrs. Templeton seemed nice, though very business like. She had aged very well, and up close, one could not tell she was 43. Penny was a beautiful fifteen year old who always had a smile on her face, and was friendly with all the staff at Number 10. Jake wondered why his own boys could not be more like Penny. Then one particularly cold day nine months into his new role, Jake held Sally’s hand as he helped her out of a car when she arrived back at Downing Street. The strictly professional relationship changed after that incident. Jake never did understand why, but he knew that was the day they started exchanging furtive glances. This continued for weeks. He felt there was something there, but was afraid to push it. The last thing he wanted was to end up in the tabloids like Diana’s lover. Jake hated undue attention of any sort. Sally not only exchanged glances with Jake, but she also started smiling more at him. Jake found this very difficult to resist, and found himself smiling back sheepishly. Jake was in great shape for his age, and always got compliments from women the few times he went on a night out with friends. But he never allowed things to go too far. He had his principles - work hard, have few friends, keep secrets, and stay loyal. But Sally Templeton was another matter all together. Soon Jake found himself always being the one to help Sally out of the car whenever he was on duty. Each time she would gladly thrust out her hand for him to hold, even when it seemed she did not need help getting out of a car. No one suspected anything, no one except Claire.

‘Why won’t you just tell me the truth?’ said Claire, in between sobs. Jake was speechless. Jack was not. ‘Why are you always making mom cry, dad?’ he asked angrily, as he held his mom. ‘If you want to be with the other lady, then just go! I hate you, I hate her. Just leave us!!’ Jake and John stood motionless in shock as the words hit home. Even Claire seemed startled. Then the phone rang, and Jake woke up. He had been dreaming, but his dream had been a recall of an actual event. He could still feel Jack’s eyes burning into his back as he walked out the kitchen towards the bedroom. John followed him. He had brought out his hold-all, packed some clothes and personal items. John, who had been following him and watching him silently all the while, had asked ‘Where are you going, dad?’ Jake had answered, ‘I need some time to be alone, son. It’s better this way.’ ‘But I don’t want you to go!’ snapped John. Jake had never heard his son so assertive before. Jake had not listened, and had made his way to the car, and driven off, with John running after him. That was the image Jake had when the light bearer told him about his unfinished business. Jake felt emotions well up in him and tears filled his eyes as he imagined the pain he had caused his family. He let the tears flow for a while and eventually forced himself back to sleep. He was drained physically and emotionally.

‘How are you feeling, agent Smith?’ asked Sally Templeton.

‘Much better, Prime Minister, much better. Thank you for asking.’ replied Jake as he sat up in bed and tried to wake himself up. He was still groggy from all the medication. Also there were others in the recovery room, so his appearance and tone had to be formal.

‘Thank you for saving my life, agent Smith. That was very brave of you,’ Sally responded.

‘Just doing my job, Prime Minister, just doing my job. It was nothing.’

The Prime Minister paused. Jake thought he could see a tear in her left eye. She looked sad, and uncomfortable.

‘Did you see the shooter?’ asked the Head of MI6.

‘No, Sir,’ responded Jake. ‘I only caught a glimpse of him lifting the gun up. The lights from all the paparazzis’ cameras made it difficult to make him out. Did you get him, Sir?’

‘Yes we did, Jake. I am sorry to be the one to break this to you, Jake, but it was your son. One of your fellow agents had to shoot him to stop him from taking more shots at you and the Prime Minister.’

Jake felt like a spear had just been driven through him when he heard those words. His mouth went dry, his pulse quickened, and time seemed to slow down. He glanced at the Prime Minister, Sally, and heard himself let out a loud wail, after which he broke into tears. Poor Jack, he had driven him to this. His love for his mom had so blinded him. Jake was beside himself in grief. What had he done? Was this the unfinished business the light bearer had told him about? Where was his chance to set things right with Jack? With Claire? With John? How could he get his family back together after this?

The Head of MI6 continued in a somewhat reluctant manner ‘I am really sorry, Jake. But we need to ask you about this. Just before he passed on he said “All I wanted was my family back”. We know he was your son because your wife and your first born, Jack, have identified the body. So what did he mean by that? Could you...’

Something in Jake snapped, and he was no longer listening. He stared intently at the door, his eyes focused on a small man dressed in a pale green robe, carrying a lamp that had just lit up.