#48 - Go To A Protest Rally

This week, SBS aired a special television event named "Go Back To Where You Came From" featuring 6 Australians with differing views on asylum-seekers to coincide with Refugee week.

The synopsis, from the SBS website: "The six participants start their journey living locally with recently settled refugees and asylum-seekers, before being stripped of wallets, phones and passports and put on a leaky refugee boat.

They end up in Malaysia sharing a flat with 52 refugees from Burma.

Some then travel via a Kenyan refugee camp to Goma and others to the slums of Jordan and on to Baghdad.

Both journeys were dangerous, with UN peacekeepers and the US military called on to safeguard the groups."

Undoubtedly the refugee debate is a big one here in Australia.  "Go Back" received record ratings and created a whirlwind of comments on SBS's twitter page.  World Refugee Day was on June 20 and on Saturday June 25, there was a protest rally in the Brisbane CBD from 1pm.

There was a number of stalls set up by various organisations, with petitions to sign and badges for sale.  The crowd, a few hundred strong, was a blend of young, old and all nations seemed to be represented.  The theme for the day, the message the protesters wanted to convey, judging by the nature of the banners was a) abolish mandatory detention and b) the Malaysian solution is not a good one.

A well-dressed young man addresses the crowd.  He is an Australian citizen but was once a refugee from Liberia who left behind his siblings.  He risked his life aboard a boat and has spent time in detention centres.  He tells stories of hearing women being raped during the night in Liberia.  He believes Australia is a compassionate country and is grateful for the chance of building his life here in Brisbane.  He urges the crowd to show compassion towards refugees and believes that Malaysia has a reputation for mistreating refugees.  

Whichever side of the debate your allegiances lie with there is no doubt that many refugees are in desperate situations.  So desperate that they must leave loved ones behind for an uncertain future, risking their own safety, for the chance of a prosperous new life in a country whose stance on illegal immigration is stoic.  If you think briefly for a moment about the poverty, famine and crime such refugees face every day in their homelands then you can not help but feel compassion.  

I am aware that solving the issue of illegal immigration is a complex one, regardless of my personal opinion.  However I do believe that as a nation Australia can afford to show more compassion than the 'f#$k off we're full' and 'we grew here, you flew here' emblazoned on tshirts and imprinted on narrow mentality, the population through.  Most people agree that multiculturalism is what makes Australia truly rich.  Immigrants and refugees have contributed, and will continue to do so, to the success and development of one of the most wonderful places on Earth to live, if we welcome new Australians from all walks of life.  Remembering that each and every one of us, aside from Indigenous Australians are indeed refugees of some kind.

#14 - Go To A Jazz Concert

I confess I am a serial sign-er up-er.  If there's a mailing list, I'm on it.  Rather than a panolopy of excuses why I can't talk to the Red Cross volunteer who has me cornered on the walk from office to train station in peak hour, I'll simply sign up for their e-news.  And yet I seem to spend half the time in my inbox unsubscribing to mailing lists which no longer interest me.  The beauty of being list-happy is that the recipient is forever being presented (inundated) with ideas on what to do, who to see, where to visit, thus ensuring the fool and their money soon go their separate ways.  Funny that.  Marketing, it seems, actually works a treat.

The Brisbane Jazz Club is one mailing list whose newsletters I actually read.  Jazz gigs for the week are emailed and week after week some of the same names appear on said list.  The Jason Recliners are one band who could draw a crowd based on name alone!  (I haven't seen them yet).  A couple of weeks ago one band caught my attention, Pascal Schumacher Quartet, who are apparently big in Belgium, so, former housemate and all round good guy John B and I arrive Thursday night at Jazzworx, with absolutely no notion or inkling of what was inside the front doot.

Jazzworx is a dark but cozy venue positioned in an industrial area of Bowen Hills, Brisbane.  There would be no soft edges to the venue however, cleverly, someone had the gumption to install sound absorbing panels on the ceiling and walls to deal with the harsh acoustics. 

The first band takes the stage and I am impressed with what the trumpet player can do with the embouchure of his chosen instrument, less so with what he has done with his hair i.e not washed it.  The xylophonist and in fact the entire band's ability as musicians is impeccable, truly impressive but it's Pascal Schumacher Quartet that the intimate crowd has come to see.  Translation: no one would have remembered the name of The First Band.

Impressive as they were Schumacher and his quartet deliver a standard The First Band can not match.  Schumacher's ability on the vibraphone, quote "inject(s) panache and flamboyance into every performance".  (Ruth Fisher, www.pascalschumacher.com) and tonight is the rule.  No exceptions.  He makes it look like an afternoon in a park, lying in the sun on a picnic blanket as he frantically yet perfectly picks out and strikes the notes on the vibraphone with unimpeachable timing, speed and force.

Promoting their latest album 'Bang My Can', it's difficult to define the genre, particularly when your knowledge of jazz is - ahem - limited but it's definitely experimental.  Waning in and out of more recognisable jazz, crossing boundaries, seemingly "keen to explore the links that exist between many musical genres, it is difficult to pigeon–hole his talent, his taste or his musical influences." 

Schumacher and his quartet are indubitably talented however it's the drummer, German Jens Duppe, who is most mesmerising.  Transfixed, as I often am to the drummer, who is the true leader of any band, his skill matches Schumacher's and their natural synchronisity eludes to a lengthy affiliation.  The quartet formed in 2002 and I am hoping the partnership between myself and the drummer could form in 2011, he's the one on the far right in the picture.  Bang My Can?  Thanks, but how about the drummer instead?

You can read all about Pascal Schumacher, see some photos and even listen to some tracks, by visiting www.pascalschumacher.com  My favourite is 30 Little Jelly Beans and the title track, Bang My Can.


I wonder if the clairvoyant I consulted with a little while ago foresaw me at a number of jazz clubs and gigs?  With certitidue do I declare that more jazz gigs are on my unofficial list of things to do!   

#58 - Do Some Volunteering and #59 - Get A Free Tshirt

Oxfam has numerous community projects both here in Australia and abroad.  They actively raise money, in a variety of ways, to support such projects, one of which is the Oxfam Trailwalker.  To summarise: teams of 4 walk 100km within 48 hours.  Brisbane's first Trailwalk was held over the weekend of June 17-19 with some 300 teams participating in the event, starting at Mt Glorious and ending at Mt Coot-tha.  The top fund raising team gathered an astounding $15,840 and the quickest team crossed the finish line, presumably salubriously, in 11 hours 58 minutes.


Shortly after I registered to volunteer at the event almost 2 months ago I had the option to choose from a list of jobs available.  I chose: Catering Delivery Van Driver, working as a team of two with a navigator.


Arriving at Trailwalker HQ at the charming Brisbane Forest Park at 4:30pm for a 4.5 hour shift, I met my offsider and navigator Wendy, another volunteer.  Announcing our arrival, we were briefed by Kay on our role which was to deliver pre-packaged meals for volunteers to the various checkpoints along the trail, given the keys to the van, several maps for all the check points, directions to each of the checkpoints laminated and detailed incontrovertibly, a mobile phone to contact HQ, our identification lanyard and our free long sleeved tshirt.  We loaded up the van with meals and Wendy and I were on our way for a roooooooaaaad triiiiiiiiiiiiiiiip!!!!!!!!!!!!

Using the meticulous directions provided, we delivered meals to 12 checkpoints.  Along the way we met with trail marshalls in teams of 2-4 whose job was to sit / stand in the cold night air in high visibility vests to meet and greet with the teams for the purpose of support and encouragement as they made progress along the trail.  The checkpoints were well equipped with physiotherapists, podiatrists, first aid, meals, water, snacks, supplies, friendly faces, volunteers and amenities. 

After dispensing meals to several checkpoints and trail marshalls, Wendy and I soon realised it was we who had the most agreeable role.  We had the pleasure of meeting umpteen devoted volunteers who were happy to greet us, drive a cozy van with a toasty heater to the soundtrack of triple J's mix up / house party tunes on a Saturday night - think: cranking up the volume, singing along to Young MC's 'Bust a Move' and being thrilled at one's own ability to recall all lyrics in spite of several years between listenings - and, AND score a free tshirt in the process! Win-win-win-win-win!  Most of the checkpoints were on the boundary of D'Aguilar forest, away from suburbia.  It was a mild, clear night like crystal, the moon was bright and big and the stars were putting on a show for us.  I pulled over a few times so we could consider the universe, marvel at the moon and the diamonds in the sky.

We finished our shift and were back at Trailwalker HQ by 8:30pm, half an hour before our scheduled finish time.  The crew at HQ were tickled pink with our work and sent us on our way with a meal and some snacks.  Wendy and I bid each other farewell, musing that we would meet again next year, same venue, same van.  Feeling appeased, this was decidedly one of the most gratifying ways to spend a Saturday night.

Some might argue that only a small percentage of funds raised by charities actually makes it into the plams of the people who really need it.  The reality is that charities have all the expenses and overheads just like any other big business.  The way I see it is this: the amount of financial assistance that does make it to those in need is more than what it would be if organisations like Oxfam didn't exist and, I am cheerfully and pleasantly astounded at the lengths some people will go with their selflessness, in an attempt to alleviate suffering in lives of others.

#55 - Put A 'Here's Looking At You' In The MX Magazine

A couple of Mondays ago engrossed in book, I didn't look up until I was two stations away from my destination. I was on my way to work.  Glancing up and to my left I saw someone familiar.  I knew his face as we'd met on a prior occasion.  I recalled he had an accent.  Was it French?  Italian?  Something South America perhaps?  I couldn't remember and I couldn't pick it.  'He wouldn't remember me' I thought to myself as I often do if I see someone I've met only once before.  The train pulled into Central station, I disembarked and walked to work without another thought about the French / Italian / South American man.


Later, settling in at my desk for the usual 'Moanday mourning' as I like to call it, switching on the computer, shuffling papers and sipping tea, a voice to my right says to me 'Hey, I saw you on the train this morning."  I turn towards the voice and ... it's Him!  The French man / Italian Stallion / South American!  Frog / Ferrari / Fajita!  Where is he from anyway??  Frog is speaking to me about seeing me on the train.  I, aghast and shellshocked at how instantly I am drawn to this man, can barely stop myself from ...  Coming.  Across.  Weird.  How can I not notice how cute he is?  Frog and I continue to talk but he's picked up on my reaction and I have weirded him out.  Nice one.  Good on me.  We finish chit chat and he walks on by.


Sacred bovine, now I know where I've seen him before.  I work with him!!  In my defence I must point out that I only recently moved desks, onto the same floor as Frog.  Otherwise interaction has been minimal. 


The next day I see him at his desk in the morning.  He waves at me, I smile at him.  That afternoon I am walking up the stairs, he can not see me but he can hear someone's footsteps on the stairs, waits and lets me in the door to the office.  The next morning I'm walking up the stairs, I can hear someone's footsteps behind me but I can not see them.  I wait and hold the door open.  It's Frog.  We exchange smiles and he says thank you.  I see him at work.  I am compelled to steal glimpses of him when he's not looking.


Tuesday I decide to put a 'Here's Looking at You' in the MX magazine.  Wednesday they print it.  Thursday morning I arrive at my local suburban station to catch the train into the city for work.  He is there.  We board the train together, stand in the crowded aisle together chatting about this and that and then walk to work together.  I have no idea if he has seen the MX or not: 

Turns out Frog is not French after all.  A few sentences into our conversation I pick his accent as South African.   He grew up on a farm, like me.  He wears no wedding band and when he speaks about his plans, his weekend, his house there is no mention of "we" or "my wife and I".  I sneak  some glances his way when he isn't looking and really study his face.  He's not so much hot or good looking as 'cute'.  It's a comfortable chat with some comfortable silences.  Was there spark?  Not sure.  Should there be?  That's up for debate.


Once upon a time, I gave up on spark, dismissing it as minutia.  A question I have previously asked of a few friends in regards to romantic engagements 'Do you think spark is important?' resulted in most people saying they didn't know and a lesser amount replying a definite 'yes'. My recent relationship with a wonderful, warm, intelligent, funny, awesome guy was everything it should have been minus that indefinable feeling, that spark, the 'must have' x factor that completely magnatises one to another.  Maybe if we had spark, I would still have him.  Sigh.


While I'm not saying I'm definitely interested romantically in Frog, I have noticed him and perhaps he, me.  All I can and am willing to do is continue to be friendly and warm, if it's reciprocated.  Maybe I'll make a new friend?  Maybe I'll just have someone to talk to on the train occasionally or maybe we'll never speak again.  Meanwhile though with no expectations I have a small piece of excitement to look forward to each day and the possibilities are yet to be written...

#13 - Get A Prison Pal In The USA

Long ago I became aware of incarcerated folk wanting people on the outside to communicate with. After recently rekindling my love of the written letter and thinking how gratifying it might be to exchange thoughts, ideas, stories about the world, between two people with different backgrounds, I reasoned that as far as hobbies go, this has got to be more interesting than say the art of philately.  


A google search of 'prison penpals' produced a curious list of websites.  One such website's opening words read: 'Lonely, attractive inmates seek attractive men and women for companionship'.  Woah up there website... I'm not looking for a husband here.  Although some may argue in the affirmative the convenience of knowing exactly where their spouse is at all times, a more orthodox approach to courtship might prove less worrisome.  Another website promised: 'You can meet that special person that will have the same interests as you.'  Oh really, like what?  A love for the great outdoors?  Weekends away?  Watching re-runs of Cop Shop and Prisoner? 


Hopes were fading, and dashes were almost done until I encountered www.writeaprisoner.com , a website that promotes itself as 'an organisation to help prison pen pals...find friendship and moral support outside of prison walls.'  Sounds reasonably just and noble even if the judicial system that keeps criminals locked up is not entirely so.  


This particular website has photos of the prisoners looking for pen pals and no they're not mug shots.  Some are obviously taken from within the prison, donning their prison garb.  Other pictures must be from their life prior.  As well as the picture, the website gives the prisoner's name - why is there always one called Jesse James? - and a paragraph or two that the inmate has written about themselves.  After perusing a few, I spot a photo of a young woman holding a teddy bear in front of a Christmas tree.  She has a warm and welcoming smile.  I read on to learn the young woman in question is serving time for the first time and, adamantly so, her last time.  I will omit her name however I can tell you she is 29, African American and...

'...truly learning from this experience. I am spending my time in positive ways by attending church, taking college classes and preparing myself for home.

What I am looking for is intelligent conversation about positive things that will assist me in rising above all of the negativity in the world.

What do you like to do with your free time? How are you making a difference in your community? Do you spend time alone or with your family? What is your passion in life? Are you up for trying new things? What can you bring to the table to establish a friendship? If you have answers to these questions, then I will have answers for yours.'

Bingo!  A reasonably intelligent sounding young lady spending her time wisely by learning valuable life lessons and getting an education.  Reminds me of a conversation I once had with a colleague.  Do you know you can get a degree free-of-charge in Australian gaols?  Free board, meals and lodging?  No mortgage, no job, no bills.  There's always a silver lining, however armed robbery is not for me.

The letter has been penned and signed, the envelope stamped and sealed and was sent on its way to the USA a week-and-a-bit ago.  I answered all of my new pen pal's questions and hopefully provided at least a little bit of intellectual stimulation.  My new friend requested conversation about positive things.  Sure, I can do that... apart from all the whinging I mean.  Letters have an advantage over spoken communication in that one can always go back and edit what one has written.  Not so easy in conversation when foot is planted securely in mouth.

Three pages later and topics such as religion, family, childhood, work, music, baking and weekend plans have all been covered, providing requested answers to questions above.  I even included a map of Australia indicating Brisbane's location and a photo of myself with the caption "I'm white... please don't hold it against me :) " Let's hope the humour is shared.

So now I wait in hope that my new pen pal has received my communique safe and sound and doesn't think I'm too much of a weirdo.  I am and always will be, interested in hearing all about another person's life experience.  Everyone has something interesting to say, something to offer and everything is worth learning about.