Friday is DAWG Day

Hunkered down in our bunker last night listening to the choppers overhead I thought that I and probably you could do with some cheerier fodder. So I've decided that today is the National DAWG Day of SL (we celebrate everything else here, so why not?!?).

In recognition of all things fabulously four legged - here's some pictures of the beauties I'm feeding on the building site next door, who now surround me and follow whenever I set foot in the car park, much to the amusement of the local builders!!!

So here's to DAWGS, loyal, loving, never sad, always trusting and generally allround wonderful.

Curfew in Colombo

Well it's hot hot hot here, and I'm not speaking about the steadily rising fahrenheit.

Tempers are fraying, and being fanned by the appallingly one-sided local media coverage, as accusation and counter accusation are lobbed around. Our Programmes team spent yesterday at the Central Court in Colombo trying to secure the release of 3 poor students from Jaffna, who were unfortunate enough to come to a meeting about Livelihoods in Colombo on Tuesday. Their first trip to the big smoke - imagine their excitement! Then imagine their horror as as part of the post-bomb sweep they are picked up, made to take part in an identity parade (they are Tamils after all), then shoved in jail for 2 days. Cause: their id cards cite their home town as Jaffna.

Back to the drivel that passes for media coverage here - any Singhala civilians caught in cross-fire are portrayed as"victims", whereas Tamils are "casualties". LTTE are "terrorists", whereas the army is "our gallant defenders" - you get the drift. Unfortunately combine this "reporting" with limited empathy for the Tamil population amongst the majority Sinhala population, and lack of any form of independent broadcasting, the trash dished up here as "news" is particularly damaging.

Anyway, not my battle, but terrible witnessing a country rip itself asunder.

For us life continues largely as normal. Tuesday was hard to get home because of road closures; there is a nightly curfew which I miss, 'cos being such a granny I'm in bed about 3 hours before it starts! I'm paying more for my trishaw as those guys don't miss a trick and charge you extra for making a minor detour because of the road closures (good onya). Other than that it is definitely quieter on the streets, there is army EVERYWHERE, and generally people are subdued and worried.

No one wants full escalation, but according to a senior UN official here (off the record), that's probably where we're headed. He states that the LTTE intelligence are all over the army, but the army is playing a dirty game - they raid villages and kill locals - blame it on the LTTE, and then bombard them (heavily) - all the while publishing dirt in the papers and claiming that they haven't broken the ceasefire. Because the LTTE media arm isn't well developed (and because they're listed as a terrorist org. by the US and others), they don't often get any positive airtime.

These situations aren't simple or else no-one in their right mind would fight over them, but as well as everything else all the NGO's are having to pull their staff out of the conflict areas - so guess whose houses won't get built for another year??????

Red Fort etc

My "proper" sightseeing in Jaipur started with the miraculous Red Fort and Palace. It's hard to describe how magnificent it is (unfortunately no photos as the camera was with sickie Duncan in Agra). If you can visualise huge mountains, dry and rocky with dust/ sand blowing off them and along the ridge of the peaks an enormous fortress, with battlements running for 8kms, down into the valley and up the other side. It's akin to a mini Great Wall of China.

As if this wasn't enough there is another palace situated just below the fort, built by a maharajah in mogul style. This means that they've incorporated the Islamic architecture of formal gardens split into four sections, four entry gates (two purely for symmetry), and then incorporated local hindi architecture. So instead of inlaid depictions of flowers (no animal/ human representations are allowed in Islamic art/ architecture), you have elaborate carvings of elephants and other fabulous beasties. In addition the final touches are gloriously Indian. A whole hall bedecked in mirrors and precious stones, from floor to ceiling. As they didn't have mirrors then they used to paint the back of convex glass with silver, and this produces a mirror effect. Either way it's splendid - as I've learnt on this trip you can never have enough sparkles!!!

On to Jaipur central and a quick but fascinating tour round the astronomy garden built in 18thc. The then maharajah was an astronomy nerd and used to travel the globe to find out about the latest techniques. What's always astonishing is to find out how accurate these instruments still are - apparently these tell the time to within 0.6 seconds of modern calculations.

Finally (I'm fading by now) on to the current maharajahs residence which he and his family still live in. When the Brits were in power they insisted (in order to decrease the profile and power of the maharajahs) that they relinquish all but one of their palaces which they were allowed to reside in. This one is splendid and I sticky-beak around hoping for a glimpse of a maharajah, but only get as close as the clothes of an 18thc one who must have had a thyroid problem! I'm not kidding - apparently he was over 7" tall and weighed over 200kgs. And in this heat that's no mean feat.

Revived after a light luncheon I put my shopping shoes on and off I go to haggle and bargain and drink tea. Very happy with my Jaipur purchases, but know that DY will wonder how many more silver bangles a girl needs (but this one's from JAAAIIIPPPUUURRR). Anyway, he's not here, so have credit card, will use it!

Tomorrow another long drive with my no-longer sulky driver. In the last day he's transformed from being horrified at what a bad wife I am, to being my own private defender of white womanhood. Hysterical, but I prefer version 2 to version 1 so I'm keeping quiet and letting him open as many doors as possible. Looking forward to seeing sickie husband ....

Jaipur

After our fabulous excursion to the Taj, DY and I had to make a tough call - to proceed with the trip or not. This was brought on by him being unbearably ill, and the knowledge that to get to Jaipur we faced a 6 hour drive.

Given that we'd been through a similar situation only 2 months back in SL when Dunc had the same problem it wasn't hard to make the decision this time and DY stayed behind whilst I proceeded on. The driver was really shocked and kept saying to me: "But Madame, your husband, he is unwell", leaving the statement hanging in the air (the inference being that only a terrible wife would leave a husband on his bed of pain and not mop his brow at regular intervals with cool cloths). Whilst I did feel guilty, I was also aware that a) I wouldn't be able to help Dunc by moping around the hotel room with him and b) I'm only in India for 5 days so need to make the most of it. Anyway, the driver sulked for 5 out of the 6 hour's drive so I just let him get on with it - I'm not a big fan of sulkers!

The drive was wonderful (despite the potholes) - a visual marvel of camels, changing landscapes (from dry to desert and back to lunar), farming scenes, craftsmen carving their wares, women with bangles to their elbows - you name it.

Arrive at the Hilton (we weren't roughing it!), dusty, tired and overexcited about Jaipur (of which I'd heard so much). My official sight-seeing wasn't starting until the next day, but I grabbed a trishaw and set-off to see the town. Again, virtually no women on the streets (unaccompanied), and those that are have their scarves draped over their faces or are in burqqa. I am glad I've worn my shalwar and drape the scarf round my mouth (not out of modesty - the dust blowing through town is choking).

All driving in the subcontinent happens at breakneck speed, so we whizz through the old town, the bazaars, past several ancient palaces, the pink city walls (so called because the Maharajah decided to pain the city pink to welcome the British Royal Family on a visit back at the turn of the last century) and finally back to the peace of the hotel. The snapshot tour, but always fun in a trishaw. Unfortunately see a middle-aged woman in a sari taken out by a motor-bike. Whilst she lay in the road unsconscious, the offending driver drops his bike and runs (a form of street justice prevails here when there are accidents, usually resulting in the offender being beaten to a pulp). Am apprehensive of what will happen to the victim, but my trishaw doesn't stop.

At the hotel, decide that after the last few food experiences I'm not game enough to try a local restaurant so instead have the best pasta I've eaten in the last 4 months - bliss. Then settle in for a 5* night in front of the satellite tv.

Two icons in one day

So up at 5.30am to get to the Taj first, first, first! I am teeming with excitement - DY less so. When I ask him for about the 20th time if he's ready, his response: "As ready as I'll ever be" (he's trying to work out whether he can walk the distance between the hotel and the car without needing the bathroom).

Get to the ticket gate at the Taj at 6.08am and stand in the queue with the other 200 tourists (already?). Am reliably informed by our Guide that there's no point getting there any earlier as the gate doesn't open until 6am. Look at the other 200 people and wonder.

We're in - I'm almost running, DY crawling, and the Guide somewhere between the two. Walk through the entrance and there it is. Even with people crawling over it like ants, it is enormous, magnificent, truly grand. Wonder when all those shots you see of the Taj are taken - must be on Friday when it's closed, 'cos there are people everywhere. Wander through the gardens and approach from the East - sunlight just breaking through the cloud, lighting up the sparkling white marble. Admire the inlaid text and the truly beautiful floral representations. Looking up makes you dizzy it is so huge. Pleased to see a Kite has chosen one of the domes for it's nesting site - disrupts the linear perfection of the building slightly.

Walking around the outside in awe I spot a small African-American woman in a red sari, with her hair in braids. An unusual sight, so I look again. This time I notice the enormous African-American man standing behind her. Panning out, I now see the entourage surrounding them, including the man-mountain bodyguard whose arms are so big they almost look like they're not attached. Will Smith, plus his team. They are all listening intently to their Guide and revelling in the moment, as do I.

The North side of the Taj faces over the river and is a beautiful vista, fields covered in mist, a camel grazing on the low tide water weed, locals doing their washing. Very peaceful.

We avoid the rush and stroll slowly back through the gardens, gazing as we go. I have to say it is very impressive, but many of it's precursors have also been memorable in different ways. For some it's been the gardens and sense of tranquillity they inspire; for others the advanced engineering capability, whether building domed roofs or pushing water uphill; and others the pure beauty of red sandstone and the geometric layout of Persian architecture. All good stuff.

Fantastic India

Well we've just returned from a whirlwind tour of the "cultural triangle" of India, and what a trip it was. India is just fabulous, a growing, vibrant country as geographically diverse as Australia, but instead of a paltry 23 million inhabitants it manages to squeeze in over a billion.

Driving into Delhi from the airport the contradictory nature of India becomes instantly apparent, as brand new mercedes speed down highways littered with cows and beggars. Scrawny, dusty little brigands surround your car at every traffic light knocking at the window and gesturing towards their mouths and stomachs. Whether they're professional beggars (the local opinion) or not, my first instinct is to pack them all into the hotel swimming pool and give them a scrub down and then a jolly good feed.

The gap between rich and poor is far more obvious here than in SL, but there is also a "buzz" about the place that SL is missing. Everyone, regardless of whether they are begging or working in a shop/ hotel etc has a sense of industriousness about them which is hard to verbalise. It just feels as if everything is on the move (despite the power and water outages).

So our first day was spent touring both Old and New Delhi. It was only 40 degrees (it is HOT here) and we saw Moghul monuments, British monuments, Lutyen architecture and the Gandhi memorial, along with the sites that don't go into the guide books, but that really make India what it is. Like the street kids swimming in the memorial fountains on the Presidential Avenue next to India Gate! or the camels being driven down a major motorway! or people peeing in the middle of a world heritage site!

We stopped for lunch at this fabulous restaurant, where Dunc (the intrepid traveller) couldn't resist ordering the Kashmiri Kebab, despite my wide-eyed look of alarm. Needless to say he regretted it - for the next 5 days (more later). My spinach curry and mushroom curry were much safer options, though most food is a bit taxing on our sensitive Caucasian stomachs.

Next day we headed to Agra, about 5 hours south of Delhi in the province of Uttar Pradesh - destination Taj Mahal. To get there you drive through countryside like the south of France in high summer, hot, scrubby, with sprouts of green vegetation here and there. You pass through roadside towns with all the usual characters that congregate there - brightly clad eunuchs, men with dancing bears (not for much longer - I've dobbed them in to my mates at the Anti Animal Cruelty team at WSPA), more street urchins, and travellers trying to go about their business unmolested.

Finally reach Agra and our hotel which was splendid in a Palazzo Versace sort of way. By now DY's belly problems had begun to take hold, so we admired the marble (lots) and ordered room service and settled in for a nice quiet night .... which it was for me, as I slept through DY's repeated bathroom forays, but poor old DY had a hell of a time.

Tea

As you are no doubt aware Sri Lanka is one of the globe's major tea producers and tea is one of the pillars of the Sri Lankan economy.

What I have realised since commencing work is that it is also an office institution in a way that has been weeded out of British and Australian culture. Do you remember the old tea trolleys that used to come round the office? No, neither do I, but I remember people talking about what a shame it was that they were no longer around. And being amazed when a friend at PwC said that they still had a tea "service". I mean it's so "Upstairs Downstairs".

But in SL the great tea trolley service is alive and kicking. Every day at 10am and 3pm sharp, the office "peons" (the local equivalent of "oddjob" person), bring around tea in 'your' cup. Now you have no choice in the cup selection, but once you have used a cup that is then yours. I haven't managed to communicate how I actually like to drink tea, despite several attempts, partly because the lasses who make it are so sweet I don't want to hurt their feelings! And my sort of tea is very different from that drunk here - for starters tea in SL is drunk black, with a big spoon of sugar and very very strong (directly opposite of how I actually like tea!)

So when I said yes to my first cup of tea, it came to me super strong, super sugared and with milk (because I am white - therefore tea with milk). And due to the lack of refrigeration in SL, milk is powdered. For a few days I politely pretended to drink the tea, and then not being able to stand it any longer took to emptying it down the loo. I was then ridiculed by Marco the Head of Security who caught me doing this one day (probably less for the loo trick and more because I was drinking tea, not coffee!), and decided to lose the milk. So for the last month I've been working on getting no sugar, but haven't succeeded yet. Every time I sign-language 'no sugar' they smile sweetly and nod, and then the next cup comes, full of the stuff! No wonder that diabetes is a growing phenomena in SL.

Doin' it tuff in the Maldives

When I called my mate Dollar for his birthday I did not expect him to drop this bomb shell on me......: "we are surfing in the Maldives can you come for the weekend?"
With less than a week in hand I had to act quickly. What to do? Do I say "no" and regret it because I only catch Dollar once a year, or do I say "I am on a high burn rate already - just spend the extra cash?"
You can see from the attached that the higher burn rate option was taken, and I jumped on the 5.15pm Colombo flight and arrived 2 hours later. I even had time for a surf before it was dark, it's literally that close to Sri lanka.
And it was great to catch up with Dolski. He looked well despite his 20 hour flight from the States and the fact that he still hoovers more cigs than anyone else alive!!!
We had a great couple of days with Jo Coffee and a whole bunch of Darin's work mates from the US. The trip was $$$y, but well worth it as we scored some clean, but small surf and caught up with buddies from far away lands.
I am sure that when I left on the sunday night after surfing like a madthing all weekend that the rest of them were glad to see me leave. Lets just say that I had my fair share of waves...sorry lads but when you live in Colombo you need to make the most of every surf opportunity you have!!

The ******** at the top

Chatting to my dad yesterday we got talking about the development industry (more later) and comparing stories. Now my parents did it tough, real frontline stuff - West Africa in the 70's, civil war, death and mutilation in a time when it was considered reasonable to drop pesticides on people. By comparison, Colombo 35 years later looks positively cosy.

We got to wondering how, with all the assistance that is given to certain third world countries, that they still struggle. Sri Lanka is third world, but it also has a head start in many ways, with 80% of the population having finished primary education - a huge feat by third world standards. It has thriving mineral resources (gems), grown resources (tea)and human resources (labour). Combine this with an advanced entrepreneurial spirit, a true desire to learn and get ahead, and I would have thought you had the perfect environment for a budding China or India.

In addition to the above, you also have this huge international group of talented, smart, passionate, well educated individuals who have given up their 'normal lives' to "contribute". All different sorts of people, from literally everywhere in the globe, often with conflicting motivations, diverse backgrounds but with a common belief in humanity and the ability of man to thrive, given an levelling of the playing field.

Every day these people go out and try to turn things around, often in difficult and dangerous conditions. The buzz words are sustainability, livelihood development, skills transference as we all try and try and try to "teach a man how to fish", not give him fish. Yet even that is really, really hard. Because whilst we're working with fantastic colleagues, and receptive participants there are so many obstacles in our way.

Like what I hear you say? Like the physical challenges of working in Sri Lanka. Pre tsunami, all the landmines from the previous 10 years of war had been "mapped" i.e. people knew where 90% of them were. Well imagine what happens when a great big wave hits the shore? Yup, they all move. So you've got thousands of people, distraught, hurt, tired, hungry, emotionally distressed making their way to the only shelter they have any hope of finding, which is of course provided by the international agencies in no time at all on a wing and a prayer. And the employees manning those shelters had to make a conscious decision about their own welfare. Because knowing that there are landmines, and still going into an area to assist voids the insurance that covers them for death, disability, wounding, injury. They all went anyway.

Or for plain obfuscation there is the local agency that none of the international agencies want to work with, but have to, that constantly tries to take over the management of international donor funds with no accountability measures (!), use it's own systems (despite agreeing to use the international one that all the other agencies are using thus making reporting easier - exactly why they don't want to use it!), refusing to sign MOUs (memorandums of understanding) which it has agreed to last year and without which none of the other agencies can start etc etc ...

Then there's the government department that refuses to start a programme which will benefit a third of its population with microfinance loans (a US$200 loan is the difference between a family living at poverty level and being able to set up it's own sustainable business), when the money has been sitting in the bank for 2 years, because that money won't go through them directly and therefore will not be eligible for a 10% service margin .....

And of course every week the government publishes a "mismanagement" campaign against the agencies in the papers, accusing them of non-delivery when the agencies can't deliver because if they allow for the 10% service margin the international donor community will accuse them of fiscal mismanagement ....

Those are just a few of examples, there are loads more. And the really frustrating thing is, that the people who need it the most, those who are still living in transitional shelters 16mths post tsunami, and staring down the barrel of another monsoon under canvas that is no longer waterproof, or in timber with plastic sheeting on it, cannot claw their way out of the quagmire unassisted.

When we first arrived we met up with an interesting Australian who has been doing development work for over 20 years. A real individual, he has lived and worked in virtually every part of the globe imaginable. The sort of character who goes on holiday to North Korea just to see what it's like. At the time that we met I must confess to having found him a bit world weary. Now I realise that he was just pragmatic and experienced. When I asked him why we were all still trying to plug holes in the dam after so many years, his response was: "It's the ******** at the top". And after 3 months, I agree.

Yogi Young

Ommmmmm

Anyone who has ever done yoga will be familiar with the fact that it isn't just about stretching and bending but has a whole philosophy surrounding it, including vegetarianism. Sounds right up my street being the aging hippy that I am! But I tell you what, in the last week I've not only realised my physical limitations but literally had them shoved down my throat - all self inflicted of course.

Being in the land of Buddhism and spirituality inspired me to do something I've wanted to do for ages, and so I signed up for a 10 day introduction yoga course. So enthusiastic was I that I even went along to check it out prior to signing up, and was very impressed by the instructress (Nandini) that I met, the studio etc etc

On the first day I turned up, mat in hand, pillow at the ready, white top and trousers (for purity), feet washed, shoes off, keen as mustard. By day 5 I had been reduced to a shadow of my former self. All of the above still apply, except the keen as mustard - at that stage I seriously wanted a sick note! I don't know about you, but the word introduction suggested to me that it would be paced for complete beginners (i.e. yours truly). Well, approximately the first 15 minutes was and after that I was bending, and stretching and being bent and stretched into positions I would not have considered to be physically possible if I hadn't been the one with my toes touching the ground behind my head (whilst maintaining a straight back - straighter!).

I kid you not. And yes there have been moments where I truly felt a sense of inner peace, but they were few and far between by comparison to the moments of excrutiating pain, frustration at my own ineptitude and embarrassment at the look on the instructor's face. The look is a picture - abject disbelief that someone can walk the earth who is as stiff and unsupple as me! In fact I'm sure the only reason she continues teaching me is that I'm vegetarian .....

So with only 5 more days of pain to go (and counting) I had brunch with some American friends, and love 'em or hate 'em, I think the great thing about the Yanks is they are so positive. They reinforced for me the reasons why I started the course in the first place, praised my courage in the face of considerable adversity and reminded me of how much I'm lllleeeeaaarrrnnniiinnnggg. All good stuff, as long as you remember the deep breaths, positive thoughts, live for the present, blah blah blah

Postscript: So I'm now at day 8 and LOVING it. I've broken the pain barrier, done my first headstand in circa 25 years and am truly feeling invigorated. I don't even notice when the trishaws roar past as I'm trying to concentrate on my breathing, and the exercises that on day 3 nearly had me in tears from pain and frustration are now really quite easy (though I'm not sure that we need to be quite so finickity about the position of my toes when I've just done 25 consecutive rounds of Salute to the Sun!) Ommmmmmm