Incommunicado

We are so connected these days. So switched on. So linked in, if you’ll pardon the pun. Watching my girls during their swimming lessons, I can be texting someone, facebook chatting with someone else, and checking my email all at the same time.

For keeping track of friends it’s wonderful. For knowing what loved ones overseas are up to, it’s amazing. Sharing photos – brilliant (although I must admit I am a trifle paranoid and refuse to post photos of my kids on facebook – it’s facebook’s policy that they can do whatever the hell they like with my photos that I find disturbing).

For keeping in touch, for really communicating? It’s not all it’s cracked up to be. In fact, I think it’s widening the disconnect, and replacing real community with a digital facsimile that just doesn’t stack up.

It’s wonderful for getting to know people on a surface level – I have connected with parents from my daughters’ school on there, and we know each other’s politics much better than we would have otherwise.  We share opinions on world events, and connect over things that perhaps we wouldn’t have found out otherwise.

When I’m lost in a strange place
Scared and alone
When I’m wishing for home
That’s when I think of you

But time and again I find that I think I know what’s going on in all my facebook friends’ lives. As though they must surely post everything significant that they do or feel online. As though clicking “like” or making a passing comment on their status is actually communicating. Really connecting.

It’s not.

We are social animals. Seeing each other’s faces is important. Touching each other, even if it’s just a hand shake, is crucial to us both physiologically and psychologically.

There are things even I won’t post on facebook, or on my blog (astounding, I know). There are feelings and traumas in my life that I can’t share online. There are connections I can’t make digitally that flow effortlessly over coffee.

This is not to say that it’s not possible to connect electronically. I have friends overseas with whom I have built intense and enduring friendships largely via email. But that’s personal, one to one email. It’s not public status swapping on facebook. It’s a direct and personal communication. Sometimes it’s even possible to share things via email that would be much harder to share face to face.

The danger, I think, lies in believing we know what’s going on in each other’s lives on the basis of our public personae. We run the risk of facebook usurping our real community. Filling a space in our busy lives that would otherwise be filled by calling each other, or catching up for coffee. “No need to do that,” I think. “She’s fine, just busy.” When in reality I have no idea how she actually is.

I saw a great post (on facebook!) the other day suggesting that the reason we feel insecure is that we are comparing our “behind the scenes” with everyone else’s “highlights reel”. And I think it goes deeper. I think we are replacing our in-depth, behind-the-scenes tours with glimpses of the highlights reels. We’re never even looking into each other’s eyes anymore.

I’m always thinking of you
It’s all that I can do
I’d go mad not being with you
If not for the thought of you
The promise of dreams come true
I’d go mad not being with you

That’s when I think of you – 1927.

I think it’s time I made a conscious effort to get off the computer (my goodness, how many times have I said that?) and call people. Organise more coffees. Have more dinner parties. Arrange more reunions. Tonight I’m blogging about it. Tomorrow I’m going to start doing it. I wake early. Why not join me? You can call anytime.

1 Comment

Filed under community, computers, psychology, relationships, society

The antibiotic dilemma

Evidence is rising that taking antibiotics is a bad idea if you don’t really need them. It’s increasingly clear, too, that we are very bad at knowing when we really need them. A worse than average cold, or one that goes on too long, leaves us reaching for a prescription. Doctors bemoan the fact that patients are demanding antibiotics when they have a virus. Not only do antibiotics not treat viruses at all, taking them when you don’t need them can cause antibiotic resistance in bugs you do have.

Studies are showing that taking antibiotics leaves you less responsive to them for at least 12 months – which means that taking them when you don’t need them can lead to them not working when you do.

Last Friday I went to see a GP because I had a persistent sinus infection. I had not seen this particular GP before, but I couldn’t see my regular GP because she was fully booked, and this one was new in the same practice. The first thing she said to me after I described my symptoms was “time for antibiotics, don’t you think?” I was a little taken aback at how fast we had arrived at drugs, and I asked her what made her think it wasn’t a virus. She immediately backed off, saying “It could be a virus, don’t take antibiotics yet – we take too many antibiotics, don’t we?” but nonetheless, I left that office with a script for penicillin, and instructions not to take them yet, but to take them if I needed them.

She gave me no clear guidelines on how to recognise whether I needed them or not. So here I am, it’s Tuesday night. My voice comes and goes, my head feels as though it is going to explode, and my face feels as though it has been ram-packed with concrete. Do I need them now? Is it a viral or bacterial infection? The doctor said not to bother coming back, just fill the script if I needed to. So after much agonising during the day (and a certain amount of agony driving the process), my husband has gone off to get the script filled for me.

Normally I would applaud a doctor leaving decisions in my hands. I don’t let doctors push me around, and prefer to make informed decisions on my own health care. But in this case, the doctor didn’t know me, and had no way of knowing how responsible I would be with that script. I could have gone and got it filled immediately – and indeed it was pretty clear that she intended me to, until I questioned the need for antibiotics up front. Only then did she change her tune and tell me to wait.

Articles in the media bemoaning our use of antibiotics frequently quote GPs complaining that people demand them, but I don’t see that as an excuse for offering them the moment I set foot in their surgery. It is surely an essential part of the GP’s role to educate patients on when antibiotics are appropriate and when they are not. It is crucial both to individuals and society that inappropriate use of antibiotics stops, yet doctors like mine hand them out without any real evidence that they are appropriate, and without even a warning lecture about finishing the entire course if I do start taking them. Not finishing a course of antibiotics is a major cause of antibiotic resistance – yet when was the last time your doctor warned you about it?

I have plenty of friends who leap onto antibiotics the moment they feel a tickle in their throats – and they could not do this without the willing and inexcusable complicity of their doctors, who should know better.

I still don’t know whether taking antibiotics is the right thing to do for me today, but I am going to do it anyway, because I have the script and I feel awful. That decision should not have been left in my hands. Of course, believing as I do that antibiotics are grossly overused, I should not be getting that script filled tonight. I should be making an appointment to see a better doctor tomorrow, and getting better advice. But I have yet to find a doctor who will do much more than wave a script when I present with symptoms like these.

I am tired, sick and miserable. My resistance is low. So I’m going to take the easy way out. Let’s hope my resistance doesn’t become high as a result!

3 Comments

Filed under health, medicine

Revisiting the halting problem

It’s always interesting to see what posts on this blog get looked at, and when they do. Recent posts on being kind to yourself and feeling overweight triggered big responses suggesting that they struck a chord with much of my readership. Recent articles get a lot of hits, but there are always random searches that dredge up old articles that surprise me when I reread them.

One such hit this week dug up the halting problem, in which I was reminded of the value of simply hanging out with my kids. I wrote that around 18 months ago, but it hasn’t stuck. I still get caught up in the chaos of work and simply keeping our collective heads above water, and I don’t make nearly enough time for the simple pleasure of playing with my girls.

We have a new pet, a sugar glider named Flash, of whom I will no doubt write a lot more in the weeks and months to come, but I am struggling to find time to bond with him. Bonding with him in the early stages involves just letting him sit in our laps in his pouch, not hassling him, but giving him time to get used to our sound and smell. Trouble is that requires me to be sitting down. I don’t do much of that. Too much to do. Too many deadlines whooshing by, or looming like ominous thunder clouds. So I berate myself – I am failing Flash, and failing our kids, because he has not bonded fully with us yet (we have had him for just over a week).

our sugar glider, Flash.

As I was chatting to a friend yesterday, bemoaning the way I shouted at my kids that morning, she told me I had to be kinder to myself. Somewhere in my head I see that as justifying my shouting – which is quite unjustifiable – but she has an important point. If I’m not kind to myself, I will have no chance of being kind to my kids. I am hurtling around in a frenzy of guilt and deadlines, trying to do everything fast and perfectly. Trying to meet a whole slew of self-imposed obligations, many of which exist only in my own head.

I need to stop. I need to sit still. I need to breathe, and to reconnect with my family, my friends, and indeed myself. Bonding with Flash may be the key to forcing me to slow down. Indeed, part of the reason for getting a pet was to try to lower the stress levels in the house, but it never dawned on me that he might force me to sit still. Sugar gliders are not known for stillness.

So over the next few weeks I am going to try to let Flash teach me to be still. He is a quivering bundle of speed, so it may be a challenge for him, but I think he’s up to it. Flash! Aaaah…saviour of the universe!

3 Comments

Filed under parenting, relationships

My own worst enemy

This afternoon I rushed up the stairs towards my desk on the second floor. As I neared the top the burn in my legs was too much, and I got all sooky. I commented to a friend coming up the stairs behind me that I was sure they got higher every day. As he drew level with me he said “you’re going up them a lot faster than you were a couple of months ago, though!”

I was struck by the truth of that comment. Two and a half months ago I had major surgery and was weak as a kitten, and here I am berating myself for being somewhat unfit and a little overweight. I ride to work most days, and I also take the kids to school in the Christiania bike. A couple of days ago I started a strict diet and I overdid it, leaving me without enough energy to ride today – for which I was furious with myself. In my head I was counting the kilos I could have lost if I’d been more careful, the kilometers I could have ridden, and the energy I could have had.

I never counted on this
guess that’s the way that it goes yeah
you used to be someone I knew
somebody I could understand but
now I don’t know what to do
and I don’t know who you are no

Lately I’ve been really stressed, and I can tell that I’m right out on the edge, because I’m starting to berate myself for the way I’m feeling. I’ve been feeling as though I don’t have the right to feel this way – that my circumstances don’t justify it, and that I am not coping. I’ve been kicking myself for not being stronger, more in control, more rational about things.

Beating yourself up for the way you feel is a famous losing strategy, and it’s a demon I have fought before. I suspect that it’s a clear indication of how out of control I am, when I start to do it again.

This evening I was chatting with a colleague at work. We’re both trying to lose weight and feeling frustrated about it, and we realised that neither of us have been focusing on the gains that we have made. The positive lifestyle changes, and the achievements that aren’t quite as visible in the mirror as we’d like them to be. She commented that we really need to be kinder to ourselves.

all those things I hear you say
you talk that way you’re a stranger and I
I don’t know where to begin
don’t want to hear it again
I don’t believe anymore

That’s when it suddenly struck me. I’ve been bullying myself. I hate bullies, and actively oppose them whenever I can, and yet I have been bullying myself in a most thorough and callous fashion. I have been my own worst enemy. Rather than celebrating my health gains post surgery, I have been kicking myself for not achieving more. Rather than being kind to myself under stress, and seeking as much support as I can, I have been curling up into a ball and shouting at myself for not coping better on my own. It is bullying of a most vicious and unpleasant sort – all the worse because like the most effective bullies, I know my victim’s weaknesses intimately, and can go straight for the jugular every time.

If someone makes a negative comment or belittles my concerns, I inwardly agree and kick myself a little harder. If someone makes a positive comment I dismiss it out of hand. The friends I trust and should most listen to are accorded little weight in this aggressive campaign, and I wind up paying attention to exactly the wrong people, because their comments are closer to my own self image.

and this is all I know
I know I’ve heard it before
I don’t believe anymore
Icehouse – Don’t Believe Anymore

My daughters go to a school that uses restorative practice. This is a positive, constructive approach where the emphasis is on recognising what happened and its impact on all concerned, and then focusing on how it can be fixed. What can we do to make it better? Rather than punishing the bully, restorative practice seeks to understand how and why the situation arose, and how everybody felt, in order to make sure that it doesn’t have to happen again.

I am a big believer in restorative practice. My bully and I are going to work together to develop an anti-bullying strategy in this head of mine. Sometimes it will work, sometimes it won’t. But when I forget and accidentally bully myself, I’m going to try really hard not to beat myself up over it.

Are you bullying yourself?

6 Comments

Filed under Uncategorized

Being Green

I started to get interested in politics when I discovered that the failure of nerve, vision and integrity in Australian politics was not universal. I always admired the Australian Democrats, but Meg Lees and the GST finished off that fledgling alliance for me. In 2007, when my despair over the state of our political system had reached a new low, I started to read the Greens’ policies on their website and got hooked.

Finally here was a party that put integrity firmly in the forefront of both actions and words. Party leader and founder Bob Brown is universally acknowledged as a man of integrity, even by his most vicious opponents. I used to think that politics and integrity were mutually exclusive, but Bob has proven over and over again that it doesn’t have to be like that.

I am passionately concerned about the environment, but it’s the social justice emphasis of the Greens that resonates with me the most. That most basic ethic of caring for the vulnerable and speaking up for the voiceless is so often absent in politics today. Over and over again we see policies falling to the slickest marketing campaign, and votes up for grabs to the highest bidder. Bob Brown doesn’t conduct opinion polls to decide what to do (“there go my people, I must find out where they are going so I can lead them”), he does what he believes is right. That is the essence, for me, of Green politics, and the reason I joined the party 5 years ago.

A thread of compassion and integrity in politics is Bob Brown’s lasting legacy, and something that I believe the Greens will continue to bring to Australian politics in the years ahead.

I want to live in a Greener world. One that values health, education and justice over companies, profits and power. Bob Brown brought those qualities into politics. It’s up to us to keep them there.

Today is the 18th anniversary of my wedding. My marriage has come of age. It is old enough to vote, and do you know what it votes for? Marriage equality. I can’t understand why the gender of my partner dictates whether or not we can marry. I can’t stand that loving gay couples are repeatedly told by our political and legal systems that their relationships are not worth as much as mine. Not as valid as mine. Not worth recognizing.

We can bring compassion back to politics by speaking out on issues like these. Our politicians care about what will get them elected, so let’s tell them that we care about this.

We get the politicians that we deserve. As long as we accept the lowest political denominator, that’s what we’ll get. The more we speak up, the more we stand up for what’s right and what’s important, the more we’ll make it happen. It’s that easy, being Green.

PS you can vote for your favorite Australian blog here. Feel free to vote for mine! :)

3 Comments

Filed under politics, society

What’s eating you?

Today I wore a long purple dress which I rather like – it’s comfortable, and looks nice. It has one drawback though – it stretches over my belly, and from some angles it makes me look pregnant. My belly is not as flat as it used to be, but in truth flat is a word that has always been particularly associated with my stomach in the negative. I’ve been wearing this dress a fair bit in the few weeks since my hysterectomy, in part because, although it does define my stomach rather too well, it’s not actually tight around the sore bits.

As I rode home from the school drop off this morning, on my beautiful Christiania bike, another parent commented at how well I was doing, riding my bike. It could be my paranoia, but she seemed to indicate my belly for a moment – I’m not sure whether she actually thought I was pregnant, or she meant to indicate that I was working on getting fit, or if it was entirely my imagination, but it started to eat at me.

Every time I walked into the toilets at work, I glared at my belly in the mirror. When I walked I became super conscious of how far my stomach was sticking out. I am only 8 weeks post op, so I’m rather proud of the fact that I regularly take the kids to school on the bike, and I have even started riding to work as well. I am getting fitter, building up my strength, and ultimately I will probably lose weight as I get more active.

But why should I care?

My belly is quite round. After 4 pregnancies resulting in two babies, the youngest of whom is 5, how could I expect it to be flat? Sure, I could be thinner, but I actually care more about my fitness than my overall weight, and I’m getting noticeably fitter all the time. I am very active – in fact I am now known for it. (something that would startle my school PE teachers, if they even remember me. If there was any excuse to weasel out of physical activity at school, I was on it. “Sorry, can’t do any exercise today, I’ve just had the braces on my teeth tightened.” Oddly enough it worked. I think they were as keen to get rid of me as I was of them.)

Nonetheless, by the end of a very long and tiring day at work today, all I was thinking about was how fat I looked, and how depressing that was.

The other day my 9 year old started to complain that her butt was huge. This is the same 9 year old who would make a string bean feel all self conscious about its weight and try to tuck its tummy in. A friend recently referred to her as a “pull through model”. You could slip her under the door with room to spare. In fact I must remember that if I ever forget my keys. She has no butt. None at all. A friend of hers is apparently very worried that she will never have a boyfriend because she is “huge”. This is a gorgeous girl with a solid build, but she is fit, active and healthy, and a million miles from obese. She is stocky, and at 9 she is worried this means she won’t find love.

What the hell are we teaching our children, and indeed ourselves? That the only good stomach is a flat stomach.  That curves are something to be ashamed of. That we can, and even should, judge ourselves and others by our body shape, not by who we are or what we do.

We’re teaching boys that their ideal girl is a stick. We’re teaching girls that they don’t measure up and never will. I wish I could say that I ended the day saying “Damn the torpedoes!” and being proud of my round belly, but the truth is that it still embarrasses me.

Now that’s a shame.

7 Comments

Filed under health, society

Lowest Prices, Slavery Guaranteed

“As soon as we have discount stores, we have slavery. As soon as we have major consortium retailers with every conceivable item at prices so low, then we have the economy of slavery. I say that because the only way they can do that is to buy the products at a cheaper price from people who earn a pittance. ”

Wells Trenfield, Managing Director of Jasper Coffee, is passionate about Fairtrade. Within moments of meeting him it is clear that he could not only talk all four legs off a donkey, he could also persuade it to walk to the nearest café for a Fairtrade latte afterwards.

Poverty, Wells argues, is about politics, and the solutions are largely outside the control of the people most affected. “That’s why I like Fairtrade – because it returns that empowerment of their own destiny into their own hands. To bring themselves out of poverty. Not asking somebody else to do it for them.”

Cameron Neil, of Fairtrade Labelling Australia & New Zealand, says that “Australians don’t fully appreciate the power of their purchases to empower farmers and workers and fuel development. Aussies understand sweatshops and factory exploitation, and many choose to avoid or boycott ‘bad’ products. Fairtrade is about the next step – people investing in creating a better world through choosing products and buying from businesses that ‘do good’ rather than just doing no harm.”

Cameron points out that Fairtrade is a very different paradigm to the old idea of alleviating poverty through charity. It’s the difference between a village in the hands of a charitable organization, saying “Look at what they did for us. We’re excited about what they will do for us next,”  and a  Fairtrade village that says, “Look at what we’ve done. We’re excited about what we can do next.” They have control of their own destiny, and the power to make the changes that are important to them. That’s a power we take very much for granted in developed countries.

Imagine you are a Peruvian coffee farmer. Or Ethiopian, Colombian, or Papua New Guinean. This is subsistence farming. It’s a small holding – you produce maybe 4 bags of coffee a year. You have no electricity, no mobile phone or internet, and no way of knowing the current price of coffee on the NYC (the New York Coffee exchange, where coffee prices are set by traders. It has all the hallmarks of a financial market – traders, futures, and speculation.). You don’t know that coffee is currently trading at a 13 year high.

You sell your coffee to an agent who comes to your farm gate (if you are lucky. If you are unlucky you trek 40km down a mountain with your coffee on the back of a mule, quite likely getting mugged along the way, but more about that later.). The agent sorrowfully shakes his head and tells you the NYC is tragically low. He would love to give you a better price for your coffee, but even he has to make a living.

He gives you a pittance – perhaps $4.10 per kg –  for the 4 sacks of coffee that are your total output for the year. You take that money and eke out a year’s existence with it, and there is nothing you can do but hope that the price will be better next year. Those 4 sacks of coffee are all you have to sell.

There, but for an accident of birth, goes you – stuck in a cycle of endless, extreme, irrevocable poverty.

Enter Fairtrade.  Kimaro of the Kilimanjaro Native Co-operative Union famously told the G8 countries in Edinburgh in 2005: “Pay us a fair price for our coffee, and we will make poverty history for ourselves.” Fairtrade, of course, guarantees that fair price. Farmers know that they will receive at least the Fairtrade minimum for their coffee every year. But that, as it turns out, is not the revolutionary aspect of Fairtrade.  The world-changing, earth shaking feature is the Fairtrade Premium.

To be certified as Fairtrade, farmers must first organize into a democratically run co-operative. This is their business, which they own collectively. The co-op buys the coffee from the farmers and pays them the negotiated price – always at least the Fairtrade Minimum, but usually quite a bit higher. Then the co-op sells the coffee beans to a Fairtrade buyer . (The buyer is also certified. To guarantee transparency and authenticity, every step of the Fairtrade chain from bean to cup is certified and regularly audited.) The co-op receives both the fair price and a Fairtrade Premium of 10c(US) per kilo.

Here’s where the revolution begins. The co-operative then decides, democratically, what their most pressing problem is, and uses the premium to solve it. Because the premium is paid per kilo of coffee, and it’s paid to the collective rather than to the individual farmers, it amounts to a significant sum that can achieve amazing things for the whole community. Things we take for granted, like education and healthcare.

That’s the premium for one year. The next year, they are free to tackle the next problem, with the next premium. Meanwhile the farmers are able to increase their personal standard of living with the fair price that they receive, and the stability of income provided by the Fairtrade minimum price and their stable trading relationships within the Fairtrade system.

Fairtrade farmers run their own business – they are not just farmers anymore. They own the business that buys the coffee. They have new opportunities to progress – for example being able to produce higher quality coffee, process their own beans, or apply for organic certification. Cameron Neil describes one farming family whose daughter has studied and taken on a marketing role in their cooperative. The children of coffee farmers no longer need to go into coffee farming or move to the city. Now they have choices. “Fairtrade’s ambition is for people to have what they need to progress” says Cameron.

Wells is emphatic that this is not charity. “They are proud people. They want to know that what they grow is what they earn a living from. They don’t want a freebie. They abhor that whole system of freebies. They have a sense of pride about what they do.”

“For them [Fairtrade] is the telling point of difference [that means] having their own power to make their own economic decisions. It’s about how to improve their own life. Not their own personal life. They recognize that the improvement comes as community. It’s how to improve infrastructure and facility. There are many examples of how that happens.”

Jasper Coffee sells an instant coffee grown in Colombia. There, the coffee farmers on mountaintops had to take their beans (a years’ worth of effort and their only means of supporting themselves) 40km down the mountain on the back of mules to sell it to buyers at the bottom of the mountain. “In Colombia, you get mugged,” says Wells. “If you have to take your mules and coffee to the bottom of the mountain and get paid, guaranteed, you won’t have your money by the time you get back to the top. You’ll be lucky to be alive.”

So the first act of the new local Fairtrade cooperative was to build a warehouse and a bank at the top of the mountain. Now farmers take their coffee to the local warehouse. They take in cash only what they need for the week – the rest stays safe in the bank. The coop bought vehicles to transport the coffee down the mountain, and built bridges, again to make transport easier. They bought more land next to the warehouse and built a drying plant (which increases the quality of the coffee because it dries evenly – leading to a higher price and better income).

Ultimately, Fairtrade is about an end to slavery. As Wells puts it: “Our Western culture, our economy is still under this umbrella of slavery. We still want those people to be poverty stricken so that we can have this cheap product.”

As I leave the premises of Jasper coffee I am buzzing – not only from the coffee fumes I have been delighting in for the last hour, or from the magnificent (and potent) latte I received on arrival, but from the ideas that Wells has planted in my head. The slave trade exists, indeed it thrives as a fundamental part of our economy. By switching to Fairtrade, we can end slavery, and be the agents of phenomenal positive, worldwide change. That tastes pretty good to me.

Leave a Comment

Filed under fair trade, society, sustainability