I swear - by the white ribbon

I’ve been lucky.

Not once have I had to wonder whether I would be strong enough to walk away from violence.

I have never had to watch as someone was hit.

I don’t know the sounds of a violent battle in the kitchen. No one I know has had to cover bruises from when they “bumped” into the cupboard. I’m lucky.

So many women are not.

Today is White Ribbon Day. Every other day seems to be a Ribbon Day, but this one is pretty important. White Ribbon Day was started to raise awareness of violence from men towards women.

The following data is taken from surveyed Australian women over the age of 15. The survey was titled The Personal Safety Survey. The quotes are from the White Ribbon webpage: http://www.whiteribbonday.org.au

In Australia:

· Close to half of all women (40%) have experienced violence since the age of 15;

· Just under one third of women (29%) have experienced physical assault;

· Nearly one in five women (17%) have experienced sexual assault;

· Nearly one in six women (16%) have experienced violence by a partner in their lifetime;

· Since 15, one third of women (33%) have experienced inappropriate comments about their body or sex life,

· One quarter (25%) have experienced unwanted sexual touching

· One in five (19%) have been stalked

So, violence... While punches and slaps may leave scars, the violence leaves deep psychological scars. Evidence was found in a 2004 study, where it was shown that intimate partner violence contributes more to their poor health, disability, and death than any other risk factor, including obesity and smoking. That means that, if you are being assaulted at home, that will most likely be your cause of death.

Sometimes, money values are more easily understood...

A 2009 Time For Action study counted up the numbers.

The cost of violence against women and their children to the Australian economy was estimated to be $13.6 billion in 2008-09 and, if there is no reduction in current rates, it will cost the economy an estimated $15.6 billion by 2021-22.

White Ribbon day is a day for educating people to the cause. I guess, if more people actually notice the bruises, some of the bruising might stop.

If enough people realise how dreadful domestic violence is, attitudes might change. Maybe, if enough people are talking, enough people will be expressing disgust at the violence. If enough people are doing that, I suppose, the violent men might eventually hear it. If they hear it, hopefully, they may realise what they are doing. If the women hear it, they may develop the courage to leave.

By wearing a white ribbon on November 25^th, you are saying that you do not excuse violence against women. Men can also go here, the My Oath Campaign website and swear! (www.myoath.com.au)

This is what we can swear:

Never to commit violence against women,

Never to excuse violence against women, and

Never to remain silent about violence against women

On White Ribbon Day, I am spending a moment in thanks,

for the happy and stable home I grew up in.

Rose Siggins

I was flipping through a Woman’s Day, from 2006.

I stumbled across an interesting photo

and a heart-warming story about:

Rose Siggins.

When she was two, her mother – under the advice of doctors, removed her legs. She was born with a rare genetic disorder known as Sacral Agenesis.

Of her physical condition, she says:

"If you take a Barbie doll and remove it's legs, the region you are left with is what I have. I have all the female working organs, the only reason I sit shorter or more compact, is because I'm missing

four sections of my spinal column".

Rose’s school struggled to accept what was normal for Rose. They forced her to wear prosthetic legs, until, in 8^th grade, she rebelled. The school noticed her stubborn nature and her reluctance to release her skateboard. They realised that Rose was stronger than they were. They relented and Rose moved around with her skateboard.

Rose loves cars. In fact, she’s a racing driver! Since the age of three, she has spent time in garages. They have become her haven, a safe place... a thinking place.

She got her first car at 16. Her father helped her to insert hand controls, so she could drive herself around.

A 1968 mustang, which she rebuilt, is her race car.

Since 1999, Rose has been married to Dave Siggins, a mechanic. Together, they have two children, which has stunned the medical profession. No other woman with Sacral Agenesis (Rose’s genetic disorder)

has ever given birth.

After Rose’s mother died from cancer, Rose has taken on the responsibility of caring for father and brother. After a life of smoking, her father depends on oxygen and suffers from Alzheimer's and dementia. Her brother will always have the mental age of an 8 year old and relies on medication. He needs constant supervision and tends to be violent.

After a quick look at her Facebook page, it seems that Rose really doesn’t see herself as anything different to anyone else. She says: "A lot of people with disabilities feel that life owes them something, and I was raised in a way that no, no-one owes you a dime. The world doesn't owe you anything, this is what you have and you use your resources and you get through life. My personal opinion is, get up and go for it, just do it."

Sounds like good advice.

Caudal regression syndrome or sacral agenesis is a rare genetic disorder in which there is abnormal fetal development of the lower spine means that all or part of the lower section of the spinal column has failed to form. Sacral agenesis genetic disorder occurs at a rate of approximately one per 25,000 live births.

Sources:

http://www.bukisa.com/articles/342544_

UK Channel 5 "Extraordinary People" series

http://www.mymultiplesclerosis.co.uk/misc/rosesigginsbaby.html photo with car

http://www.forum.breakbeat.co.uk skateboard shot

A Stranger Passed By

A Stranger Passed By

I ran into a stranger as he passed by. "Oh, excuse me please" was my reply. He said, "Please, excuse me too, Wasn't even watching for you." We were very polite, this stranger and I. We went on our way and we said good-bye. But at home a different story is told, How we treat our loved ones, young and old. Later that day, cooking the evening meal, My daughter stood beside me very still. When I turned, I nearly knocked her down. "Move out of the way," I said with a frown. She walked away, her little heart broken at how harshly I had spoken. While I lay awake in bed, God's still small voice came to me and said, "While dealing with a stranger, common courtesy you use, But the children you love, you seem to abuse. Look on the kitchen floor, You'll find some flowers there by the door. Those are the flowers she brought for you. She picked them herself, pink, yellow and blue.

She stood quietly not to spoil the surprise, And you never saw the tears in her eyes. "By this time, I felt very small, and now my tears began to fall. I quietly went and knelt by her bed; "Wake up, little girl, wake up," I said. "Are these the flowers you picked for me?" She smiled, "I found 'em, out by the tree. I picked 'em, because they're pretty like you. I knew you'd like'em, especially the blue. I said, "Daughter, I'm sorry for the way I acted today; I shouldn't have yelled at you that way." She said, "Oh, Mom, that's okay. I love you anyway." I said, "Daughter, I love you too, And I do like the flowers, especially the blue."

I was looking for something to use at Toastmasters tomorrow night. I have to read or say something inspirational. I can relate to this one. I know, working with children every day, that there are times when I probably do this. To my credit, I do know when I am wrong and always acknowledge my mistakes to the little person involved. Tomorrow, I'll try especially hard to notice the blue flowers.

http://www.rogerknapp.com/inspire/strangerpassed.htm

Ban Khok Sa-Nga... Like these pets?

Imagine a snake slithering across the road.

It moves smoothly across the road and

into your front yard.

It slithers under your steps and out of sight.

Imagine it’s a cobra...

A king cobra...

I stumbled across this video when I was

teaching all things Thai.

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=jsi7Yq1Eb_4

It’s about King Cobra Village.

The village is Ban Khok Sa-Nga, in the North-East of Thailand. I shudder at the thought of it being in my old stomping grounds. Then, I learn that the village is near Khon Kaen – definitely my old stomping grounds! I can’t believe I was so close to so many King Cobras!

Every home in the village keeps the cobras….

In a box… under their house!

This seemingly crazy hobby started with a doctor. Doctor Phu Yai Ken Yongla. He was a herbal doctor, who thought fighting snakes would attract people (and money) to their village. Initially, he used cobras… but… they can spit over two metres and the venom can send a person blind! This was too risky, so he changed snakes and so began the King Cobra Village.

Bowatong Boonpengyootin is a local man. He plays with King Cobras. During his ten years of snake wrestling, he has been bitten four times, though only once seriously. Can you believe it? Only one bite was serious... could there be any other type of King Cobra bite? Luckily, Bowatong makes sure that he takes his daily fill of a precious, life-saving herbal medicine. The medicine helps to protect the villagers from the snake venom. They wash in it, eat it and drink it. Once bitten, they mix it with lemon and hold it on the wound. If I was bitten by a King Cobra, I might only have 15 minutes before my body started to shut down. If I had digested the magic herbs every day, I might have a fever for a few days and then be up and fighting more cobras before the end of the week!

For three men last year, the herbs were not enough.

So, I learned some things about the King Cobra. At five and a half meters long, they are the longest venomous snake in the world. Also, they will rise up to a third of their length as they move forward to attack their prey. I now know that they make a hiss which sounds like a growling dog. Nothing about them seems very friendly!

One good thing… although their venom is so toxic it could kill me in fifteen minutes, an elephant in three hours, or… if needed, 20 people at once… there is also some good to their venom. I hear your scepticism! Synthetic cobra venom is used in pain relievers and in arthritis medication. There is some good.

Even knowing this, I will take advantage of the shy nature of the snake and never corner it. I don’t fancy my chances of boxing a King Cobra and walking away afterwards!

http://sites.google.com/site/ronmcmillan/kingcobras

http://sites.google.com/site/ronmcmillan/kingcobras

another posting about the village – worth a look, even if it’s just for the photograph of “Buffalo”.

http://www.thailandbuddy.com/travel/province/Khon-Kaen/King-Cobras-Village.html

Please Wear A Poppy

PLEASE WEAR A POPPY "Please wear a poppy," the lady said And held one forth, but I shook my head. Then I stopped and watched as she offered them there, And her face was old and lined with care; But beneath the scars the years had made There remained a smile that refused to fade. A boy came whistling down the street, Bouncing along on care-free feet. His smile was full of joy and fun, "Lady," said he, "may I have one?" When she's pinned in on he turned to say, "Why do we wear a poppy today?" The lady smiled in her wistful way And answered, "This is Remembrance Day, And the poppy there is the symbol for The gallant men who died in war. And because they did, you and I are free - That's why we wear a poppy, you see. "I had a boy about your size, With golden hair and big blue eyes. He loved to play and jump and shout, Free as a bird he would race about. As the years went by he learned and grew and became a man - as you will, too. "He was fine and strong, with a boyish smile, But he'd seemed with us such a little while When war broke out and he went away. I still remember his face that day When he smiled at me and said, Goodbye, I'll be back soon, Mom, so please don't cry. "But the war went on and he had to stay, And all I could do was wait and pray. His letters told of the awful fight, (I can see it still in my dreams at night), With the tanks and guns and cruel barbed wire, And the mines and bullets, the bombs and fire. "Till at last, at last, the war was won- And that's why we wear a poppy son." The small boy turned as if to go, Then said, "Thanks, lady, I'm glad to know. That sure did sound like an awful fight, But your son - did he come back all right?" A tear rolled down each faded check; She shook her head, but didn't speak. I slunk away in a sort of shame, And if you were me you'd have done the same; For our thanks, in giving, if oft delayed, Thought our freedom was bought - and thousands paid! And so when we see a poppy worn, Let us reflect on the burden borne, By those who gave their very all When asked to answer their country's call That we at home in peace might live. Then wear a poppy! Remember - and give!

By Don Crawford

I read this poem each year to the kids at school.

It's sad.

It's also the best way I have to explain what the day means.

Lightning Strikes

This afternoon, an angry storm threw itself over my house.

In a huge tantrum, it beat its fists at my roof and lashed out at the walls. Its shrieking winds whipped through my plants and the sky darkened with its angry mood.

Thunder ripped across the sky and

lightning lashed down and around me.

It got me to thinking about lightning.

There was an excuse a younger me often used: “I can’t wash up! There’s a storm and I might get hit by lightning!” I don’t think I ever really believed it, but the slight amount of doubt was enough to let me get out of the job for a while longer.

And, then... it happened!

A man did get hit by lightning,

through his kitchen window,

while he was washing up!

I may never wash up in a storm again!

It was in the Blue Mountains. It was this year! (He was taken to hospital and I believe he is fine now.)

It seems that men are more likely to be hit by lightning than females. I guess that has something to do with females grabbing the washing and the kids and ducking inside before the storm hits. The men on the other hand, they have to finish that round of golf... or catch one more fish before the storm hits. This crazy bravery makes them four times more likely than females to be struck down.

("Demographics of U.S. Lightning Casualties and Damages from 1959 - 1994," by Ronald L. Holle and Raúl E. López of the National Severe Storms Laboratory and E. Brian Curran of the National Weather Service.)

Interestingly, the number of people being hit by lightning has decreased in my lifetime. It seems that we have better weather forecasts and are more likely to have early warning about the storms that bring the lightning. (That means that those golf club swinging men are really asking to be struck down!)

While I’ve always has a relatively high respect for lightning, I was never really afraid of being hit by a sudden bolt from the sky. I have more awareness now... and may tremble a little more during the next storm. Only flash floods and river floods cause more weather deaths than lightning strikes!

But then... if I am hit, I’d be unlucky to be among the 20% of people who die instantly... although... being hit can bring on a whole range of side effects, which may not be apparent immediately. Most lightning strikes leave deep burns where the lightning enters and leaves your body. This is usually on the head, neck and shoulders.

While I don’t know what a kilovolt is, it’s an impressive sounding word. I do know that electricians have to be careful – electric shock risks and all. So think this - most industrial electric shocks are 20 to 63 kilovolts, while a lightning strike delivers about 300 kilovolts. Nasty!

Look at these burns.

Now I’m starting to think I need to be more careful when it comes to lightning. Maybe, I shouldn’t have sat outside and watched the storm this afternoon?

Apparently, there are more than 25 million

lightning strikes in the world every year.

So, I started to wonder...

what are the risks of being hit then?

One in 700 000.

Big number – doesn’t really mean much.

Perspective...

My town has about 22 000 people.

Consider my town being more than 30 times bigger...

I have one chance in all of those people of being struck by lightning (unless I’m a bloke on the golf course, swinging my golf club in a storm!)

I’m safe.

http://science.nasa.gov/science-news/science-at-nasa/1999/essd18jun99_1/

http://www.sciencefacts.us/when-lightning-strikes/

http://greenrage.wordpress.com/2008/07/01/get-off-your-high-horse-lightning-injuries-and-equestrians/

Sign of Things to Come

Not long ago

flowers burst open on my thornless blackberry bush.

After that, small bundles of fruit began to grow...

And now...

They are beginning to ripen!

I can hardly wait to taste the sweet juice

as the fruit bursts open in my mouth!

Little Things

Cocoa

Coconut

Biscuits

Condensed Milk

Vanilla Essence

Food Processor

Kids

Chocolate Roly Balls

Little Things

Big Memories

Cup Day - Buffalo Style

Today is Melbourne Cup Day.

The race has been run...

But I want to talk about a different type of race.

The Buffalo Races in Chonburi - Thailand.

About 140 years ago, the first buffalo race was run.

Groups of people had gathered together

to celebrate the end of Buddhist Lent.

They brought carts, drawn by buffaloes,

laden with goods to help them celebrate.

Games were played and everyone was in great spirits.

It wasn't long before

some of the men decided to race their buffaloes.

And so it began...

Every October, people dress in their finest

and decorate their buffalo carts for a parade.

There is a beauty competition for the local girls.

The buffaloes don't miss out on this - with a competition for the best male and the best female buffalo.

While the original races were run with farm buffaloes, today's racers are especially bred for the race. Their diet contains some secret ingredients, but beer and eggs are common foods. They are trained and excercised regularly.

Once they are in position, the race starts. Riders sit on the far end of the buffaloes, holding the reins and bouncing along the 130m track. The track might be dusty and dry or mud-caked and sloppy. Regardless, the atmosphere is energetic and the colours are bright.

The riders are usually shoeless

and they do not use a saddle.

Betting is not allowed in Thailand.

I guess that means that no bets are made.

Apparently, winning buffaloes can be sold

for thousands of dollars!

Maybe I should buy a buffalo, train it up

and enter next year's race...

Melbourne Cup Day

Tomorrow... the nation stops.

That’s an interesting thought.

Tomorrow, The Melbourne Cup will be awarded

to the fastest horse on the track.

It’s a big day.

Melbourne celebrates for a week of races...

Gardens are planted and prepared in advance

so the course will be a mass of natural colour.

Girls will be in their finest, decked out

with enormous hats and splendid fascinators.

Guys will dress in their best suits.

Fashions will be analysed and spoken of for days.

Bets will be made... money lost and money won.

Champagne will be guzzled and beer will be sculled.

And the nation will stop at three in the afternoon for the running of the race.

Such a big event should be understood and so... I googled it.

This year sees the 150^th Melbourne Cup race – though the first prize awarded, back in 1861 was not a cup. The winner saw 170 pounds and a gold watch.

Last year, the prize totalled $5.65 million.

This year, in celebration of 150 years, they’ve bumped it up a little.

A lot.

$10 million.

Last year, punters racked up $95.6 million. Mathematicians could tell us that that averages out at $8.50 a person.

While punters celebrate their win or drown their sorrows on Tuesday, up to 25% of the workforce will nurse headaches the next morning and not go to work. That costs the economy about $30 million in lost productivity.

It seems, The Melbourne Cup really does stop the nation.