My tiny seedlings and baby plants were being carefully planted, 
No wonder I was losing all of my plants!
Today, children in at least 68 countries are
still threatened by mines in their country.
Every 30 minutes, someone in the world is injured or killed by landmines and unexploded bombs. At least one in every four victims is a child.
Each land mine may remain active for up to 50 years. 50 years!
Thirty years of war in Cambodia has resulted in a landmine count of 8 – 10 million, rating Cambodia 6th in the Most Mined Countries List.
Since 1979, about 40,000 Cambodians have required amputations.
That represents nearly forty victims a week for twenty years. Cambodia has the highest amputation rates per capita in the world. About one in 275 people have lost a limb. I can’t help but wonder how many others from remote and rural areas could be added to these numbers.
Stepping on a landmine has tragic effects on children. Children’s bones grow faster than the nearby tissue. As a result, they may require repeated amputation and a new artificial limb every six months. In Cambodia, this may not be available.
A survey found that 70 % of all casualties were in the northwest, with half in just 20 districts. (This is along the Thai – Cambodian border.)
Mining farming land has also led to malnutrition,
even to famine and starvation.
Land cannot be farmed due to the mines hidden beneath the surface.
Livestock lost to mines can devastate a family.
Clearing a field of mines gives life
back to a community and restores dignity.
People can finally grow their own crops.
Officially, mine removal is a lengthy and expensive business.
Weapons that cost $3 to make can cost up to $1,000 to remove.
Over 1,000 landmines can be spread in a minute.
Skilled experts may spend an entire day clearing
20-50 square metres of mine-contaminated land.
In one seven month project, 45 workers found 265 mines and 943 units of unexploded ordinance. The cost of the project was about $US378,000 or about $US1,400 a mine.
At this rate, it may take 100 years to clear all the mines in Cambodia.
So, what of that man who has remained in my memory...
The one who caused me to change my course of thought...
This is what he does:
"I poke my stick in the ground till I find a mine.
Then I dig around it, to make sure that it is not booby-trapped.
Then, I unscrew the detonator. And the mine is safe."
His name is Aki Ra.
By the age of five, his parents had been killed and he was conscripted as a soldier with the Khmer Rouge. He learned jungle fighting tactics and was used to plant mines along the Thai – Cambodian border. He did this for a decade, until the Vietnamese took control of the country. For another decade he worked, just for a different side, this time. Next, he returned and joined the Cambodian Military.
His life changed direction when the UN stepped in and trained locals on the safe removal of landmines. He was shown how to use body armour, mine detectors and sweep and clear removal processes. The only problem... when the UN left, there was no more money. Aki Ra could no longer afford the specialised equipment. With no equipment, he began using a shovel to dig up grenades and force sticks into them until they were safe to handle.
While it takes two hours for the UN to defuse a landmine, Aki Ra can do it in two minutes.
He uses shovels, sticks and pocket knives to clear Cambodia of mines. He almost single-handedly cleared out the mines surrounding the Temples at Angkor Wat. After this, he cleared playgrounds and farmlands that had not been accessible for decades. As a result, the number of landmine casualties dropped from 3,047 to 1,109 between 1996 and 1999.
In 1998 he opened the Cambodian Landmine Museum.
Now, he is training villagers and Cambodian Army soldiers in his method of digging up and disarming mines. Over 1,000 of his people are now working
in de-mining operations across the country.
Aki Ra believes that he has removed and cleared over
50,000 mines in 16 years using his method.
Children who have suffered due to amputations are also cared for by Aki Ra. Homeless and troubled children are cared for and fed by him.
Aki Ra says: "There are still over one million landmines in Cambodia. At the rate they are going now, it will take 50-100 years to finish. If they give me a license then I could teach villagers to de-mine the way I do. It is fast, easy, and cheap. I believe we could have the whole country de-mined in 3-5 years."
As I wondered around the Angkor temples, I felt safe in the knowledge that the area was clean of mines.
For that, I need to thank Aki Ra.
What an amazing man.
I admit it...
They're good. 
My backyard has become tent-city!
My garden is just a baby. 
(I'm easily pleased!)
An Indian bear, dancing on the side of the road,
trucks tearing along beside it.
I was young and didn’t really understand.
Now, I’m a little older.
I know about the ropes, now.
I know that the ropes
are twisted through the nostrils of the bear.
I know that the Indian man pulls on the rope…
making the bear stand up against the searing pain.
The bear’s not dancing… it just looks like it is.
I’m not alone in disliking the idea of dancing bears. Several groups have formed to reduce the numbers of bears being forced to dance for a living.
In 1998, bear dancing was banned by the government.
Many of the men who owned the bears are learning new skills. Many are developing new businesses. Some learn to make soap or incense sticks.
These men are handing back the bears.
Bears which are handed in, are provided with
a nutritious diet and veterinary care.
In about 5 years, approximately 250 bears have stopped dancing.
The locals are learning to value the bears and have started
reporting bear poachers.
I saw a photo once. It was ugly, but the bear was free…
The photo made me smile.
I've been lucky enough to sleep at the bottom of a glacier.
© Australian Museum
Today is National Threatened Species Day. This date commemorates the anniversary of the extinction of the thylacine. The last thylacine died in a Hobart Zoo in 1936.
The thylacine was a large marsupial with a large dog-like head. Females had a pouch, opening at the back. She would have up to four young in a litter. Even males had a partial pouch.
The thylacine’s fur was a yellow-brown colour. Across its back, were about 18 dark stripes. It had a short, stiff tail and short legs. Its jaws were powerful, filled with about 46 teeth. It is believed that thylacines hunted kangaroos and other marsupials as well as birds.
The thylacine lived all over Australia. After many thousands of years of existence, it was eventually only found in Tasmania. The severe reduction in population and ultimate extinction is most likely a direct result of humans.
In Australia in the past 200 years, about 17 mammals have become extinct. Australia has the highest rate of animal extinction in the world.
Even though the Territory is always hot and lacks the colours of autumn, it moves through definite seasons and this was one of my favourites.And on and on and on.
The Vietnam War saw Australians fighting in jungles and villages for ten years, from 1962 to 1972.
Around 60,000 people made up the Aussie troops.
I went to Vietnam and headed out to the Demilitarized Zone. Old stone churches still bore the bullet holes from the war. Crater holes still lay across the ground. Amazingly brave men and women still worked the fields – searching for undetonated bombs. Land mine accidents were evident in the number of amputees living in the towns and villages.
What I remember the most, are the Vinh Moc tunnels.
The entrances to the tunnels were well hidden. Watching a guide open a secret entrance to the tunnel, lowering himself through the small space before hiding the entrance again was amazing.
I was impressed that the Vietnamese villagers were clever enough to carry the tunnel soil, by boat, to an island off the coast. Several of these trips would be made by night. The beach exits were carefully hidden by dense trees and foliage. They remained undetected by the western soldiers throughout the duration of the war.
The digging of the tunnels continued over the years that they were used. The digging began in 1966 and around 60 families lived in the tunnels until early in 1972. While I walked deeper and deeper underground, the tunnels became darker. Small lights had been set into the walls. The roof became lower and my shoulders started scraping against the sides of the tunnels. Several small rooms were built along the tunnels. They were about 2m by 2m. I was stunned to hear that this was where a family would have lived for four years. While the bombs rained down, the villagers lived, taught their children and loved. One of the rooms was used as a maternity room. Seventeen children were born inside the tunnels.
This month, in Australia, a boy stood high above a Melbourne street. He looked down, saw two children in a pram and threw acid – a powerful tile cleaner. The acid hit the children... babies, really. One was 2 and the other was only 5 months old.
The boy who threw the acid is only nine years old. Being under ten years of age, he cannot be charged.
Luckily, the two young children will completely
recover from the attack.
How can this happen in Australia – and how can there
not be public outrage?
I’ve often wondered at the strength of acid attack victims.
I admire their courage and bravery.
Sulphuric acid is the most commonly used acid and is easily found. It’s in car batteries (35% concentration), but, is also available at 98% concentration online.
Kerosene has also been used in acid attacks.
This acid has a disastrous effect on flesh. Skin melts, bones are exposed and often melt. Many victims become blind once the acid hits their eyes. If areas of the nose, throat, ears and mouth are hit by acid, the victim may lose the ability to hear or speak. Attackers usually aim for their victim’s face or genitals. Disfiguration is permanent. While mortality rates are low, victims express extreme agony immediately after an attack and many wish for death in the following months and years.
Imagine walking down the street with a face so terribly scarred that no features remain visible... Victims will generally require 25 to 30 operations as basic treatment for their injuries.
We don’t hear much about these attacks, so I was surprised to read that in Bangladesh, at present there is an acid attack every two days. The most common victims are young women
aged between 14 and 25.
Attacks are often made by husbands. Maybe the woman refused sex, declined a marriage offer, maybe he suspects her of something or is jealous of her. Disputes over land settlements are another common reason for attacks in Pakistan. An example of this is when an aunt fed her one month old nephew acid. By 15 months, he still couldn’t talk – his mouth and chin fused to his chest. In India, acid attacks are used to help people remember their place in the caste system. In Cambodia, attacks are made by wives, seeking revenge on their husband’s lovers. In Afghanistan in 2009, many female students were attacked because they were going to school.
I spent a while looking at the faces of acid attack victims. There’s real sadness there... agony... but also incredible strength and beauty.
Read this one – she tells the acid attack story better than I do.
She was attacked in London.
http://www.depilexsmileagain.com/gallery.htm
This is a photo gallery
It’s Missing Person’s Week.
Appropriate really, after the book I just finished reading.
It’s titled: “Mummy, Come Home” and was written by Oxana Kalemi.
The book is the story of Oxana’s life. She was born in the Ukraine. Desperate to earn money, she ended up overseas, following the promise of work. She found herself sold to a human trafficker and her life changed forever. She was sold to different men until she ended up in London, forced to work in massage parlours.
After being sold so many times, locked away in small rooms and forced to sell her body, her self-esteem was crushed. By the time she was in London, she had dodged bullets crossing borders with her pimps and was terrified that any misbehaviour from her would result in pain and harm to her three children, back in the Ukraine. Language barriers and the fear of imprisonment also prevented Oxana from seeking help. It’s difficult to imagine a life such as Oxana’s.
Human Trafficking is so rarely heard about that it is easy to ignore. But when you learn a little about it, it is impossible to ignore. After reading the book, I was inspired to learn more about Human Trafficking. It is defined as a person being taken against their will and being forced into sexual slavery, domestic service, sweat shops, labour, sale of human organs and child marriages.
I learned that this is a multi-billion dollar, international business. It has surpassed the gun trade in terms of profit.
It is second only to the drug trade.
It’s the fastest growing international crime in the world.
Each year, it is estimated that over two million women and children are sold into sexual slavery. The worst area for abductions is South East Asia. Children as young as 5 are sold and often, for just $20.
It is estimated that between 2 and 4 million men, women and children are trafficked every year. That equates to more than one person every minute, every day. UNICEF estimates that 1.2 million children are trafficked each year.
Trafficking affects most countries, including Australia. Young women are attracted to Australia “The Lucky Country”, where they believe they will easily get work and make a lot of money. They soon find themselves sold into prostitution, paying back thousands and thousands of dollars to the men who bought them. The majority of Australian women are strong and refuse to be treated abusively by their partners – the young girls are forced to fill this void. Some of these girls are
forced to work in isolated rural communities.
There are several sites on the web which provide more information about human trafficking.
Somaly Mam was trafficked as a child from Cambodia. She has started a foundation, which can be found at http://www.somaly.org/ .
The Jammed is an Australian film about human trafficking, about three girls sold as sex slaves.
Katherine Gorge is stunning.
The sheer rock walls rise from the water, high up into the air.
Boats drift down the gorge and the gentle lapping of the waves against the tin is a peaceful background to the natural beauty. A feeling of calm settles in and my worries drift away. Brilliant blue skies contrast magnificently with the reds of the rock.
It’s hot, though.
After a few hours in the boat and a walk along the gorge, the cool water is very tempting. The guides seem to believe that it’s safe to swim in the gorge. Apparently, salt water crocodiles don’t swim this far up the gorge.
(I don’t see them getting into the water, though!)
With sweat trickling down my back, I give in and wade into the water.
The cold water is shocking against my heated skin.
But.. before long, I’m feeling refreshed and clean again.
Getting back into the boat, we round the next corner of the gorge and there...
before us...
sits a crocodile.
Its bathing in the sunshine.
But... it’s a freshie... a fresh water crocodile.
Even if the crocodile had been lying on the bottom of the gorge, directly under my feet... it would probably have ignored me.
Probably...
The water was brown and murky. The banks were overgrown with trees and bushes.
I was on a boat, moving down the Alligator River in the Northern Territory. While the river looked peaceful, beneath the brown surface moved deadly predators.
Crocodiles.
Salties.
They’re such amazing animals. Their huge teeth never stop growing.
Those teeth could rip into my flesh and tear it from my bones. Inside the crocodile’s strong mouth, my bones would snap like twigs.
I can’t help but be fascinated!
Back on the boat, a man holds a long pole and reaches across the water. Dangling from the pole is a slab of beef, tied to string. The beef dips briefly into the water before being yanked back up. The surface of the water suddenly breaks and the snout of a crocodile moves into view.
We’re here to watch the crocodiles leap
from the water to grab the meat.
The crocodile is made to jump. The first crocodile leap is amazing.
The snout and front half of the crocodile jump from the water,
into the air.
But it’s not good enough... the crocodile is not given the food. With an extra wriggle, and a sudden flick of the strong tail, the crocodile leaps further out of the water. Its front and back legs clear the surface. The meat is torn from the pole and the crocodile vanishes back into the water.
It all happens in a moment... a great moment. I can’t help but imagine that I am in a tree overhanging the water, legs folded up, with an angry crocodile leaping up and snatching at my toes.
Imagine...
It suggested that people who don’t like museums should get out of the queue – making the lines shorter for the people who really want to go to them.
There is one museum though...
One slightly different to the normal...
It has stuck with me and I can recall most of the things I saw.
I visited the museum in the morning and was walking out the doors by lunchtime... but I didn’t eat lunch that day.
There were a group of us. We all skipped lunch.
The museum is in Bangkok. It’s the Museum of Forensic Medicine, hidden at the back of the Siriraj Hospital. It’s become a strange, macabre and brutally honest museum.
The craziest section is placed in the centre of the main room.
It takes pride of place and looks like a telephone booth.
Inside, propped against the side of the booth, leans a man.
His skin has a brown, leathery look. He stands on a drip tray. He’s long since dead. This man was a serial killer (or was he a rapist?). Whichever he was, I couldn’t help but stare.
There is a head – sawn in half.
You look at one side and see the man’s
hair and face, ears and skin.
Next to that half of his head is the other half –
turned around so that you see brain and skull.
There are foetuses, Siamese twins, body parts twisted apart from home-made bombs. There are skulls – cracked and gunshot. There are murder weapons and
blood-stained clothing.
And all around you lingers the smell of formaldehyde.
There are so many things to look at - to stare at in wonder and morbid fascination. There are so many sights that linger still – years and years and years after I saw them.
