Return of my youth

I have slowly been coming to terms in positive ways with my 30’s and learning to embrace those flecking greys as distinguished looking, meals in with friends as a genuinely ‘big night out’, and becoming more tidy as a good trait to be developing.

My job though can bring my age into sharp focus. I will always remember two young people I have worked with loads over the last 5 years pointing out with deep concern my grey hair just a few months before my 30th Birthday….”‘I remember when you used to look so young matt” they said.

Well, My youth has officially returned and it has been awesome to be young again this week. However this is not just because I am here at the African Youth Summit with loads of young people, or that according to the Africa Union, the official definition of a young person is up to 35, but because in fact its currently mid-february in 2002 in the Ethiopian Calendar….and that means I am 23.

Officially.

Children behind bars

It was 10.40 at night, and we were sitting in our open meeting room being encircled by baying mosquitoes debating the terms of a baseline study. We’d been at it since 8.30 in the morning, but at least we were all sipping a bottle of local beer. We’ve been staying at a catholic priests training school in the country, and as you can imagine, Togolese trainee priest are not exactly prima donnas, so neither is the accommodation fit for one. But if i needed to motivate myself in any way for the days of meetings, i just needed to remember our visit to the Brigade, the youth prison, which we saw just before heading back out here again. After all, that was essentially why we were here.

The brigade is small…well really small. We went to talk with the social worker there who our project supports and immediately I was shocked to find out that the brigade not only holds children accused of crime but also takes in other vulnerable children, such as those living on the streets. The state here is so unable to support them that this seems the best way to look after them. It is insanity as the regime here makes no differential between those held here judicially and those whom are here because they are just vulnerable.

We were first taken to the TV room which is the only place where they are allowed, other than their cells. It was dark and had an old TV blaring away to itself. It was empty because at weekends they are held in their cells the whole time and not allowed out at all.

We entered the courtyard between the cells and could see the faces of the detainees behind the bars, peeking out curiously at the visitors.

The rebel in me kicked in and i decided i was not going to make sure I didn’t get the ‘official’ tour. Then the youth worker in me kicked in, so I went over to chat to them in their cells. There were 8 boys in one cell – just go and chat to them i thought – but meaningful conversation is pretty impossible through a metal barred window. Still, they were all avid supporters of Arsenal (the Adebayor link you see) and were playing a game of cards that seemed to be at a crucial point. They all want to go back to school when hey get out, but when pushed they began to move away from standard responses. “There is nothing here to do at all..its just so boring..even the tele is rubbish as we only have 3 local channels and we can’t even go out at the weekends.” They all loved football, but there was simply no where for them to play, even if they would have been allowed too.

Seeing the reality of children behind bars and the obvious impact on the future it must have on them and their prospects, it seems crazy that so many are being incarcerated for such small and petty crimes, without any thought going into the psychological and physical effects on them as young people Yet its not just a Togo thing…or a distant problem…in the UK, we now lock up more children that any other country in Europe (Click to see stats). We have the resources to ensure they are not kept in the crowded conditions I’ve seen here in Togo, but we do not have the moral high ground at all to think that what goes on in the Brigade in Lomé is wrong.

If i will need any extra motivation, we are spending the morning in the real prison next week….I am sure that will provide it in abundance.

Sorry dear blog

I have just got back from the most crazy 2 weeks in Prague. I was managing a large festival for over 8000 young people, running a venue at the site. Now to say it was a crazy whirlwind was an understatement, but now I am back and trying to reccover, the last two weeks have really taught me how important this blog has become to me.

I literally did not stop from very early in the morning until the early hours every day, so I barely got a chance to think, let alone blog. And now I am back I so wish I had forced the time. I now realise how important blogging has become to me when I am working away with work. It really helps me to process what I am seeing and doing and vocalise and understand it. It helps you make sense of the tough times but also helps you to remember all the memories, the smiles, and the laughs. It also means so much to get your comments and know there’s a few of you reading out there too.

So blog, I am sorry for neglecting you…Off to Honduras soon and will not make the same mistake again.

Disorientate me

I sometimes get very confused and disorientated. I have just travelled through 4 Latin American cities in 5 hours, as we flew from Tegucigalpa, via San Jose and Panama City onto Bogota.  This on a day we had woken up in a rather ropey hotel room overlooking one of the most beautiful lakes I’ve seen after a ‘day off’ after a week of work.

Travel can really disorientate and confuse and I sometimes have to check myself in with where I actually am. I know it may seem glamorous, but it can sometimes be quite angst inducing.

Sitting in a vaguely confused state in Panama I realised with LG that the previous month, in the space of 4 days we been through 5 airports – Heathrow, Belfast City, Belfast International, Geneva and London City.

Having said all that, I love what I do and I won’t even mention the words carbon and footprint……

Miami nights

There is an old tale that goes around NGO workers that if you fly to Latin America with work…if you are very lucky…you fly via Miami. If you are even luckier, your flight connections will mean you get the spend the night there. So I was lucky enough to find that was the case with my latest trip!

In a job where I feel we are made to consistenly feel guilty about taking time off and time for ´us´ when we are working , this was one of the few times when we could justify to oursleves a night out in Miami. An almost guilt free ´perk and ´us´time to relax. We weren´t choosing to do so oursleves, it just happened to work out that way.

The longer I do this job and the more time I spend with other Youth Workers and people in similar chairty jobs, the more I realise how all consuming it is, and the more I see how it is ingrained in us, in our training, to always self-reflect and constructivly criticise what we do.  This is great and makes us better youth workers. Yet the more I see of this, the more I can how damaging it can be, when it becomes a habit to always reflect on what we can do better . This escalates into almost consistent self-criticism. “We are good youth workers so we sit around and beat oursleves up about how bad we are at our job”. By focussing on the 10% that we can do better, we naturally overlook the 90% we have done well. This means we don´t ever think we have done a “good job” or take the pride, confidence and motivation from that, which we need as human beings to keep going.

I meet some unbelievably inspiring and talented youth workers on my travels and i just wish they´d realise that more and give themslves the hug and pat on the back they deserve.

I´m the worst at it, I know, but I did try to say to myself about Miami to just “enjoy myself”, and ”I did deserve a night on South Beach”. And that I certainly did. The late evening swim on the South Beach was awesome and we walked along the sea wake as the sun set. The bars were amazing, the crab dinner unbelievable and the dancing and club (where we go ID´d!! So happy!!) brilliant fun. Our “One night in Miami” was one to remember.

We then had to get up and fly off to Honduras and Colombia for some hard work. Should I feel guilty for having some fun? Am I beating myself up about it? …hmmm…..

Dealers

This just made me giggle. In South-East London, this would have a very different connotation.

I had visions of what a ‘dealers’ conference in Peckham would involve!

The problem with English

I read this on a friends blog and it rung so many bells – being here in India

http://battutabahrain.blogspot.com/2008/01/problem-with-english.html

Bint Battuta is a fab blog to read anyway

Stars

 

“If you surround yourself with stars, you too will shine”

I said this, rather cheesily, after a few drinks recently about my team at work. It is so true……Thanks guys. 

Jabs and dogs

When we travel, we get so obsessed with jabs, inoculations and all sorts of health stuff in our work. I have one of the finest love-hate relationships with our nurse who (you will forgive my sarcasm) so kindly administers the injections we need to ensure we are vaccinated against, rabies, tetanus, polio, yellow fever et al. Never have I had such fear of any other human being…still, it is all for the best. There are serious risks when we go abroad we are always being told….

…so who would have thought that I would have been glad off all the sweaty palms and sore arms on a cold night in a quiet pub in Kings Cross. On venturing to the toilet I encountered a rather large Alsatian, who appeared to take issue with me. As he barked rather viciously i realised i was backed into the wall. He duly bared his fangs and bit me…hard…on the leg. Now, despite the obvious shock and fear of the whole episode, we couldn’t help laughing at the irony. For the first time, I was so relieved by the fact I was up-to-date on all my jabs (including rabies). I wasn’t in India or Sierra Leone, but Central London. But my jabs meant I could relax, knowing my assailant hadn’t passed any nasty things onto me.

A fine single malt, the kind hand of a friend, a bath and an early night sorted me out. Now I need to work on getting over my now irrational fear of dogs! I’m sure all the ones wandering the streets in Kanykumari next week will help….(?!?)

Back…and with a few less things on my list

I am off to India again next week, so have been drawn back to my blog.

The last tumultuous months in my life have meant I haven’t written for a while, despite a fair few trips. These included a tough (work-wise) visit to the Czech Republic. Though I did thankfully once again feel like a smug vegetarian whilst there! (see previous post). I was the only one and at the first meal time, this caused much mirth amongst the young people and leaders I was with…that was until I seemed to served the finest, freshest meals the kitchen seemed capable of serving! Whilst everyone else made do with meat and offal broth, I was served lovely mushroom pastas, fresh vegetables and gorgeous omelettes!

I also got to cross off one of my things of list if things to do before I die. I had a sauna and then cooled off by running (almost) naked into the snow and roll around like an idiot! I have to say it was absolutely brilliant and took me a day to come down off the high!

I was also in Geneva again, a city I have still never quite got my head around. It just seems to be like the culture dementors have been round, sucking the life out of the city. I know much of this is due to the fact that the city is full of NGO workers, bankers and business people from all over the world, many on transient business stays or short-term placements from their own countries. Its always disappointed me that this hasn’t produced a vibrant and noisy multi-cultural mix of a town that would be a pleasure to spend time in. Yet this time, I was privileged enough to be taken out for food and drinks by a local guy from Geneva who has started working with us. Wow…what a difference it made to be with him, as he took us to the hidden away bars that are kept the preserve of Swiss, away from the life sapping visitors like me! I had a fantastic evening that has restored my faith that there is much more to Geneva underneath its undoubtedly beautiful clothes.

Dulce et decorum est?

“Dulce et decorum est pro patria mori” is a line from the Roman lyrical poet Horace’s Odes. It means. “It is sweet and becoming to die for one’s country,” and was used frequently by pro-war protagonists to recruit young men to fright in WWI.

This week, Britain is celebrating 25 years since the war in the Falklands.

I’ve done a lot of work over the last few years in Palestine, Northern Ireland and now in Sierra Leone. The news coverage of the current bloodshed in Gaza, mixed with the memories of the stories I’ve heard, and things I’ve seen abroad with work….I have to say I have found his weeks ‘celebration’ of the Falklands war very difficult.

Thatcher has publicly said “we should still rejoice” at the victory in 1982 saying “in the struggle against evil… we can all today draw hope and strength” from the Falklands victory…Fortune does, in the end, favour the brave”

Me, John and Muffle spent Thursday night depressing ourselves about the state of the world, and since then, I have been drawn back to one of my all time favourite poems – Dulce et Decorum Est by Wilfred Owen. (I wish I’d had the intelligence to bring it up that night lads!)

Wilfred Own wrote the poem from the trenches during WWI as a direct response to war propagandist, Jenny Frost, who wrote poems exclaiming the virtues of war during WWI. He originally wrote it as a letter to her, from the trenches, but encouraged by his friend, and another fantastic anti-war poet, Siegfried Sasoonn, he wrote it as a poem. It was only published once the war was over and is for me better than anything any politician or leader has ever said about the realities of war. It is made all the more poignant, as he was killed in the last week of war, in 1918.

If you don’t read the whole poem, just read the last 4 lines. They are stunning and a perfect counter-balance to our ‘heroic’ pro-falkalnds war news coverage this weekend. Despite being written 90 years ago, I also think it is as relevant today, to those all over the world, where war and conflict dominates peoples lives, as it was all those years ago.

Dulce et Decorum Est
by Wilfred Owen

Newcastle’s doors

I was in Newcastle this week, which is where we now have a new office.

Its really special for me as this is where I studied and spent 4 very happy years. I still go back every so often to visit friends, but to come here for work was a nice treat.

When i was there the city seemed to be consistently changing for the better. Every week there seemed to be a new restaurant, shop, bar or arts project! Its culture was also very distinct and rich, which is a rarity in England. It really felt distinctive.

Yet one change when i went back was not so much fun and i can’t quite get my head around it….

Newcastle has a fantastic ‘Metro’ system, linking the city to it to Sunderland, Tyneside and the surburbs of the city. It was famous though the city for it distinctive noise, everytime the doors close. If you’ve been there you’ll remember it

There is a loud ‘urrrrr’ sound, followed by the broadest geordie accent saying “Stand clear of the doors, please”.

Yet now, this has gone, replaced by a standard dull monotone voice simply saying ‘mind the doors’.

It got me thinking about how we seem to want to please by stripping everything away of our individuality and culture. Someone, somewhere has clearly decided that the voice was too broad and localised and wouldn’t be understood by us all.

Yet we have so little culture that is distinguishable and different, should’t we be celebrating difference, rather than trying to standardise everything? I guess I always struggle with culture here in the UK, espcially being ‘english’. The countries I work in have such rich proud cultures, which always make ‘home’ seem so deviod of anything that could meaningfully be called culture.

I know the sounds on the Metro doors is only a minor thing, and i’ve probably read too much into it, but it did make me think….