Category Archives: Life

Life, Living, Nature and Climate Change, Stories, Women

A Filipina mother’s story of birth and survival in a cave during Typhoon Haiyan

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Author: Thin Lei Win

MARABUT, Philippines, Nov 6 (Thomson Reuters Foundation) – Elizabeth Caramol was nine months pregnant with her ninth child last November when Typhoon Haiyan, the strongest storm on record to hit land, swept away her family’s rickety home on a coconut farm in the Philippines.

Haiyan damaged practically everything in its path as it hit land on Nov. 8, packing winds of up to 315 km an hour (195 miles an hour) and unleashing seven-metre (23-foot) storm surges. It killed, or left missing, some 7,000 people and forced up to 4 million from their homes in the central Philippines.

Caramol and her family took refuge in one of the many caves along the beautiful, winding coastline in Marabut municipality in Samar province. She feared for her life but safely sheltered, delivered a healthy boy and named him Cavein – pronounced “Kevin”.

A year later, Caramol, now 36, spoke to Thomson Reuters Foundation from her home, a newly rebuilt wooden house on stilts, about how her family is slow rebuilding their lives.

“A day before the storm, we evacuated to a cave about 200 metres from our home. It was a big cave with two levels. About 60 families took refuge there, but we stayed there until Dec. 4. We were the last to leave because we didn’t have anywhere else to stay.

“We went to the cave because we were told a strong storm was coming and there could be sea level rise from the water. Here, the water was halfway up the coconut trees and even came inside the cave.

“Many people moved up to the second floor when the water started coming in, but I had to stay on the first floor. I was due to give birth on Nov. 8, and I was starting to experience labour pains. They hurt so much I could not move.

“I thought I was going to die. I told Napoleon, my husband, to take all the kids to the second floor and leave me there. The water rose to around one foot and then it went down the next day.

“I didn’t want the baby to come out because the conditions in the cave were not good. We brought rice, water, salt and matches, but we ran out of water and matches pretty quickly. There was no other means to get water. We just had a container to collect water that dropped from the trees. There were no toilets either.

“I had labour pains for five days. When I finally gave birth on Nov. 12, I was so excited but I also had fear in my heart because of the hygiene conditions and the infections that could set in.

“Our home was washed away so we had nothing for the baby, not even clothes. We cut some blankets into pieces of cloth to wrap the baby. We named him Cavein Cuevas Caramol, because he was born in a cave.

“For five days, we ate nothing but rice and salt. I just breastfed the baby, like how I raised my other kids. I was worried that he is not going to be healthy but he is.

Source: Thomson Reuters Foundation – Thu, 6 Nov 2014 07:49 GMT

 

Life, Living, Stories

Thank You Kind Stranger

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“I was on the seat in the back. I felt the bus moving away. I saw  everybody, even Nathan on the ground as the bus went. When I turned around, no-one from my school was in the bus with me”. I remember my son’s words even to this day.

Chris Harris, five, was left in the public bus after the bus dropped off his brother (8), the staff and other children from Chapel Hill State School/After School Care.

Tomorrow, Chris will turn 16. Thanks to you, the Good Samaritan/ a stranger who helped Chris, find his way home.

It was in September 2004 in Brisbane City. We had migrated to Brisbane on July 13, 2004. As we were approaching Christmas, it would had been almost a year since the disappearance of Queensland boy Daniel James Morcombe and there was wide-spread publicity about him being missing. I was going through a difficult time, trying to settle into a new country without my extended family and my mother’s help with my sons.

The boys started school straight away and enjoyed it. They did better than I. In September, I was at work in Milton, near the city, and placed both boys at their school’s Holiday Care. A paid service run by the school. On that day, a trip to Southbank was organised so the children would be taken to the city to watch a movie. I understood at that time, there were three carers and 25 children. When the bus got to Southbank, a large amusement and entertainment park area, everyone got off the bus except for Chris. Chris is a very tall boy, even at age five. As a parent and an adult, I never understood how a responsible carer or teacher could not have done a head count of young children transported from one place to another. How did they not see Chris? None of the carers knew Chris was missing until they sat for the movie. His brother Nathan had started looking for him.

For Chris, after the initial shock of finding himself in the public bus all alone, and driven away, he said he searched in the faces of members of the public to “see who was nice”.  Chris found a certain young man, he thought, “looked like” his uncle Kauc. Uncle Kauc is my brother. The bus stopped at the terminal in Myers Centre, Brisbane City. Apparently, Chris walked up to the stranger (that looked like my brother) and said; “excuse me, please help me. I am lost. My brother and other kids went off the bus as Southbank, it’s all my fault, I didn’t get off”.

According to Chris, the stranger said “Ok” and asked Chris to follow him. They walked out of the bus and through the crowds in the shopping centre, straight to the police station.

I asked Chris later if the man touched him and Chris said “No mum. He did not want to hold my hand. He told me to follow him”.

At the police station, Chris gave the police my name, number and address. Chris had memorised it, and police also found the contact details I wrote on Chris’ hat and bag. A call to the school and within a few hours, the Brisbane police brought my son back to Southbank to re-unite with his brother and the rest of the group. No-one called me.

After work that afternoon I walked to the school from the bus stop to pick up my sons. One of the carers came out to see me and told me about what had happened. Before she even finished the story I demanded to know where my children were. I called Chris over, checked his body, asked if he was Ok. When he said he was, I picked him up and hugged him and got his brother. I lifted Chris onto my shoulders and held Nathan’s hand as we walked home. I refused to speak with the carers or anyone before we left the school. I was outraged and terrified of what might have happened. I just wanted to get home. I wanted to just be with my sons. I walked and I wailed like a true Papua New Guinean woman for the five kilometres home. I remember people in our suburb coming out of their houses to see what was going on and just stared.

The next day I resigned from my job. I was afraid to leave the boys with anyone. It took me two whole weeks before I could speak to the school and the Holiday care people. We never really resolved the issue. I moved on.

This week at work one of my colleagues made a collection for Daniel Morcombe’s foundation, set up by Daniel’s parents to help other parents who have lost their children to evil people. Some parents have never found their children.

I am celebrating my son turning 16 tomorrow and I am truly grateful to God and the kind stranger who helped Chris find his way home, almost eleven years ago.

 

Life, Living, My Art, Stories

The Hat Made It! The Horse Didn’t!

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Across Australia today, people celebrated the Melbourne Cup Day.

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The finished hat; all in a few hours work.
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Funny day today in the office.

After a long morning of trying to speak to clients who were mostly out for Melbourne Cup Day, my colleague and friend Celise and I went to our work party.  The atmosphere was alive. The weather behaved. The food and drinks were enjoyed and then came the moment all punters were waiting for – The Cup Race

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My friend Celise, looking stunning.

All lights went off and the large video screen in our boardroom came on, showing the horses running. The screen was linked to our office internet network and when the clock stroke the start, I looked around the dim room at the intense faces. Some sat and others stood. I had no money on anything, but it was interesting how excited and aggressive the atmosphere became and I looked back at the screen wondering if the most popular horse, I was told, a Japanese horse, would win.

The funniest thing was, the internet kept on stalling. The screen paused, then, a stop-start repetition. It drove everyone crazy. There was more screaming at the streaming than the actual race. The race in our boardroom took longer than the usual time. Finally, the horse everyone thought would win, did not. It was over. One colleague bravely took this breaking moment to ask if everyone knew how much damage horses endured in these races. No-one heard her. The faces were pre-occupied. Some were busy calculating how much they won and others, how much they lost. All in all, it was a fun day, especially in our hats.

 

Life, Living, Stories, writing

A Wash In The Bush – Short Story

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Google Images – Fireflies

It was pitch black. The day had gone. Heat and humidity parted swiftly and everything was swallowed by the early evening darkness. By touch, I placed my towel on a nearby tree branch and stripped for my bush wash. My skin woke to the cool breeze. My right foot carefully searched on the large, rough and wet stones to the small piece of plywood. I stepped up, trying to keep it balanced under my weight. The ‘ply’ was held up by other stones. The underneath was muddy water. I stared into darkness and caught very faint glimpses of trees.

Already pulled out of the well with a rope and bucket, I reached it. The water felt cold. Today was an especially hot day. My mind went over how sticky it was. As I filled the saucepan, the steel cooled to the temperature of the water. I raised the saucepan and saw them coming. The ‘light’ visitors. They came in a fanfare of glows seemingly in rhythm, yet, their presence was soundless. I realised I had missed the fireflies in Port Moresby’s city life.

The fireflies came closer as if curious. They scribbled bright disappearing lines in the ‘black’ all around me. Their light made the darkness even darker. 

I poured quickly. The water was cold.
“Ohhh nice!” half-shivering, I yelled out to my family, wanting to connect us through the depth of darkness between us. The chattering of my mother, my sons and, nieces and nephews were a few metres away.
This well water must have come from the centre of the earth. Untouched by the 36 degrees heat of Lae, Morobe Province. It was so cold.
After pouring three saucepans of water on myself I looked up again. By now the fireflies gathered just above me. They synchronised in an orbit-like dance. I looked up at the fireflies, entrenched, and the soft mushy Lux bathing soap slipped out of my hand. The soap’s creamy white oval-shape slithered away under the old plywood with a soft plonk in the muddy water.
“Shit!”
I am not about to put my hands in there I thought. I stared at the ‘nothing’. It was still pitch black. I bent my knees but half-way, I decided, it was not a good idea. I am not going to find that soap unless I am prepared to feel through snakes, centipede, spiders, worms, and God knows what else is in there.
An owl startled me back to reality. I listened to the owl speak to another softly. I was dripping, half-soaped and cooling down fast. The fireflies lost their rhythm and separated. They flew away. I reached for another saucepan of the cool rinse and grabbed my towel.
“I’m finished!” I called and picked up my clothes.
Through the bush, I could hear my mother bringing my sons towards me to wash them. They were nine and six. She had the lamp and the boys had their torches. Suddenly, everything looked different.
In the background, my nieces and nephews were waiting their turn to the waterhole. My cousin Sam Newton dug this well before he even built his house. The water feeds and quenches the thirst of hundreds in our community. Because of where Sam had dug the well, the water remained cool all day and night. We used the water for cooking, drinking and washing.
“Where is the soap?” I heard my mother ask.
“Forget the soap Ma, just wash them in the water”.
I smiled and dried myself.

Life, Living, Stories

‘Playing dead’ to re-discover life again

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ExamLiam Ryan of Ballina Co Tipperary. Picture:Marie McCallan/Press 22
Liam Ryan of Ballina Co Tipperary. Picture:Marie McCallan/Press 22

Clad in a black leather jacket and an eye-patch, I am sure you are wondering whether he is real or he is a movie character.  Whatever your answer was last Sunday when I made this post, let me introduce Liam Ryan. He is real. Two weeks ago, Liam attended a funeral of a friend and someone who had 12 years ago thought Liam would ‘go’ before him.

“We want to forget about dying. But we are all going to die. It is the worst kept secret in the world. The funeral reminded me again of how we can all be so busy living, we forget about dying. Dying is real and I’m so glad I have another chance at living”, Liam said.

Twelve years ago, doctors discovered a cancer that took over part of his cheek bone and the sinus. Liam’s close friends and family and even the doctors thought that Liam only weeks left to live.

“It began with a few headaches. Just the regular sinus headaches but they did not stop so I decided to have it checked at our local doctor”, Liam said.

The doctor’s visit ended up taking two days. The shocking news; Liam was the second person with one of the worst Head and Neck Cancer ever seen. The first had already died in a matter of weeks. Liam’s condition was diagnosed as Squamacell Carcinoma which also included a lot of skin cancers. Simon Rogers, Liam’s consulting doctor told Liam, there were only  two cases of Head & Neck cancer in the North of England every year but cases as severe as Liam’s only occurred every 30 to 40 years. Liam had stage 4 tumor in the middle of his head.

Liam was 40, healthy, fit, working successfully as an architect in a small town in Ireland. He had just completed his sixth marathon.

“I saw the end of my life appeared right in front of me. I simply had weeks to live”.

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One of Liam Ryan’s architectural projects – local stadium in Athlone, Ireland.

Liam was told very few hospitals in the world, could offer any hope to a cases like his. Liam just wanted to live. He fought the cancer with his will. Eventually, impressed by his fighting spirit, Professor Simon Rogers and his team in Liverpool decided to offer Liam a chance, a chance they themselves did not believe Liam could make it through. They told Liam he had a 5% chance to survive. Serious Head & Neck cancer required complex treatment and often kills the patient before the cancer does.

“If I was still alive after surgery I was likely to be without my sight, my speech, my hearing, my mobility, my brain function or any combination of all five, ” Liam said.

“Survival was all that was on the horizon. Anything beyond that would be a bonus. None of that mattered then. I just wanted to be alive. If I was alive I was winning, and cancer was losing”.

Liam underwent a 12-hour operation.
In the surgery, doctors removed half of the roof of his mouth, top half of his teeth and most of his cheekbone. He had seven weeks of radical chemo-radiotherapy. Then, Liam suffered another blow. In between his treatments he contracted meningitis and a deep vein thrombosis and nearly died. All these has been put behind Liam’s life now. Although Liam can now only open his mouth about half an inch, he can still speak perfectly and continues to do all the things he considers normal.

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Post cancer marathon runner: Liam Ryan.

“My amazing survival has now been outdone by my even more incredible recovery. I am working, talking, running and functioning again just as I did before. Apart from my eyepatch, it is almost as if I never had cancer.”

Liam’s doctors were simply amazed. Liam said through the work of the doctors and their great work, he has become one of the greatest cancer survivors of all time.

“From nowhere, I have become noteworthy.”

In 2012, on the tenth anniversary of his new life after cancer, Liam ran his first marathon and wrote a book. He said the book, was not just for cancer patients but for anyone “who has a mountain to climb”.

“I have become the living proof that nothing is for certain. I have been given a second life and with it comes an opportunity to encourage and inspire”.

Liam lives in Ballina/Killaloe with his wife Pam and their three children.

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The Gift of Life

Art, Life

The Momentum Of Life

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There is momentum in good deeds that create ripples and also momentum in good intentions that are never appreciated.

Life is like that.

Special CG short from animation studio HouseSpecial – More of our work: housespecial.com/all/
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Follow us – twitter.com/housespecialpdx & instagram.com/housespecialpdx
Kirk Kelley, Creative Director
Kameron Gates, Director
From an Original Story by Allan Turner and Kameron Gates

Life, Nature and Climate Change, Stories

CATS OFF THE RAILS

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Apparently, when these birds choose a mate, it is for life. Buff-banded Rails are beautiful looking birds. They are also very shy. Here is a story from our local wildlife story-teller Jim Butler about Rails that lived in a mutual friend’s place, less than ten minutes from my house.

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Buff-banded Rail, Lady Elliot Island, SE Queensland, Australia Image by http://www.aviceda.org

For the last two years my friend had a pair of Buff-banded Rails living in her backyard where they raised their chicks. Her property in Kenmore Hills is opposite a park adjacent to Moggill Creek and the house next door is vacant with long grass, so the Rails had enough area to live comfortably. These Rails are very widespread and common in Brisbane near waterways and they feed on snails, insects and seeds at the water’s edge and on the banks and surrounds. They mostly forage out of sight under low dense vegetation; they run fast when frightened and usually fly only at night. However, when they feel safe they can become remarkably tame, which is what happened at my friend’s house where they often came out of the long grass onto the back lawn. They breed in Spring raising five to eight fluffy black chicks.

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Buff-banded Rail, Gallirallus philippensis, Fafa island, Tonga Image by Duncan Wright

Recently, when a cat took one adult and a chick, both my friend and the neighbour who owned the cat became aware of the event. The neighbour decided to restrict the cat’s movement outside the house with a “cat yard” so that it could get enough exercise without being able to prey on the wildlife. The remaining Rail has now begun to re-appear in my friend’s yard and hopefully it will find another mate amongst the other Rails living along Moggill Creek where it can fly to at night.
Unrestrained cats are obvious predators of ground-birds like Rails. On average, a domestic cat kills 16 mammals, 8 birds and 8 reptiles a year according to an Australia-wide survey. And Dr Gillespie, NT Government Director of Terrestrial Ecosystems, says that ‘Across the continent it’s estimated that there are 15 million feral cats killing 75 million native animals every night’, a large number of which will be birds.

Culture and Heritage, Life, Living, Stories, Women

Women To Lead In Male Dominated Cultural Event

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Two women are the first female canoe coordinators in the male dominated National Canoe and Drum Festival next week in Milne Bay Province, Papua New Guinea (PNG). Some of you may think this is “not a big deal” but it is. Nellie George ( left) is organizing five sailaus or traditional canoes from the South Duau area of Esa’ala District and Vicky Lodi will lead in organising bogama canoes from the Maramatana area of Alotau District.

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Each canoe will have its own tribal and ancestry markings and other decorations carrying special meaning and luck.

Sacred Culture

This part of PNG culture is sacred to men. Canoes and drums are used mostly by males in the Melanesian societies. Although it is dominated by males, we do have some females using drums in other parts of the PNG.  From the start canoes especially are prepared by men. Men choose the tree, carve and design the canoe. The canoes can be used by the whole family when it is completed.

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Last year’s canoe racers.

Annual Event

The festival is an annual event that happens every first weekend of November in the sleepy seaside township of Alotau. This festival is the southern region’s major event of the year and showcases the coastal communities’ way of life particularly through traditional sailing canoes. Kundu (traditional drums) have been included in this year’s festival.

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Men launch a brand new canoe.

To visit the festival and see other information, contact the PNG Office of Tourism and Culture.

Life, Living, Stories, Women

I Am Wale, Respect Me

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I Am Wale Respect Me, series of photos depicting women of Congo returning to society and gaining their rightful status. Photo by Patrick Willocq.

I Am Wale Respect Me. Personally, I think this is an awesome title for a body of art. This work celebrates motherhood, fertility and femininity. Photographer Patrick Willocq’s recent projects explore non-western narratives and mise-en-scenes in collaboration with local communities in the Democratic Republic of Congo. After spending a portion of his adolescence in Congo, Willocq returned to document indigenous culture and customs through carefully composed performative images. In “I Am Walé Respect Me”, female subjects stage their return to society through a lyrical account of their isolation. Willocq’s photographs are in the Lagos Photo Festival which opened yesterday(Saturday Oct 25th) with 39 artists from 15 nations.  Thank you Art Living for sharing this story.

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Life, Living, Stories

Who is this mysterious man?

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Exam Liam Ryan of Ballina Co Tipperary. Picture:Marie McCallan/Press 22

Clad in a black leather jacket and an eye-patch, I am sure you are wondering whether he is real or he is a movie character. You could be wrong.

Life is a play. We are all characters playing a role on stage. Sometimes we play more than one role. Sometimes, we play others or ourselves. Sometimes, we become the character we have never dreamed of.  We play what we are given. JL

I will have this mystery man’s story on this blog, this week.