Preachy blog

Experience is not always the kindest of teachers, but it is surely the best

-Spanish Proverb

You know, you can get so caught up in this fundraising lark that you lose sight of the big picture.

WARNING:  Preachy blog post alert!

So we’ve done really well on the fundraising and assuming everyone takes the wine they ordered and everyone comes to the dinner they RSVP’d to and my liquor license comes through (details right?), we will have surpassed our fundraising goals.

But then, I ran an errand for my husband and met a woman whose husband is a veterinarian and every year they go to India with Veterinarians Without Borders and de-sex dogs to help keep down the street dog population.  She told me that on a previous year, floods came through killing a number of people and destroying homes.  Instead of spending their time de-sexing the dogs that year, they shoveled mud.  She told me that in going to a developing country like Cambodia (or India), I needed to be kind to myself because you almost leave that country to return to your comfortable western lifestyle with a sense of survivor’s guilt.

We talked and I recalled my time from 2004-2009 as a refugee lawyer, where every day was survivor’s guilt.  I could work 70 hours a week and still feel like I wasn’t doing enough.  I finally learned that there was no such thing as enough.  And in that role, I was well-removed from the in-your-face experience of day-to-day life in a developing country.  I just listened, day in and day out, to stories of horror from those countries.  Of course, I would have felt like I had never done enough. 

Those five years took a huge toll on my physical well-being and on my psyche.  It is only now that I had begun to think that I was strong enough to face a challenge like going on a habitat build to Cambodia.

My fellow habitater, Michelle, spoke of a similar sense of guilt upon her return from her first trip to Nepal.  She blogged about reconciling the poverty she saw in Nepal with her life here in Australia.  At the time, I chalked it up to that whole Catholic guilt thing.  But I’m rethinking the issue as my own need to confront it approaches. 

I like my lifestyle – I’ve been wealthier and I’ve been poorer, but it all happened within a pretty narrow bandwidth.  I’ve no doubt that I will find begging children and starving dogs on the streets of Phnom Penh to be highly challenging.  But I think it is a challenge I’m ready to face. 

Weirdly, a lot of the criticism of voluntourism (a category of travel our upcoming trip no doubt falls within) attacks the intent of the participant, as in “voluntourism is nothing more than a way to alleviate guilt”.  In praise of voluntourism, participants say that the experience enables them to better experience the culture they are visiting . So which is it?  And why do you feel guilty after the voluntourism experience?  And is that a bad thing?

Embarrassingly, this conversation with a complete stranger and the thought of whether I could handle my time in a developing country like Cambodia, brought me to tears.  Hell, maybe it is easier to concentrate on the fundraising.

All's Fair in Love and Fundraising, Part 2

 

The eight case “sample” we bought at Grant Burge didn’t last long.  John immediately laid claim to a number of reds (I made him buy them from me), bragging that he was spending evenings with “Elena” (the name of the red wine).  In the first week I received orders for more than I had in my possession.  I also needed to supply Friday night “tastings”, having offered a “try before you buy” option.

I sent around emails offering tastings every Friday night in August and promising that photos of Michelle and I looking suitably disgusting on the build site would be forthcoming.  All the emails had a Bob the Builder theme and urged people to drink for a cause (like you have to urge Aussies to drink).  The first email announcement had this picture attached.

It seemed appropriate.

After having obtained the requisite approvals, I sent out an email to the 400 plus employees at my workplace advertising the wine sales.  

Wine and lawyers go together like Torville and Dean [a famous ice-skating duo], a pie and sauce [meat pie with ketchup for the non-Aussies], Wimbledon and rain … well, you get the picture.  Buy into the stereotype and buy wine for a good cause!

I was sold out of my stock in the first hour.  People forwarded it to their partners, who forwarded it around their workplaces and the orders flowed in.  Clearly, I was going to have to go back to the Barossa soon for more wine.

Things came to a head last week when Heather from Grant Burge rang me to say that they were down to the last 15 dozen of the Elena.  “I’ll be there on Saturday,” I replied.

Although wine fundraisers are great in the end, you do have to carry quite a lot on your credit cards until the payments come in.  In preparation, John and I pooled resources to make sure that one of our credit cards could take the whole hefty charge of nearly $2000 worth of wine.  Credit arranged, off we went to the Barossa again.  The plan was that we would have lunch beforehand, then drive up to the Barossa.  There, we would pick up the wine, drive to my office, and unload the wine there.  After that, we would have time to go to an open house at 5:15.  John had done the photos of the house and it had a Moroccan style that he thought I would like to see.

The first wrinkle in the plan was Missy Kim, our Hyundai Getz.  She is a little car and ultimately, she would be loaded down with 26 cases of wine and two adults.  We weren’t sure that we would all fit or that she would be happy driving with all that on board.  Our backup plan was to go back to Grant Burge the next day if we had to.

We arrived at the winery and were on schedule, but the winery had a tour bus and the nice cellar door folk were run off their feet.  Since we had time, we ordered coffee and cake and waited for the tour bus crowd to leave.  Once they did, Heather came over, comp’d us the cake and coffee and then, went over the order with me. 

I gave her my credit card to pay.  Unfortunately, she initially put through the wrong sale amount and then cancelled the sale by telling the EFTPOS machine that the signature was unverified.  For those of you who have had dealings with American Express, you will understand the significance of this being A NEW CARD.  AmEx is great in a lot of ways, including their security.  But once you have a security flag on your card, it’s not likely to come off anytime soon.  Security flags are common for new cards and cards that haven’t been used for a long time, or indeed any obvious change in your spending patterns on the card.  So a new card coupled with an “unverified signature” had AmEx firing on all cylinders.  Needless to say, when Heather tried to put the correct amount through, we got the nasty “Da-naa” sound, which I’m certain was followed by a “but thanks for playing”. 

Heather rang the EFTPOS people first.  They suggested we contact my bank.  While I stayed on the line through a succession of holds and transfers with my bank, Heather was helping John load up Missy Kim.  John lays claim to his calibrated eye, a result of 14 years in the US military perhaps.  He was certain that all that wine could fit in our little Getz.  Of course, he was right (I hate that). 

I finally got onto someone who told me that Grant Burge needed to send them a fax on Grant Burge letterhead.  The fax needed to provide my account and purchase details and a request that the funds be released, with a description of what happened.  It was to be addressed to “Team Leader”. 

By now it was about 4:30 and Morocco was slipping away.  Letterhead was sourced and the fax written.  When Heather tried to send it, she learned that their fax machine was playing up. 

Finally, the fax machine began to cooperate and the fax was sent.  We waited 5 minutes, then tried our luck with the EFTPOS machine. “Da-naa”.  We waited 10 more minutes.  Morocco was gone and Grant Burge was closing.  Poor Heather looked like she needed a martini.  We tried again.  “Da-naa”.  I rang my bank and was told “Well, the fax machine is on this floor so someone must have it.  I’ll try to find it.” I stayed on the line.  The minutes ticked past.  Heather and I chatted.  She gave me two splits of their very nice champagne to drink with Michelle in Cambodia.

Finally, the bank chick came back on the line.  “Ok, your funds are release,” she said. 

“If you don’t mind, I might ask you to hold the line until this transaction goes through,” I replied.  Both Heather and I let out simultaneous whoo-hoos of victory when the EFTPOS machine made the happy “I like you again” noise. 

The sale finalised, John and Missy Kim and I headed for home with our 26 cases of wine.  Of course, the skies opened and drenched us but we no longer cared.  We had the wine.

UPDATE - ALL of the wine is now spoken for and my credit card STILL has security flag issues *sigh*  All’s fair in love and fundraising….

All's fair in love and fundraising...Part 1

If I have seen further than others, it is by standing upon the shoulders of giants

                                                                                    - Isaac Newton

So it was just a few weeks ago when I made the decision to go on this build.  The way Habitat works (see – I’m talking like I’m an expert already!)  is that Michelle and I pay our own travel expenses, but have to fundraise a certain amount – in this case, about AUD 800 each.

Previous builds that Michelle went on were organized through Habitat Australia and all donations were tax deductible for our Australian friends.  We are doing this build with the New Zealand team, so Australian contributors can’t get the tax benefit. On the other hand, the Australian dollar is strong (AUD 1 = NZD 1.24) and it looks really good when you make a donation on the Habitat New Zealand website.  Michelle and I have been welcomed by the Kiwi team with open arms.

Fundraising relies on goodwill – that of your donor base, industry partners and those who have gone before you.  My “giants”, as Isaac Newton refers to them, are Habitat for Humanity and Michelle Coram (they just know what works and have done it all before) and our industry partners, Spice Kitchen and Grant Burge.  My “donor base” is my friends and family, who have been wonderful and supportive.

Michelle has organised dinners over recent years with a great Indian restaurant called the Spice Kitchen (252 Kensington Rd, Leabrook SA) where, on a weeknight, she can book out all or part of the restaurant and people get a generous Indian banquet for $40 ($20 of which goes to Habitat as part of our fundraising and $20 to the restaurant).  The restaurant has been very supportive of Habitat in the past and so Michelle decided to organise another dinner there this year. 

For my part of the fundraising, I decided to sell wine, working on the theory that wine and lawyers are one of the world’s great pairings (and the vast majority of my friends are lawyers).  Fundraising with wine involves getting a one-day liquor license and having all sales take place on that one day. 

A couple of years ago, Michelle’s fundraising included wine from Grant Burge, a very nice winery in the Barossa Valley.  It was very popular and the H4H group ran out of the wine allotment.

Armed with this information, I went straight to the source – the winery itself.  After a few phone calls, I decided a tasting trip to the Barossa was in order (the things we do for charity – *sigh*).  The Barossa is only 30-45 minutes from my house but I don’t usually have a good excuse to make the trip. My husband, John and I went up there a couple of weeks ago (I “forced” John to go with me so he could taste the reds, while I decided on the whites).  Grant Burge has three cellars doors in the Barossa now and initially we went into the wrong one.  I had been told to ask for Caroline and the cellar door folk said that she was at another cellar door.  Apparently, we were at the cellar door that sold the more high the really expensive wines (I seem to always be drawn to the expensive stuff – it’s a talent).  The cellar door folk were happy for me to taste some of their wines, but I declined (not wanting to spoil my taste buds for the affordable stuff).

We continued to the Grant Burge cellar door on Krondorf Road, passing my personal mecca of Rockfords (a winery known for its beautiful Alicante Bouchet Rose, beautiful Basket Press Shiraz, and amazing Sparkling Shiraz – how I became a ‘member’ there is for another post). 

We tasted the cleanskins first, which, as the least expensive, had good fundraising potential.  Not bad, but the next level up knocked our socks off.  We decided on a 2007 Cabernet Sauvignon, known as the Elena and a 2008 Riesling, known as the Mariage. Even the more expensive range didn’t sway us. After a small markup (to go to Habitat), the wines were a very affordable $12 (red) and $10 (white).  We bought a sample selection of eight cases to see how they would be received and we resolved to buy more as orders came in.  The winery also offered to ring us if stock got down to about 15 cases of each.

The funny thing about the wines is that they were apparently a cancelled export order – the red was apparently bound for China and the white for Korea.  I assume this because of the back labels, which I reproduce here for your amusement. 

 

Besides the obvious Korean and Chinese characters, I think the red wine label reads as if marketed to Chinese men, using lots of adjectives like “strength” and “intense”; nouns like “character”; and verbs like “bursting” and “dominating”.  I’d say the marketing people were spot on.  Don’t get me wrong – it’s a great drop, especially for the price, but the descriptions just make me laugh.  No doubt the white description is good too – sadly, my Korean isn’t up to the task.

Family matters

“Be who you are and say what you feel because those who mind don’t matter and those that matter don’t mind.” – Dr Seuss

I rang Michelle on Sunday night,  “I’m leaning towards going.  How much were the airfares again?”  She squealed.  I guess that means she’s happy for me to be a saddo tag-along, copycat.

The next hurdle was telling our parents.  Yes, Virginia, you still have to worry about what your parents think when you’re in your 30s and 40s.  Why? Because we love them and want to maintain happy relations with them, whenever possible.  The only difference from when you were younger is that now, you’ll probably do what you want to, despite what they say.

Michelle has a long history of telling her parents about her somewhat unusual travel plans,  going around the world with me for 9 weeks (2000), taking her long service leave to do volunteer work in the US, England, Ireland, Scotland, etc (2002), walking across Spain (2006, I think) - and then the Habitat builds in Nepal.

My mom is gone, as is my brother, but I won’t get into that long, sad tale here.  Suffice it to say that my stubborn (yet loveable) 82 year-old father lives on his own in San Diego.  This is despite that fact that he is legally blind.  Either John or I go and visit him at least once a year, we call once or twice a week, we help out with rent and whatever else we can, but ultimately I live here, in Adelaide, South Australia, and I feel guilty as hell that I don’t do more.  Dad loves adventure and traveling but there are different rules for his daughter and what is appropriate.  I’m pretty sure he would consider any developing country to not be appropriate, but who knows - he may surprise me.  I know that when we were kids, it was Dad’s idea to do an African safari but Mom put the kibosh on that idea.  We also never went anywhere further south than Naples in Italy.  There were limits to the ‘adventure’ to which we were exposed. 

With my current work, I sometimes have to fly on small planes (single-engine) to outback locations.  Although I really prefer to have a back-up engine when flying, it is not always possible.  Whenever I go on these work trips, Dad worries about me and his last words on the phone are full of dire warnings.  I resolve to wait as long as possible to tell him so as to reduce worry time to a minimum.  Ok, so I’m a coward.

Michelle’s parents are pretty relaxed about her going to Cambodia. She has checked out the travel warnings and found that there are fewer for Cambodia than there were for Nepal.  I guess the argument is that she survived Nepal, so she will probably survive Cambodia.  I’m still waiting for the right time to tell Dad – maybe I’ll call him from the airport…

Should I stay or should I go now?

“Decision is a risk rooted in the courage of being free.” – Paul Tillich

I woke the next morning (Friday), having come no closer to a decision.  Should I go to Cambodia or not?  I decided I wouldn’t talk about it with anyone (besides John and Michelle) until I decided I was definitely going. 

During my walk to the bus stop, I thought more about it.  By the time I got to work, I was 80% sure I wasn’t going to go.  I mean really, what use would I be on a build?  Michelle and I still had many of the same friends and connections; we would be sharing the same fundraising base.  I really should save my money up in case Dad needed help.  Besides that, it had been two years since I got new glasses and I really should get a new pair.  I also needed to go to the dentist and that wasn’t going to get any cheaper the longer I waited. 

At the same time, I wondered if these thoughts weren’t just convenient excuses for doing something that, quite frankly, scared me a little.  In giving advice to my friends, I’m always telling them they should do things that scare them and shake them out of their comfort zones.  But here I was, wallowing away in my little comfort zone.

I was on planes before I could walk but didn’t stay in a youth hostel until I was 35.  I’ve always travelled and I love to travel but the closest I have even been to a “developing” country is a 5 star resort in Thailand.  Apparently, that doesn’t count.

I was nearly resolved by the time I got to work that no, I wouldn’t go. Typical of me, it took about 5 minutes at work before I was asking for advice from my friends (so much for not telling anyone until I decided).  Within an hour, I had agreed to meet Michelle for a coffee and fire questions at her:

“How bad are the toilets there?”  (Not too bad actually.  Some squat ones, but majority are not)

“Where would be staying?  In a hostel?  With a family?”  (A 4 star hotel and bused in and out of the build site each day)

“Do I have to get water filters, etc?”  (They supply bottled water and you can pretty much buy it everywhere)

“Hand sanitizer?”  (Yes)

“Will there be jobs that I can usefully do even though I am not the fittest, strongest person?”  (Yes, and most of the team is comprised of big, brawny kiwi men who will do the heavy lifting)

“What technology are you taking?”  (Phone, computer, kindle)

After the coffee interrogation, I was well and truly fence-sitting at about 50%.  At drinks that night, my friend Deana asked me the question that tipped me over the edge: “If you don’t do it, will you regret it?”  Definitely, yes. 

Over dinner, I began composing blog entries in my head.  But still, I wouldn’t commit. John sent me links to sites about Cambodia and suggested we hit the library the next day for books. 

Michelle sent me links and emails from other people’s blogs and writings on previous Habitat builds in Cambodia.  At the same time, she sent emails ‘politely inquiring’ on how my decision-making was going (mind you, she’d taken a month to decide to go on her third build and I was on day two of the decision about my first build so “pot – kettle – black”).

On Saturday, I checked out every decent book the library had on Cambodia and began reading.  I downloaded the latest version of the Lonely Planet guide for Cambodia onto my iPhone 4.  I was pleasantly surprised to learn that Cambodia was pretty wired and internet access was affordable.  I was dismayed to learn about the disease risk and the need for a number of vaccinations/booster shots (FYI Hepatitis A & B, Typhoid, Rabies, Japanese Encephalitis, Tetanus, Diptheria, Whooping Cough, Polio, and possibly yellow fever). 

I downloaded apps including an introduction to Khmer conversation for travelers.  Yes, I realize, looking back on it now, that blind Freddy could have seen that I was going to go, but I could not.

Ultimately, all the research in the world couldn’t make up my mind for me.  But I knew two things -

1.            If I didn’t go, I would regret it.

2.            If I didn’t go, I would be a hypocrite of the highest order.

It was time to leave my comfort zone.

Cambodia or bust (continued)

More than 10 years earlier, Michelle and I had met at work.  We became fast friends.  We both have a vicious senss of humor, like a good margarita, love the beach and the ocean (yet by virtue of our joint Irish heritage, are not ‘beachy’ types), love U2 and Pink and Ireland, and reading and great music and … well, you get the picture.  I was there for her through some difficult personal trials and she was on-hand to watch my first marriage self-destruct.  At one point, we lived and worked together.  We walked into work together, went to the gym together and hung out with the same circle of friends.  Just to make sure we really liked each other, we decided to go around the world together - for nine weeks.  Through it all, we always had the best time.  Together, we were more than the sum or our parts. 

After that I followed my heart back to the US and she began her volunteerism journey that has, thus far, culminated in her Habitat work.  Although I came back to Adelaide a few years later, like all friendships, our lives had diverged and those halcyon days were in the past.  We were still good friends, but we didn’t see as much of each other.  We both had different interests. 

I went on to get married (again) but this time with much better results, and I permitted the rest of my life to be consumed by my work.  Michelle became less work-oriented, a homeowner (with all that entailed), a gym junkie and a global volunteer.  But whenever we got together, we still had such a good time.

So the combination of Cambodia with Michelle seemed too good to pass up.  Like all good ideas I run with, I might have had a couple of glasses of wine.  I knew she was out at a Habitat reunion dinner that night (of course), but sent a message for her to call me if she didn’t get home too late. Cryptic enough to intrigue her but not to scare her.  Once I have what I consider to be a good idea, I just have to share it.  What can I say?  I’m a Gemini – you know, communicator of the zodiac and all that.  While I have finally learned how to keep a secret, I can’t keep my own secrets.

When she rang, my ideas all came pouring out in a torrent or words “I just want to ask you something.  And I totally understand if you say no, or yes.  I mean, I can see good reasons for both answers.  And I don’t want you to feel bad about telling me the truth.  In fact, I want you to be brutally honest with me.  (Deep breath) I’m thinking about coming with you to Cambodia.  What do you think?  Be honest.”

Silence.  Then, sputtering a little “Uh yeah.  That would be great.  Do you have the leave and everything?  Is this going to cause a financial crisis for you?” 

I told you we think alike.  I hear in her tone, after the initial element of surprise had passed, a growing enthusiasm.  I went on. 

“Yeah.  I think it is doable and you know how I feel about Cambodia.  I think it would be a blast.  I mean I haven’t decided yet.  I’m just toying with the idea but I really wanted to know what you thought.  I didn’t want you think I was some sort of hanger-on.” 

She said something then, I don’t recall what, that seemed to require me to clarify.  “I mean I would come for the build.”

More silence.  Both Michelle and I are such girls with tools and manual labor.  No doubt, Michelle has acquired some skills during the last three builds.  While I have a secret passion for power tools, my husband has managed to keep them away from me ever since I sanded the attic down to baseboards and nearly destroyed his computer equipment and cameras in the adjacent room.

I could tell she was really surprised that I was interested in the build.  But I thought, yes, I can build houses for four days for these people in this country.  It’s only five days… and 75% humidity … and hot.

We talked a bit more about logistics and then ended the conversation, both saying we would think on it a bit more and talk again in the next few days.  That was Thursday.

Cambodia or bust?

"And the day came when the risk to remain tight in a bud was more painful than the risk it took to blossom" - Anais Nin

It all started innocently enough.  It was Thursday and I was having a conversation with one of my closest friends, who is a Habitat build addict. Although Michelle had sworn up and down that she was not planning a build this year, she was now considering going to Cambodia for a mini-build.  All three previous Habitat for Humanity builds she had gone on had been in Nepal. 

Nepal seemed like it would be a nice country and all but seemed to attract adrenalin-junkie foreigners drawn to conquer its high peaks.  I was not such a person.  I’ve never understood when people answer the question “why did you climb the mountain?” with the response “because it was there”.  Really? 

But Cambodia…. Thoughts of it infiltrated the tiny pocket of adventure in the back of my soul.  Beautiful, friendly people.  Former French colony (so probably some really yummy food).  Heartbreaking past.  Gorgeous architecture, temples and landscape.  *sigh*  But unlike my friend, I was not a “Habitater”  I’m not particularly religious and have always thought that people who spent their holidays building houses in remote villages for extremely poor people were drawn to (and got through) such experiences because of their spiritualism, usually in the form of organized religion. 

Michelle has, in the time I’ve know her, always acted from a core of spiritualism while continually questioning and searching for answers through organized religion.  I, on the other hand, had given up on that long ago.  I consider that I have a moral code of humanitarianism but am not really able to commit to more than that.  In addition to which I was still recovering from my last foray into humanitarianism, but I digress.

Michelle, in her usual way, was torturing herself over whether she would go on this build or not and had been for a month now.  I was urging her to go (I mean, its Cambodia).  She decided she would probably go and we began talking about fundraising.

Of the two of us, I was thought of (including by Michelle) as the more outgoing one and she had asked me to MC her fundraising dinner.  I had also offered to help her fundraise by hosting drinks or a morning tea at work.  I made an offhand comment like “You have to go.  I’m living vicariously through you and your adventures.  Hell.  I’d go with you if it weren’t for my elderly father and my umpteen thousands of dollars of debt.”  She decided to go to Cambodia.

That night, on the way home from work, I was telling my husband about my day and mentioned my recent conversation with Michelle, including my off-hand remark.  He said “Well, why don’t you go?  I mean, if you really want to, you should.”  Really?  Should I?  It was a real ‘ah ha’ moment when I realized that yes, I could go.

So then my torture started. Were there ‘better’ things I could spend my money on?  Undoubtedly, depending on priorities.  Did I have enough leave to do both that and my annual pilgrimage to the U.S. to see my dad?  Yes.  Was there enough time to do everything to get ready (write a will, get the panoply of shots required, fundraise, sign up, buy water filters and hand sanitizer, organize the time off)?  Barely, but it was doable. 

Then came the self-doubt.  I’m 46 with bad knees and a crap back.  Would a Habitat build cripple me?  I’ve also become very fond of my cushy westernized lifestyle.  Would I cope?  Would I want to?  Would I even be any use on such a build? And then the biggest question – would Michelle even want me tagging along?  I mean, I would look like such a pathetic copycat.  This is her big passion, not mine.  And why did I want to go anyway?  Maybe I could wuss out and just go for the touristy bit after the build?  Maybe I shouldn’t go at all.  It would involve reorganizing my plans to spend Christmas with Dad and if he took a bad turn, maybe I should be saving my money for that eventuality. 

But it’s Cambodia.  And Michelle.