Hurricane Sandy hit the East coast of the United States today.
Millions of people witnessed
the combined power of surging wind-blown seas,
spring tides and a cold weather front
sweeping into their streets and their homes
suspending the routine of lives lived in familiar patterns

shops emptied of supplies
transport systems closed, schools closed, businesses closed
even the stock exchange is  closed
as millions take shelter
alongside bottles of water and food supplies that protect them from
waiting for the violence of the storm to subside

last week a storm hit the west coast of France, Spain and Portugal
in a fury of wind and water that drowned their houses and cars
57 people were killed

an earthquake shook the seas off the Californian coast
raising fears of a tsunami

within a short week
we are confronted with the fragility of the systems that hold us
against the force of this elemental power

the planet has shaken her mantle before,
but things are different now

we have settled in our increasing millions
along the shores of her oceans
the faults of her mantle
at the feet of her growing mountains

and every time she shivers
the structures and systems that have taken centuries build
are wiped out in a few hours

there is something that happens in these moments of chaos
when we are called so starkly into dealing with the present
when we leave our homes with our supplies
shifted out of the normality of our lives
and even the rescue services can’t hold back the damage

It is as if some other part of us wakes up
and we become part of a cooperative, coordinated action
that calls us back to community beings
to lay sand bags along shop fronts
take care of the old lady next door
the kid down the street

will we find a vision that holds us in this chaos
that enables us to stand here in the fire
the floods and the flow?

will we start learning something beyond saving ourselves
and the security of our singular lives?

do we need chaos to prompt us into our wider selves?

are realizations of great significance only born of pain?

in Syria the government forces bombed their capital
killing their own children
and we watch the world on our screens
horrified but detached
until ‘we are the ones’

this week carries great learning . . .

On Saturday we held a memorial celebration of the life Nola Kate Reeler
Tony’s mother, who left us 2 weeks ago at the age of 87.

Her hand is one of the oldest Elijah and Daniel – her 2 great grandsons – will ever hold

Who was the oldest hand she ever held?
her Huguenot grandparents?
who left their grandparents in Europe
to come and grow grapes on the other side of the world?

What stories this hand has lived through
from her Afrikaner childhood in the Cape
to a home she and her husband made in a newly developing Rhodesia 60 years ago

A home which held the lives of her 3 children
her neighbours and friends and all of their children
members of the Benevolent Helping Hand, the Citizens Advice Bureau, the Legal Aid Clinic
her political allies in her fight against Ian Smiths ‘illegal regime’
her dinners and celebrations,
the Easter Bunny and Father Christmas

The home she only left only a week before she died

On Saturday her children, and the children of her friends, and the friends of her children
whose lives she had touched
met in her home and spoke of the part she played in their growing
and her grandchildren spoke of the magic she had brought to theirs
weaving together the different threads this grand old lady
had loved, challenged, educated, inspired into being
and fed with her wonderful cooking

Three more of her great grandchildren will be born within the next 5 months

One day these new, innocent  young hands
will be the oldest hands a new life will touch
and their story – threaded together with all the stories that came before them
their light and dark,
the changes and challenges,
the love and laughter
will hold the continuum of our lives

tiny hands holding old fingers
carrying stories that touch through time

“If seven maids with seven mops
Swept it for half a year.
Do you suppose,” the Walrus said,
“That they could get it clear?”
“I doubt it,” said the Carpenter,
And shed a bitter tear.

This morning the tide line at Noordhoek beach was marked with a bright trail of plastic litter
If this is the result of one high tide, what is left out there in the ocean must surely make us weep.

Today is equinox
for a few moments the planet will pass through a place of balance with the sun
equal light and dark.

How far are we from the movement of this celestial dance?

Where did  we lose awe?  the reverence?
the honouring of our relationship with this extraordinary planet we inhabit?

Are we ready,
yet,
to let ourselves feel this loss?
for perhaps it is only in this opening
that we will be ready to take the responsibility for healing our brokenness
ready to dance on waste heaps, on littered beaches
and celebrate equinox with the pain and the awe
in balance?

One third of the children in America are facing diabetes
one in four children in UK are facing obesity
children in Sweden had a 20%  increase of ‘computer-game-addiction’ this summer holiday
children in Syria are being bombed and slaughtered every day
one third of the children in Zimbabwe are orphans

Children being born into our world today are facing an abandonment of global proportions
by parents, communities, governments

love and family and  support
lost to disease and death
or replaced by goodies, and bad food and computers

yesterday – driving through town, I opened my window
to the street kids
who stand smiling – eyes at window level – hands out
and tell me their names
when their mother died

What have these young eyes seen?
now left to survive on the streets alongside the litter and detritus of our urban waste

these are the children of the future – all of them
and we are failing them . . .

Our Tree of Life Partners circle held special significance for us this month:
We stood together in a silent circle
remembering all those people across the planet
who had endured this terrifying experience

There were over 50 of us and more eighty percent are survivors of torture

We are a diverse collection of Zimbabweans who represent rural and urban communities
the women who are the farmers, look after the children, sell the vegetables on the side of the road
community leaders and elders and officials
street-smart young city kids
youth groups
church representatives

These victims of violence are the facilitators and organizers
who now own and use these workshops in their communities

and they are held together with one intention
to bring healing and peace

We passed the stone round the circle with a question -
‘What have you seen over this last year that has inspired you?’

‘We have now had workshops with our headmen and chiefs – we no longer have to worry about security’

‘We have been commemorating UN day in Support of Torture Victims lighting candles and having prayers in churches across Harare so many people have come’

I spoke of Sehlewle, sitting next to me:

When we met 8 years ago in South Africa
she had fled Zimbabwe after being terribly tortured and beaten
the bones in her leg irredeemably broken

A frightened young woman in terrible pain
living in a foreign city cut off from her community
She came to one of our first Tree of Life workshops.
and finally got to tell  her story in a circle she felt she could trust.

Now she is back home, and still facilitating with us
Last week, with Mike, she ran a Tree of Life workshop for the first time in her home town Bulawayo
They sat in circle with the old warriors of the nation
the former freedom fighters
and helped them tell the stories they had been holding onto for over 20 years.
They said it was just wonderful
and they have been asked to come back and run more!

I sit in a circle surround by people who have not just learned to survive
they have become creators of peace in their communities.

It has been 9 long years since the first Tree of Life Circles
and we have struggled through all sorts of adversity
but now it has found its time…
something is changing and we are no longer intimidated

when we confront the fear in ourselves
and join hands across the divides of separation that have held us in isolation
we become masters of our own destiny
we begin to see ‘peace’ emerging

the work begins at home

This  month, Zimbabweans were told that every car on the roads was to be entered into a computerized data base.

To re-register our cars, we had to go to Designated-Post-Offices with the following:
-the car registration book – plus photocopy
-a new insurance receipt starting from June – plus photocopy
-a new computer form (available at Post Offices) – plus photocopy

however:
-the 8 or so Designated-Post-Offices were only ready 7 days before the end of May(2 days of which were weekend and 1 day a public holiday)
-the Designated-Post-Office–Staff appear to have been missed out from any computer training and take up to 20 mins. per car
-the Designated-Post-Offices had no Photocopy machines
-none of these Designated-Post-Offices had alternative power sources – and ZESA had no schedule for power cuts

Long patient queues of people built up over 5 hour power cuts – often to be turned away and told to return the next day with a number

Today, 2 days from the promised expiry date

I arrived at a Designated-Post-Office at 7 am  – the time of promised opening
by 7.30 the post office was still closed –Ipana ZESA (no electricity)
ahead of me were over 60 people who had their numbers from yesterday and another 60 or so hopefuls like myself
there was lots of muttering and wry humour (Zimbabweans laugh at themselves with easy resignation)

At 8 am someone appeared on the door step and assured us that a generator was being brought and set up
we stared in disbelief – generator from where? set up where? how long?
At 8.15 a member of the crowd stood on the railings and told us that his brother at ZESA assured him we would be ‘on’ in 15 mins

We cheered. . .

At 8.30 the doors opened and the tide (now at least 350 strong)surged into the Designated-Post-Office
up to the two single counters that were open at the end of a one way passage
the crowds were crammed into a tight, urgent, loud crush
there was a good deal of commotion as everyone sorted out their personal body space (zero)
lots of shouting on the edge of anger, and a good deal of laughter
the  Designated-Post-Office-Manager eventually was called to stand on the counter and demand that those at the back, backed out the door. (There was no turning round in the squeeze.)

then we waited – the computers were not programmed yet
a harassed man moved between the 2 computers helping the assistants get started
the air was filled with ironic commentary
and then – we finally began to move

You might ask how I – 120 back in the queue – managed to witness the chaos

A cry had gone out down the queue – ‘Pensioners come first’
a few of us with appropriately grey hair and baggy faces were singled out
and shifted through the body-press
as Moses parting the Red Sea
treated with utter respect and no sign of the rancor that I would have felt
to the front of the counter

I was out at 9.35 feeling rather dazed

Of course, I am still wondering about the word ’Pensioners’
this being a country where there is no such thing as a pension.
perhaps ‘elders’ would feel more comfortable!!!

But I am definitely not complaining
it’s now 3.30pm and those poor ‘young’ people are still standing
in mile long queues outside the Designated-Post-Offices

The Pensioner