Archive for the 'Fusion Stories' Category

by Guest blogger Alan Lane

Sir Edmund Hillary, conqueror of Mount Everest with the late Sherpa Tenzing Norgay, died in New Zealand on 11 January 2008, aged 88.

As a tribute to Sir Edmund Hillary’s extraordinary life, writer Alan Lane steps back in time to recount a conversation with Hillary in Canada on the 30th anniversary of the Everest climb. He talks about the ascent and his life at that time.

Big Ed

It is no coincident that Edmund Percival Hillary has become known as ‘Big Ed.’ As he rises from his chair to greet you, there develops a feeling of size (he is 6ft 3 in tall, broad- shouldered and close to 200lb). There is also a breadth of vision gained from a lifetime embracing challenges which for others remain permanently in their fantasies.

The appearance is craggy, but unlike the ascent on Everest, approaching the former bee-keeper from Taukau, New Zealand, is considerably easy. The grin on the weathered face is genial, and deep-set eyes trained from years of scanning distant horizons peer searchingly from beneath cliff-like brows. The handshake is firm without trying to impress.

Hillary has never given any time to pretence or the fineries of society. Loping through the Toronto headquarters of Simpsons-Sears, who he advises on sporting equipment, he is unmistakable among the well-groomed secretaries and executives. A rumpled suit and bulging, battered briefcase which has seen many a base camp, underline his down-to-earth informality and aversion to the cocktail circuit. “I have never been a great social butterfly and can well do without it,” he tells me.

For many people all over the world, Big Ed dropped out of sight after Everest. As one Australian student told him at a Sydney high school: I’m glad you’re looking so well. I have read abut you in the history books and I thought you were dead.”

Since then he has led the first vehicle expedition overland to the South Pole and headed an international group searching for the Yeti (the Abominable Snowman). He also led an expedition travelling in jet boats up the Ganges River in India to trace its source in the Himalayas.

Physically-fit

Now in his early 60s, this maestro of the snowline has always striven to stay physically-fit. He never trains formally for expeditions but walks an hour a day. To maintain his best climbing weight he will walk for five days in the Himalayan foothills in Nepal to his work building schools and hospitals with the Sherpa people. He would rather walk than take an aircraft. Once he walked 240 km (150 miles) in 12 days, climbing to 1500m (5,000ft) when monsoons grounded flights.

This firm grasp on his physical condition has at times been elusive. One day in New Zealand as his 50th year approached, he took a look at himself and became disenchanted with what he saw.

“I had a mild hangover from a surfeit of good food and wine, my discarded clothes reeked with other people’s tobacco smoke. Almost unconsciously I was slipping into the easy habits of most of the well-meaning, self indulgent and well-heeled members of society. If I became too physically soft I would be worth nothing to myself or to anybody else.”

On a notepad beside the bed he wrote a short list of resolutions – things he had wanted to do for years which would help to keep him reasonably fit and adventurous.

The first task was to escape the telephone and the concrete jungle – his term for a city. This was achieved by building a cottage on the cliffs above the Tasman Sea, outside Auckland, in New Zealand’s North Island – facing the setting sun and without a telephone. The list of objectives has continued to grow.

Such a life has not been without its personal traumas for Edmund Hillary. The death of his wife, Louise, and daughter in a Katmandu air crash several years ago has left “a great gap” in his life. Louise was a constant companion on his aid projects in the Himalayas – the place where he has directed most of his energies in recent years, away from the high profile glories of mountaineering.

The lectures he gives have increasingly reflected deeper involvement in world problems – racialism, the population explosion, conservation of the environment and the increasing gap in wealth between the rich and poor nations.

Nepalese mountain people

During his years among the Nepalese mountain people he became committed to improving their physically demanding, harsh lifestyle. He set up his Himalayan Foundation in New Zealand and established a Canadian equivalent to raise funds for this work.

Since the early 1960s, he and a team of helpers and the Sherpa people have provided hospitals, schools, airfields and piped water for the mountain people of Nepal. It’s a major contribution to a country of 13 million people, where only nine out of every 100 can read or write, and the nearest medical care for many is several days’ walk away.

Working, planning and climbing in Nepal can take up to six months of his year. During this time he strives to prepare the mountain people for inevitable changes in their lifestyle.

“Tourism has become an important business and quite a lot of money is involved,” he says. “There is nothing much I can do about these changes but I can try to ensure, with the agreement of the local people, that they do not get left behind.

“What has happened so many times is that the local people become needed just as a source of labour. By providing education, health care and communication facilities I have been able to ensure that the Sherpas have the knowledge of how to do things for themselves – such as running the hotels and trekking businesses which have been established. I prefer to see the Sherpas steering their own ship rather than just being trampled on.”

The changes for which Hillary is preparing the Sherpas are already influencing their way of life.

“Divorce is much more common now in the community. The Sherpas are under great pressure of a type they had not previously experienced. Their previous tough, hard lifestyle had a regular pattern of habits but now they have a great deal more money and their lifestyle is changing. I want to see them confident in their new environment and I have been able to play a small part in achieving this.”

Hillary’s no-nonsense style and earthy approach to life is legendary. A suggestion that a larger share of New Zealand’s national purse should be devoted to assisting the poorer countries drew the following reply from the Minister of Finance (described by Hillary as “well nourished”): “I think Sir Edmund Hillary knows as much about the New Zealand economy as I know about mountain climbing.”

Even at what was the pinnacle of mountaineering achievement, his style remained unchanged. After the descent from Everest’s summit he told fellow expedition members: “Well, we knocked the bastard off.”

Everest ascent

Thirty years later, Hillary cast his mind back to 11.30am on May 29, 1953, when he stepped on to the summit of Everest, with the Nepalese Sherpa, Tenzing Norgay. It was a time of climbing with simple army equipment, leather boots which froze and thick hemp rope of the type used by ships – far removed from the specialized gear of today.

“My first reaction was one of surprise. I had been brought up thinking this mountain could never be conquered. Now, here was Ed Hillary on top of Everest. Who’d believe it. Everest was just another mountain. There are dozens of projects which have all been just as important.”

Would he do it again?

“I am physically incapable of doing it again. If I did try, I would tackle the most difficult route.”

He is amazed how the mystique of Everest has been retained. “We really felt it would all fade away when we conquered it. But there are still people lining up waiting to climb.”

On climbing and challenge today, he has this to say: “It is nonsense that people climb mountains just because they’re there. You wouldn’t put up with all that discomfort and grind your heart out just for the sake of it. It’s the challenge of fear and danger. You struggle with them. You extend your limits.

“There are challenges all around us if we take the trouble to identify them. Modern mountaineers are doing much more difficult things today than we were. The purpose of climbing then was to find the easiest way up. The route we took on Everest was only moderately difficult. Now the challenge is the difficult route.”

Rather a tent than hotel

As the interview draws to a close, Edmund Hillary prepares to leave for the United States, where he will test camping equipment for Sears Roebuck.

“I’m looking forward to that,” he says with a twinkle in his eye. “I’d rather sleep in a tent any day than stay in a hotel.”

We shake hands and it’s time to say farewell to this giant of a man.

As he sets off down the street, I recall his style of parting from fellow climbers at a crossroads deep in the Himalayas. They would be simple affairs. With a cheery “see you in a few months,” Big Ed would set off on foot heading for perhaps India, Tibet or Pakistan, quietly disappearing into the mist. In comparison, some of the traumas in our own lives could seem a little overdone.

While in the United States, Hillary will continue to raise funds for his work in the Himalayas. There, among the great mountains, he is known by the Sherpas as ‘Burra Sahib’ (Big Sir).

These hill people are never far from his mind. They gave him his most prized accolade for climbing Everest: a decoration from the Katmandu Taxi Drivers’Association.

His concern for the Sherpas’ future is well founded.

Tenzing, now 69, and known as the Tiger of the Snows in his home town of Darjeeling, said earlier this year: “There is a lot of change since Nepal opened for trekking. Everything is too commercial. Even the monks are having tea shops now, not praying any more.”

Alan Lane Toronto 1983

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

A tribute

11 January 2008. The news of Sir Edmund Hillary’s death made me dig deep into my files for a copy of this interview. Past conversations are not normally worth resurrecting; but the life of a bee-keeper from New Zealand was different. Here was someone who saw the big picture. Here was someone who managed fame and humanitarian work with equal humility; someone who grabbed life and ran with it.

Meeting the great man, the first on the roof of the world, left a lasting impression.

© Copyright Alan Lane Poole, UK January 2008

Alan Lane is founder and chief executive of VASGAMA providing reputation management consulting to international corporations and government.

Photo: thanks to achievement.org

This is the last in a three-part series by Alan Lane, about his experience of being inadvertently caught up in a war while on business in Beirut.

Part 1 of Escape from Beirut was posted here on Fusion View two weeks ago.

Part 2 of Escape from Beirut was posted up last Wednesday.

~~~

Alan writes:

Day six. The evacuation from Beirut’s Forum is orderly, well planned and a credit to Britain’s armed services. Families with children, those in wheelchairs and back-packers are part of the ensemble gathered for passport clearance, a feeling of desperation obvious among those taking a chance without the right documentation.

Security is tight. A British TV journalist filming the scene has his video camera confiscated by a guard. One by one we pass through passport control before leaving by bus for HMS York. On the quay, members of the media are anxious to gather our impressions on leaving a war zone. I do a live satellite feed interview with Ben Brown of BBC News 24. Once on board, we are asked to stay below while the ship negotiates the ‘safe passage’ negotiated with the Israeli and Hizbullah forces within the 12 nautical miles inside Lebanese territory.

Emotions are high as my fellow evacuees tell their stories in the cramped quarters of the warship, with children playing or asleep on the floor. It’s a story of separated families, abandoned homes, husbands electing to stay behind to run businesses, and an uncertain future of ‘not knowing if we will see each other again.’

We dock in Limassol in Cyprus at night after a surging 30-knots, six-hour journey. A clearing house for passport control with the Cypriot authorities has a Union Jack on the wall to welcome us. Calm is the order of the night, with rows of chairs each with a bottle of water. We are tired, hot and glad to be on neutral ground.

The fate of those who stayed is uncertain, especially for the Lebanese people. Without doubt, we had been the lucky ones.

Buses take us to the RAF Akrotiri NATO base, where immaculate, tanned British soldiers and women volunteers await to welcome us. One genteel volunteer asks me kindly whether I have been ‘affected by the bombing.’

Here, our quarters are a huge aircraft hangar lined with camp beds complete with clean sheets and towels for some 500 evacuees. Echoes of war-time Britain begin to stir.

After a shower in portable units outside, a welcome dinner is chips and beans, bread and drinks before we turn in for the night to the sound of helicopters and jet aircraft taking off.

Day 7. I rise early for the chartered flight to Gatwick, where on arrival I do a live satellite feed interview on the SKY News channel, and home in Dorset. Thoughts flood in on my escape from Beirut which had taken some 30 hours.

I recall the sights I did see in this troubled and historic country which would experience 34 days of war before a cease fire was called. The stunning caves of Jeita whose size and magic are straight out of the Lord of the Rings. The ancient harbour of Byblos, inhabited continuously for some 7,000 years. I recall the sights I missed. The Roman ruins at Baalbek, said to match anything in the Eternal City. The famous Cedars of Lebanon, said to have been used to build Solomon’s Temple.

I recall the noisy and joyous wedding celebrations around the hotel swimming pool that kept me awake until one in the morning before the serious bombing had started. How in a few days, an evening watching the World Cup on a terrace overlooking the Mediterranean Sea turned into a fully-fledged war zone. How locals despair that after years of rebuilding, their country once again is being demolished. How this beautiful, ancient land continues to be the punch-bag for Middle East politics.

~~~

Alan Lane is founder and chief executive of VASGAMA providing reputation management consulting to international corporations and government.

© Copyright: Alan Lane All rights reserved

Photo: showing Alan on his home balcony holding up a local paper with front page headlines
and pics of destruction in downtown Beirut -t thanks to Alan Lane

~~~

I really appreciate Alan taking the time to write about his experiences for this blog. For many of us, we are lucky enough never to be caught up in such a frightening situation. Watching the news reports from afar and in safety, it can be easy to numb ourselves and forget that real people suffer and real homes and lives are devastated. His account, for me, brings home the surreal feel of war and the beauty and humanity in a country torn by conflict beyond the control of ordinary people.

This is the second in a three-part series by Alan Lane about his experience of being inadvertently caught up in a war while on business in Beirut.

Part 1 of Escape from Beirut was posted here on Fusion View last Wednesday.

~~~~~~~~

Alan writes:

Day 3 (continued). It is Sunday and the feeling of being trapped and alone increases. Experiencing an attempted coup against the military government in Nigeria some years ago had been frightening; but at least the roads and Lagos airport had been left intact.

Chances of an evacuation by sea become slimmer when we hear the Israelis have bombed Jounieh and other ports along the coast road. It is the last straw for Tony and his family who plan to leave the next morning via taxi to Syria. But now it is even more dangerous, expensive (US$150 for a taxis has now become $1500) and crowded (some 300,000 refugees are to cross the border by the time I leave Lebanon).

I walk into the nearby village to collect my thoughts as the last expatriate at our hotel. Bells at the small church announce a service is being held. Clearly, despite war, people’s faith is still strong. I am working on the basis of assurances from the British Embassy that there is a plan to help Brits. I am advised to stay put, wait for the Embassy’s call and prepare to go the sea route. When and exactly how, I know not.

My loyal and wonderful driver Maurice confesses he is taking the stranding of visitors in his country badly. Maurice had showed me the Green Line in central Beirut. Across this no-man’s-land, Christians and Muslims had fought a Civil War for some 15 years. He talks of still having a bullet lodged in his neck from those troubled days.

I sit with him over a cup of coffee in his modest shop where he makes chocolates and runs a taxi service. He is a true humanitarian in all senses of the word and worries that soon there will be shortages of essentials: food, water, medical drugs and gasoline. Likewise, I struggle to deal with my own feelings on the tragedy unfolding in his beautiful land.

Day four. Tony and his family leave at 6.30 a.m. for the Syrian border where they then plan to head further south to Amman in Jordan. I ask their taxi driver for his view of the situation. His reply does nothing to re-assure me of my predicament. ‘The Israelis and Hizbullah have stopped fighting for 48 hours to allow all those left to evacuate,’ he tells me. ‘The Irish Embassy went in convoy towards Syria today.’

I ask Maurice to take me to Beirut port as I hear the French Government has arranged for a Mediterranean ferry boat to pick up expatriates today. He warns I may not get on board, being British. To test this out I phone the French Embassy and am told in a terse and very Gallic way: ‘Non, you ‘ave to be French.’ Understandable, but so much for the European entente cordial.

Several hours later, Britain’s Ambassador in Beirut, James Watt announces an evacuation plan by sea has begun for Britons, with HMS Illustrious and HMS Bulwark on their way from Gibraltar. I have already registered with the British Embassy, so I intend to continue my pattern over the next few days: hours of frantic telephoning to ensure I am included on any evacuee list.

I tap into the BBC News website which gives chapter and verse on the extent of a multinational evacuation – thought by some to be potentially the largest since the D-Day landings of the Second World War. Some 20 countries may be involved accounting for around 100,000 citizens living in the Lebanon if they all decided to leave.

By far the largest numbers are from the UK (10,000), the United States (25,000), France (20,000), Australia (25,000) and Canada (16,000), with considered options including aircraft, landing craft, military and commercial ships and convoys of buses over the Syrian and Jordanian borders. Later, I learn, many elect to stay.

Day five. The war becomes a hot debating issue among leaders at the G8 Summit in St. Petersburg, which seems far removed from the reality that is Beirut. Meanwhile, it is reported Israeli troops have crossed the Lebanese border, a further ominous sign for those of us still stranded. We are told we are in a ‘safe Christian area,’ but in war, nothing is guaranteed. During the Civil War, I am told, there was fighting in the grounds of our hotel and bullet holes in the walls.

Tell-tale signs that politically, the situation is reaching serious levels begin to emerge. I go to the bank to draw US dollars against my credit card to bolster a dwindling cash flow. I am told the government has stopped the issuing of the currency to prevent funds leaving the country.

Later that evening, I hear the good news from John Barrett, an area warden working with the British Embassy: that I am among some 350 Britons to be evacuated the next morning by the Royal Navy destroyer, HMS York. John, I later learn, in his unofficial and amazing ‘Schindler’s List’ role, helped many people leave the Lebanon during the war.

~~~~

Next Wednesday: Evacuation at last…

Alan Lane is founder and chief executive of VASGAMA providing reputation management consulting to international corporations and government.

© Copyright: Alan Lane All rights reserved

Photo: showing view from the mountains in Beirut of Israeli ships blockading the harbour - thanks to Alan Lane

When I met Alan Lane earlier this year on a balmy September evening in London, we started talking about cross-cultural lives as I told him about some of the fusion stories that I have showcased here on Fusion View. We found that we shared a global outlook and an interest in cultures across the world. Alan then told me how he had been in Beirut on business when he was caught up in a war.

This is the first of a three part series that Alan has offered to share on Fusion View about his experiences of the war in Beirut.

~~~~

Alan writes:

Israeli jets began bombing the Lebanon on 12 July 2006 in retaliation when three of its soldiers were captured by the Hizbullah Islamic group in the southern part of the country. What followed was a 34 day war.

The frightening reality sinks in at around four in the morning. Through the open balcony door of my hotel room overlooking Beirut comes the distant whine of an Israeli jet aircraft.

Reaching the window, I see and hear the crackle of red tracer fire from anti-aircraft guns. A huge ‘crump’ shakes the building as the aircraft’s guided missile hits the southern suburbs. Nearby, the sky is lit by a fire raging at a fuel storage tank destroyed by a bomb.

Now, for the first time in my life, I am in a war zone and my worst nightmare has begun.

Day 1. I realise I should have known better the previous afternoon. In retaliation for Lebanon’s Hizbullah (Party of God) capturing two of its soldiers on the southern border, Israel had carpet-bombed all airports just hours before I was due to leave Beirut for home in the UK after a five-day business trip.

But I was naïve. Like many others, I believed this was just a warning shot by the Israelis to their sworn enemy.

A sense of panic ripples throughout my hotel, considered a safe Christian refuge in the hills above Beirut. Rumours begin to spread. Had Gulf States embassy groups escaped along the main Beirut to Damascus highway into Syria before it was cut by Israeli bombing? How long would it take for this road to be blocked? The answer comes within hours as Israeli bombs slice through this route crossing the beautiful Bekaa Valley.

By now, it is clear Israel intends to trap Hizbullah – and us by default – within Lebanon’s borders, having already blockaded the port with gun-ships visible from my balcony. We begin to realise this is no short, sharp military response but potentially a long, drawn-out affair leaving us with few exit options.

Day two. Tensions build among my fellow guests. Exit plans are being desperately considered as Israeli precision bombing takes out more roads, bridges and other infrastructure. Night-time bombardment from the air or sea is becoming a regular part of life; and although seemingly distant, we don’t know for how long we will be safe.

Both expatriates and Lebanese consider routes through Lebanon’s northern valleys, a stronghold for Hizbullah. Others opt for the longer and potentially safer coastal route through Tripoli into Syria, or the almost circular drive through Syria into Jordan. Either way, the situation is beginning to mirror Saigon’s last days during the Vietnam War; the only difference being, we hope, that no-one is coming to kill us.

Day three. It is decision time for me and my fellow guests. The coast road is now being bombed and many thousands of evacuees queue at the Syrian border, some with visas, those without often being turned back. Stories abound of refugees walking for several kilometres across the border with their baggage, of people sleeping on the streets of Damascus as there are no hotel rooms available. For those of us left in Beirut, the exit window is gradually closing.

We hear one group took a bus up over the Syrian border and somehow made their way to Aleppo, leaving us wondering how they would make their way from this relatively remote small town noted in the annals of Lawrence of Arabia’s desert campaign.

Dubai-based Briton Paul Drummond and Washington-based David and Lois Khairallah take the gamble and opt for the coastal road by taxi. So too, does a Kuwaiti, who joins a convoy leaving from his country’s embassy in the hills. Paul had been worried about rumours pointing to civil unrest in the Lebanon following the onslaught of war. David and I had spent many hours walking the hotel gardens agonising over the decision.

I, in my cowardice or perhaps good sense, choose to stay and consider my options. I am joined by Tony and his family from New York, who, in generous style says if my government can’t get me out, then ‘we won’t leave you behind’ and I can go with the Americans.

Hour by hour, the hotel’s TV broadcasts in English and Arabic relay the heightening conflict. While Israel pounds Beirut from the air and sea, Hizbullah sends showers of rockets over the border into Israeli territory. We watch transfixed as Hizbullah leader Sheikh Hassan Nasrullah provides a ‘watch this, as it happens’ live commentary while his forces set fire to an Israeli gun-boat in the port with what is thought to be a self-propelled drone bomb.

Meanwhile, the political rhretoric becomes more alarming in this potential scenario for a full-blown Middle East regional war.

Lebanon Prime Minister Fouad Siniora describes Israel’s actions as ‘opening the gates of hell and madness’ while ‘cutting his country to pieces.’ Israel responds by repeating its demands for Hizbullah to be disarmed and threatening to ‘turn back the clock 20 years for Lebanon’ if the captured soldiers are not returned.

Among the guests, Lebanese people I talk to are split on what is unfolding before their eyes. Some see the Israeli action as an unmitigated disaster for their country and a gross intrusion backed by the United States. Others, at this point in time, see it as a way to weaken Hizbullah’s unwelcome influence in their society.

Refugees from southern Beirut continue to pour into our hotel in cars, mini-buses and four-by-fours loaded with personal belongings en route to the border. To my surprise, I am advised by locals to ‘watch what I say’ as some of our visitors are from Hizbullah territory. I tend not to judge those I know nothing about; yet the unwelcome ghosts of Terry Waite’s fate as a hostage in the 1980s drift in, and as a precaution, I check my normally open conversational style.

Meanwhile, down the hill, restaurant trade is still booming as the durable Lebanese insist on trying to live life as normal while the ‘thump’ of bombs can be heard below in central Beirut. Against a history of conflict and culture dating back to Phoenician times, the Lebanese are born survivors and traders with a phlegmatic approach to war and unrest. A 15-year civil war from 1975 to 1990 has cultivated an approach of ‘whatever the risks, life has go on.’

I ask one of the kind and helpful Lebanese staff at my hotel for his views on the situation. His reply is as honest as it is chilling: ‘It is very bad; I think you should leave right now.’

~~~~

Next Wednesday: Day 3 continues as, trapped at the hotel, Alan waits for the British Embassy to come up with an evacuation plan.

Alan Lane is founder and chief executive of VASGAMA providing reputation management consulting to international corporations and government.

Photo shows view from the mountains in Beirut of Israeli ships blockading the harbour - thanks to Alan Lane

© Copyright: Alan Lane All rights reserved

One drizzly day in London, a colleague mentioned that his step-sister was just qualifying as an elephant doctor in Botswana. In our air-conditioned office with our identical desks and grey demountable partitions, looking out at the grey streaks over the grey city I was intrigued by the idea of a different kind of career path and a different kind of lifestyle. So I tracked down Elephant Kate and got her to tell me about what it takes to become an elephant doctor.

From Botswana, Kate sent me her responses to my email interview:

YM: First off, give me a quick thumbnail of who you are.

Kate: I am a research associate at the University of Bristol. Curiosity always got the better of me and my childhood was spent peering under rocks for what might be living underneath. However, whilst living in Asia, it was elephants that really caught my imagination. A promise to an elephant, on a visit to an elephant orphanage sealed my future and made me pursue my dreams to be an elephant researcher. Since 2002, I have been living her dream, studying elephants in the Okavango Delta Botswana.

What inspired to become an elephant doctor?

It was on a visit to an elephant Orphanage in Sri Lanka at the age of seven that shaped the rest of my life. I made a promise to an elephant that I would help in their conservation. As, we all know an elephant never forgets and so from that day I had one dream and one ambition, to be an elephant researcher.

Can you describe where you are now based?

My camp is based in the western Okavango Delta. I live in a tent so feel very much in touch with the environment in which I life. The view from my tent is typical Delta, a horizon that goes on forever interrupted by islands covered in palm trees with water or flood plain in between (depending on the season). It is pure wilderness, the home of the animals and I am just a visitor. Yet I feel far safer here then I do in a city, where the sharp lines of modern architecture are sore to my eyes, the noise of cars and people living sore to my ears. Contrary to public believe the bush or countryside is never quiet, there is always something going on – at night I am often awoken by the roar of lions, the trumpeting of elephants, the call of the bell frog, or the spotted genet (like a small cat) running around the roof of my tent. When I come back to the UK, I cannot sleep because it is too quiet.

What is your typical day like?

On a normal day, I awake just before dawn when the birds start to sing. My favourite dawn chorus is when the woodland kingfishers are in camp. Slowly the horizon turns pink as the sun starts to rise. As the day breaks more birds and animals join in. I listen for the tell tell signs of predators before I walk up to the kitchen to make a cup of tea before heading out to find the elephants. If I have heard elephants during the night I will head in that direction, particularly if I have not seen any for a few days. If not then I go out tracking the elephants that have collars in the area, at the moment the only ones that have collars are the released elephants. Since 2002, we have released five elephants from a herd used in the safari industry at Elephant Back Safaris. It is always wonderful to see them and she who they are hanging out with and how they are interacting and slowly becoming integrated into the wild social system. When I first started the research project there would be days when I did not see another person. Listening to the radio chat from the nearby safari camp was all the contact I had with humans. I did not mind it during the day when I was out with the elephants, but at the end of the day I felt lonely when there was no one to share my amazing day with. Now I am slowly building up a team and its great to be able to talk elephants with people. I am also more a part of the fabric and have friends at the nearby safari camp, and indeed camp where the research is based has now opened as a commercial camp open to tourist so I get to meet some very interesting people from all over the world. I do sometimes miss the tranquillity of the camp when it was just me.

Can you tell us something about the elephant culture?

Up until recently very little was know about male elephants, as research has concentrated on the more social females and their herds. I study the males and trying to add to the knowledge we have of them. I feel privileged to spend time with the males and I feel I am amongst friends when I am with them. What intrigues me the most is the social relationship of males. It is not random associations, males are choosing who to hang out with – it is these relationships I would like to understand – are they mates from long ago, new friends, relatives? What we do know is that old males are important to the development of young males and integral to the fabric of male elephant society. It is this relationship I see paralleling in our human society. As the social units break down and young males are left without mentors, males to look up to, to learn from and to be disciplined by we see an increase in delinquency and unsocial behaviour and this is evident in both our societies and those of elephants. Perhaps it is time we should learn from the animals.

Can you tell the differences between individual elephants?

When I first started my research I knew I wanted to get to know the population and the individuals within it. As I drove around all the elephants looked the same; big and grey. How would I ever get to know the individuals? Slowly, over the years the big grey gentle giants have become individuals, ‘William Wallace, Shaka Zulu, Dingaan, Nelson Mandela, Ganesh, and Oliver Cromwell – when I say their names I can see their faces in my mind and how I differentiate between them is primarily through their ears. Elephant have big ears, we all now that – the infamous Dumbo had the largest of all. The ears are often torn or have holes in and so by taking photos of these and making sketches of them as well as other characteristics such as the size and shape of their ears, or bodily scars help me tell whose who. So far I have identified over 500 males and 100 females, and so whilst there are a few that visit often and who I can tell at first glance, there are others that take a while to ID and others that are new to me.

Do you have a favourite elephant?

People often ask me who my favourite elephant is, and I have many. But if pushed I always say Mafunyane. He is a very special elephant and one I have spent most time with. He signifies the beginning of the project and my living my dream. He was the reason it all began, as he was the first elephant to be released on the 1st February 2002. He first came up to Botswana in the 80’s as he was originally from the Kruger National Park in South African and when his herd was culled as part of the management program there, he and other young claves were brought by the owner of EBS, Randall Moore, to expand his safari herd. It was always Randall’s vision to release the young males when they hit adolescence and it was their natural instinct to leave their herd and become independent. And so when Mafunyane began to show behaviour that it was time for him to leave, we put a satellite collar around his neck and bid him luck in his life outside of the herd. And so for the past five years I have followed him and seen him become slowly integrated into the wild bull society, growing ever more confident to leave the area he knows and explore more of the delta.

What are the challenges facing elephants in the region?

Botswana has a healthy population, the largest population of elephant left in the world at approximately 120,000. But elephants all over the world are losing habitat and struggling for survival. Slowly as time ticks by they are slowly loosing the battle as the areas they are allowed to inhabit and utilise become smaller and smaller. Most populations are small fragmented populations and we have to manage them more and more, moving individuals around to ensure genetic diversity and sustainability. Ivory is still very much in demand and the price per pound is on the rise, carved into beautiful objects the tusks are a poor reminder of the beautiful beast it once belonged to. With the rise in the price of ivory there is the evitable rise in poaching in certain areas. We have to decide if we can give them the space they and other species need and the protection they deserve.
For me a world without elephants would be a very poor world indeed and one I am not sure I would be able to live in.

What are some of the things you miss about the UK?

  Family
  Friends
  Pubs
  Long English summers
  English villages
  The Welsh Coast
  The theatre
  The sea
  Mountains

Anything else you’d like to share?

I feel very privileged to be living in the magic of the delta, living my dream and have a chance to pay something back to Botswana . This would not have been possible without the help and support of Randall Moore of Elephant Back Safaris. He and I are joining forces once more to enable us to give something back to the country and animals we love so much. We are setting up the Elephants for Africa Trust to be able to continue with the research but a large aspect of this trust will be to provide funds for a Motswana Scholarship Fund to enable local students to carry out their postgraduate degrees. Our first student is about to embark on his Masters degree and I look forward to supervising him and working with him.

To find out more:

Go to Elephant Research at http://www.elephantresearch.co.uk

There are some great profiles of the different elephants, with each of their individual stories in the Elephant Profiles section.

You can also help by adopting an elephant in the Adopt an Elephant section. Or you can support the cause by buying cards, notelets etc or giving a donation via the relevant links on the site.

If you do contact Elephant Research, do mention that you came to them via Fusion View!

Concluding my email interview with poet Rob Mackenzie:

YM: You also spent 4 years in Italy. What were you doing there? Do you speak Italian?

Rob: In Turin, I worked for the Waldensian church, a tiny Protestant denomination which holds claim to being the oldest Reformed church in the world. Much of my work involved giving support, advice, and help to asylum seekers, refugees, and those who were in Italy illegally.The church ran a support project, which linked up to other projects and organisations ran by the local council, the government and the Catholic church. I do speak Italian, although Im not fluent, and Im probably getting worse after two years in Scotland. I translate Italian poetry now and again, partly to keep fresh whatever language skills I have left.

Was there a cultural difference/ culture shock when you were in Italy? I would imagine there to be less of a difference as Italy is in Europe but perhaps there is more of a difference?

I think there was less of a difference, but because I could understand the differences more easily, it sometimes felt as if there was more of a difference if that makes any sense at all. To be honest, I think most British people would be very surprised to find how very different living in Italy is from the UK, as we tend to go on holidays to Europe and not notice the differences other than the obvious ones i.e. food, sun, wine etc
The bureaucracy drove me crazy, the TV was awful, the emphasis on family felt exclusionary at times to outsiders like myself (although the Turin people have the reputation as the least friendly people in Italy), and Italians shared with Korea this idea of letting you hear what you wanted to hear, irrespective of what they actually planned to do.

On the other hand, Turin was a beautiful city, my daughter couldnt go ten yards along the street without being fussed over by complete strangers (and its true that children and young people are far happier and valued morein Italy than in the UK), and we did make some good friends there. Not to mention the food and wine!

How has having lived in three cultures influenced you? What have you taken away from each of them?

From Scotland Ive taken a misguided pride, a black humour, and a stubbornness that must be a national characteristic. From Korea, Ive learned what generosity and hospitality towards outsiders really involve. From Italy, I can identify strongly with the sense of being European more than just Scottish, and I also have this grim sense that when our politicians say they are going to tackle the problems affecting young people in this country (drink, violence, hanging about the streets bored etc.), they are starting from entirely the wrong perspective because the problems go deeper than they think, and no change will come unless they tackle the root problems. I think they could learn a lot from looking at Italy.

What was it like coming back to live in the UK? And specifically in Scotland?

At first it was good. Everyone spoke English, which was so much less effort than Italian! And we could get things in the shops that were hard to come by in Italy. But soon we began to realise that these things didnt matter so much. I liked my local grocers shop and the market stalls in Turin where all the staff knew me. I liked the way you could hardly find a ready-cooked microwave meal, and I really, really missed the dry winters and the warmth of the other seasons. Would I go back to Italy in the future, given an opportunity? Yes.

Do you feel that you are now “home” in Scotland?

No, although there have been advantages. Ive made contact with the UK and Edinburgh poetry scene that I felt far away from in Turin. HappenStance may not have been as interested in publishing my poetry chapbook if I had been based in Italy, as selling it requires doing readings etc. My wife is firmly part of the amateur theatre scene in Edinburgh, which is what she loves more than anything. My daughter is getting on well at her nursery school. So well be here for a while yet, but I dont think well stay in the UK for ever.

Will you share a poem on Fusion View as my other poet contributors have done?

Will this do?

TAXI

We take the Eurostar from Oulx and shift
two Filipinos from our pre-booked seats.
Outside the Porta Susa station, roadworks
attack the tarmac and the senses, force
the taxis fifty metres from their rank.
Kebab and couscous overrun the pavements.
A Lega Nord pamphlet pins robberies
on refugees. Our daughter shades her eyes
against the winter sun that casts white walls
in negative. Two black women arrive,
toggle their overcoats to sap the chill
from the wind’s whine, and then a cab draws in:
we gather cases, cot and pushchair,
a dropped teddy bear. Footsteps slide past us -
the women test the taxi doors. The driver
waves them away. ‘Priority for kids,’
he says. Only in Italy, I think.
‘And we were here before you anyway,’
I tell the women. They shrug their shoulder pads
and claim to head some queue. ‘So are you blind?’
I ask. They turn towards the newsagent
where billboard headlines hawk the evening scoop
that boats sank close by Sicily, fifty
clandestini dead, and thirty-five
half-starved. The driver shakes his head, observes,
‘They are not blind, but African,’ and bangs
our case into his boot. ‘Priority
for whites,’ he really means, and at our gate
the price is way too high, and still we pay.

from The Clown of Natural Sorrow (HappenStance Press, December 2005)

Copyright Rob Mackenzie

Photo: thanks to unep.org

I’m delighted to introduce you to Rob Mackenzie, a poet based in Scotland whose blogs at Surroundings . We got rather carried away when I interviewed him as he had some many interesting things to share so this interview is in two parts.

Rob was born in Glasgow in 1964. He lived in Seoul, Korea for 18 months around 1989-90 before returning to the west of Scotland. He read poetry at the Bar Brel in Glasgow through the mid-nineties. Then he and his wife and moved to Turin, Italy for 4-5 years, where their daughter was born. For the last couple of years they have lived in Edinburgh. He has published poems in many literary magazines in the UK, in a few webzines, and in a poetry chapbook, The Clown of Natural Sorrow, on HappenStance Press www.happenstancepress.com

YM: What drew you to write poetry? When did you write your first poem?

Rob: I wrote my first poem aged 13, but it took me twenty more years before I got any accepted for publication. That first one was set in English class at school. We had to write a rhyming ballad, so I wrote one about a mouse that chaseda terrified cat around a house. Then I fell under the spell of Gerald Manley Hopkins. I loved his sounds and rhythms and I wrote some awful imitations.

In my twenties I got into French existentialist fiction (Sartre, Camus, de Beauvoir) and made the mistake of trying to write poetry that took its bearings from their ideas. It was really pretentious stuff! But in my thirties, I began to find that I had something to say of my own and that language could be utilised to do interesting things without all the pretension.

How often do you write now? What inspires you/ gives you the idea for a poem?

I write more or less every day. I am quite disciplined about it. I dont always write poetry, but Im always jotting down ideas, phrases and thoughts. A poem can come from a real life event (although I tend to change things if change helps a poem), from a title, image or line that pops into my head and seems to demand continuation, from snippets of conversation, or from thoughts Ive had on any given issue. I tend to write best if I let the initial idea simmer in my brain for a few days or weeks and then sit down with the opening few lines already in my head.

Can you tell us something about the kind of poetry you write?

I tend to try my hand at lots of things. Im comfortable with free verse, rhyme, loose metre, strict form, even the occasional experimental piece. People tell me my poems can be quite complex, which might be true. I always write to communicate with readers, but sometimes a poem can take more than one read through to become clear. I write a lot about relationships, identity, faith and doubt, political issues, endings of one kind or another. That sounds very serious, but I use a lot of humour in my poems too!

Is being Scottish a strong part of your identity? What does being Scottish mean to you?

I’m not particularly nationalistic, until someone criticises Scotland. I am Scottish and Im sure thats shaped me in all kinds of indefinable ways. Its not something Ive explored all that much. Maybe I should. That might well be a future project.

Is your poetry Scottish poetry? (as opposed to English poetry/ Welsh poetry or just plain old “poetry”)

I feel its just plain old poetry. I dont write in Scots or Gaelic and while Ive written a few poems about Scottish identity, its not a theme Ive majored on. I know some of my poet-colleagues here are far more interested in doing this than I am and are influenced mainly by other Scottish poets. I like several Scottish poets John Burnside, Edwin Morgan, Norman MacCaig, Don Paterson, Roddy Lumsden they are excellent writers. But my influences come from all over Rilke (Germany), Roy Fisher (England), Charles Simic (USA), Miroslav Holub (Czech Republic), and many others.

You spent 18 months in South Koreain 1989-90. What were you doing there? Do you speak Korean?

I did various things. I studied Korean Minjung theology, a kind of liberation theology that incorporated bits of Korean folk tradition, Marxism, and the Bible. I worked a couple of days a week in a smallish church, and I taught English to a few people. But I spent most of the time meeting people, travelling, eating the fiery food, and drinking maccoli (rice-based alcoholic drink). I learned enough Korean to ask for things in shops etc very basic stuff, nearly all of which Ive forgotten. It was a very difficult language.

What cultural differences did you notice?

So many of the cultural differences were in the mind and kept there. Sometimes people would grin at something I said or did, but when I asked why, they would never tell me. Its OK. No problem. Just Korean culture. Its OK, you are a Westerner! The Koreans were such hospitable people. I made a lot of friends there.

Relationships with women were fraught with problems. I found it impossible to know the etiquette, the rules of engagement. Korean women often seemed to flirt with me, but I think it was because the idea of going out with a westerner was so ridiculous to them (due to family expectations and tradition) that they felt safe getting close to me.

But sometimes it got confusing. I remember a woman called Hae-jang. I went out with her a few times and had no idea of how to progress the relationship. Then I met another woman, Jeung-wha, who I fell in love with in a matter of days.In fact, probably within five minutes! I didnt think it would matter to Hae-jang. I was convinced she saw me as only a friend. How wrong I was! Apparently she was furious, but she, and all her friends, refused to speak to me ever again.And then it didnt work out with Jeung-wha who ended up going off to a Zen temple in the countryside and.. well that was the last I saw or heard of her.

I once invited a woman named Gil-sun to have a coffee in my room (we were standing outside it at the time). It was an entirely innocent invitation. Yes, she replied, as she began walking away.

Well, lets go, I said, pointing. Its up here.

Yes, she said, and kept walking in the other direction. Life was full of moments like that! The answer to any question was always what you wanted to hear, even if what then happened was in direct contradiction.

How has that time in East Asia influenced you?

Yes. It made a huge impact on me. I learned what it was like to be utterly clueless, unable to understand a language and culture, and to be far away from home. And Korea was only just emerging from years of military dictatorship and there were strikes, protests, and trouble all the time. I learned the effect of tear gas the hard way. But at the same time, I had a fantastic experience in Korea and I learned the meaning of hospitality for the stranger there.

Did you write poetry while you were in S Korea? Or later, looking back on that time? How do you think the East influenced your writing?

I didnt write any poetry at the time. I wrote about 20 songs and the guys in my band told me they were the worst songs Id ever written. Since that time I have written a few poems about Korea, one of which was published in the Avatar Review . I also wrote one about how I fell in love with Jeung-wha and why it didnt work, which is unpublished and will probably remain so.

I think going outside my own culture has given me a deeper understanding of people. Not that I can understand what its like to be Korean, but that I can understand something of what it is like to be a foreigner.I grew up a lot in that period. Even though it was only 18 months, it took me a while to settle back into life in Scotlandagain. The culture shock on my return seemed stronger than when I first arrived in Seoul.

Come back next Wednesday for Part 2 when Rob talks about his time in Italy and returning home to Scotland. He also shares one of his poems with us.

Tunku Halim is a Malaysian-born writer living in Tasmania. He started out as a lawyer like me - and guess what? He jumped ship as well to do the writing thing. Unlike me, he is very prolific and has published a number of books: novels, short story collections etc. His tales tend to be dark and macabre and have a deadly twist - like an Asian Roahl Dahl. His book has titles like “44 Cemetery Road” and “The Rape of Martha Teoh”…. very dark indeed!

I am delighted that he has agreed to write a guest piece for Fusion View. Hal writes:

My dad is from the Negri Sembilan royalty. My mother is not. They
divorced when I was very young, so I was essentially brought up as a
KL boy no different from any other kid. That was until the age of 13
when I hopped on a plane and it all changed. Boarding school in
Cheltehenham, followed by University in Sussex, then London where I
attended the Inns of Court School of Law and later post graduate
studies at City University.

Legal Eagle

After 10 years of study in the UK, I returned to KL and chambered at
Shearn Delamore. There I acquainted myself with the tedium of doing
unending lists of documents for court cases and searching for lost
files in the High Court. Great social life though! I then worked for a
property developer. This led to a non-fiction book being published
entitled Everything the Condominium Developer Should Have Told You But
Didn’t. I also began work on a novel and a collection of short
stories.

As I didn’t have a chance to work in the UK , I felt a need to work
overseas. So I shot over to Sydney and found a job (no use of contacts
ok?) as Legal Counsel with a US software company. This was exciting
but stressful stuff. After 4 years I took a sabbatical to write. You
can only negotiate contracts for so much of your life! My first novel
and collection of short stories had already been published by then. I
began work on my second novel, a short story collection and a
biography. After a year, I decided never to return to corporate life.
This was a particularly productive time as I’d published 10 books in
10 years.

The most haunted place in Australia

The fact that Tasmania is the most haunted place in Australia has
nothing to do with me living here! We had lived in Sydney for 10 years
and I felt it was time to move on. There was no job, no family holding
us to a city that was getting more and more congested. My wife and I
had been to Tasmania on holidays and loved the peacefulness, the
beauty of the island and its cooler weather. My dream was to also to
live by the sea. In Tasmania, my dream is fulfilled. Now I can throw
stones into the ever changing seascape and watch for the occasional
pod of dolphins swimming by!

Dark, sinister stories of the macabre do attract me but not because
they are dark or sinister. Rather I’m drawn to supernatural elements.
Something beyond our normal life, something even spiritual perhaps.
Although I’ve written gruesome novels like Vermillion Eye, nowadays I
get more satisfaction from writing more thoughtful pieces like “The
Year 1972″ which appears in my forthcoming short story collection 44
Cemetery Road. I would love to write a ghost story, very gothic, with
suspense and atmosphere.

Distant view of home

It’s easier for me to write about Malaysia because of my geographic
distance from it. This distance provides me with a mental distancing,
an ability to sift out what’s important, what’s unique about the
place. If I lived there I would be too caught up in its own consuming
environment. I’d be eating all the time too. So being far away,
setting a story in Malaysia just seems natural thing to do. Perhaps if
I lived in Malaysia, I’d write about Australia. I’ve written about
Australia though. A good part of Vermillion Eye is set in Sydney. My
story “This Page is Left Intentionally Blank” is also set in Sydney
and won an Fellowship of Australian Writers competition a few years
back. But, yes, most of my work has a Malaysian context.

Current projects

I’m currently working on a children’s encyclopedia of Malaysian
history. It’s a mammoth task as I’m practically doing everything from
taking photographs, Photoshopping, graphic designing and, of course,
the research and writing. It’s taken over 3 years of work. Hopefully
it’ll be out at the end of the year.

I’m also interested in writing a book on creative writing aimed
particularly at Malaysians. Another project is compiling a collection
of writings by Malaysian bloggers.

Other than writing, my other passion is real estate. I’m particularly
interested in regenerating the inner city and new forms of housing. In
Tasmania, I converted a dilapidated shophouse into 6 studio
apartments. These are very compact yet extremely well designed. The
building won a a couple of architectural awards.

—————

You can find out more about Hal and his writings at http://tunkuhalim.wordpress.com/.

Following on from Nicola’s post as Guestblogger last week, when she wrote about Writing Business Books, she explains what Mentoring is in a business context and also talks about Cross-Cultural Mentoring and her own fusion background growing up in Singapore and feeling Singaporean.

Nicola writes:

What Mentoring is All About

Mentoring is the process of exchanging experience and related information. In the past mentoring was traditionally viewed as a ‘elder/protégé’ relationship, but now it is being recognised that experience does not always come with age. This realisation has refined mentoring models to establish reverse mentoring are being encouraged between the leading edge youngsters, as the mentor with the valuable experience, and the elder successful business, as the mentee, to continue the circle of valuable learning and knowledge exchange. Other perspectives of the mentoring process are buddy, peer and themed mentoring.

Mentoring is essentially an activity that is free at the point of delivery. For example, the business person voluntary mentoring in the Princes Trust, the line manager mentoring identified talent potential, or the employee who wants to understand his strategic role in the organisation for promotion. In all these cases the mentee will not be paying for the service.

So, outside my work the question for me is: do I want to mentor, free of charge, using this area of my expertise for the benefit of others? My professional fee charging role, mentoring is the area in which I train people in the mentor and mentee relationship and skills, how to set up and implement a mentoring programme and create a framework to measure the success and increased benefits and profitability to the organisation. These are consultative pieces of work. Sharing my experience as a cost free activity is my choice, which I personally need to assess so as not to blur the boundaries of paid and voluntary work. I do mentor others, but usually making my experience available to the voluntary sector. I am currently President of the City Women’s Network (CWN), which was set up in the 1970’s for the mutual support and positive experience of senior women working within the City of London. We all accept the ethos of the network and are prepared to give other members the benefit of our experience.

Needless to say, at the moment I have a mentor, who is someone recently retired from academia and is an expert futurist, which is an area I find fascinating and definitely broadened – or is lengthened a better word? – my view of the workplace and the role of work in the global society.

Cross-Cultural Mentoring

Cross-cultural mentoring is very important to me. For example, I was recently in Brussels facilitating a group of CEOs from the same sector but with very different levels of working with diversity & inclusion. All the organisations were multinational and global household names. For these successful and intelligent leaders, issues of how do they lead the way forward, role model best practise to their own organisations, through the issues of diversity that include the 6 pillars of gender, ageism, disability, ethnicity, religion and sexual orientation, with the overarching expectations of differing societies and institutions, coupled with the opportunities and changes technology has brought to the work and home spheres has them, understandably, overawed.

The use of highlighting the cross-cultural issues and mentoring the experiences from the different perspectives is vital to achieve an accepted ‘norm’, or create a ‘matrix of tolerance’ as Kate Nash, CEO of RADAR named the concept. To share best practise in this area is essential, and creating an appreciation of best practise and modelling professional and personal leadership needs an ongoing exchange of information and experience to arrive at an cross-cultural understanding. But first, all these leaders need to learn what makes the mentoring and mentee relationship work so they are no longer frightened to come out of their ivory towers and listen and learn from those around them.

Fusion background

I was born in London as my parents were moving between York and Norfolk, only to start a journey that took me to Cyprus and then on to Singapore in time for my 3rd birthday. So my first memories are of the Far East, I had always grown up on warm climates and thrived; so sunshine and that free way of life were normal to me. By coincidence, we also never lived in English communities, so I was very lucky to be surrounded with others, which made me the oddity. Being a child, I didn’t notice difference. I ate Cantonese food, ballet lessons with locals, shopped in markets and while my Mother away was in hospital, I spent masses of time wandering far and wide, always being shepherded by the kindness of those around me. The foreign bits of life to me were being sent to the local forces school and mixing with other British families in the formal way ex-pats abroad do.

My brother has already been set home to school the year before. My Mother had not been well, so we arranged to come home as a family. The three week journey by sea back to the UK was the first time I had experience of the British en masse, their way of living, attitudes and food. Having been told I would live going home – a concept I did not understand – I arrived in Southampton in thick fog, wore what were supposed to be my winter clothes in the closing summer months before being sent to a Boarding school.

Even though I Iooked like the perfect English girl - blond hair, blue eyes – I could not understand how the sun could shine, and yet I was freezing cold. I had no concept of cold. Needless to say I had arrived into the coldest winter since 1947. I had not points of connection with my classmates who were gymkhana crazy, pony mad and thought my dolls house was odd as it had no chimneys in the roof or fireplaces in the rooms. The dolls house had been made in Changai jail, the backdrop to a WWII Japanese POW camp in which many soldiers in East Anglian regiments had been interned, and of which ere my classmates fathers. There was later a film made of the book King Rat that tells the story of the camp. All the experiences and interest was naturally not shared by those who’s fathers were the camp’s survivors.

At school were only allowed to have a bath twice a week, three of you bath together at on time, and the favourite song to sing during this ritual was “Slow boat to China” which sounded like complete nonsense to me. I decided the British were barbarian, which was confirmed by being offered pilchards in tomato sauce on toast at school tea one evening. Our cat loved pilchards in tomato sauce and used to lick the sauce off first – now I was being fed cat food!

I always said coming to the England delayed my development by years – the shock and differences were so great. What I find interesting is that there still is little recognition that for children, let alone adults, cultural transitions are character influencing, even if the transition is into their own culture. Recently I surveyed a group of American women living in London for their husband’s work. Even though they had be career girls in the US, they were not allowed to work in the UK. May had started families and concentrated on home life and generally found other US networks and women to create their community and support networks. I asked what the differences and similarities were in their lives, and had they been given any awareness training before coming to Europe. No they all chorused. Had they been sent from the US to France or Japan they would get some sort of induction to local life, but because the US spoke English there was no need.

They made a life for themselves outside the US, but with going through life changing new experiences like starting families, renovating properties and creating homes, they felt now they were more at home in London, and felt they had little in common with experiences and attitudes when they went back to the US on holiday. In fact, many felt they did not want to go home yet, and would prefer their husband’s career to continue outside the US, which they admitted could be detrimental to future promotion and success.

Cross-culture expectations are subtle, but very powerful and have the ability to create either a negative or positive effects instantly. Like the mentoring relationship generally, successful, valuable and sustainable cross-culture mentoring only happens when the skill of open-mindedness is learnt and practiced. Then the exchange of information can be achieved on the basis of the mentor giving experience as they learned it, and the mentee can adapt, leave or take what they need and want freely without egos personal feeling being questioned. No one need feel overawed, or unappreciated.

Nicola can be contacted via her website http://www.proactivecoaching.com/

This is a cross-post from my social media blog ZenGuide, where the post below came out yesterday under the heading “Simple Online Marketing”. I am posting it here as well as I would like to share with you the success stories of some of my Fusion View friends.

You may not have a blog or even a website. How can you market yourself online without these tools? A simple and effective way is to guest-blog on an existing blog run by someone else.

Here are some success stories of a number of people who were guest-blogged on Fusion View.

Case Study - Nicky Harman

Nicky Harman, translates books and novels from Chinese into English. She doesn’t have a website of her own for her books and translations although she is profiled briefly on her work website. I was curious to learn more about the process of translation and asked her to write a first person piece about her translation work and the Chinese author Han Dong whose book Striking Root she was working on at that time - and for which she was looking for an agent and/ or publisher. She produced the article very quickly over a weekend and I had it up on Fusion View the next week.

A few weeks later, I was contacted by a leading publisher in China who had come across the article on Fusion View, asking to make contact with Nicky. I forwarded her email and Nicky started discussions with her about publishing her book. Around the same time, a UK-based literary agent was told about Nicky’s work and Googled her. Up popped Nicky’s article on Fusion View and the agent invited her to submit her manuscript. Go Nicky!

Case Study - Pey

My cousin Pey Colborne is an aromatherapist and poet based in Bath. She doesn’t have her own website for her business. I interviewed her for a podcast on Fusion View, talking about her fusion life and how she uses her Western and Eastern experiences and interests in her poetry - and also in her aromatherapy practice, which incorporates Chinese herbal medicine as well as Western aromatherapy principles. She has gained at least one new aromatherapy client through that podcast - he specifically mentioned it as he had had a choice of therapists and decided on her after hearing more about her practice and healing principles on the podcast.

Case Study - Lucy Luck

I interviewed Lucy Luck, a UK literary agent for advice to writers hoping to find an agent in the UK - and specifically answering emailed questions from overseas writers. She talked about how to submit your work, how to write your covering letter and what agents re looking for. She also invited Fusion View readers/ listeners to submit their writing to her agency. I chatted with her last week and she told me that she has had over 30 submissions from potential new clients, mentioning the Fusion View podcast. The quality of their covering letters and submissions have been much higher than those who had not listened to the podcast, which has made the process of working through them much easier for her. She also feels that the podcast has raised her profile in the search engines, coming up just after her own literary agency website, and also generally for her business as the podcast was also featured in Mslexia, the UK journal for women writers.

Action point

So could you offer an article to a blogger you know? Here are some ideas to get you thinking:

• your article needs to be relevant to the theme of the blog you’d like to write for

• what you write about needs to be helpful, interesting or useful for the readers of that blog

• read the blog you would like to write for and read the About page

• think of the blog and its readers as a community that you’d like to be a part of

• does that blog regularly have interviews/ guestbloggers? If not, will your approach be appropriate?

• make your approach courteously

• remember that the blogger does not have to take your idea, so accept “no” gracefully

• how might you help the blogger in return, as part of his/ her community?

I am always on the lookout for interesting guestbloggers on both Fusion View and ZenGuide - please make sure you read my Guestblogger Submission Guidelines: click on that Category in the far right sidear. Email me first with an outline of what you’d like to write about, who you are and why you think the readers of Fusion View or ZenGuide would be interested in the story. If I like the idea, I can then invite you to write the full story. I may decide it’s not appropriate, in which case, I will let you know.

Pic: thanks to
www.dnrec.state.de.us