Sorry

Doug Steley’s letter in today’s Courier Mail, nails this issue in its stark simplicity:

If I say, "I am sorry your mother died", I am acknowledging a person's pain and suffering, not admitting that I am guilty of the mother's murder.

Saying "sorry" is an acknow­ledgement of past wrongs - nothing more, nothing less. Are we as a nation sorry for what has happened in the past to indigen­ous people? Or are we not sorry for what happened to them?

I, for one, am sorry that they have suffered. I wish they had not suffered and we had found a better way for our two cultures to mix and assimilate. If we say sorry to Aborigines, we start to admit we understand the pain our civilisation has caused them — nothing more, nothing less.

Those who say they are not sorry are saying they agree with the history of rape, murder and discrimination; those who say they don't know why we should say sorry after years of debate and discussion are just ignorant.

I’ve never understood why this symbolic exercise terrifies some of our politicians. Let’s get it done ASAP. The reluctance to say the word reminds me of a year five lad I taught in South West Queensland years ago. No matter what the incident, minor or serious, he would never say “sorry”. Turned out that he was quite severely physically abused by his alcoholic dad.

Perhaps there’s something equally dark hidden in the background of some of our ex-notables. The mind boggles.

Fat Chance

The Executive Director of the Central Western Region (Queensland) is singing the praises of the newly-introduced keep fit programme in State Schools. (ABC Local Radio - 29th Jan).

Apparently it’s sufficient to get young Queenslanders raising a sweat. More power to her elbow, but I don’t rate its chances of success.

The need for such a programme is pretty obvious.

Check this link for some statistics -

http://www.child-obesity.info/child-health/alarming-statistics-about-child-obesity-in-australia.html

By the time the same young Queenslander has tucked in at the local Maccas or Hungry Jacks on the way to or from school, it’s all a bit futile.

If you think I’m exaggerating, watch any of these outlets at 8am or 3pm and watch the comings and goings. In Roma the Maccas outlet is directly across the road from a large primary school. The kids aren’t ordering the healthy stuff.

I‘m not advocating any restrictions – just making an observation. Good luck, Education
authorities.

It's Australia Day

It’s Australia Day, so it’s timely to look at our national identity.

In answer to the question – “Who are we?” this piece in The Age Online is interesting,

http://www.theage.com.au/news/national/portrait-of-a-nation/2008/01/25/1201157677545.html

The truths are all around us. The recent years of drought, accompanied now by great floods in the north, have reinforced the essential knowledge that Australians survive in a tough environment by personal resilience and a willingness to help each other.

There’s an irony in the discussion itself. I’ve always understood that one of the most attractive aspects of the Australian psyche is that we don’t take ourselves too seriously. As a baby boomer, I’ve grown up with this. We don’t celebrate our national day with the kind of fervor evident across the Pacific. In my street, it’s the exception rather than the rule to celebrate today.

I’m perfectly happy in this. To me, being Australian is almost matter-of-fact. I don’t need to get in anyone’s face about it. For me, to do so would be un-Australian.

Nor do we get hot under the collar about the issue. Again, this is part of the deal. This is why I regard what happened in Cronulla a few years ago as un-Australian.

Unfortunately, from my point of view, there is a manufactured pseudo-nationalism being forced on us. It originates in commercial and political interests. In the former, it’s about making a dollar – in the latter about wrapping politicians in the flag to gain kudos.

Both are completely ersatz. Again, from The Age -

The ability to change, thus, may prove to be our most worthwhile characteristic, for it speaks of the hope that we can be better, whatever we might argue about around the barbecue today.

If we are comfortable with change – if it’s a national characteristic - perhaps our national symbols need to be changed (our national flag, and our national anthem). The current flag has the flag of another nation imposed. It’s only a symbol, but I‘d suggest that any nation that displays another country’s flag on its own hasn’t grown up. The Eureka flag is my nomination.

Our national anthem should be God Bless Australia, to the tune of Waltzing Matilda. Why? – Because of its authenticity, and also because it’s a great and simple tune. Any digger will tell you that it’s a phenomenal marching tune – no matter how footsore you may be.

I’m not too fussed about the words – currently they’re banal. Maybe there should be a competition to create something a little more contemporary.

Bush Bonuses

From Justine Ferrari, Education writer, in Today’s Oz –

From Justi

Aboriginal leader Noel Pear­son is embarking on an ambitious plan to recruit experienced teach­ers and the brightest university graduates to teach in the most disadvantaged indigenous com­munities by offering performance-linked incentives of up to $50,000 a year. Called Teach for Australia, the program developed by Mr Pear­son's Cape York Institute with Macquarie University in Sydney aims to raise funds largely from the private sector to install 500 high-quality teachers in four remote schools. The first ap­pointments will be made in Cape York and the Northern Territory.

Noel Pearson has obviously been reading my blog. I posted this amongst a list of suggestions in November last year –
“Provide realistic bonuses for teachers who work in difficult and challenging situations. I’m talking thousands monthly.”
Noel isn’t mucking about – he’s talking over $4000 per month. It would probably work, providing the cash bonus is matched by the provision of secure air-conditioned accommodation and some kind of guarantee of mentoring and peer support. Based on my own (admittedly out-of-date) experience in remote communities, teachers would initially be attracted by the salary package, but you could pay $100000 a year, and it wouldn’t be enough if daily existence wasn’t physically secure and professionally satisfying. Very few teachers will continue to teach if they know in their hearts that they’re not being successful. This means that the blessed trinity (appropriate compensation in the shape of a good salary, professional and personal support, and a better than even chance of being able to make a difference) has to be in place. The pic shows a school building at the time I was working in the North-West in the mid-nineties. I can't remember its name.

Good Food and Bad Puns

Driving in Adelaide, I began to form the opinion that it is the pun capital of Oz. After seeing “Wild Thyme” (a restaurant), “Poultry in Motion” (on a van delivering chicken), “Easy Meats”, (butcher) and “Wine or Reason” (off-license), all in the space of a few blocks, I am convinced.

Other notables include “Daily Grind” (Coffee shop), “Olive Lucy” (Mediterranean supplies), “Abra Cadaver” (halal butcher), “Bone-anza” (pet food shop), “Hawaii Falafel-o” (Fast food), “Lettuce pray” (Fruit & Vegetables), “The Brady Brunch” (Lunches), "Clam Every Mountain” (sea food) and "Do-Ray-Mi” (baker), although I must admit, some of the second bunch aren’t in Adelaide.

There must be something in the water.

The pic? It has nothing to do with Adelaide. That was in a supermarket complex in Hanoi. They were selling organic medicine. Figure it out.

"Which of you bastards...."

This contribution from Dileep Premachandran from Times Online, published in The Oz - Cut and Paste on Jan 10th, sums up the wank we call modern cricket pretty well for me -

During the infamous Bodyline tour of 1932-33, Douglas Jardine knocked on the Australian dressing-room door to demand an apology for being abused. Bill Woodfull turned to his team poker-faced and asked "Which one of you bastards called this bastard a bastard?" Had they been around, Mike Procter and other (International Cricket Council) match referees might have had a field day. This is not a lament for time that can never return, but such an anecdote does remind one of the death of common sense and humour in modern day cricket. If an outsider looked at the current tug-of-war between India and Australia, and the sanctimonious crap dished out by both sides, you'd think there had been 22 Mother Teresas out on the park. All this talk of integrity and honour between individuals who don't walk for an outside edge that sounds like the crack of doom. Precious.

Barring a few brain-deaths at the meeting in Delhi (yesterday), the tour should now proceed. Steve Bucknor has been stood down, and Harbhajan Singh promised a fair hearing but the most pertinent is this: where does cricket go from here?

Apart from anything else, it shows what we've lost. It's interesting that it took an Indian (presumably - going by his name) to point it out.

It's not confined to cricket. As a nation, we're rapidly losing our sardonic sense of humour. It's gone the way of biscuits (now "cookies"), taps (now "faucets"), and footpaths (now "sidewalks").

It ain't half hot, Mum.....

I'm in Adelaide, visiting number two son. We arrived from Brisbane on an afternoon flight that delivered us into temperatures of forty plus. It was a bit like walking into a blast furnace – reminded me of Mt Isa.

I've been here twice before, first time in the late nineties, and last time about five years ago. On both occasions it was to attend conferences, so there wasn't much time for sightseeing. This time, we have two full days, so should get to see a little more.

Yesterday we developed many new and wonderful ways of getting lost, between airport and Plympton where we're staying, and between Plympton and North Adelaide where son lives. This was not all bad, as we got to see places we would have otherwise missed, and we spoke to many locals when we were looking for directions. They were invariably helpful, especially when I introduced myself as lost and from Queensland.

First impressions (since last time) – a city drowning in the heat-induced torpor, but with a pleasant ambience and lots of space and light. It's a hard-surfaced environment – all metal and masonry. I miss the absence of timber – even the power poles are metal, and there is an air of architectural permanence absent in Brisbane.

Today dawned about ten degrees cooler, and with a refreshing breeze which seems to be blowing from all directions at once. We'll go first to the beach, and then to the hills to get a fix on the place. The hybrid we hired (just for fun) is a handy little tool, with all the motoring personality of a kitchen appliance, but it is comfortable and easy to drive.

The people – well they're just like Queenslanders, and helpful and friendly. They seem to wear suntans that are more comprehensive than at home. maybe the sun's not quite as damaging. The shop assistants tend to be curt and efficient – or at least the one's we've encountered. I was surprised to find (when I went for a early morning walk) that the newsagents are closed and the supermarkets open. This is exactly the opposite of the situation at home.

What was even more surprising to me was to be told by the checkout chick that the supermarket opened at midnight. Obviously, shopping in Adelaide in the early hours of the morning is a new and exciting trend.