Andrea Edwards

In recent days, the Prime Minister of Australia declared boat people will no longer be welcome in Australia, and if they head that way, they’ll be settled elsewhere for “processing”. I have a lot of mixed emotions around this news, but the one over-riding feeling is a deep sadness – a sadness that my country has lost compassion for people most in need. Not just the government, but the citizens of Australia declaring their support for this move – with “good on ya” and “they’ll steal our jobs.” It’s just left me feeling so so sad. Front page of the immigration site this week – sharing another’s grief is good policy because? I think it’s important to differentiate between an immigrant and a refugee. Immigrants come to Australia in their thousands every year – something I love, because it makes it a richer country. Sure there can be problems, but on the whole, it’s pretty peaceful Downunder and my home country is richer for it. A refugee is different – as defined by the UNHCR here: “A refugee is someone who has been forced to flee his or her country because of persecution, war, or violence. A refugee has a well-founded fear of persecution for reasons of race, religion, nationality, political opinion or membership in a particular social group. Most likely, they cannot return home or are afraid to do so. War and ethnic, tribal and religious violence are leading causes of refugees fleeing their countries.” In Wiki: “A refugee is a person who is outside his or her country of origin or habitual residence because they have suffered (or fear) persecution on account of race, religion, nationality, political opinion, or because they are a member of a persecuted ‘social group‘ or because they are fleeing a war or natural disaster. Such a person may be called an ‘asylum seeker’ until recognized by the state where they make a claim.” So let us all agree that these people are not having a very good time in their homeland. Thankfully there are sensible people around – with many of my friends equally outraged – and I also enjoyed this article in The Age by Julian Burnside. One point he makes is on the legalities – “Asylum seekers do not commit any offence by coming here. Under the Universal Declaration of Human Rights every person has the right to seek asylum in any territory they can reach.”  When referred to as queue jumpers, he makes another excellent point, “As for “queue-jumping”, leave aside that there is no queue where boat people come from, the etiquette of the checkout at Coles is not how it works when you are running for your life.” It’s equally interesting how the politics of fear have been used…I really appreciate that this is a sensitive topic and equally appreciate that many people have strong opinions about it, but I just want to share some stories that changed me forever. Maybe someone reading this will change their mind and focus on the need to get every nation in this world back on track with compassion too? Maybe everyone reading this is already in agreement?  I just reckon we need to take care of each other. What did Jesus say: “what you do to the least of my brothers, you do unto me”? My first life-changer happened when I was about 14 or 15 years old. Two sisters joined my school and their names were Lychee and Lumyai. They came from a country called Laos, and for our predominantly white (at that time) country town in Australia, they were very different to the rest of us. We all laughed at their funny names of course, and then they were just part of the crew. There was no difference. Then someone was inspired (a teacher, their parents?) because one day both L&Ls Mum and Dad, their brothers and sisters (9 I believe) all came to the school to tell us the story of how they got to Albury. My memory won’t serve me here, but I believe the essence is correct. Laos was going through a brutal civil war at the time, and when things got absolutely desperate, the parents made the decision they had to get out – something no citizen was free to do, because people didn’t have passports and the country was under complete control. I don’t remember why this decision was made, but faced with brutal communist rule and raising a large family – wanting the best for their kids like any parent – I can only imagine why. Actually, I probably can’t imagine the why, because I’ve never had to experience humanity at its absolute worst like they did. Their Dad strapped all 10 children, his wife, the grandmother and himself to the bottom of a train and they travelled the full length of Laos and escaped when the train landed in Thailand (I think). Sadly, the grandmother and one of their siblings died on this journey. Now I don’t know about you, but can you imagine how hideous an experience like this would be – especially for young children? The fear of falling? The fear of being caught? Not being able to eat? How frighteningly dark it was for the little ones? Can you imagine how bad life must have been – even a little bit? I can’t, I just can’t. The family finally made it to Australia, but I’m sure it was a very long time and years of desperate uncertainty, being treated like animals, before they found themselves settled in their home in Albury, where the children could go to school and they all could be part of a community again. I don’t know if they had to stay in resettlement facilities, I don’t know what they suffered, and I don’t know who sponsored them to make it to our town (potentially the Catholic Church?) I’m just glad someone did and they were finally able to start living the dream of a better life for their entire

I was not raised with a belief in reincarnation (the Catholic Church got rid of that escape clause before the Middle Ages), but I really like the idea of it, ‘cos it means you get to explore every possible angle of being human – including that which you love and that which you hate in the life you’re living right now. So if you hate boat people and have no compassion for them, chances are you’ll come back as one next time. For me, reincarnation is an interesting idea. Living in Asia, where thousands of years of different beliefs are around you all the time, it makes the possibilities hard to ignore. However, I suppose I just find it hard to reject outright because of my past decade experiencing all sorts of ghost activity – they just don’t want to leave me alone. Therefore from my life experience perspective, there seems so much going on I can’t explain with a rational mind, so I remain open to possibilities. But this isn’t about whether or not you or I believe in reincarnation. It’s a lot simpler than that. I was in a cab on Friday night and thought – after a particularly grueling week – if I do get another run at a new life, I’d love to be an academic, who never gets married, never has kids, and just studies one tiny subject in the greatest detail possible all of my life and then die peacefully and happy. I reckon that would be one good life to experience – completely in the mind and not caring about other stuff – like love – which includes not being distracted by anything or anyone else. As I said, a grueling week. So then I thought, what else would I like to experience? Well I’d like to be…. An award winning war photographer, capturing humanity at the front lines of war and showing its pointlessness. Of course, in my future lives I hope there are no wars, but still, it would be an experience. The other aspect of this life is living at the edge completely. I’ve lived as close to the edge as I can throughout my life, being alone in dangerous or completely different places. In these moments, you are drawn to others in the same boat, and the only thing you have in common is a combined need to be with people like you when you are living in a sea of difference and the unfamiliar. You party very hard in these times, because no one really knows you, you’ll never see each other again, it’s good to feel like you belong somewhere, and it’s the most freeing time of your life. I definitely want to encourage the boys to take these moments in their lives, but I must say it’s an experience hard to explain to people who’ve never done it. So I’d like a life where I take it even closer to the edge Dominatrix – as opposite to me today as you could get, that would be an interesting life. I’d have a posh dungeon in downtown NYC I reckon. Definitely my alter ego  I’d love to have a life as an Ancient History professor – making young‘uns passionate about the world and its ancient past Musically there would be a few. A banjo playing country music STAR, an opera singer, a virtuoso cellist (female, ‘cos it’s a sexy instrument), but most of all, probably a hard rocking, bass playing rock chick clad in leather It would be great to live a simple life, high up in the mountains as a Buddhist Monk, helping all around me find their serenity within I’d like to be one of the super-rich, experiencing all that life has to offer, but equally be a great philanthropist, with a focus on tackling women’s health issues and ensuring not a single child is sold into sexual slavery. Again, I hope that by that time, neither of those problems exist in our world, but that would be what I’d want to tackle if it did get a life like that I’d love to be a metaphysics master, with all the mathematical and scientific prowess that entails, mastering the power of the stars and the natural magnetic energies of the planet A healer of the human spirit – no idea how that would play out, but when I see so many around me suffering in their hearts, for so many reasons, I’d love a life where I can help ease that An Anthony Robbins/Robin Sharma kind of motivational superstar – that would be awesome, because I think they share great and inspiring messages with the world A stand-up comic – yes, that needs to be in there. A maestro who makes people laugh their arses off Well it’s been a pretty cool process for me thinking about this, and so I must ask – ifyou had a few more lives to look forward to, what would you like them to be? It’s not about belief in reincarnation, it’s about daydreaming. Anyone want to join me and share theirs? COME ON – you know you want to…. Yours, without the bollocks Andrea

I read today that Nissan Motors is unveiling its first car in the resurrected Datsun brand in India, and while everything about this announcement makes total sense, it brings back so many memories…. This is a hotted up version of our old car… while ours was also red, it wasn’t this pretty and it didn’t have a roof For some bloody reason, I had the only Dad in the world who did not give a shit about his car. He changed in his later years – getting more stylish top to bottom – but as kids, we were never able to claim any pride in our father’s choice of family vehicle. The stand-out amongst all of his bad car choices was the red Datsun two door wagon – with tarp. I don’t know why my Dad chose a wagon for a family of six, with only two seats in the front – but I can tell you something, we REALLY had a reason to fight over who got the front seat. Unlike most other families we grew up with, we had the arse-aching pleasure of sitting on a corrugated metal slab for our journeys. It got so bad that one year my Great Aunty Bel – who felt sorry for us when she realised we had a 600km round-trip on that surface – donated a piece of her couch so at least three of us could sit on something a little more comfortable. Unfortunately there wasn’t room across for four, so my youngest brother, Mark, always got the shitty end of that stick. Sorry Mark. This is a tuba – boob height on me I am still impacted by this experience, because I find it incredibly challenging being in an airless environment (it’s as close to a panic attack as I get) due to sitting under a tarp in said Datsun during hot Australian summers, with no air circulating at all. It was equally bloody cold in the winter, especially when we went up the mountains to go skiing. Brrrrrrr. The highlight, of course, was the fact that we were quite a musical family. Twice a week at least, we’d head off to band practice, and if we were lucky we’d get to do a gig at a local fate, festival or even entertain the grannies at a retirement home on weekends – we actually did enjoy it alright. Anyway, everyone would arrive in their suitable family vehicle, looking presentable and comfortable, whereas in we’d come a-chuggin to have the hatch released, and out would flow two very large tubas, probably some percussion gear (‘cos we were good like that), a euphonium, and a couple of cornets, followed by four children in a disheveled state. Mate, we were proud I tell you. We eventually upgraded the Datsun to a beige family car – this time with back seats – but it was one of those mini-family sedans, so still not enough room. Come on DAD!! As such we still had good reason to fight over the front seat. My boys are bloody lucky I tell ya – growing up in a time when at least seat belts are required is what I would call progress. So fellow Wodonga Brass Bandies – remember the Datsun? And anyone else have a special car in their childhood memory banks? Yours, without the bollocks Andrea

10 years ago today I met the love of my life and I even wrote a blog about it once. However, this morning Steve jumped on a plane and flew to Australia, so we’re not going to be able to celebrate our decade together – other than the 4.30am happy anniversary kiss I got this morning. Steve did leave me a lovely note though (as well as enough of my favorite chocolate to last while he’s away) and the note said lots of things, but one comment stood out which I thought was worth sharing: It’s not our wedding anniversary, but this is one more result from that fateful night 10 years ago… “10 years, 2 kids, 8 homes, 5 countries, 2 redundancies, 7 schools, 4 operations and 4 helpers later I realize I love you more and more every day.” Sweet huh? Until he went on to say that I do shit him sometimes occasionally too… which of course I do, because I shit myself, so it comes with the territory. But what do you reckon – a lot achieved in a decade huh? I think so and when you see it written down that way, it makes you stop and think. Perhaps it’s time to take a breath? Nah – boring! However, there’s something I’d like to acknowledge about my beloved and it’s one of the reasons I feel like a very lucky girl every day. Steve works his arse off for me and the boys. He never stops working for us, because he is singularly motivated to ensure we are happy all the time, and while sometimes it can be a bit overwhelming, it is always appreciated – always – and it makes me work harder for him too. As an example, yesterday, in the craziness of getting packed and spending time with each of us before leaving, he filled the car with petrol, made sure there was enough money on the cash card so I didn’t get stuck, transferred money around accounts so I could easily access it, stocked the home with my favorite things, stocked the home with potential necessities, paid bills so I don’t have to worry about it, spent one-on-one time with Jax, then spent one-on-one time with Lex, took me out for dinner, and got himself packed, etc… Recently when I went to the US he did the same – got US$ for me, confirmed my flights, reserved great seats on every leg of the journey, made sure my points were attributed, and generally made sure everything was sorted so I only needed to pack my bag, get on the plane and go. He’s a remarkable fella. But I want him to start working for himself a little too. He is so selfless he always puts himself at the bottom of the priority pile. If I need something or the boys need something, he drops everything and he’s there. That’s why I’m not pissed off about him being away for this anniversary weekend because he’s doing something for himself. He’s extended a business trip to spend time with people he adores and they’re going to see an Aussie Rules Football match – boys bonding over sport, does it get better than that? So I love my man and feel very privileged to be with him, but darling, remember to take care of YOU too and go enjoy every second of this weekend because YOU bloody deserve it. Equally, while we’ll all miss you, I’m happy to hang out with our little dudes, making sure they’re happy, while you have a jolly-good time with your mates. Hand on heart, it’s the truth. Happy decade together babe – you definitely get less for murder. Yours, without the bollocks Andrea

My Little Angels… I was having a chat with a fellow Mum of similar aged boys and she’s having a bit of a rough time managing her little warriors. Let’s just say I could definitely relate and I explained my philosophy of child rearing as being quite simple: I let them win some battles but I win the war. She liked that. While this might not seem a particularly positive or enlightening philosophy on parenting, let me explain. The idea is they get to “win” on occasion, which I believe empowers them and gives them a good sense of self. The stuff they win is harmless, and while I’d prefer they didn’t do or say (or eat) some things, if I was banging on all the time, they’d never listen to me. So my battles have to be over the important stuff and my goal, of course, is to win the war. A final victory can be declared when they go out into the world, independent young men, who are hopefully kind, generous and funny, with core values that will serve them well. The challenge is – shit they can push you over the edge. I have noticed a cyclical aspect to parenting –stages I suppose – where both of them go through a few weeks of being the biggest, rudest, pains in my arse the world has ever seen. Of course they know what riles me – they’re smart little dudes – but the difficulty for this Mumma is I had two boys 15 months apart, which of course means they do everything together – including being turds. And they’re in go-hard-mode at the moment – which my husband suffers equally – so by the end of the weekend, we sit there exhausted, wrung out, exasperated, perplexed and confused, looking forward to getting back to work on Monday morning – because it’s easier. Of course I completely understand what they are doing. They are stretching boundaries, trying to find out what is acceptable, pushing us to see how far we’ll go and in the mix of it, they are working out who they are and where they fit in the world. Having watched other parents in-action, I know my boys are on the extreme end of the pushing spectrum, but I like that. They’re strong characters with big personalities, and it’s going to serve them very well in life. But they need to know the rules. What’s acceptable, what’s not, and that’s all I’m trying to do – give them the right guidance and structure to help them become the best version of themselves they can be. That’s it, that’s what I see as my Mum job. Unfortunately, there are no guidebooks for this stuff and no one ever told me it was going to be so hard, which means sometimes I’m left wondering when – exactly – is this going to be fun? Bloody kids, I adore the hell out of them, but why did I have them again? Yours, without the bollocks Andrea

That’s the CBD this morning Steve and I have been in agreement for some time that if the opportunity comes up (and the boys are old enough to cope) we take the chance and live in India for a couple of years. We reckon it would be AMAZING, and while a lot of that amazing would be amazingly tough, it’d definitely be an experience – and that’s what life is all about we reckon. But this week’s pollution in Singapore is making me wonder if I want to do that? In 1995, I backpacked for a month across China – heading up from Hong Kong into Canton (now Guangzhou), Shao Shan (Mao Zedong’s birthplace – which was horrible back then), Xi’an, Beijing, Shanghai and then a “cruise” back to Hong Kong – another story. It wasn’t too bad on the pollution front back then, but when I returned to Beijing in 2006 for work, it was shocking. I spent every minute of that trip with poison dripping down the back of my throat, and couldn’t wait to get the hell out. I love Beijing, but the poison in the air is very very disturbing. It isn’t nice knowing that millions of people have to live this way around the world. Right now in Singapore, the pollution measurement is much worse than Beijing is experiencing today and last night, I went to bed tasting poison dripping down my throat as I tried to sleep. As a parent, it’s not a nice experience watching my boys going through this – because I just don’t know what the impact will be. I’m trying to be all cool about it, but it ain’t terrific. In fact, many families are booking flights and getting the hell out of town until it’s over. We can’t do that right now, but it certainly has merit. My office is straight ahead – see the trees on the balcony?  The reality is we’re all OK, but some friends are having a very tough time. One great family we know has a three year old daughter with severe asthma – so far so good, but not a great environment for their little princess. Then some other awesome friends have their elderly mother in town visiting from India. She’s a magnificent lady, but right now, she’s coughing non-stop and I have everything crossed she’s going to be OK. She’s a beauty. For me it’s the unknown. I’ve never been through anything like this before and no one seems to know how long it’s going to go on for or what “hazardous” really means. The PSI measurement in the last three days has broken records and then broken records again. One friend’s daughter said if it hits 400 we’re all dead. Well it hit 371 today – WAY ABOVE previous haze records, so it’s not nice, not nice at all. However, I was just speaking with a colleague from India and he said don’t worry – “in India we dance in the streets all night during Diwali and the PSI is more than 500.” So maybe it’s nothing to worry about at all? Just a period of time to get through? I don’t know, but we’ll keep going, living through the haze and in many ways, it seems life continues as normal around me – which is actually helping. In the meantime, I’ll keep watching the news, listening out for PSI alerts and making sure the boys stay inside as much as possible. There doesn’t seem a whole lot else we can do right now… But living in India, a country of major cities that suffer intense pollution for at least four months of the year over summer – maybe I don’t want to do that after all? Yours, without the bollocks Andrea 

If you have friends or loved ones living in Singapore or Malaysia you may have noticed a fair bit of bitching going on about the “haze” these past few days. We’ve had two bad days, and while it’s “better” today, yesterday it got worse, and worse and worse – as you’ll see in the photo montage. Apparently the PSI hit 152 last night, the worst since 1997 when it peaked at 226. If you ask me what PSI is, you can educate yourself at this link, but my definition is it’s really smoky and it’s making my head ache, my eyes water and my teeth go fury – nice. A View of Marina Bay Sands from my office – the first picture is a beautiful clear day. The second picture is yesterday morning. The last picture yesterday afternoon. It got a lot worse last night… If I was deciding on a measurement criteria, I’d say it’s reached significantly unpleasant proportions and I’m sure asthmatics have been struggling for their lives these past two days. Interestingly, two friends – one from China and one from India – said what, this is actually a pretty good day at this time of year by my standards… context. My first haze experience in Singapore was in the 90s. It was my first trip through the Lion City and the orb – otherwise known as the sun – was straining through the smoky clouds. It wasn’t pleasant. I figured Singapore was always like that, so was rather pleased to discover it wasn’t the case. I’ve had a decade of haze experience since, and the only time it really bothered me was in 2006 when it hit days before Lex was due to be born. It was a rather unsettling experience for this new mumma about to bring a brand new life into the world! Obviously all was good in the end, or maybe it wasn’t, and that’s why he’s such a frantic bloody shit today? Who knows. So why does the haze happen? In the state of Sumatra in Indonesia and Kalimantan (check your world maps) they burn forests to clear the land. Many of these fires are illegal and done with absolutely no regard for nature or wild life. Next time you see an Orangutan at the zoo and read about the fact they are endangered, this is a big part of it – grrrrrr. Here’s a slightly more academic point of view and here’s a well-researched perspective. If you’re interested, the next time you eat fish & chips, or wash your hair, or your dishes, or lots of other necessary tasks, you can thank the dudes for starting these fires as it’s all for palm oil production – that’s why the beautiful forests are cleared. As a gentle suggestion, perhaps try not to buy products that contain palm oil, then again, entire communities rely on this income… what to do? The reality is the problem is almost uncontrollable. It happens on a massive scale, in remote areas, there is a lot of corruption, poor communities rely on the money coming from the output, these areas are run by cowboys, and there has been no international will to create another way of living for these communities, as such, the rest of the world just sits back and ignores what is going on. I find it all a bit depressing to be honest because, bit by bit, the world is dying. Well maybe not. The world will come back into its glory once we poison it enough to kill humankind, so nature will be the ultimate winner in the end, right? We are stupid. People living in the areas impacted by the haze have VERY strong opinions on this topic – some more than others. Social media commentary has varied from the outraged all the way through to my mate Eugene (a very funny man) suggesting the Indonesians have decided to help out with the dengue epidemic by fogging the whole island. He gave me a giggle. What’s fogging I hear you ask? Yeah I didn’t know either before I lived here – but fogging is the mass eradication of mosquitoes, a feature of life in Singapore. When visiting, check look for the smoky clouds of insecticide juice engulfing apartment complexes. It seems to do the trick. In the meantime Indonesia – PLEASE PLEASE stop this habitat and wild life destruction, I beg you, I’m on my knees… and I don’t get on my knees very often. But you’re not going to read this, so while I wait for that ship to sail, I’ll stay on my knees and hope for a decent rainfall to wash it all away. Cough, cough. Yours, without the bollocks Andrea

It’s finally time to go home and see my three boys, after my longest trip away from them since they were both born – 11 days. In fact, it’s the longest away from my big boy too I think. But it’s the little boys that haven’t coped too well with Mum being away, and Steve’s had to deal with a whole host of emotions (and aggression) around that. Also Lex has now been waiting for five days to build a train track with me, believing every day I was coming home. No one else would do, only Mum. It’s heart wrenching stuff this motherhood malarkey, and for now, I need to keep these big trips to a minimum. It just doesn’t feel fair on them. My work adventures kicked off in New Orleans 11 days ago and the last time I was in this fantastic city was during Mardi Gras in the year 2000. It was phenomenal then, but this time I discovered that even without Mardi Gras, New Orleans is a phenomenal city. It draws you in, makes you smile and everyone has a superb time – all races and ages. You’ll never see a quirkier bunch of characters in your life and it’s all seriously fantastic. The squarest of square pants couldn’t resist the loving embrace of New Orleans. One of the American guys I was with said there are two rules in New Orleans: Have a lot of fun Don’t interfere with anyone else’s fun It is so true. A lot of booze is consumed and yet it never seems to get ugly. It gets messy for sure (you’ll notice that as you trip over the vomit in the wee hours of the morning), but never nasty – just great music, lots of booze, lots of characters. lots of harmless sleaze, and lots of fun. I’ve added some photos below if you’d like to get a sense of life in New Orleans, although this isn’t the work bit of my time there – just the fun bit. Promise me one thing – if you haven’t done it yet, make it a goal to go there at least once in your life? The next part of my trip to Seattle was completely different, back-to-back meetings with colleagues in HQ all day, every day. I’d leave early in the morning, coming home early evening and by that point be completely obliterated by all I’d learnt and shared. It was definitely inspiring, and equally fantastic to meet the global team I work with, but boy it was intense as well. During this time I also caught up with four old pals – all from different chapters in my life, and one thing really stood out. When you meet up with the great people you’ve met throughout your life and share memories of the times you’ve had together, it’s actually really beautiful when you both realize what you meant to each other at that time when you were connected day-to-day. Sometimes you don’t realize until after the fact how cool the friendships were. It was a nice addition to the week. Right time to fly my last leg home. My blogging has been impacted with all of this intensity and I miss it. I’m constantly jotting down blog thoughts, but just no time of late to write them up. I’m committed though, because it’s something I must do. Yours, without the bollocks Andrea I loved this girl Early afternoon preparations I just liked it Awesome band and I got to sing with them Bourbon Street comes alive On stage Our posh dinner Mumma was sorting out the white boys Party bus Who wouldn’t buy a camera from a vending machine? Hen’s Night and Hot Dog Bar on Bourbon No question where I am