COOPERATION IS ABOUT US

I was walking around the children’s playground  in Vileyka, Belarus and suddenly a sculpture caught my eye. The sculpture comprises a whole family including a dog, a cat, a mouse and a huge turnip . That triggered off memories of how my children would ask me to read the fairy tale ‘The Enormous Turnip’. Little did I know at that time that this is a Russian fairy tale. So it all made sense why the sculpture is there.

"The Enormous Turnip" was written by Aleksey Nikolayevich Tolstoy.

It is a progressive story in which a grandfather plants a turnip, which grows so large that it takes many to pull it up - the grandfather (deduska), the grandmother (babuska), the granddaughter (vnuchca), the female-dog (zhuchka), the female-cat (koshka) and finally the female-mouse (myshka). The humour or moral of the story is that only with the help of the weakest and smallest creature (the mouse) can the giant turnip or radish (repka) be pulled up.

It is all about co-operation and that if we all work together, we can do anything.

Summer had finally arrived and with it the much awaited glorious sunshine. The whole character of the Irish society changes  as people make the most out of the great weather which can be here today and gone tomorrow.  Many will head out to the beach or engage in outdoor activities like cycling or hiking. People painting their houses or mowing the lawns is a common sight. 

Having come from a society where the individual is driven to compete to survive, I find that the community spirit over here is very strong. People here co-operate and do community work on a regular basis, even more so in summer because we can go outdoors and work in the fine weather. Co-operation in a community setting is something very new to me, where everyone contributes to a common good and in return reaps the rewards.

Martin A. Nowak, writer for Scientific American and author of “Why We Help: The Evolution of Co-operation” points out that selfless behaviour is a pervasive phenomenon. Life to Nowak is not just a struggle for survival but rather a ‘snuggle for survival.’

A case in point is the local community garden which I am part of. We grow vegetables and flowers and we meet twice a week to mind what we have planted. But the best part is members who pop by the garden other than the scheduled times will water all the beds as well. The group also organises an open day where the public would be invited to a barbeque. Each of us will bring some kind of meat or sausage or fish. For the past few years I have been showcasing Malaysian satay complete with peanut gravy, onions, cucumber slices and ketupat.

The spirit of co-operation generates several outcomes.

Firstly it is a given that we reciprocate good deeds.

I share a garden bed with a fellow gardening enthusiast. When I was away on a trip and there was fear of bad weather, she covered my plants with protective fleece. There was no danger of my crops being destroyed by frost and I came home to thriving seedlings. Likewise, when my friend is busy, I’ll help water her crops. During harvesting season, we share the produce.

Next we also have indirect reciprocity. Indirect reciprocity simply means if you build a reputation of helping others, others will help you. One example is the East Clare Co-operative Society that runs many programmes for free or for minimal payment. Such programmes range from cooking classes to hobby crafts.

Recently, the director of the co-operative invited me to teach volunteers how to do Sugan chair weaving. So we spent a number of hours on a Saturday morning putting new life into old chairs. The results were amazing. Although the participants could not bring the chairs home with them, they felt proud because they had learnt a new skill and they had contributed something to the co-operative.  Every chair that was painstakingly woven by a participant now stands proudly in the co-op cafe.

When we use the word networking we think of it as getting connected with people to get something in return, especially in career advancement. That is networking for a motive.

But when we co-operate, there is an unwritten code of support and sharing within the group. Co-operation results in networking at a different level. Everyone brings with him life’s experience and perspective. When we put that together as a group, it becomes a powerhouse of knowledge. For cooperation to work, everyone has to be an active member of the team and do what they agree to do.

I guess what I enjoy most about co-operation is that it is not about me, myself and I. It is about us and there’s a good feeling that comes with it.

THIS ARTICLE WAS ORIGINALLY PUBLISHED IN THE NEW STRAITS TIMES MALAYSIA ON 25 JUNE 2017  http://digital.nstp.com.my/nst/books/nstnews/2017/20170625nstnews/index.html#/25/

A CHAIR BY ANY OTHER NAME WOULD MAKE A GREAT SEAT

I've never tried my hand at carpentry so I took a brave step in getting away to 

Slieve Aughty Centre, an ecofriendly resort for a weekend in the hills to learn how to

make a Sugan chair from the expert. I know, I should have settled for making something 

small like a chopping board instead of something that requires massive strength and expertise.

Sean Walshe the master craftsman was at hand to teach us this ancient and beautiful art. 

A younger Jeremy Irons look-alike, Sean patiently guided and helped us 5 ladies to choose 

the logs and make the chairs from scratch. He has great experience of traditional furniture

construction based upon a knowledge of native hardwood trees combined with the use 

of traditional hand tools.

So while others took to drilling and hammering with much ease, I was pushed to my 

physical limits and even fell backwards once when the force exerted was too great and 

I lost my balance. The heaviest thing that I had ever carried before the foray into logs 

was a watering can full of water. I prided myself as one who wielded more power with

 the pen then with the axe.

Due to their bespoke nature, Sugan chairs are made of green native timber, ash and 

hazel with 'mortice  and tenon' joints. This archaic chair has a seat made of woven sisal 

rope or twisted hay. Sugan is the gaelic word for straw .

The chair is found in most rural traditional homes and they come in different sizes and

styles. Some have arms so that farmers could rest their arms after a hard day's work 

at harvesting potatoes or cutting turf. Others have no arms so that more children can 

squeeze round the dinner table. In fact in the old days when the story teller (Seannachoi)

called, he would have the prized seat. He would sit comfortably, telling stories to the old 

and young. Such was the simple entertainment of the day.

I am not a chair person as I'm rather a bed person. A good bed is absolutely essential for

a good night's rest. However, interestingly enough a chair symbolises a great many thing.

There's the seat of knowledge and the seat of power. It is the throne that the king sits and

it is also the place where the condemned prisoner finds himself before being electrocuted.

The distance between chairs can denote either intimacy or estrangement.

The Broken Chair, sculpted by Swiss artist Daniel Berset is one. Originally erected on 

August 18, 1997, Paul Vermeulen, director of the non-governmental organisation 

'Handicap International' in  Geneva, saw it fit to use the broken chair as a strong symbol 

for the Mine Ban Treaty.

Another example is Vincent Van Gogh's painting of a chair and a pipe to illustrate simplicity

and separation from the world.

Empty chairs signify loss.

The seventy bronze chairs scattered around Plac Bohaterow Getta which used to be 

Plac Zgody in Krakow, Poland represent the pain and absence of the day as the ghetto in

Krakow was cleared and all the people's possessions were strewn across the streets. It is also 

known as the Ghetto Heroes Square. Each steel chair represents 1000 victims.

Even in the musical  Les Miserables, we have the iconic scene of empty chairs and 

empty tables where revolutionaries paid the price of freedom with their lives.

So,what is the price of a personalised chair?

I love a good challenge and I am one of those who believe that when you stretch yourself 

outside your comfort zone, you learn something. 

And what a stretch it was - with muscle ache in all directions, I carried home a beautifully

hand crafted Sugan chair.

THIS ARTICLE WAS ORIGINALLY PRINTED IN THE NEW STRAITS TIMES MALAYSIA 7 AUGUST 2016
http://digital.nstp.com.my/nst/books/160807nstnews/index.html#/23/

Sewing one's life experiences into a comfy quilt

I ALWAYS believe the best asset a woman can have is a pair of hands. So one Saturday from 9.30am to 4pm, armed with a sewing machine and materials, I began a serious affair with patchwork and quilting, drinking hot creamy vegetable soup and eating salmon and cheese sandwiches in-between at Winander House on Park Road, Limerick -- a quilter's haven.
Patchwork has evolved into an art from the time my mother pieced together remnants of cloth to create security blankets. This time round, I had to purchase cotton material and coordinate the colours and cut them into angular shapes and sizes. It sounds ridiculous to purposefully cut a good-sized piece of cloth into smaller bits and then sew them back together again. But therein lies the mystery of many lessons learnt.

To begin with, I had to coordinate the prints and colours of the cloth to reflect the theme I had in mind. This reminded me of the friends I had made during my sojourn across the globe who are as different as night and day. There are those who swear by eating potatoes and others who will not survive a day without rice. Then there are the sago eaters and those who chomp churros.

Greetings also differ. There are some who shake hands, some who hug and some who prefer to kiss the cheek. A motley crew indeed but every single one of these friends added to my wealth of knowledge and understanding.
Then I took the stance of the master cutter, cutting the shapes and sizes of cloth that I needed. The image it conjured was of the gardener pruning his rose bushes, usually in winter, so that the roots would grow deeper and new shoots would sprout in spring. The pruned rose bush is nothing attractive to behold and if plants could talk, probably the sharp pruning shears hurt. Like plants, we are often pruned by our experiences so we can develop into better beings.

The cut pieces of cloth, on the other hand, are like pieces of coloured glass in a kaleidoscope. Each piece of glass is beautiful in itself but when combined with other pieces of glass they form unique patterns, each one different from the other.

Surely, we all, too, have our pieces of glass that cut and make us bleed. Classic quotes concerning the lessons learnt from experiences abound: experiences mould character, it is better to have loved and lost than never to have loved at all, every cloud has a silver lining. The list goes on. Yet when we are caught in a bad moment, character moulding is the last thing on our mind.

Most times we think that our bad moments are the worst in the world until we hear of the predicament of another in a poorer state. There is this interesting exercise usually held at group therapy sessions where everyone is asked to pen his problem on a piece of paper and drop it into a bin in the middle of the room. At the end of the session, each person is given the choice to pick "another problem" from the bin to take it home or take his own problem home. The outcome is always similar: no one wants to take another person's problem home, for fear that it could be worse.

The next step in making a patchwork quilt is to sew the pieces together. Again this mirrors life's actions. If anyone has gone through surgery, he can agree with me that when the anaesthetic wears off, the pain is excruciating. Stitching is part of the healing process and the scars that remain stand to remind us of the experience. People say we should forgive and forget but being human, scars do remain and we may not forget but if the sting is no longer attached to the memory, then the healing has begun.

The final process is to put the batting under the completed patchwork to form a quilt. The batting gives it body and keeps someone warm while he watches his favourite television programme during wintry days. As the Christmas quilt now proudly drapes the back of the three-seater in the living room, I cannot but admire the big picture. Truth be told, I had my doubts whether certain strong colours would blend with the pastels, but I was proven wrong. The overall effect was spectacular.

Have a blessed Christmas.

The sweet returns of card making

BUYING and sending greeting cards is like a treasured memory, now that there are phone calls, ecards, short messages and video messages.
Ask anyone below the age of 15 whether he has sent a greeting card and you will feel like a dinosaur when he says: "Who sends cards these days?"

Although the occasional card still arrives in the mail, what we generally find in our postbox these days are bills and junk mail. Gone are the days when we eagerly waited for the postman to arrive on his red bicycle to hand over to us, personally, postcards, birthday cards or festive cards.
We bought cards for all occasions, hand wrote the details and penned them off with warmest regards. For those whom we were particularly fond of, we enclosed little mementos. Then we cycled or walked to the nearest post office to buy stamps of different denominations. We selected the stamps with care, especially if the stamps came in a sequence.

I have just joined a ladies' group and our last activity was not just buying and sending cards, but actually making them and sending them to perfect strangers.

The leader of the group came armed with a list of names, card paper, envelopes and lots of embellishments to decorate the cards.

We were to come up with our own designs and write thoughtful lines to those who needed encouragement and living in far-flung countries.

I thought that was a perfectly lovely idea.

The last time I made a card was about a month ago. I designed a Hari Raya Aidiladha card for my Asian Muslim neighbour as I could not find such cards on sale here.

He was surprised because that was probably the first card he had ever received since he emigrated to Ireland. Shortly after I had given him the card, I went shopping.

When I returned, my daughter said my neighbour had called and given us a tub of payasam, a traditional South Asian sweet dish, made by boiling rice or broken wheat with milk and sugar, and flavoured with cardamom, raisins, saffron, pistachios or almonds.

Indeed, making and sending a card goes a long way.

First, we put our creative juices on paper. The array of felt pens, stickers and knick-knacks, like ribbons and plastic googly eyes, were enough to spur even the uninitiated into a world spiced with colour, patterns and originality.

Some took to drawing immediately, while others mulled over what to write and how to decorate the cards. For once, we felt like amateur Da Vincis with blank canvasses before us.

Next, I was sitting among friends, mothers and grandmothers. Female bonding, a term that is used in ethology and social science, spells patterns of friendship, attachment, and cooperation in women.

We came from different backgrounds and countries but we shared the same goal for the day.

It reminded me of the movie Letters to Juliet, a 2010 American romantic comedy film where a group of well-meaning volunteers sat down to answer thousands of missives left at the fictional lover's Verona courtyard.

Finally, just as in Malaysia, no meeting would be complete without the eating of comfort food.

We forgot about the carbohydrates, let down our guards and traded personal details and experiences. That was what hot aromatic coffee and custard creams did for the souls. Very welcome treats when the biting cold of Autumn winds continued to blow.

By midday, the group managed to whip up an impressive batch of cards all ready to be posted.

We may never know the responses of those who will receive them, but we all went home knowing that a specially-made card carried with it a lot of love.