“I grow old, I grow old…I shall wear the bottoms of my trousers rolled” (TSEliot)

A weird week.  My recent trip to PNG saw one tiny experience in my life come full circle; this week I learned of the deaths of 3 people from my past and talked again with two women, once intimate friends some 20 years ago.  Life moving to full circles all round like the early effervescence of a bubble bath.

Perhaps these circles herald the drumbeats of getting older. A flurry of deaths demands to be noticed like previous ones:

https://agameolddame.wordpress.com/2011/09/20/dead-friends/

Doug had been the best man at my wedding, a trailblazer in Asia- Pacific anthropology as one journal described him. In the sixties when almost still a boy he had gone to live with the Dayak people in Borneo. We shared a house briefly on his malaria-plagued return.  What an exotic path he chose. What led a boy from Newcastle to decide in the 50s that when he grew up he wanted to observe remote and different cultures, to live in longhouses in the jungle? Why didn’t I strive to stay in touch? I never do.

I didn’t know Tom had died either. Such a friend in the past that he would drop in on Christmas mornings with a box of ripe mangoes. We had weekends away and he never questioned working hard on any of my campaigns. His obituaries talked again of a trailblazer, this time in television putting together programs of conscience honouring the ordinary person and just causes. He was also a rare eccentric once setting up an office in the lift of the ABC when he was denied one of his own. I hadn’t seen Tom for years before he died. I had taken umbrage at some, probably unintended, perceived intrusive judgement on my life and always intended to hold out an olive branch. It is sad I didn’t. Must reflect on friendship.

Elisabeth was an acquaintance, a journalist and author, one of those people whom you know of and you know they know of you. Recently we met, became Facebook friends and I had resolved to finally get to know her. Her obituaries overflowed down to a new dedicated website. Tributes from her friends and colleagues showcased a personality and a life to be admired: “ deeply concerned about social justice but she came at it without any cant”; ”awesomely direct, passionate, she was loyal, independent: she was a wholly original person”; “a searingly honest and curious person with a mischievous sense of humour”.

These 3 had in common their passion, dedication and perhaps a touch of eccentricity. All were trailblazers – in anthropology, in television and in writings. I muse over why so many of the people I know of my generation seem to have been such achievers. I come up with two explanations; growing up in the 40s and the 50s there was so much more available to discover and innovate together with more opportunities, and it was a smaller society so it was reasonable that interesting people brushed up against each other.

Whence the passion for social justice? Australia was starting to break free of the cloying insularity of the British suburban, paternalistic, white Australia Menzies model (that we seem to be reverting to). The Age of Aquarius was coming over the horizon. We were the post-war lucky generation and anything was possible.

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Very angry, with reasons……. Australian election 2013

My eyes welled with tears driving home. Sad. Angry. In Australia yesterday the Liberals (conservatives) won the elections. I take my politics seriously but this time my response has been more intense and passionate than ever.

Early signs – a few weeks ago I burnt off one of my oldest friends who levelled personal criticism at me when I did not laugh loudly enough (on email) at an anti- Kevin Rudd cartoon. For the first time in a long active political life I lost an important friendship over political differences. But really I was sick of the bile all around me. I should stop reading social media!

Those on the left with their loathing of Rudd were some of the most active whiteanters of the Labor government sniping him as they believed he had sniped Gillard.

For the first time in memory I could not watch the tally room commentaries knowing as I did that the current government would be whipped. Imagine this avoidance from a political junkie who as a young woman revelled in being a groupie in the national tally room on election night.

One of my best friends rang to say he thought the concession speech of the defeated PM Rudd had shown signs of an unhinged man. My frustration boiled over. Wasn’t the man who had been so vilified and had worked his guts out, entitled?  Why did my friends, all left leaning, despise this man who for me had painted the only big pictures for this country since the great Gough?

Anyway as someone who had run for 8 elections (not for either party) and lost 2 of them, I knew a fraction of the personal hurt he could be masking that night.

Sure Kevin Rudd might be an undermining narcissist but he too was a victim. In one of the saddest karmic Shakespearean episodes in our short history he, as PM, was removed in a quick assassination only to later replace Brutus in a slightly less brutal way and perhaps more insidious way. But like many tragic figures he did not have the gift of forgiveness. How many of his critics would have I wonder?

I snapped. It’s not that I am a Rudd fan; it’s more I was sick to the stomach with the whole ugly thing. My friend and I decided not to talk for a few days.

Another dear friend rang and I speculated as to why I was so upset after I cited the self-satisfied man at the supermarket I had sniped at over a photo of the new leader in the paper.

This friend suggested it was because I had been sick all last week. I snapped at her too. Don’t patronise me. My political outrage is based on rational passionate views, I said.

What were they then? Why this anger? Because:

  • I believe the new government is peopled with those of little compassion who constantly parroted negative canting superficialities over the past 4 years. Virtually none of them projected as people of heart.
  • The campaign they fought had been scripted to avoid all real questions about what kind of a government they would make. Indeed most costs and policies are still unknown. And the media let them get away with it.
  • Those few policies the new PM did articulate like: _
    • buying back Indonesian boats used by people smugglers;
    • paying rich women more money then others to have babies

just seem more than a bit CRAZY,

  • The dirty digger, Rupert Murdoch was their primary advocate and used his media to proselytise the most despicable sloganeering ad hominem I have ever witnessed including a front page of one paper showing the Prime Minister and his deputy dressed as comic Nazis.
  • During the last parliament both sides were hell bent on a race to the bottom to show they were not weak on the refugee issue. I had some slim hope that Labor (if the pressure were lessened) would weaken its stance and return to a more humane program as it had previously done. I have no such hope with the conservatives.
  • The mindless slogans – Stop the Boats, Cut the Taxes, The country is in a mess – contributed to the public’s negativity. The truth is that we have never had it so good — interest rates are lowest they have ever been; we have one of the highest standards of living in the world; our GDP is comparatively healthy; national debt is comparatively low etc. etc.
  • The new Prime Minister Abbott and his close henchmen have led a relentless campaign of destruction over the past five years tearing down two Labor leaders. They showed their greatest hatred for our first, strong and most dignified woman Prime Minister through episodes where Tony Abbott incited the crowd in front of posters saying Ditch the Witch. His own actions and words and his lack of criticism of his outrageous shock jock allies, endorsed a new politics of personal bile and vile like I have never seen before.
  • I am heartbroken other citizens appeared to be so dumbed down as to not see how manipulated they were being. They bought the conservative message and wanted the reforming PM Julia Gillard to go.
  • This was an election of “what’s in it for me” rather than one of “what’s best for the country as a whole”. Increasing material selfishness is becoming a hallmark when I continue to hope it might be more JFK’s “Ask not what your country can do for you; ask what you can do for your country.”
  • The new Prime Minister is a misogynist, xenophobe, climate denier, and homophobe – no matter that his Barbie daughters say it’s just “daddy dad” talk. I don’t want someone’s “daggy dad” as my Prime Minister. And we are heading back to the fifties when under a unified Labor lot we might, just might, have been a role model for an open, compassionate, egalitarian, liberal society. And cynics say there is little difference between the two major parties!!

Sure governments rotate at regular intervals and this is part of the cycle. But few in the process of generating the impetus for the rotation have so undermined the values of a fair go and equality that I thought were the hallmarks of this country.

When this incoming Prime Minister said Australia was again “open for business” it said it all. The sleight of words -no one had ever suggested it had been closed; but more importantly, those striving for a humane and just society would not have mainlined that theme.

Anyway it is now two days in and I am calming down. But I don’t apologise for the up swelling of my passion.

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London 5 – Goodbye Piccadilly, farewell Leicester Square……2011

Last day in London

What a rich and grand time I have had in London. Today I tried to shop but could find nothing in the Harvey Nic’s  or Harrods’ sales.

Police lines eye off the peace demonstraters who had nothing to do with the spending cuts demos.

More interesting were the double rows of police ringing Parliament House and the 12 vans of police parked along Westminster Bridge one and a half hours after the demonstration had finished. I even got a tall copper to take a picture of the ranks for me because I am too short.

Then gracious Abi took me to dinner at the Savoy Grill and off to see Dominic West play a shambling academic, Butley, at the Duchess. What an actor, from The Wire to this.

Am I lucky or what?

Last night when I came home I saw a fox wandering along the Southbank. Amazing. And the sushi chefs at the local Yo Sushi are both Pakistani. Good cross cultural snapshot.

The last challenge is to catch the plane to morrow.

Friday 1 July

Airport lounge free wifi (pointy end again). I have made it this far. Tired after the kind of restless night one always has trying to make sure you wake in time.

I still wonder why I have been doing a blog but hey, I’ve seen so much and had so many experiences, what a great way for me to recall them. Perhaps people write blogs for themselves, to order busy minds, to try and store the back files. It will be good when I put the pictures in. Perhaps it’s a whole new way of managing the mind.

I hope my travels have afforded someone a moment’s pleasure. But I am going to keep going until I start to write again. Bless anyone who had the interest to read.

Life is sometimes a bowl of flowers

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