Hunting & Gathering Part 2: Do I have an inner hunter?

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Prologue

Continuing in the spirit of the previous post, my second story of frollicking in fall took place with the help of a day off, a borrowed vehicle, a highway out of Brussels, the beautiful town of Bouillon (which incidently, in-spite of being rather remote and little-known, I've now happened to have visited 3 times), 2 excellent road-tripping companions (they made fresh - still warm - berry muffins that morning for the drive! - Really, who could ask for anything more in a road tripping companion?), and the surprise of discovering an unexpected obscure little festival.

The Tale of La Fête de la Chasse
[The Hunting Festival]
(to the tune and rythym of the Teddy Bear's Picnic Song)

If you go out to Bouillon today, you're in for a big surprise,
If you go out to Bouillon today, inspite of its very small size:
Every local hunter that ever there was,
Will gather there for certain because,
Today's the day the Bouilloners have their Fête de la Chasse!

(Ok, it might be a little painful if I continue on in song, so I will switch to free flowing prose from here on.)

On any given weekend, in any corner, no matter how small, in Belgium, you never know when you might come upon a wee festival. We intended to just get out of the city for a break and a visit to an interesting castle, but instead, found ourselves unexpectedly in the middle of a fall hunting festival, with an impressive spread of the finest offerings of the forest and field of southern Belgium.

So, naturally, we joined in the spirit of the event, and perused and sampled some of the local fare.

Every type of sausage you can imagine
(garlic, lavendar, fig...).

Wheels of cheese so big, they make your eyes turn
into really big circles. (And tasty too.)

Funnily shaped mushrooms.

And, yes - the beasts of the forest.
(Sorry - a little gorey...but it was a hunting festival afterall.)

And some finely dressed locals.
(I think they probably always dress like that in these parts...
wouldn't you if you were surrounded by castles and wild boars?)

After we had added some local treats to our lunch bags, we continued on our way to the castle, expecting to encounter young men in tights armed with bow & arrow around the next bend.

But it seems times are now peaceful in Boullion...

...Unlike the days when the town's 'hero,' Godefroid de Bouillon founded this castle. This 11th century crusader was renouned for leading one of the Crusader armies across Europe to the Holy Land, in hopes of recapturing it from the muslims. On his 3-year journey, his army slaughtered thousands of Jews in towns in Europe enroute and then massacred an estimated 40,000 Muslims and Jews upon reaching Jerusalem. Nice chap. It baffles me that someone sitting in a cozy castle in a small valley in the Belgian Ardennes in the middle ages decides to put together an army of 60,000 men, and walk/ride for 3 years to Israel.

But on to cheerier topics, and less-violent times. Today the castle rests unarmed: it's look-out posts providing scenic views rather than strategic points of protection, it's halls quiet, save for an oohing/aahing tourist here and there.

And the route to the castle, on this particular day; covered in nature's red carpet and golden confetti.

The perfect spot, we thought, for a fall picnic, complete with Boullions' finest sausage, local organic apples, and a hot cup of soup thanks to aforementioned excellent, and wise-planning co-picnickers.
Apparently, having a picnic on a cold fall day is a peculiar thing to do in these parts (while, evidently, dressing in robes and wearing a feather in one's cap is not) - for we had more than one group of people on their way to the castle stop, do a double-take, stare, laugh at us - or take our photo!

Up at the castle, we enjoyed impressive vistas and learned about the ways of those who once stood at these same walls 1000 years before.

And explored its dungeons and passageways.

Pausing to sit on the ledge of rock that apparently helps maidens to get engaged within one year of sitting upon it. (Oops...I'm not sure I should have sat down.)

And then! - an impressive display of the castle's falconry - to add to the hunting theme of our day. Yes, this one is a vulture (from Africa...not sure how he feels about living in a castle in rainy Belgium).

This one is truly a beauty - if fierce.

And, to send us off as we departed from the castle, and from Boullion: a troupe of buglers - of course - the sounds of their bugling echoing through the valley.

And thus ends another adventure in Belgium.

Hunting & Gathering, Part 1: Getting in touch with my inner gatherer/forest pixie

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Prologue

The past year being my first in some time to experience four classic seasons in correct succession, 'falling' into winter came with both joy and sorrow. The summer was so especially lovely that I could hardly bear to see less of the sun and start putting on sweaters again. I yearned once more for the consistency of daily blue sky and the cheerful (if unrelenting) yellow orb that Sudan unswervingly provides. But then...I discovered and remembered once again the unique delights of autumn, and the realisation that there is indeed a time for everything and a season for every activity under the heavens. And thus, I embraced fall, and fell for its (golden) charms. There are 2 tales I'd like to share that exemplify my celebration of the past autumn.

The Tale of Chestnutting
(in imperfect rhyming couplets with aggrandized tone)

I heard it said that one can legally forage,
For chestnuts: good roasted, in stuffing, or porridge.
Those fallen from trees; anywhere in my city,
Why, leaving them all for the squirrels would be a pity.

I thought to myself, "self! - let's give that a try!".
Collecting one's food is fulfilling - that's why.
So I quickly took up this new fascination,
And did my research on arboreal classification.

Then when the time of the season was just exactly right,
I gathered some friends with whom to share my delight.
"Off to the forest!" - empty sacks in each hand,
Knowing not if we'd find what we sought, as I'd planned.

The day was exquisite: sunlight filtering through trees,
Not too cold, but crispy, with just a slight breeze.

The park filled with frollickers, everyone out for their walks,
The waffle queue long, families having good talks.

Leaves gold & resplendant, light dancing on the lake,

And we foragers happy, even in the shadows we make.

Once in the woods, our minds turned to our task,
"But, how do you do it?" you might very well ask.

So I gathered my friends for a quick chestnut course,
On the difference between the sweet ones, and those named after a horse.

I was their leader: ill-experienced, but brave and well studied,
And we hunted through the trees; into gulleys; got muddied.

We searched through the leaves, under brush, under brier.
With the rush of the search, our hearts were on fire.

Then! - with cries of delight, we found our first wee, spikey treasure!
The joy of this find - I assure you - is deep pleasure.

(It's then that I realized, a pixie I could be,
To always wander the forest: happy and free.)

We foraging friends were each filled with awe,
(We each have a portrait with surprise and dropped jaw!)

Like pirates of the forest, we plundered our loot,
And there was enough left behind for the squirrels to boot!

When our bundles were full, we made our way back,
Pride filling our hearts, chestnuts filling our sack.

Once home, we washed, scored, and put on the grill,

Then with mulled wine we ate, 'till we each had our fill.

We rested, shared stories, confirmed the fun we'd all had,

And agreed: "hand-picked, home-roasted chestnuts - aren't bad!"

And so, friends, as this foraging story comes to an end,
I emphatically say, "'tis an experience I recommend".

For to find one's own food, fulfills to the core,
A satisfaction you'll not find when you shop in the store.

So next year, when the leaves reach a certain gold-yellow hue,
Time to go chestnutting! - It's the right thing to do!


The end.

Inspiration in Armenia

I was inspired.

That in and of itself is not so remarkable. I consider myself a fairly 'inspirable' person. However, it was the cause of that inspiration that took me by surprise.

Let me explain. In my line of work – helping the poor and saving the world (in a hyperbolic tongue in cheek nut shell – for those unaware, I’m referring to the field international development), one easily becomes discouraged and cynical. Why? Because it so rarely works very well. Its aims are continually frustrated and the nuggets of hope that keeps one believing it’s still worthwhile to try (and we do) are far too often few and far between.

More often, we’re struck with seemingly impossible situations, uncooperative governments, stubborn attitudes and negative mentalities, insecurity, mismanaged funds, poorly planned and ineffective projects (albeit well-intentioned), poorly trained staff, logistical nightmares, communities over-dependant on aid, corruption….I could go on. It can be discouraging.

But now and then…perhaps just often enough, we do taste a delicious sweet nugget of hope, a metaphorical firm and comforting pat on the back – just often enough to tell us that it is worth it; that goodness can grow and prevail; that we should keep trying.

Sunset on Day 1 in Armenia

In October I went on my first field trip since joining the organisation at their headquarters. I visited our programme in Armenia to do an internal evaluation of one of the projects we’re running there. My task: to ask the question of whether this project is really making an impact, whether that impact is really what’s needed for the people who need it, and whether it’s being carried out in an efficient and effective way. My overwhelming conclusion: yes!

Let me clarify. It’s not that I was entirely surprised to find out that we’re doing good work. I know and believe we’re doing a lot of good work. It’s just that I was so thoroughly impressed by the quality of that work, and moved by the testimonies of the impact of that work that it made me affirm my belief in good development all over again – and, quite simply: it just made me happy.

It’s a nice project – being carried out by really nice Armenian partner organisations and by communities and a government that have wholeheartedly gotten behind it. The project is focussed on improving access to services and the realization of the basic rights of children with disabilities. In a country where children with disabilities have typically been hidden away by their parents as a shameful thing to their family, an attempt to bring those children out into public - give them rehabilitative care, enhance what abilities they do have, and allow them an opportunity to participate in their communities alongside other children with and without disabilities - this has been a huge transformation. As an example, the project identified some case where next-door neighbours had no idea that the family living beside them had a child with a disability because they had never seen them before. These same children, once shut-in at home, have now, for example, received surgeries that allow them to walk, are writing articles for a children’s magazine, or are attending school.


During my 5-day visit, I had interview after interview with anyone and everyone involved in the project – from our staff to those working with our local partner organisations, to government officials, to doctors and physical therapists, to community volunteers, to village mayors, to parents and the children themselves. I heard stories and explanations and opinions. Everyone agreed. Everyone was convinced of the good that has come from this project – from their own unique perspective.

I heard from a mother whose son was having a physiotherapy session at one of the rehabilitation centres we opened in her region that her son had already made huge improvements in 4 months. She described how he can’t wait to come to their session each week and doesn’t want to leave at the end, and how, if it wasn’t for this centre they would have no other options for him.

Girls in an art session at a rehabilitiation
centre one of the local NGOs runs.

I spoke to a drama troupe; a group of kids that puts on Shakespeare and Moliere and Bernard Shaw plays in Yerevan. Some have disabilities and some do not – with the aim of it being an ‘inclusive’ activity for all children. At first, as I was interviewing them, I was trying to figure out which ones had disabilities because somehow I felt that they had the more valid story to tell and a greater claim to participate in these activities. Then I caught myself. It doesn’t matter. That’s the point. Every child should be able to do drama or write an article for a magazine or go to school. The disability is an aside. Yes, it’s something that needs to be addressed, worked with, or somehow worked around. And yes, I did hear some great stories from children who were once isolated and inactive, whose lives have been transformed. But the point is, this theatre troupe, or any activity for children should be high quality for everyone, and open to everyone. One of the boys in the group told me, ‘we learn how to perform as professionals. It’s very marvellous for us!’ That was my ‘quote of the trip’: “It’s very marvellous for us! (And he spoke English, so the choice of the word ‘marvellous’ was his.)

A very marvelous drawing. (I especially like how
the rainbow in the umbrella extends into the sky,
brightening up the typical soviet apartment.)

I spoke to local NGOs who said they’re surprised to see how fast attitudes are changing – as parents see that others also have children with disabilities and its okay; as people see the quality of care the children are getting and the difference it makes; as children freely interact with each other.

A home and garden in a typical village just next
to one of the community centres we support.

I spoke to volunteers at newly-established village community centres which have been brightly painted and equipped with a few nice toys and games and a computer. The local governments have chosen the location, are paying the salaries of one staff person and all the utilities and call the places ‘their own’. Not some nice building run by a foreign NGO. It’s theirs and they are making it work. The community members I talked to sounded genuinely proud of their centres. Facilitators and volunteers hold sessions for children on whatever their skill set allows. Some have sewing and dancing classes, others do art and games, others French and computer lessons. The children love it. And it’s for all children. Not only children with disabilities, but lots of other children too. But, importantly, children with disabilities are there too. Inclusiveness. They get what this means.



And I spoke to government officials – who are working together with the civil society organisations that the project strengthens, to revise Armenian law to meet the country’s obligations to ratify the UN Convention on the Rights of Persons with Disabilities. They’ve also committed to finding money in their budgets to keep running the rehabilitation centres after the project’s donor funding expires. They said: “this project is doing the work we’d like to do now, but can’t. And we want to do it in the future….we will find a way.”

As I listened to all these testimonies, I kept having these ‘light bulb’ moments of thinking “wow - that’s a fundamental ideal of international development theory in reality!” They were really doing it. Not because they all learned a bunch of theory and are trying to apply it – but because it works and actually makes sense. They’re applying the ‘Rights-Based Approach” by teaching parents and children about their rights and helping them find ways to claim them, while also working with governments and services providers to help them be better able to provide for these rights. They’re promoting ‘community participation’ and ‘local ownership’ and ‘sustainability’ and ‘capacity building’ and ‘advocacy’…. all those nice ‘buzz’ words that we load our funding proposals with, which often represent a huge gap between what we’d like to do or think is the way to do a project and the reality of how it actually pans out. But in this project it was working. Hallelujah! I was inspired.

And on a personal note, I got a little ‘inner’ pat on the back too. I was stressed about this trip and worried about the fact that I didn’t really know what I was doing – this being my first project evaluation and me going in as the perceived ‘expert’ from HQ with all the questions and authority to ask them. But it went well. The interviews went naturally and I came out with answers to the fundamental questions we were asking – as well as some decent recommendations for the areas (and there were a few) where we need to pull up our socks a bit. I had good responses to my evaluation report.

After one of my interviews, with a team of medical and rehabilitation specialists, the head doctor told me they had been quite nervous about my visit. (I had an inner chuckle at this, as I can’t see how I could be remotely intimidating). She said they were all so relieved at the end of our meeting when I said some encouraging words about their good work. Then she gave me a little hug and said “I’m so glad they sent you. You’re so kind”.

At the end of another interview, as I said goodbye to the group of adult members of a Disability Advocacy Coalition, one man, who was completely blind, told me I was beautiful. Ok…so perhaps he was just trying to be charming…but I decided to take it as a deep compliment.

View over Yerevan from my hotel room.

Mini site-seeing walk around Yerevan. The grey shadow
in the distance is Mt. Ararat (where Noah's Ark landed).
It looks much more impressive when not hidden by a
cloud, but my camera missed those moments.

It was a good trip - and a needed inspirational break from my desk-based tasks of processing various documents and spending inordinate hours at my computer here in Brussels. And – bonus! – this was my first trip to Armenia, so it meant a new country for my count, bringing my official tally to…. drum roll….42!* It was also good to be back in the Caucasus region. It reminded me in so many ways of Azerbaijan, and made me nostalgic for my time there. I had to bite my tongue every time I wanted to comment on some commonality between the two countries (Armenia and Azerbaijan were at war from 1988-1994, and have had a tenuous ceasefire since). It’s appalling how next door neighbours who share so much more than what little sets them apart can start killing each other. It’s miserable how hate can grow and spread and cover rationality.

Road-side berries en-route to a project site in rural Armenia.
Armenians & Azeris share largely the same passions
for food (with the exception of pork.)

But…let me end with hope: love and goodness can spread too. Even the story of just one child, who gets the care they need to live a happy life - how good.




*Yes, I confess that my country counting hobby reveals a lopsided focus on quantity versus quality in my nomadic wanderings. I do, however, make an effort to ensure that each ‘fling’ with a new country, however brief, is filled with quality. No eating in MacDonald’s in Moscow for me (or anywhere for that matter). And I do admire those whose count is 5 or 3 – or 1, and who fully know and give themselves to those places like I’ve never known or given myself to a place.

With the wind in my sails, a smile on my face, and blue brilliance all around me

Several wonderful things happened simultaneously in August:

• I had nearly 3 weeks off of work
• I made the big journey across the big ocean to Canada to visit my family
  
• The 6 members of my immediate family managed to all congregate in the same spot in the world at the same time for the first time in 3 years
• I went sailing for the first time (with the abovementioned family) on the Pacific Ocean on the Sunshine Coast - and loved it!
  
• The weather was remarkably warm & sunshiny for that time of year (and it was the first time in several years being back in Canada when it's not covered in snow and -30C)
• I got some excellent rest in an incredibly beautiful environment

It was a very good trip, and I have to confess, that yes, I'm a terribly lucky, spoiled individual to currently be able to have my cake (with icing) and eat it too - working in international development while living the good life in Europe and being able to return to Canada to see my family and enjoy summer rest. I wish more people could be spoiled in the ways I am - because feasting your eyes on the sight of the glistening big blue ocean, or eating corn on the cob fresh from Grandpa's garden are very good ways to be spoiled.

I spent a week and a half in 'Beautiful British Columbia' (that's what all the lisence plates say there - and it really is true) with ma & pa and big brother and dear sister, and good bro-in-law, which included some days of pure chillaxing at my mom and dad's place, and 6 days of sailing on their new sailboat. Then it was accross the Rocky Mountains over to the prairies of Alberta for some quality time with the grandfolk, cousins, aunts & uncles and my siblings, and reconnecting with friends.

I will let these photos from the west coast share the most beautiful part of my trip with you...

Mom and Dad's new house - one of my many places to call home.

Homecoming. Into the loving arms of my mama.

The whole fam all together from the far ends of the earth
(minus Scott the 'newbie' who was behind the camera).

Welcome home supper on the balcony overlooking the inlet.

Sunset on the ocean from the dining room.

Slurpee run before hot afternoon trip to the lake.

Paddling in grandpa's canoe.

Attempting to sink dad's kayak.

In the car en route to the harbour where our sailboat was anchored.
Note the cozy seating arangement (yes, that would be my knee
next to my chin). You see, due to logistical constraints, and
in our zeal to be back as a family - just like old times, we had only one car,
and naturally - kids in the back seat. Only, inconveniently, my sister has
now married, so there's an extra 'kid'. This is what we call 'sibling bonding'
- or, in our family: 'special times, with special people'.

Lunch in the harbour before we launched.

And that's our beautiful vessel!
(If you look close, you can see me waving on deck.)

She's a beauty. Tove is her name.

Sunshine, vast calm blue seas, sunning on the deck.
Cheers to the sailor's life!
(I have the best seat in the house -
unless of course there's a big wave.)

The happy crew with the captain and first mate
(a.k.a. mom and dad) in the cockpit.

Hors d'œuvres on deck - this is no shabby yacht.

Captain Myron at the helm.

Breakfast in one of many a beautiful bay.

DOD & DOM

The head galley maid in the kitchen.

Too many cooks in the kitchen. Way, way too many cooks.
It was times like this that put our family dynamics to the test.
And well....let's just say, we were a little rusty, having been apart
so long. We didn't always pass with flying colours. And to answer
the question lingering from the end of my cycling trip story -
No, we haven't grown up out of our silly/whiny/bullying/
pesky childhood ways. BUT we still love eachother.

My favourite spot on the boat.
(With the bonus of being a safe distance from
the kitchen and the cockpit.) You see me here
reading my book, but truth be told, most of the time,
I couldn't keep my eyes on my book because the view
beyond it was so incredible that I couldn't consume enough of it.

"The heavens declare the glory of God...day after day, they pour
forth speech" And - I might add - the seas repeat it back beautifully.
And they were proclaiming it loud, I tell you. (See next photos)

Our 'trail'.

The sun sets on an incredibly beautiful day.

There's something very comforting and poetic about
pulling into a harbour for the night...and when it looks
like this: reflective glass with mists hovering over silent boats...wow.

Home sweet home. Playing cards in the living room/
dining room/bedroom/storage room in our cozy cabin.

Tucked into my berth for the night.
(This was before I got relegated to the floor
on the nights we fit all six of us on board)

When it was time for a little space, we paddled in to
the shore for some hikes or refreshing swims in lakes or lagoons.

Or a cruise on the zodiac.

While hiking in the forest, we found this
friendly looking tree monster.

It turns out he wasn't so friendly.

Serenity.

Family photo opportunity: only comes along once every 3 years or so.

Back on board - Josh & I in a 'Titanic moment'

Sisters at the bow.

The Jespersen family at sea.

Land ahoy!