It's Easy to Miss

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Harmony Day

Yesterday mid-morning I went up to the local neighbourhood house for Harmony Day. Although the official day was on March 21, for logistical reasons, we celebrated it here yesterday.

One of the highlights of the festivities was chatting to the ten Togolese new immigrants over cups of tea and scones and finding out all kinds of things. For example, in Togo, babies are named according to which day of the week they are born. Incidentally, when I was in Thailand I learnt that babies are named after the position in their family, eg one or two etc.

As new Australians entering the workforce, it was thought that the Togolese should know a little about Aussie rules football, so they would be able to participate in conversations around the water cooler. This was another highlight of the day: Listening to O talk about the clubs and what kind of person generally barracks for each one, and why they have the mascots and colours that they do.

After our guests had selected which teams they were going to barrack for henceforth, we all participated in a handballing competition. Me, the little Aussie tomboy who went to my first and only ballet class as a kid in my football gear, came last.

Running

There was a cross country running race for a few of the local schools today. I went to cheer on my beautiful niece, Indigo. Here she is, post-run holding the sign I made for her.

It was a great afternoon and I enjoyed cheering on all the kids, even those unknown to me. Though while I was watching, it occurred to me how dislocated we are from our survival. Once, we ran to save our lives – from predators and fire, towards prey and safer grounds.

Then, later this afternoon I sat in the main room of the town hall, while people brought in their treasured possessions for the Not Left Behind exhibition. I cried quietly while I read people's accounts of the fires and looked at all their home-warming sentimentals, including my own.

How lucky we are that we only need to run for recreation.

Howzat?!

A cricket cake for a cricket party. 

The weather just lovely. 

A long weekend. 

A boy turns seven and is joined by his friends who all wear white for the occasion.

Before and Afters

From here.

From here.

From here.

Getting a Grip

On Friday we had another meeting at Z's school to talk with his teachers about his bad behaviour.

In my opinion, the school isn't setting enough boundaries. They are telling him what to do and what not to do without showing him the consequences of his decisions. It's as though they have forgotten he is six.

Here is Z this morning with new footy boots before he muddied them at Auskick. 

Co-operation and team playing, responsibility for self, listening, learning, watching, a safe environment to run and tackle, and now, a better grip on the earth.