It was the year that everything started. I knew everyone, I was playing badminton every day, running training sessions several times a week, volunteering for Nightline, writing for the student paper. 4 months later I went through the most incredible experience of my life, campaigning hard and eventually finding myself elected President. I had an emotional and spiritual growth spurt.

The rest of the decade has been a whirlwind. I met an incredible woman and shared wonderful times together. I learnt to dive, to snowboard, to climb, to use a camera, to tango, to raft, to love, to grieve. I discovered politics, encountered the UN and went inter-railing through Eastern Europe, returning to start work for the MOD.  I unexpectedly fell in love and landed my dream job. I bought a house and had succeeded in life, before asking myself too many questions. I quit my dream job and sold my house to chase rainbows in New Zealand, not knowing that NZ would lead to Colorado and coming home to a place I’d never been before.

I had the worst year of my life to date. Trapped in a job I hated, crashed out of love, experienced two friends dieing unexpectedly and before their time, I was homeless and directionless. I let the darkness overtake me and slipped into depression, before clawing my way out and getting my head back above water. I let someone into my life bringing light with them and with whom I properly shared my whole life for the first time.

I chased rainbows through Thailand, Coventry, Cornwall, South Africa, Nepal, Malaysia and Singapore and ended up in retreat in Japan, trying to prove something to myself, but learning far more than I’d planned to. I chose to come back and fell into the most intense experience of my life, chasing a global dream that ended in Copenhagen discord.

And now? I think I survived my Saturn Return, but I’m coming up to a fork in the road again, with a inkling that this is the first domino of the rest of my life. I’m a little wiser, a little more cautious, a little more cynical, a little more hopeful and a little less invincible.

This New Year’s Eve was spent at a last-minute gathering in my flat in Brixton with a smaller group of newer friends, drinking champagne, eating homemade bread and watching fireworks from my bedroom window. We tried to make paper lanterns with tealights and newspaper and ended up playing Cranium until 5am. Mark nearly set fire to himself. Kate fell down the steps. We were free. Life was fun, spontaneous and crazy.

It’s easy to fall prey to criicising those lower down the food chain than you, to mock their sense of self-importance. But the reality is that it hides my sense of self-importance and the fact that my ego feels bruised. There is a genuine sense of disempowerment and acceptance of the state of affairs, but there’s also an ego-driven part of me that wants to play the part.
Now all of this sounds terribly pessimistic, like nothing we do matters, but that’s not true. Nothing most of us do matters here in this forum, but imagine if the energy, passion, creativity and commitment on display here was directed to places that really mattered, where change is possible. What a world we’d live in. But to get there we need individually to look inside and ask ourselves “what am I doing here?” “is this the best place for me to contribute?” “am I here for my ego or to create real change?” “where am I best placed to stimulate change?”. Time to pause. Appreciate the stillness, get perspective. Time to take stock.

A Bear of Very Little Brain

I’m going to try to put down what goes round in my head, my worldview, or at least the main thrust of it. It’s an ever evolving kaleidoscope of thought, but I felt it was time to try to share it more. But as I do so, I’m reminded of a quote from a great sage:

“When you are a Bear of Very Little Brain, and Think of Things, you find sometimes that a Thing which seemed very Thingish inside you is quite different when it gets out into the open and has other people looking at it.”

We are a great moment of change. A period of instability, and in a complex living system, novelty emerges from critical points of instability.

How would I characterise this instability? It’s a feeling. A sense of powerlessness, a general malaise often disguised by escapism and consumerism, but we feel something is wrong and we’re starting to think about it. We work jobs that often have little meaning, that are a means to an end. We are passengers, flotsam in the river of life, slowly being washed out to sea. Our world, our creation, seems out of control – we’ve successfully created a complex living breathing system that is beyond our control. That’s not to say that it’s uncontrolled, it’s just that it is self controlled and although we are the system, we cannot direct it. Control is an emergent phenomena (Frijtof Capra has written some excellent work on these concepts and set up the Center for Ecoliteracy).

How does this lack of control manifest itself? Global inequality, rampant consumerism, war, violence, hunger, poverty, the faltering of the economic system (I won’t describe it as a collapse just yet), climate change. Giddens described it as a runaway world. To me, we are like cellular slime mould – a remarkable organism that will create beautiful complex patterns when a population is grown in a petri dish, patterns that increase in complexity and beauty as the individuals interact in ever more intertwined, networked ways. Eventually this breaks into a third dimension and the individual cells begin to behave like a whole – a 3d organism emerges (there’s a whole other ramble about the role of global communications technologies and the internet in faciliting this development, but I’ll save that for another time).

We as a species have multiplied and grown, interacting with each other in increasingly sophisticated ways until now, we are starting to emerge as a living single organism. That’s not to say that we’re all going to join hands and teach the world to sing, but we are part of an interconnected whole (DFID’s White Paper is but one acknowledgement of this).

This critical point of instability is exciting and worrying – it’s a uncertain and messy, out of our individual control. And the change, the novelty that will emerge, this sort of paradim shift is on the same scale as the Reformation and the Renaissance. Its scale and nature are so great that we cannot comprehend what the other side will look like, yet we will look back and wonder how on earth we thought like we do now. And, try as we might, we cannot plan it and mobilise the masses to bring it to life (although these efforts will be part of the change, just as carrying on will be part of the change – there’s so much more to be said about this, but again, it’ll have to wait). This next R of the world is driven by a cast of thousands of changes and socio-political drivers, yet in a way we can’t do anything about it, it is just happening. In some ways it’s a Reimagining of the world, a Rethinking of our view, but they both imply conscious thought and control. So is it ceding control, a Relaxation of our cartesian desires? Or is it simply a Realisation, a Revealing (or perhaps for those with a more biblical bent, a Revelation)?

2 weeks of negotiations between some 200 countries in pursuit of an ambitious global deal on climate change. When you think of what’s at stake, the whole process seems cumbersome and inadequate, but what alternative is there?
I’m here representing the UK on so called bunker fuel emissions, basically emissions from international aviation and shipping. It’s a painful topic, sadly omitted from Kyoto as a tragedy of the commons. Unable to agree responsibility for the emissions, the issue was shunted into ICAO and IMO, the international bodies responsible for aviation and shipping respectively. 12 years later, nothing has really changed.
The EU has taken it’s own action on aviation, the UK has taken on bold domestic targets, but at the end of the day, few countries are even willing to discuss it in the UN.
However, what has changed is the surrounding political environment. Just last week we saw ’super september’ with the G20, Major Economies Forum and the UN general Assembly all talking about climate change. Whilst bunkers remains a marginal issue (despite what others may say, the sectors collectively only represent about 3% of global emissions), this new political climate means that Copenhagen is the best chance of making progress on climate change as a whole and by extension, bunkers. The challenge is to move beyond our traditional position based posturing and actually start listening and thinking creatively about solving a ‘wicked problem’ that brings together a global environmental issue, global trade (and therefore development), global equity and equality and individual travel choices. I’m still hopeful…

- melon baller
- curved bi-directional grapefruit knife
- broken egg timer
- 14 sports-type bottle tops
- 3 tea strainers
- a curved cheese knife
- 14 jam jar lids
- 8 assorted Tupperware lids
- an angel shaped cookie cutter
- 2 ‘Cannies’ closures for open drinks cans
- novelty claw shaped crab hammer
- 2 cunningly resealable milk bottle tops
- a mini-whisk
- a pickled onion fork
- 1 plastic disposable fork
- a medicine dispenser cup

Unique utensils

BUT the highlight was…

- A collection of teaspoons from various world airlines (Left-Right: Thai, JAL, Qantas?, United, Continental, British Airways, Qantas. On the top: Malaysian,
Singapore Airlines)

Teaspoons from various airlines

Cultural heritage in a cutlery drawer. Fantastic.

The ubiquitous rickshaw

Today Ali-bhai (-bhai is Bangla suffix meaning ‘brother’, more polite than just their name), M’s driver takes me on a trip to Old Dhaka. Just as we start off, the last two days of oppressive heat and humidity give way to a deluge from the heavens. Looking at the traffic and rising water levels on the road, I contemplate abandoning the trip, but am glad we continued – about an hour after setting off, we finally reach Old Dhaka (only a few miles away, but traffic makes it longer) and as if on cue, the rain stops. The downpour takes the heat out of the air and makes it all much more bearable.

Ali-bhai looking at mangoes

We stop at Hindu St, an old market street and wander through. Ali tries to explain the merits of Bangladeshi mangoes and how to tell which are Indian and which are Bangladeshi. We stop and drink strong and sweet tea from a street vendor. I smile sheepishly and watch as my tea takes shape. The cart is a filthy, ramshackle vehicle that wouldn’t look out of place collecting rubbish on a London street. A large, battered tin kettle sits boiling away and the vendor sieves my tea out into a small, but clean glass cup. A dollop of condensed milk from a tin and my scalding hot beverage is ready – 20 taka (less than 20p). I feel like Ali’s let me into a little club and catch a glimpse into his world as we sit with a group of other Bangladeshi men and Ali-bhai natters away.

Former glory of Ahsan Manzil

A few minutes of walking and we arrive at Ahsan Manzil – the former official residential palace and seat of the Dhaka Nawab Family. I gain a surprising sense of the former glory and the influence of this merchant family. The mediocre state of the building and the piles of litter in the garden are a sad reflection of the decline, but there is an unmistakable feeling of pride and a glimpse into Bangladeshi identity. There’s so much more I want to learn about this history and heritage. I bump into a random French guy – the first foreigner I’ve seen (outside of M’s friends). He’s a travel agent based in the Maldives, on holiday, seemingly by accident.

Sadarghat terminal

Frenetic activity at Sadarghat

A short stroll away is Sadarghat, Dhaka’s main terminal/port on the banks of the Buriganga. It’s a bustling, energetic place with people scurrying around and bags of good shuttling on and off ferries. I stand and stare, watching the ballet of movement and commerce in action. For some reason, I’m a little shy to draw my camera, so steal a few shots and hide my camera away lest I draw any more attention to myself. A couple of students engage me in a brief conversation – they’re on their way to visit a friend, 4 hours away by boat.

The last floods rose above this wall

We stop for some more tea, then hop in a rickshaw back to the car and fight our way through traffic to Lalbagh fort. On the way, we pass along the river road, I ask Ali about the floods and how they affect Dhaka – he points out a wall and explains that the last proper floods in Dhaka saw water levels rise above it. The wall stands a good 8 feet above sea level and is itself about 6 feet. He casually explains that we’re due for another flood and expects it in the next month or so.

Lalbagh Fort

Lalbagh Fort is an oasis of calm and tranquility amongst the hustle and bustle. It’s an incomplete Mughal fortress initiated by the Viceroy of Bengal, who was subsequently recalled. His successor never finished the fortress as his daughter, Bibi Pari, died here. I don’t really know much more about it, but again, is a glimpse of Bangladeshi heritage that I never really appreciated. The grounds are clean and well kept and offer a peaceful respite. Ali makes a comment to me as I head in that I don’t understand, but after wandering for a while, I realise that this seems to be a spot in Dhaka where couples hide out amongst the small trees. Nothing obscene by our standards, but I wonder whether this is seen as a secret lovers garden and chuckle quietly to myself.

On the way back to pick up M from work, I reflect on what a different experience this would be for her, a white woman on her own and how very different her relationship with Ali is. Both because she is his employer, but also that she is a woman. I feel strangely privileged to be able to hang out with Ali and to be able to sit and drink tea with him – it’s clearly a side of him and Dhaka that M will not get to see.

My day has been full of reflection and encounter. Old Dhaka is metaphorically and literally the heart of the city. The crazed flow of people and goods, the colourful rickshaws and crazy traffic, the smells, sights and sounds. I can see how it could be an overwhelming experience, a maelstrom of sensory overload, but I think you have to surrender to the chaos before you can finally sink in and enjoy it for the vibrant celebration of life that it truly is.

M’s place is lovely, big, bright and airy – certainly not representative of a typical Dhaka residence. We spend our first day wandering around Gulshan – visiting the Commissariat, where diplomatic staff can buy Cadbury’s chocolate, Haribo and pretty much anything you can get from home. Pop to the BAGHA (British Aid Guest House Association) club, the alternative to the British High Commission – pleasant, but slightly colonial feel to it.
After Japan, the heat and humidity and exhausting – plus I discover later that this is the hottest day they’ve had for a while!
Surprised by nice coffee shops and restaurants popping up in Gulshan – certainly not what I expected. Atmosphere is quite a contrast to the quiet order of Japan – you definitely feel a novelty as every pair of eyes follows your every move, M had warned me about the staring, but it really is something else to experience and definitely 10 times worse when I’m with her.
Regular approaches by professional beggars (they pay a local mafia for their pitch) are dismissed with a ‘ma coren’ or ‘lakbhe na’ – I forget which means which, but one means ’sorry’, the other means ‘I don’t need it’. Quite hard to resist the temptation, but I have to try to think of the behaviour it reinforces and the structural changes that are needed to tackle poverty – but the human dimension is hard to ignore.

Carry on

So having made one life decision, another one has presented itself. Just as I made the decision in my head to come back, two amazing opportunities cropped up. Ironically neither result from the proverbial career irons I shoved in the fire (see earlier post Why?), but both fill me with an excitement and passion that I haven’t felt for a long time without being strapped to a snowboard.

They are similar in that they relate to climate change and how it can change the way we do things for the better. But they are both very different in terms of working environment, culture and future directions. They both tick the boxes of contribution to something meaningful and personal/professional development.

One is at the nexus of climate change, business and the citizen-consumer. Hopefully I’m not breaking any confidentiality agreements, but it is in a large retailer – a very large one, dealing mainly with UK food, but expanding internationally and in non-food (specifically finance). If I was to re-enter the corporate world, this would be the organisation, both in terms of scale of impact, culture and board-level leadership. The job has a real immediacy to it. It is a fast-paced world, where my actions would have real direct implications for hundreds of thousands of people around the world. The job is about addressing climate change in a commercial environment. For me, it would be a very challenging context – I would be surrounded by people who are not necessarily climate-oriented or interested in climate change for the same reasons as I am, but that’s what makes this role absolutely at the heart of handling climate change in the real world.

The other, just as fair, is on another new frontier – the intersection between climate change, conflict and governance. Understanding how climate change links to conflict and using that to build peace – in particular, supporting inclusive, participatory approaches to decision-making as a central part of the solution to both challenges. Working in a very influential and well respected international NGO, with people who are passionate about the issues, have jobs driven by larger purpose and take time to consider the complexity of the problems. The role would be really engaging with the complexity of all three problems, through advocacy and direct contributions to real-world, on-the-ground projects in some very interesting and demanding places. It would have a longer-term, strategic bent, allowing me to grow into other areas that I care about and again, would be directly at the heart of my interest in climate change,

Perhaps it comes back to the question of contribution. I feel like I have so much to give and have been trying to find where to give it, feeling that I just don’t fit in the current job market – now suddenly there are two opportunities that fit me perfectly. I want to contribute to the changes that I feel are happening in the world, but where am I best placed to do it? But perhaps more importantly, which is right for me as an individual? My mind tells me that there is no such thing as a wrong decision, but I feel at a fork in the road and choosing a path is never simple.

It’s made me think back to the first post I wrote about heading to New Zealand (Thanks Bob – the themes of that poem keep coming back to me!). “What am I hoping to get out of it? Space. Time. Freedom to think about what actually matters to me, about how I’d like to be remembered and about what the hell to do with myself and the precious gift of life.” I’m beginning to feel like maybe I’m getting a handle on those questions, and although the decision may be hard, what’s important is that either of these jobs will help me along my road less travelled.