THAT'S SO CLICHÈ

Clichѐs. We all know they are trite; that's what makes them, well, clichѐ. Yet, how often do we take these 'one-size-fits-all' expressions and let them direct our actions.

Consider the clichѐ, " I'd rather give a hand up than a hand-out." Now, don't get me wrong, there's a lot of wisdom behind this expression and the original author must have given themselves a pat on the back for their clever play on words. I bet that person is currently wishing s/he had a dollar for every time someone uttered that sentence, but it is worth noting that nobody ever remembers the author of a clichѐ.

Sorry, I digress. When I first moved to Sri Lanka, I heard many different takes on the whole 'hand-outs vs hands up' debate. Modern thought usually falls towards the side of the 'hands up' camp - and for sound reason too. Hand-outs rarely change the world. In fact, I've seen many hand-outs simply go to waste. People would rather use their money on a strategy that will bring about long-lasting change.

And yet, although I'm pretty confident that most people might espouse the 'hands up' philosophy, I've also seen that many are quite quick to jump into the 'hand-out' boat. Well-intentioned foreigners throwing money around to anyone they meet (He's not poor, you silly, he's wearing a sarong because he finds it comfortable!) and encouraging fat, little children to follow you around the street with hands stretched out, calling, "Bon-bon (lollies)". What do you think I am - a vending machine? If you are one of those who are uncomfortable with the behaviour of certain unscrupulous individuals you might meet when travelling overseas, maybe we should first consider the behaviour of uninformed foreigners. What would you do if a stranger came up to you in the streets, insisting they give you $50? I don't know of anyone who gave Kevin Rudd his $1000 back, saying, "It's okay, Kevin. I'm doing all right, thanks. How about you keep the money and put it towards something else."

So are you trying to guess which camp I fall into? I bet you reckon I'm a 'hands up' girl, right? Then consider the following. How helpful is access to education to a child who hasn't eaten this week and is not eating tonight either? Is a man going to be able to fully appreciate an income-generating opportunity if in his mind he is worried about his current medical condition. Income generated next week is not going to buy the medicine he needs today.

Which camp do I fall into? Neither. I've heard the 'hand up' argument used as an excuse to ignore an immediate need; I've seen hand-outs that have produced nothing but an attitude of greed and entitlement. I've seen hand-ups that have changed the way of life for whole families; I've seen smiles of relief, encouragement and hope break upon the faces of people receiving hand-outs, small but timely. Does one size ever really fit all?

Consider this pearl of wisdom: "Give a man a fish, you feed him for a day. Teach a man to fish, you feed him for a lifetime." So wise. So true. So important. So valuable.

But what if the man lives in the middle of the desert?

What if he can't afford (or find or construct) a fishing rod?

What if his fishing rod breaks?

What if the man is too old or sick to fish?

What if the man is allergic to fish?

What if the fish are being poisoned by the large factory upstream?

What if the man is not a man but a lady? (I know feminists might argue that this shouldn't make a difference but, let's face it, in some societies, it does.)

What if the man is religiously or ethically opposed to fishing?

What if it is raining and the man will not go fishing in the rain?

What if the man just doesn't want to go fishing?

What if he just wants you to keep bringing fish?

The collective wisdom of the ages pats its answers into handy little sayings; we adopt the ones we like and - hey presto! - a clichѐ is born. We say it a few times until it rolls easily off the tongue and then use it as we wish to justify our actions. Of course, the problem is that when the things we say are said without thought, they become meaningless and irrelevant - clichѐ.

One size fits all? I'm sure we'd all be skeptical about that.

WHY DID THE CHICKEN CROSS THE ROAD? TO FETCH A LADDER

Here's a tale of one of our businesses that I've been dying to share with you.

Some of you may remember Winnetha. She was the very first small business we helped start. Originally, she was buying fabric remnants to sew together into pillowcases. She would sell these pillowcases to owners of small local shops. The pillowcases would take some time to make on her foot-powered machine, especially when the fabric remnants were small. Unfortunately, she was not allowed to open the bags of remnants at the factories and she was often disappointed to return home and discover that the bag she had paid for was filled with remnants that were too small even for patchwork pillowcases. And all of this for 20 rupees profit a day.

But Winnetha never complained. In fact, whenever we went to visit her, she had a huge smile on her face and loved to tell us how well the business was going. One day, she got a new opportunity - hemming napkins for hotels and restaurants. This was a great opportunity for her because a supplier bought the napkins to her door and collected them when complete. She did not have to prepare the fabric in any way, she simply needed to hem the fabric squares. She could do these much more quickly than the pillowcases, she didn't need to find buyers and her profit increased dramatically. She was able to buy a motor for her foot-powered machine and then upgrade to an electric machine with more stitching options. And this brings me to the tale of the chickens.

As Winnetha's business began to grow she was able to invest in some laying chickens. These chickens would provide eggs for the household and also some for sale. Darren was visiting her one day and she explained what was involved in caring for the chickens. First she fed them - but she didn't just scatter seed around for them to find, as you might expect. She started calling, "Enna, enna, enna!" (Come, come, come!") and, sure enough, like a litter of well-trained puppies, they came to eat their meal out of a little bowl.

Then Winnetha explained how she needed to put them to bed. You see, Winnetha could not keep her chickens in a standard chicken coop for fear of them being eaten by snakes or mongooses . . . mongeese? . . . mongi? whatever, you get the point. So, to protect them from ending up in that great chicken coop in the sky, these chickens have a great chicken coop in the trees. Suspended from the trees is a cubby house that would make your kids envious, ready and waiting for when the tired little chickies are ready for bed.

"But how do the chickens reach their treetop bed?" I hear you ask. Well, they need a ladder, of course (silly people, do I need to explain everything?!). As night approaches, Winnetha leans the ladder on the chicken coop, calls the chickens and they climb their way up to bed. Oh, I see . . . wait . . . what?! Yep, that's what I said, folks, these clever little chickens climb their way up the rickety ladder, all by themselves, and happily pop themselves to bed! Now, I admit I had a hard time believing this story when I first heard it. Surely, you mean Winnetha carries them up? No? But how do they stop from themselves from falling off the ladder? Do they hold on with their wings? Hang on, I'm just trying to picture a line of commando chickens climbing their way up the crude ladder. I think these chickens would survive a bootcamp better than I would. They would probably be up the ladder in no time and then could still drop and give me twenty. But after extensive questioning I was assured that this story was completely true - the chickens do indeed climb the ladder unaided and put themselves to bed. And then Winnetha removes the ladder to stop the enemy sneaking up in the dark of the night.

So what happens in the morning? Does Winnetha come and replace the ladder for the chickens to climb on down? The answer, (which is 'no', in case you also were wondering), comes accompanied with looks of amusement at my silliness. They've got wings, they just flap their way down when morning comes. (Of course, silly me!). Well, what is to stop them flapping their way down in the night? I am told they won't do that at night time, they might get eaten. I'm thinking these chickens go to bed better than my children do.

In fact, as Jaymon climbs onto the top bunk to put himself to bed at night, I can't help but think, 'Sure he can do it, but would he be so good if his arms were made of feathers?'.

PS: Darren just reminded me about an important element to this story. So as not to leave you misinformed, I felt the need for this important post-script. If you ever find yourself in Colombo or some other city-region of Sri Lanka and find, with some disappointment, that the chickens do not climb ladders, please do not doubt this story of ladder-climbing chickens. Apparently, only rural chickens are able to climb ladders. It seems that their city-cousins, sadly, cannot include ladder-climbing in their CVs as it does not fall in their skills set. Oh yes, there is a difference between city and country chickens - and it's not just that the city chickens like to spend their time in art galleries and chic little cafes whilst the country chickens prefer to go cow-tipping. City chickens prefer to take the elevator.

LET THE GOOD TIMES ROLL

Once again we've been able to enjoy having a few friends around for a visit. It's been great having good company tag along to work with us, pitching and helping out. Sure made my life easier! Thanks :)