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 :)

HOW MANY SRI LANKANS DOES IT TAKE TO CUT DOWN A TREE?

In the process of getting small businesses off the ground, I see various businesses that are profitable in ways that would not be possible in Australia. Because labour is so cheap here, there are many jobs that would not even be available in Australia.

Sarath has started a business selling firewood to the roof tile factory. They, in turn, use this fuel in the kilns to fire the clay tiles. When I was first given the application it looked like a simple enough concept, or so I thought.

As part of our procedure, Priantha or I conduct an interview to find out more about the family and the business. Now that Priantha has been working with me for six months, I usually send him alone or allow him to lead the interview. He is able to assess the business and he can communicate much more easily.

Once we have all the details I sit down with Hayley, Priantha, Kanchana and sometimes Ronald, our driver, as he was previously a manager for a large business here in Sri Lanka. We discuss the details of the business, if they fall within our criteria and where any problems may lie in the business or their ability to repay the loan.

Sometimes cultural differences and practices become obvious and we need to assess whether the practices make for bad business or if they are just a different way of doing things. To make this judgment, I like to make sure I have a clear understanding of how the business works. In this particular instance, my preconceptions were making it difficult for me to see precisely how the business would work.

I started asking questions to try and work around this impasse. To start off on the right foot, I began with something that I was sure I understood, like the fact that Sarath goes and chops down the tree. I assumed Sarath must want the money to buy a chainsaw. Confidently I put the question out there, and prepared to write down the yes and move on to other details.

"No" was the answer from all the Sri Lankans at the table.

This was going to be a tough day. Wanting to put this behind me, I thought the best way forward was to find out who did cut down the tree.

"The man with the chainsaw," they replied, looking at me as if I really didn't know anything about business.

So I moved on to what I thought was the next obvious idea, getting the wood to the factory.

"Does he want the money to buy a landmaster to take the wood to the factory" I asked undetered.

Once again, the Sri Lankans look at each other, have a quick chat in Sinhala and then reply, "No."

Naturally I wanted to know who does take the wood to the factory. Once again the obvious reply, "The man with the lorry. A landmaster is too small"

Strike two. Wanting to sound like I understood the scenario so far, I gave them a rundown of what I had learnt. So the Chainsaw Man rings Sarath and tells him that he has a tree to cut down. Sarath pays him to chop it down and rings the Lorry Man to come and collect the wood and he pays him. So thats what he wants the money for?"

"No"

"What?! So what does he want the money for?"

At this point everybody is laughing and convinced that I am in no position to be giving out loans.

Once again they try to explain it

"Tree person calls Sarath and tells him they have a tree they need removed. Sarath calls the Chainsaw Man and the Guy With The Lorry"

At this point, Hayley, passing through on her way to the biscuit jar, interjects. "Why don't you call the Tree Man, Greg, Chainsaw Man, Bob, and Lorry Guy, Steve." She is an invaluable part of this process, given her skills in giving characters names.

Trying to salvage the situation, I thought that finding out the cost of things would be an easy way to distract them from my previous inability to grasp simple Sri Lankan business.

"First Greg calls Sarath and tells him that he has a tree that needs removing?"

"Yes"

"Wohoo! Great! Now I am getting somewhere. So, how much does Sarath get for chopping down the tree?"

Now I had them looking confused and there was quite a bit of Sinhala discussion going back and forth. Finally they aswered, "Sorry? We don't understand. Sarath has to pay for the tree. That's why he needs the money."

"He pays to chop someone's tree down?"

"Yes."

At this stage we all are laughing. We are amused that the Sri Lankan tree removalist would pay to do his job. The Sri Lankans are amused that Australians would pay to give their tree to someone else. It's all so weird.

Pushing on, I continue in my attempt to clarify the situation. "Sarath pays Greg to remove his tree. Sarath pays Bob to chop down the tree. Sarath loads the wood into Steve's lorry and takes it to the factory, where they pay Sarath and he pays Steve.

"Yes!"

However I was still perplexed. "So why doesn't Sarath cut the tree down himself?" I asked.

More incredulous looks and laughter. "Bob only charges a little money and Sarath does not have the time!"

An hour after we started I decided to leave it there and ask the most important question. "Is it a good business?"

"Yes, it is very good" came the quick reply.

THE WEEKEND THAT WASN'T

Isn't it the way?! When I have time to blog, I have little to blog about. When things are busy and there is much to report, I don't have the time to sit and tell you about them. Well, today I am under the weather and unable to drum up the energy or inspiration for any more administrative tasks, so I am ignoring the waiting tasks and writing to you about my weekend instead.

Friday was Children's Day - if I have understood correctly - and this was the reason for our busy weekend. Despite having taught a class in a nearby town on Friday evening, I was up bright and early on Saturday - a scenario I would normally do my best to avoid. We had been invited as special guests to an Children's Art Exhibition in honour of Children's Day.

Not that the Art Exhibition was bright and early; in fact, it was at a very reasonable hour. It's just that it was a three-hour drive away. However, we were meeting a friend who said he knew a short-cut and that 2 hours would be sufficient. Ah, the Sri Lankan short-cut - we've been fooled before. I am coming to understand that short-cut actually translates to alternative route and there is no guarantee that any time is saved at all. In fact, chances are high that it could take longer.

So, at the designated time, we were still far from the designated venue and, as Darren's mobile is just another thing in the long list of broken appliances/machines in our life of late, we were unable to contact anyone to say we were on our way. Finally, three hours after our trip began, we arrived at the venue with profuse apologies. Next time I will place more confidence in my own sense of time.

The Art Exhibition was a most enjoyable occasion. It started with a presentation of flowers for each of the honoured guests and the lighting of the candles in the brass lamp. This is a tradition that is part of any special event in Sri Lanka. Several candles are placed on an elaborate brass stand and special guests will each light a candle before proceedings begin. After the candles were lit, the children welcomed us and gave a speech to all the guests. Then the special guests were given a tour of the exhibition by the children before it was opened to all the guests for their enjoyment. I find Sri Lankans to be quite artistic, as a general rule, and the standard of work presented was very high.

After we had all perused the artworks, there was a singing competition, followed by a game of musical chairs. There was also a parade of a herd of water buffalo heading down the road in front of the venue, heading for a field to graze in. Okay, that wasn't actually part of the day's program, but it was also a bit of a highlight for me. I enjoyed watching these creatures tramping past but I was also a little anxious, hoping that my children, who were out playing in the nearby field, would have the good sense to get out of the way. They did.

As the day's program drew to a close, there were speeches given to the children by the Sinhala-speaking special guests and then awards for the winners of the art competition and the singing competition. We enjoyed a delicious lunch with our hosts and then it was time to begin the long journey home.

On the way home, Cedric decided he would try a short-cut (you would think we would know better by now!). Goodness knows if this short-cut would have saved us time but it did get us a little lost. I wasn't too bothered. I fell asleep, as I usually do on long drives home, but I was disturbed from time to time by Darren, with his Google maps, and Cedric, with his own plans, debating which roads to follow and which roads to turn down. Unfortunately, all debates became moot when we did finally find our way back to the main road. A large school in that area was having a special parade to celebrate Children's Day. Roads were blocked as children marched down the Colombo Road (the main highway from Negombo to Colombo) on floats, under banners, with displays, holding posters. It was all very lovely, if you weren't all tired and ready for home and wondering if there ever was an end to this parade. The roads became choked with traffic as vehicles tried to edge themselves into pole position for after the parade had passed and the vehicles on the highway tried to maneuvre past the marching children. Finally, we were able to get back on our way home, all thankful that we were heading away from Colombo and not part of the massive queue of standstill traffic trying to make its way in.

Now, don't think an important weekend like this would let you get away with one appointment. The following day we were up bright and early once more, ready to head another couple of hours in the other direction from home. This time our meeting was being held in a small jungle village. This is the kind that my kids like because they get to go exploring - follow the path one way to rice paddies, the other way to jungle. I thought I would join them for a bit of an explore - partly because it was reminiscent of all the running through the bush that I used to love doing when I was a kid growing up in a small, country town and partly because I thought it would be a good opportunity to impart some of the wisdom I gathered running around in the bush in summer and learning how to avoid snake bite. So, the intrepid explorers can't have gone much further than a few metres into the jungle when they came - almost - face to face with a face-sized spider, hanging face height! Lesson effectively learnt - always keep alert; your eyes open and your wits about you. The intrepid explorers beat a hasty retreat - not too hasty, because lesson 2 was 'don't panic and then step on a snake while you are running away!' - closer to civilisation, but not without a photo first. I felt like such a hero, brave enough to take the photo, but thank goodness for good zoom!

By mid-afternoon, our hosts had an unexpected situation to deal with so we bid a timely adieu and made our way back home again. The place was beginning to look unfamiliar. What do you mean the weekend's over now? Where did it go? Sigh, it's only a week until there's another one. We had a fantastic time with all the things we did, but thank goodness the next weekend is expected to be a lot quieter!

SIGNS OF THE TIMES

WHEN THE AUSSIES COME TO TOWN

We've once again been able to enjoy the good company and helping hands of a group of Aussie helpers. This post is in their honour.