tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-37296515968087469612024-03-06T01:51:46.326+08:00Amanzi Down UnderAn African's experience of the beautiful country that harbors more creatures that can kill you in extremely horrible and nasty ways than just about anywhere else on the planet.....Amanzi Down Underhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12235667869792256049noreply@blogger.comBlogger21125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3729651596808746961.post-67913306228979710042014-06-03T21:58:00.000+08:002014-06-04T09:43:06.654+08:00A Faithful Journey<br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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I've dusted off this old Blog whilst I reflect on all that has happened in the last 5 years:<br />
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We left Broome.<br />
We've had two sons.<br />
I changed jobs. <br />
We've developed truly wonderful friendships.<br />
We have grown in our faith, experienced depths of sadness and heights of pure joy.<br />
We have witnessed miracles!<br />
<br />
B is a dear friend to me. She is this amazing woman who is a blessing to everyone around her. She always makes time for other people and thinks nothing of going out of her way to help anyone in need.<br />
It was just another afternoon of coffee and chatting about nothing and everything, when B casually mentions that she was planning a homebirth for her next baby. I felt my heart skip a beat, and something like fear overwhelmed me. Now, I am a passionate supporter of normal birth and I believe that the caesarean rates in WA are ridiculously high, but<br />
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unfortunately, home-births are poorly supported in Australia. Most obstetricians are vehemently against it, despite the home-birth model working so well in first world countries like the Netherlands and the UK. The Australian home-birth perinatal morbidity and mortality stats unfortuantely support the opposition. But those weren't the reasons I was worried - B had had 3 caesareans previously and the 2nd one had been a "failed trial of VBAC"! Visions of B severely haemorrhaging in that very lounge-room flashed before my eyes. I looked at my dear friend, who I knew to be intelligent and wise and peace came over me. I knew what I had to do. My spirit was prompted: "Would you call me when you're in labour?"<br />
I could see the relief in B's eyes and I realised that this wasn't a casual conversation after all, that she had been dreading my reaction. "It's ok, we're not even pregnant yet!"<br />
She then proceeded to tell me that one day when she had been praying for her children, God reminded her of Psalm 139:13-14:<br />
<span class="text Ps-139-13" id="en-NIV-16253"><span style="font-size: xx-small;">13</span>For you created my inmost being;</span><br />
<span class="indent-1"><span class="indent-1-breaks"> </span><span class="text Ps-139-13">you knit me together in my mother’s womb.</span></span><br />
<span class="text Ps-139-14" id="en-NIV-16254"><sup class="versenum">14 </sup>I praise you because I am fearfully and wonderfully made</span>;<br />
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It is such a beautiful Psalm! God wanted to remind her that when He had made her, he had made her body to work perfectly, and that despite what her obstetrician had said previously, there was no reason she would not be able to birth naturally when the time was right. Since then, she had been praying and seeking more of God's wisdom. She had been researching VBACs and risks after multiple caesareans, but she was placing her trust in God.<br />
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Some time later, God blessed B with another pregnancy. As the baby grew within her womb, she continued to do her research and contacted various homebirth midwives to assist with the birth. Unfortunately, not one was willing to assist her with her endeavour to homebirth after 3 caesareans (HBA3C). As the months went by the situation looked bleak: her options were to have a 4th caesar, or relocate to Brisbane and try for a hospital based vaginal birth. Neither of these were on her birth plan! It seemed that that prompting in my spirit that I had received all those months ago, was going to be for more than just being aware and praying that things went well with the birth.<br />
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Now I am not one to take a risk without doing my research. I looked at all the literature reviews and saw that B was right - there were no studies that showed that VBAC after 3 caesars was any riskier than after just 1. The risk of uterine rupture was not cumulative, but the same. The main reason risk factor for rupture was the use of oxytocics - which she was avoiding outright, by birthing at home. I prayed, urging God to give me a sign if I was doing the wrong thing in supporting her.<br />
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B's husband, E, although not against the idea of a homebirth, remained cautious. He too, did his research independently and we met to discuss all the possible risks and early signs and symptoms of uterine rupture. We made a back up plan and set the thresholds for bailing. B just smiled. She felt totally at peace with her journey of faith. God had told her what would happen - she was going to birth naturally, at home - and He had given her numerous confirmations that she would succeed.<br />
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The due date came and went. By week 41 I was starting to get anxious as soon I would be leaving for a long-awaited 5 week holiday in Borneo on Thursday. This baby needed to be born in the next few days!<br />
We discussed natural ways of bringing on labour and decided that if nothing had happened she would have a "Stretch and Sweep" to try to get the natural prostaglandins flowing. This, along with evening primrose oil, did the trick. By that Monday she was puffing along in the throes of the latent stage.<br />
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By now, our dear friend K, who was a Doula-in-training, had joined us to support B. The kids were in bed, soft music was playing and B had hung up affirmations and verses of encouragement. The birthing pool was filling and B would get in once she felt she needed more pain relief.<br />
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The contractions had established a regular pattern and the labour was progressing nicely. E was taking a set of B's vital signs regularly and filling in the partogram diligently. I was listening to the baby's heartbeat with a doppler regularly. The atmosphere was beautiful and peaceful - everything that B had hoped and prayed for. There was no need to worry about the back-up plan - everything was going according to God's plan!<br />
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Soon B said she felt the urge to push. The baby was descending nicely into the birth canal, but it wasn't yet time. With coaching from K, she centred herself and managed to resist the urge to push too soon. By now, E had climbed into the birth pool, providing the back rubs to help B cope with the contractions. We could see that the baby was crowning and I assisted E to guide the baby forward into B's arms. I have delivered over a thousand babies, but this was the most beautiful birth I had ever seen.<br />
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Now, a year later, the memory of that amazing night and the tangible presence of our Mighty God is still as clear as it had happened yesterday. Mere words could never begin to express what it felt like to be part of that night. All four of us were transformed by the experience of faith in action, but most of all my beautiful friend was justified in her faith. She placed her trust in our Lord Almighty, not in man, and He rewarded her.<br />
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B's journey of faith prompted my own difficult, but amazing journey of faith.<br />
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But that deserves its own Blog post :)<br />
<br />Amanzi Down Underhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12235667869792256049noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3729651596808746961.post-72705070414281896162010-10-08T22:53:00.000+08:002010-10-08T22:54:04.044+08:00http://www.healthdirect.org.au/<span style="font-family: arial;">The Australian Health Service has devised interesting ways of trying to ease the burden on the nations Emergency Departments. One solution is to provide free telephonic medical advice to people that have non-emergency medical issues that would otherwise end up sitting in an emergency department waiting room with something that could easily what for a GP appointment in the morning.</span><br /><br /><span style="font-family: arial;">This brilliant system named HealthDirect is a taxpayer funded six million dollar per annum telephone call centre where burnt-out nurses can google your medical questions on your behalf between checking their facebook.</span><br /><br /><span style="font-family: arial;">This fantastic idea has actually increased the number of presentations to the emergency department and here is a lovely example of how……</span><br /><br /><span style="font-family: arial;">While working in our local working class town ED, stitching up drunks and managing overdose patients, a lady came to triage with a splinter in her finger.</span><br /><br /><span style="font-family: arial;">I really thought the triage nurse was joking with me but the “medical emergency” that required a trip to the local hospital at midnight was indeed a splinter in the finger.</span><br /><br /><span style="font-family: arial;">At around 2am I was able to see this impaled appendage and it looked exactly as the nurse described: “a splinter in the finger”.</span><br /><br /><span style="font-family: arial;">I thought there must be some trick or joke going on but this rather embarrassed and tired lady explained that she thought she would recoup some of her tax dollars and ring HealthDirect for a little telephonic advice. (She obviously had no friends or even google to turn to.) This government sanctioned initiative whose sole role is to unburden the Emergency Departments of this country instructed her to head straight to the nearest emergency department and get her splinter professionally removed. Fearing blood poisoning or sudden death, she obliged. As did I, and I professionally removed a tiny splinter from a healthy finger and thought, “ this one is for the blog”.<br /><br /><br /></span>Amanzi Down Underhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12235667869792256049noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3729651596808746961.post-25959711222542251022010-02-15T00:05:00.000+11:002010-02-15T00:09:19.973+11:00I got frostbite in the Pilbara<span style="font-family: arial;">Let it never be said that I don’t deeply care about medical education in my adopted land. I was supposedly supervising a junior doctor who was in turn supposedly supervising a medical student who was about to use cryotherapy to burn a few nasty skin lesions off some bloke's arms.<br /><br />As the junior doctor was giving the medical student simple step by step instructions on how to use the cryotherapy, I could see the prospective patient's eyes growing larger and more anxious as he realized that this student had never even seen cryotherapy before.<br /><br />“It sucks being the guinea pig patient, having some student experimenting on you.” I said to him to try and lighten the atmosphere and put him at ease.<br /><br />I then added, “It's not too bad if the student has already practiced on some other sucker and you’re number 2 in the queue.”<br /><br />He smiled and agreed. I then decided to offer my own little skin lesion for the medical student to “practice” on before doing a medical procedure on a real live patient.<br /><br />I did my best to maintain a stern, content expression, denying the searing pain in my hand as the student poured the cryotherapy liquid onto my hand, instantly freezing the tissue and crystallizing the cytosol in my hand.<br /><br />I couldn’t scream out as this whole charade was to build the patient's confidence in the future doctors of this great country and simultaneously allow the student the opportunity to learn a medical procedure in a calm, non-threatening environment. I’m pleased to say I remained as non-threatening and calm as I could.<br /><br />Fortunately it was the patient who then stepped in and said, “I think you’ve put too much on, you’re supposed to use a nozzle.”<br /><br />This gave me the opportunity to run to the next room to cry alone while I pretended to look for a “nozzle”.<br /><br />My hand is still very tender and seriously discoloured from the literal frostbite.<br /><br />It seems the best educator for eager medical students is not direct supervision by helpful experienced doctors but anxious patients vocal enough to speak up when they see incorrect procedure being performed!<br /></span>Amanzi Down Underhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12235667869792256049noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3729651596808746961.post-62231146540448163312008-08-24T22:34:00.007+08:002008-12-26T07:47:30.680+08:00Miracles<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhs6vruaUtuJ5SQRPacx_MbdAb_9HFZfqDQ9wn1j-lMucR2v_MkQl_7AMWZ7Qj6YRdIGxuxmGKqsi8eVihaHxLdHN5VQETP96xmFh6-FRs70wDR74420vAXcsfMiHQ0vEas3k9Nd0dFXks/s1600-h/images.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5239362503538082786" style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center;" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhs6vruaUtuJ5SQRPacx_MbdAb_9HFZfqDQ9wn1j-lMucR2v_MkQl_7AMWZ7Qj6YRdIGxuxmGKqsi8eVihaHxLdHN5VQETP96xmFh6-FRs70wDR74420vAXcsfMiHQ0vEas3k9Nd0dFXks/s400/images.jpg" border="0" /></a><br /><div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhs1Nda6_ezzx-SkuaZHnEjUFK1dbzY7yz_LPSJYZM7mqSiy9jyCx89z738DstvGZs77oJBciGgyuFiGl6HAX_YCgX2Hq0uhVAiyZ0nZFTAqNBZ57RCPEz1vJESXVgPbeDjr74NpaM4EFc/s1600-h/Fetus12b.jpg"></a><br /><br /><div>I had a strange day last Wednesday.<br /><br />I had been rostered on for Antenatal Clinic (my favorite!) - where I get to scan pregnant tums and marvel at the miracle growing within.<br /><br />And somewhere in the middle of my clinic was a woman who had booked an appointment in my clinic to discuss the various options of how to go about aborting her 6 week old miracle.<br />I stared at her in shock. My mouth dried up.<br />"But this is the antenatal clinic" I said, "we don't plan abortions here!"<br />And then she began to cry.<br /><br />I didn't know what to say and had to excuse myself from the room. <a href="http://www.abc.net.au/news/stories/2008/10/02/2379845.htm">I didn't want any part in plotting the death of this baby</a>, but I felt like my hands were tied - I had an obligation to help this woman. </div><br /><div>Fortunately, my boss walked by at this moment and I was able to defer to her.</div><div></div><div>I have just looked at abortion stats for Australia which showed an overal number of abortions exeeding 71000 in 2006, the vast majority (28000) were women between the ages of 25-34, ie the age group that probably are working, educated, even in stable relationships... so, not the group of women that have no other option. It seems <a href="http://evnat.blogspot.com/2008/08/abortion-in-india-debate-has-begun.html">abortion has become so accepted </a>that it no longer is the choice of the "last resort".... </div><div>*sigh</div></div>Amanzi Down Underhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12235667869792256049noreply@blogger.com10tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3729651596808746961.post-65059273704915461512008-08-03T14:43:00.004+08:002008-08-03T14:58:05.634+08:00Diamonds<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEidBPn90vjOH13UeOr18L76FLVazYMcoMtPfd-P2ctvHyM9L1LQoAdYBiff_rlST-Hk1-yevGNBBSpw_wTSP-IS6RufjHtbvFIso6K5Ph4rsnZWwRG5dLwWseITaPXOF5S06xee6ZAUP5M/s1600-h/ring.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEidBPn90vjOH13UeOr18L76FLVazYMcoMtPfd-P2ctvHyM9L1LQoAdYBiff_rlST-Hk1-yevGNBBSpw_wTSP-IS6RufjHtbvFIso6K5Ph4rsnZWwRG5dLwWseITaPXOF5S06xee6ZAUP5M/s400/ring.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5230179100683582498" border="0" /></a> <p style="margin-bottom: 0in;"><span style="">When we got engaged 5 years ago, my husband, who is just so romantic and creative designed the most beautiful ring. We were on the beach and he drew the lines in the sand, using shells to represent where the shells would be.<br /></span></p><p style="margin-bottom: 0in;"><span style="">The finished product is platinum, shaped like the Greek symbol for infinity and it encases this beautiful diamond. It's a tension setting and the platinum hugged the diamond quite tightly. The problem was that when my husband had designed the ring we had thought only of the properties of platinum – being so much stronger and more valuable than gold, that we hadn't stopped to consider the physical properties of the </span><i><span style="">diamond</span></i><span style="">. It wasn't just good to look at, it is </span><i><span style="">so</span></i><span style=""> much harder than any metal we could have set it in.</span></p><p style="margin-bottom: 0in;"><span style="">Gradually, over time, the diamond wore away the platinum. After a few years of wearing the ring I noticed that sometimes the diamond could make a little ½ turn in the setting. And then over time, the little ½ turn became a full turn. Next thing I know it wasn't only turning around, it could now move up and down as well. It had taken a few years, and it had been doing it so subtly that I hadn't even noticed, but the diamond had been changing it's environment, reshaping its setting and was now just about ready to escape its platinum bonds. </span> </p> <p style="margin-bottom: 0in;"><span style="">Naturally I was rather distressed about the possibility of losing my precious gem. </span>I was thinking about this ring when I should have been having my quiet time, and I felt God say to me that we should be like that diamond. As Christians, we should be shining, true and consistent. But by being like diamonds, those properties will cause us to change our environment. Gradually we will erode the World from it's grip on our lives. Christians will determine the environment they're in.</p> <p style="margin-bottom: 0in;">So often we think that our lives are inconsequential, that our actions don't achieve much in this world. <span style="">We don't realize the impact we're actually having. It's like ripples in a pond, it starts out small, but the effect is far-reaching. Slowly, by continuing to walk with Jesus, we will change our environment, a little every day. </span> </p>Amanzi Down Underhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12235667869792256049noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3729651596808746961.post-25603224710279929502008-01-24T10:01:00.000+08:002008-01-24T19:52:30.511+08:00Previous occupant<span style="font-family:arial;">Mucking about in the shed, (like all blokes should) I heard a noise and then a squeak and saw the desperate face of a mouse or rat entwined in the tightening coils of a snake. So much for this new house being unoccupied when we moved in.</span><br /><span style="font-family:arial;"><br />Anyway, this being Australia, home to seven of the worlds ten most deadly snakes, and me not been too clued up on snake identification, I did the most responsible thing I could......<br /><br />I called my mate.<br /><br />"Hey mate, I found something in my shed....."<br />"A snake? Was it a snake?" He asked impatiently with great expectation.<br />"Yeah, and I........"<br />"Address! What's your address??" He demanded and hung up</span><span style="font-family:arial;"> on me as the words trailed off my tongue. I found myself telling the dial tone that I think the snake caught a mouse.<br /><br />My wife saw me speaking into a quiet cell phone and asked what was going on, so I did the next most responsible thing I could do, I avoided the topic, like any bloke should. And then added: "Oh buy the way Honey, my mate might pop round soon." And that's when his 4 wheel drive pulled up and out he jumped with a snake catching pole and apologized for being late. (?)<br /><br />So together we approached the shed, a formidable team, one warrior with a grin on his face and a snake catching pole in his hand, and the other a little uncertain of the wisdom of all this, suddenly volunteering to 'fetch a torch' just to remain out of striking distan</span><span style="font-family:arial;">ce of this unknown foe.<br /><br />When I returned to the shed I heard stuff falling everywhere, hoping that if my snake catching mate was in the dying throws of envenomation that he had at least taken the bulk of venom and left the snake dry and harmless. In reality he was merely throwing all my stored timber on the floor desperately trying to find its hiding place.<br /><br />"Gotcha!" he cried and promptly pulled a python from a dark recess.<br /><br />We were heroes!<br /></span><br /><span style="font-family:arial;">But I was sure there was a rat involved. How did it swallow an entire rat in minutes? Did it leave it behind and try and hide when we approached? Do I now have the carcass of a rat hiding in my shed?<br /><br />Anyway, my mate had to go back to work so he left, "I'll let my little girls play with it then I'll let it go." I'm trying not to be surprised by this place anymore.<br /><br />I got to work some hours later, (we do shift work), and he casually told me the python is in his pigeon hole in the ward, and he thinks it was overstimulated a little because it promptly regurgitated a dead sticky adult rat onto the hands of a young English girl who was visibly shaken by this whole encounter but none of the local Aussies batted an eyelid. All in a days w</span><span style="font-family:arial;">ork in the outback. (I decided not to include a picture of the rat in this blog as we would like to keep it family friendly but email me for pictures if you want.)<br /><br />At least I knew I wasn't hallucinating when I thought I saw it catch a rat.<br /><br />We decided that this python is rather necessary in controlling the rat population in the shed so my mate will return it on a day that the wife is not at home and once his kids have had a good play with it.<br /><br />So soon we'll have two pets, a dog in the garden and a python in the sh</span><span style="font-family:arial;">ed! Welcome to rural Australia!</span><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjBlfOG7UiYwtphT8CPCSeVNHKAekI-JcRLEKlQvGnutbinVXoWxoG67uK9xSrgmxFCdVs4xQWyyampdVGaPZgYdH5JC_QGMkh3ePEQzVf2VQjHD3QX7k0aqvivo6AaLvJX5jAQUUD4jxM/s1600-h/python.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjBlfOG7UiYwtphT8CPCSeVNHKAekI-JcRLEKlQvGnutbinVXoWxoG67uK9xSrgmxFCdVs4xQWyyampdVGaPZgYdH5JC_QGMkh3ePEQzVf2VQjHD3QX7k0aqvivo6AaLvJX5jAQUUD4jxM/s400/python.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5158869043783669554" border="0" /></a>Amanzi Down Underhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12235667869792256049noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3729651596808746961.post-62288547681373372652008-01-22T03:59:00.001+08:002008-01-22T04:17:44.840+08:00Koh-Mitt-Mint-Foh-Bia!<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjxqvvQ4dK8WazDQot6Uj6TLyblyL1f62RArX3cdxwupi_yY80g-GpWeEZQ0DlLxPko8W7DDo5yT8RAkq1wmjSELZjRPrn7nAiSVN93H4qeAaNLq3rEdAj8lGGkjs-e_hDPKuBVyDdNcBI/s1600-h/pond.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjxqvvQ4dK8WazDQot6Uj6TLyblyL1f62RArX3cdxwupi_yY80g-GpWeEZQ0DlLxPko8W7DDo5yT8RAkq1wmjSELZjRPrn7nAiSVN93H4qeAaNLq3rEdAj8lGGkjs-e_hDPKuBVyDdNcBI/s400/pond.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5158023711670964066" border="0" /></a><br /><img src="file:///C:/DOCUME%7E1/DERSIR%7E1/LOCALS%7E1/Temp/moz-screenshot.jpg" alt="" /><img src="file:///C:/DOCUME%7E1/DERSIR%7E1/LOCALS%7E1/Temp/moz-screenshot-1.jpg" alt="" />We've bought a house!<br />It's beautiful, big and breezy and we love it.<br />Hubby and I were having lunch on the deck yesterday, Puppy at our feet when we suddenly felt Very Grown Up.<br />What happened to the pair of tumble-weeds we used to be?<br />Now we have Responsibility, a home that doesn't have wheels, a garden with a fishpond and a Mortgage!<br />I guess Hubby is well and truly over his commitment-phobia :)<br />.... Time for babies....Amanzi Down Underhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12235667869792256049noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3729651596808746961.post-5355676011021966352007-12-23T08:31:00.000+08:002008-01-01T18:08:05.214+08:00Christmas Party Fun<p><iframe allowfullscreen='allowfullscreen' webkitallowfullscreen='webkitallowfullscreen' mozallowfullscreen='mozallowfullscreen' width='320' height='266' src='https://www.blogger.com/video.g?token=AD6v5dzg5oC7hZUiiTtgFwKpgEi7rGKJK5Y9Ec4k9XoOBov2AcCFQ_Pua9Ib7SE7LyOZB2edEcRSASeAxyhBbxW-yA' class='b-hbp-video b-uploaded' frameborder='0'></iframe></p><p>A typical day in our busy Emergency Department.....</p><p>This was so silly, but such good fun!</p>Amanzi Down Underhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12235667869792256049noreply@blogger.com6tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3729651596808746961.post-12179284859635185382007-11-26T09:55:00.000+08:002007-11-27T22:25:02.086+08:00South African Monopoly<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiNBZ2gHSJDfE6_cAeyv87vJdIodedrH9y11ZLTFuunqGRk5Oc3db1DyKQCeVnPNcW5xpbFR6UO7X4d0qXMW34LQj7UXAJ8ZoLZIIhAEqz7LhML5junIxywmp-_9f9ShToxsCHN9n6C9Jc/s1600-h/SAMonopo.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5137290602867460498" style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; WIDTH: 399px; CURSOR: pointer; HEIGHT: 130px" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiNBZ2gHSJDfE6_cAeyv87vJdIodedrH9y11ZLTFuunqGRk5Oc3db1DyKQCeVnPNcW5xpbFR6UO7X4d0qXMW34LQj7UXAJ8ZoLZIIhAEqz7LhML5junIxywmp-_9f9ShToxsCHN9n6C9Jc/s400/SAMonopo.jpg" border="0" /></a><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><a href="http://madamandeveblog.blogspot.com/">Madam and Eve </a>is a comic strip created in the 'New South Africa' era. Over the years the strip has raised other social and political issues in a humorous way.<br /><br />Shortly after reading Bongi's series about <a href="http://other-things-amanzi.blogspot.com/2007/11/dont-believe-word.html">patient's lies</a>,<br />"...suddenly someone opened the door of their car and shoved a gun in his face. this is a common or garden hijacking and happens with alarming regularity in our country...."<br /><br />I came across this Madam and Eve comic strip. It's just so sad that this is actually funny 'cos it's true!Amanzi Down Underhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12235667869792256049noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3729651596808746961.post-61616112559104404462007-10-02T01:58:00.000+08:002007-10-02T15:35:19.022+08:00<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjxjpmmXDC8iWsoNGfb4L4d58uzLYuf5Cy5D4YqFocxfylHh_bvUn5Sxth_OerLcyXHRACRlzZlmwmNqdwK2PqEJiQ7MH-ctnj3HgJsBtkkrj1zOn9YZ0VVsAZluGQQlV_AFmS_7ySr_nQ/s1600-h/Picture+093.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5116620466597673266" style="FLOAT: right; MARGIN: 0px 0px 10px 10px; CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjxjpmmXDC8iWsoNGfb4L4d58uzLYuf5Cy5D4YqFocxfylHh_bvUn5Sxth_OerLcyXHRACRlzZlmwmNqdwK2PqEJiQ7MH-ctnj3HgJsBtkkrj1zOn9YZ0VVsAZluGQQlV_AFmS_7ySr_nQ/s200/Picture+093.jpg" border="0" /></a><br /><div><span style="font-family:arial;">The Cliche of Broome</span></div><br /><div><span style="font-family:Arial;"></span></div><br /><div><span style="font-family:Arial;">I don't think there is a brochure or coffee table book about the kimberley that doesn't have at least one photograph of a camel train walking along Cable Beach. </span></div><br /><div><span style="font-family:Arial;"></span></div><br /><div><span style="font-family:Arial;">Australia has a few million camels and the only feral heards on earth. Almost all of Australias camel are in the red centre and only here in the Broome area does their range include the coast. So we decided to do the quintessential Broome activity and ride these ugly beasts along the beach and watch the anything but ugly sunset.</span></div>Amanzi Down Underhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12235667869792256049noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3729651596808746961.post-63675189269751156892007-09-28T00:05:00.000+08:002007-09-28T00:38:00.155+08:00<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEipdrMeDw-zj7urpMYvhHvdJ55VwL5ESh_khO-q6D2OV5NjVqwVDpaowu-VDAYnJbdTA8kqzfQkPtB1173rGsNcTyeaa8ZWd9z_rmdqxTi_Kp1f7oJz-viNpdNyFhmExFKEtgSUZv6KOUE/s1600-h/intel.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5114915806962792738" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEipdrMeDw-zj7urpMYvhHvdJ55VwL5ESh_khO-q6D2OV5NjVqwVDpaowu-VDAYnJbdTA8kqzfQkPtB1173rGsNcTyeaa8ZWd9z_rmdqxTi_Kp1f7oJz-viNpdNyFhmExFKEtgSUZv6KOUE/s200/intel.jpg" border="0" /></a><br /><br /><div></div><br /><br /><p></p><br /><p>I shouldn't be allowed near computers.</p><br /><p>Our wireless connection hasn't worked for the past 4 weeks. </p><br /><p>We would fire up the lap-top and patiently wait for it to connect to the internet only to be told time and time again that "No wireless connection could be detected"</p><br /><p>I tried everything - turning off all firewalls, repairing the connection, moving the computer from room to room, microsofting (aka rebooting)... to no avail.</p><br /><p>So yesterday I took a very deep breath and called our service providers technical support. They were very polite and went over the problem systematically:</p><br /><p>Techie: "Do you have Windows XP, or Windows 2000?"</p><br /><p>Me: "Mmmm, I don't know....It's a relatively new computer, only a year old..."</p><br /><p>By now the techie has figured out that I'm an idiot.</p><br /><p>Techie: "Is the wireless key on the computer switched on?"</p><br /><p>Me:"Ummm, yeah I think so.... is there an actual switch? Cos if there is, I haven't switched it off"</p><br /><p>Techie: "Look on the computer, there should be a switch"</p><br /><p>At this point I've lifted the laptop up and am looking all over and around it, when I notice the wireless switch,... and it's off! </p><br /><p>So I switch it on and then say...</p><br /><p>Me:"OK, I've found the switch and it <em>is</em> on"</p><br /><p>Techie: (Realising that I'm lying through my teeth) "OK, switch it off and then switch it back on again"</p><br /><p>Me:"Wow, that worked! It's detecting the wireless connection! Fantastic, thank you so much. It's that darn Microsoft, always having to switch things off and on again to make them work!"</p><br /><p>Techie: (Rolling his eyes, thinking 'Yeah, blame the software!') "You're welcome, anytime" </p><br /><p></p>Amanzi Down Underhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12235667869792256049noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3729651596808746961.post-38315816648560379302007-08-18T07:32:00.000+08:002007-08-23T12:11:46.619+08:00135 million year old footprints<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhmZ7a5UUw4IqDlWDsDx_6T44l7wPVRoILZ2twP3-8FpLR4Vbjc0m9KXCKlbW661BXYvWJZFkzM7ATIyffac8-xNu_Q7wMh0JUZ_03j63um8pCfMKW4Qv9Ek1gafIgnKQ3R_qV3MrRJeME/s1600-h/Broome+035.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhmZ7a5UUw4IqDlWDsDx_6T44l7wPVRoILZ2twP3-8FpLR4Vbjc0m9KXCKlbW661BXYvWJZFkzM7ATIyffac8-xNu_Q7wMh0JUZ_03j63um8pCfMKW4Qv9Ek1gafIgnKQ3R_qV3MrRJeME/s320/Broome+035.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5101738072202940770" border="0" /></a><br /><br />There are many things ancient about this land. <a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhCHFoMM1NXljNa4m8SfDTewSJ0ibxAuHI7OWLpF41-pUbp9z_m14SWS3ZdRiERp4MVRkHp3TsDzdUT_xtkBQa0Mi16rSPHRVM7MKlPdK-mVkawtf30u_WGDCD_TjTJVS3GWgg-kmgMPUU/s1600-h/Aus2006mom+080.jpg"><img style="margin: 0pt 0pt 10px 10px; float: right; cursor: pointer;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhCHFoMM1NXljNa4m8SfDTewSJ0ibxAuHI7OWLpF41-pUbp9z_m14SWS3ZdRiERp4MVRkHp3TsDzdUT_xtkBQa0Mi16rSPHRVM7MKlPdK-mVkawtf30u_WGDCD_TjTJVS3GWgg-kmgMPUU/s200/Aus2006mom+080.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5101741027140440434" border="0" /></a><br />The oldest exposed rocks on earth are just south of us. The oldest life forms, <a href="http://www.sharkbay.org/terrestial_enviroment/page_15.htm">stromatolites</a> survive in a few isolated pockets on earth, near here. And much later residents of this land, dinosaurs, trampled this terrain about 135 million years ago, and only recently, an estimated 40 thousand years ago did humans bother to settle here, bringing a hunter-gatherer culture that remained relatively unchanged until the very recent arrival of centrelink and grog.<br /><br />The Broome area has one of the worlds highest concentration of dinosaur footprints per species. Most of which are well hidden to the average tourist, the occasional one which was pointed out to eager amateur palaeontologists by aboriginal guides and promptly <a href="http://www.dinosauria.com/jdp/stolen/stegfoot.htm">drilled from the earth</a> and disappeared into the fossil black market. Leaving the local aboriginals with a profound distrust of keen foreigners eager to find other footprints. Yes, I too am surprised to here that there is an underground world where organised crime and palaeontology mix.<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhHUDkCaYRzsVQ64UWwXMTR6gktVdAUc5qw1FTAQnTs9GlQJtH6bKOLIeSfBvxLbX031nJCxCysynbU4uhJx6NVkqvBuATvkcFSWnZuBGlML_xPYWn58_G4CYG9iwkevEHUbo7W8_9TppE/s1600-h/DSC03502.JPG"><img style="margin: 0pt 0pt 10px 10px; float: right; cursor: pointer; width: 249px; height: 185px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhHUDkCaYRzsVQ64UWwXMTR6gktVdAUc5qw1FTAQnTs9GlQJtH6bKOLIeSfBvxLbX031nJCxCysynbU4uhJx6NVkqvBuATvkcFSWnZuBGlML_xPYWn58_G4CYG9iwkevEHUbo7W8_9TppE/s320/DSC03502.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5101734919696945490" border="0" /></a>There are other prints that are guarded by the ocean, hidden under salt water for millions of years, exposed on extreme low tide to breathe when the moon is just right and the water retreats a depth of about ten metres and croc shoes on German feet trample exactly where Cretaceous Carnivores did eons ago.<br /><br />One of our little towns draw cards are the Dinosaur Footprints near the peninsula past boulders and slippery rocks, visible on the occasional negative low tide for several minutes before been swallowed by the blue Indian Ocean, until next time.<br /><br />So, like good foreigners we rose at dawn to trek over the slippery rocks, fall onto barnacles, photograph the footprints and watch the salt water wash the rocks clean of fresh blood from stubbed toes and grazed hands.Amanzi Down Underhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12235667869792256049noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3729651596808746961.post-87168517681816017772007-06-25T09:46:00.000+08:002007-06-25T21:48:26.059+08:00On a Lighter NoteAfter all the seriousness of the previous two posts I thought I needed a refreshing of spirit.<br />So I did a BlogThing:<br /><br /><table width=350 align=center border=0 cellspacing=0 cellpadding=2><tr><td bgcolor="#CCCCCC" align=center><font face="Georgia, Times New Roman, Times, serif" style='color:black; font-size: 14pt;'><b>Your Brain is Purple</b></font></td></tr><tr><td bgcolor="#DDDDDD"><center><img src="http://images.blogthings.com/whatcolorisyourbrainquiz/purple.jpg" height="100" width="100"></center><font color="#000000"><br />Of all the brain types, yours is the most idealistic. <br />You tend to think wild, amazing thoughts. Your dreams and fantasies are intense.<br />Your thoughts are creative, inventive, and without boundaries.<br /><br />You tend to spend a lot of time thinking of fictional people and places - or a very different life for yourself.</font></td></tr></table><div align="center"><a href="http://www.blogthings.com/whatcolorisyourbrainquiz/">What Color Is Your Brain?</a></div>Amanzi Down Underhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12235667869792256049noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3729651596808746961.post-15704092380658102112007-06-17T08:52:00.000+08:002007-06-17T22:13:52.075+08:00The Daily Rant<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiBrYSQFaEvCgsceg6kmndVc4LgWtw0a-16XxANXJznAsGFvubfqAvF3pcY2LG70aiSZukS3eaVY1uLGWK6At7qq5sKhRtsrQ8lxyOM5folxdsrfu9Do3fkllb-qz2oOMUNVjyYtpZYaZA/s1600-h/Wedding+Engagement+Canon+001.jpg"><img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiBrYSQFaEvCgsceg6kmndVc4LgWtw0a-16XxANXJznAsGFvubfqAvF3pcY2LG70aiSZukS3eaVY1uLGWK6At7qq5sKhRtsrQ8lxyOM5folxdsrfu9Do3fkllb-qz2oOMUNVjyYtpZYaZA/s200/Wedding+Engagement+Canon+001.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5077017719967383810" border="0" /></a><span class="huge"></span><blockquote><span class="huge">I dream of the realization of the unity of Africa, whereby its leaders combine in their efforts to solve the problems of this continent. I dream of our vast deserts, of our forests, of all our great wildernesses.</span><br /><span class="bodybold"> Nelson Mandela<br /></span></blockquote><span class="bodybold"><br /></span> The love for Africa runs in my blood... It's in the quickening of my pulse as I spot a Gemsbok in the Desert on Google Earth, the sharp intake of breath as I turn into a Jacaranda lined avenue in Pretoria in all it's purple glory, the smell of the Bushveld in the morning or the Cape Fynbos...<br /><br />I'm often asked where I'm from and I proudly say 'South Africa' and I see the surprise in the Curious eyes: "But you speak English so well!"<br />I should, it's my first language<br />"But you don't look Black"<br />That's because I'm not...but it doesn't mean that I'm not an African.<br /><br />A commentator on <a href="http://other-things-amanzi.blogspot.com/2007/06/african-down-under.html">Other Things Amanzi's blog</a> hoped that "freedom will come to Africa's nations"<br />Freedom for which nations I ask?... For the Poor and downtrodden, from the Government that they themselves Democratically elected to rule, but who later turned out to be Despots.<br />Or freedom for those who were never the Oppressors, but who are now not allowed to call themselves African simply because they're not Black.<br /><br />And I find myself trying to redefine myself over and over again, because I refuse to be categorized by my skin. Because <span style="font-style: italic;">I</span> was Poor and Downtrodden, but by my sheer determination have risen above it to be who I am today.<br />But in Africa, the continent I love, I am put in a box that is labeled "NOT Black", and therefore unworthy of promotion, unworthy of being called comrade, unworthy of being called African.<br /><br />We came to Australia because we tired of being constantly classified and discriminated against because of the colour of our skin, but found that here, <span style="font-style: italic;">we</span> have to classify every patient we see based on the colour of their skin. (It's not that easy to do here - I've met plenty of Blonde, Blue Eyed, proudly Aboriginal Australians).<br />Here, it's refreshingly not a racist issue, it's simply a way to ensure that funds are allocated where they are needed - to the poor, downtrodden and under served!<span class="huge"><blockquote></blockquote></span>So we will continue to love Africa, and proudly sing Nkosi Sikelel iAfrika every time the Springboks play.<br />God Bless Africa, may Her Glory be lifted high!<br /><span class="bodybold"><br /></span>Amanzi Down Underhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12235667869792256049noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3729651596808746961.post-55966242399504592572007-05-28T01:37:00.000+08:002007-05-28T13:55:36.043+08:00Ah, But your Land is Beautiful<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjjQr5CQ6szgCgQeOuZE3ia-DnpNhjq3Tw74_KwSJH6OFZAxsLVqZgtmfc6Z3fMd6SPxnAIqAyKo_m_dY995Mo1I7qUwcBllvKH5vgdW4iJV-0FDVYFyP9OCb-F9p9BF3xFsrUfupT81HE/s1600-h/DSC02311.JPG"><img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjjQr5CQ6szgCgQeOuZE3ia-DnpNhjq3Tw74_KwSJH6OFZAxsLVqZgtmfc6Z3fMd6SPxnAIqAyKo_m_dY995Mo1I7qUwcBllvKH5vgdW4iJV-0FDVYFyP9OCb-F9p9BF3xFsrUfupT81HE/s200/DSC02311.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5069484864466929538" border="0" /></a><br /><div><span style="font-weight: bold;"><br /><br />This is a guest post from my friend "Dr M Trapped in the NHS":</span><br />Just finished work.. well more like didn't do much work today and now heading off home. Been an ok day.. removed a splinter and sutured some wounds..so i have served humanity in the best possible way.</div> <div>Yet somehow it all feels so empty.. where are the days when we really made a difference.. where we decided on life and death situations.. where you could see the effect your presence or absence had in an institution? </div> <div>Gone... with all the fun, prestige and pride in being a doctor.</div> <div>Besides.. they are talking of pay cuts.. debanding, job losses and cutbacks. </div> <div>Take away the financial incentive and this is a dead end job.</div> <div>But there is hope at the end of the tunnel.. That is realising that in order to be fulfilled you have to serve a purpose..You have to have a vision and a goal and be willing to work towards that... That is the easy part.. </div> <div>The hard work comes in finding your goal and vision and staying focused in achieving them.</div> <div> </div> <div>we went to a talk at amnesty international UK yesterday .. by a photographer Stuart something.. on the effects of war and poverty in Africa .. and the boy soldiers of sierra Leone and Angola.. how pathetic.. the whole auditorium was idealistic Eu members and R and I were the only true Africans.</div> <div> </div> <div>All we heard was how dangerous and how impoverished and militant africa is ... The sympathy was just sickening.. and sometimes i fear that Africa actually rejoices in her poor pathetic status and enjoys being a symbol of despair , hopelessness and anarchy.</div> <div> </div> <div>ENOUGH, i SAY... </div> <div> </div> <div>Let Africa stand PROUD.. yes there is Death and Aids and violence .. but that is no reason to give up and accept that as normality.Let Africa reclaim her right as a dark, savage continent yet capable of great acts of mercy and as captivatingly beautiful as she is Desolate.There is no middle ground in Africa... That would be mediocre.. ..Africa is as unpredictable as a bipolar who defaults lithium... Riding high on promises of hope then plunges down to the pits of despair as promises are inevitably broken.</div> <div> </div> <div>So i left .. feeling a slight twinge of betrayal and cowardice.. </div> <div> </div> <div>betrayal for i have not spoken up and said.. You know we do have satellite in rustenburg and we are just as educated as any EU member and we have had the first heart surgery in this dark , savage continent and were actually the cradle of humanity as we know it and yes we are proud of our history ( albeit it is violent and despairing at times) but we can achieve greater things if only we were not smothered in blankets of pity and self loathing. </div> <div> </div> <div>Cowardice... cause how can i be the one to speak for Africa when i am thousand of miles away.. living in a country that offers me far greater security, financial stability and intellectual stimulation. How can i bet he self appointed ambassador for the Great Continent and all its woes? And how , if at all, will i be able to challenge these hippy dressed, dope smoking, idealistic fools who probably spent more hours of their lives in relief camps and volunteer clinics in Africa, and who have come across the misery of our Great continent face to face and have stood up to the challenge and triumphed in all probabilities .. to open the next clinic or run the next volunteer camp or supply the next hunger stricken village with essential life saving supplies? </div> <div> </div> <div>How can I , who has not even met a boy soldier before in my life .. have anything to say about Africa?</div> <div> </div> <div>So we had some wine.. the orange juice was finished . and we gracefully exited the building.</div>Amanzi Down Underhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12235667869792256049noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3729651596808746961.post-65833112647422390572007-05-28T00:56:00.000+08:002007-05-28T13:54:06.421+08:00I fought bravely against Foxtel.....but...<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhLTUFmrWMBntQplVT-XoMop_OW-_Oal0kvtM8QI7AnzDUbdx9sLF6awHhr9VPlypT3vYOt2IPz3XwWw6dCiLZz985woFBHiRzOJWL0qtOkZZexo3qhjyk4JZcqMjgeB-2sqAP_GNgZDKI/s1600-h/DSC03256.JPG"><img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer; width: 150px; height: 175px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhLTUFmrWMBntQplVT-XoMop_OW-_Oal0kvtM8QI7AnzDUbdx9sLF6awHhr9VPlypT3vYOt2IPz3XwWw6dCiLZz985woFBHiRzOJWL0qtOkZZexo3qhjyk4JZcqMjgeB-2sqAP_GNgZDKI/s200/DSC03256.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5069472452011444082" border="0" /></a><br />When we first moved to Broome we didn't have a TV.<br />It was nice.<br />We would have deep meaningful conversations over dinner, really listen to each other. We were experiencing the Honeymoon period all over again.<br /><br />All that changed one fateful morning on our way to church. Hubby spotted an advert for a Garage Sale. Now he comes from a long line of Garage Sale Freaks. His uncle Down South, actually scours the papers every week for Garage Sales and is frequently found to be muttering "I can't believe they're throwing this away. Once I hunt down the three hundred essential missing pieces I'm certain I can fix this..." or "An inflatable dartboard! I can definitely use this." My Father-in-Law travels to Sweden every year for "Loppis" (Swedish garage sales and second hand junk stores). He of course also spends time with his son and grandson too, but he's not fooling anyone, we know he's there mainly for the "Fantastic Bargains"......<br /><br />Anyway, so we picked up a TV and surround sound system which of course was the end of conversation around the dinner table. Until I sneakily went off and bought a Hard Drive/DVD player/recorder. Now all shows during dinner get recorded to be watched on our own time.<br />I must admit that most of my soap operas are on during dinner time (Desperate Housewives, Lost and Grey's Anatomy. I found myself defending my addiction to Grey's Anatomy by saying that I watch it for the surgery scenes...which is kind of like a guy saying he reads 'Playboy' for the articles!)<br /><br /><br />Of course now that we had a TV, surround sound and a DVD player, Hubby started pushing for Foxtel. My argument that we didn't need 900 channels when we barely watch the 5 channels we already have held him at bay for a couple of months.... Until two South African rugby teams were in the semi-finals for the Super-14 tournament and both won. This was a first ever - two South African teams head to head in an international tournament. The argument was won. The application for Foxtel was made on the Monday and the dish installed by Thursday.<br /><br /><br />Rugby fans everywhere will testify that it was an amazing match. I was busy doing the Dance of Joy in the 80th minute when my team (the Natal Sharks) had basically won. The commentator then uttered the fateful words "Only a converted try now could take victory away from them" Guess what? In the 81st minute the Blue Bulls scored a try and converted it to win the Super-14.... I' m consoling myself by saying that it's not as much a loss for the Sharks as it is a win for South African Rugby!<br /><br />And to prove me right the Springboks thumped England 58 - 10 in the Summer Tour. It's looking to be a good year for South African RugbyAmanzi Down Underhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12235667869792256049noreply@blogger.com6tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3729651596808746961.post-73528261974561566672007-04-29T20:00:00.000+08:002007-04-29T20:00:16.689+08:00Ankle Deep in the Garden<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjityYmf4OPWlrvP7YdnBLQ2eTMdjpDNeOTACjOqZ8hxO-Yx3b3VEeZGuY9w1gnbKFSwtkr6Yczj2bCYdO2dU_WnwCE99ROD5_sl8kZZCSLQhHiwsPMNoaTnUDMHq4AvjDTxLR3qg5WtQo/s1600-h/Broome+068.jpg"><img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjityYmf4OPWlrvP7YdnBLQ2eTMdjpDNeOTACjOqZ8hxO-Yx3b3VEeZGuY9w1gnbKFSwtkr6Yczj2bCYdO2dU_WnwCE99ROD5_sl8kZZCSLQhHiwsPMNoaTnUDMHq4AvjDTxLR3qg5WtQo/s200/Broome+068.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5043631499169128690" border="0" /></a><br />Broome has two seasons - "The Wet" from October until April and "The Dry" - April until October. We were told that the worst time of the year to be in Broome is during the Wet, as the humidity is so high with temperatures reaching up into the upper thirties.<br /><br />I pictured driving rain every day. An umbrella in my handbag an absolute necessity... Imagine my surprise when we had just two rainy days our first month here.<br />Then Cyclone George starting developing off the West Australian coast, followed closely by Cyclone Jacob. Fortunately they both passed us by only to devastate the communities South of us in Port Hedland. We were lucky and just received strong winds and heavy rainfall.<br /><br />The dog was most surprised at the development of a swimming hole in his playground but by the afternoon it had all dried up again!Amanzi Down Underhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12235667869792256049noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3729651596808746961.post-83025694392559591552007-04-29T08:39:00.000+08:002007-04-29T20:43:25.074+08:00Cabin Fever<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEic5sn8zgrMYHOgcOC7Qvx9NzZanXKffdrGTL-fuwejQAqQ0D6JpydCNO38caecDKKCz5IuVhqq4I0aeQXvg3unWdOVqE0qb-qQgYsFzSeycLXcrsL2DX0nTvao9Mo6RyB00xvzt6W6Ays/s1600-h/DSC03083.JPG"><img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEic5sn8zgrMYHOgcOC7Qvx9NzZanXKffdrGTL-fuwejQAqQ0D6JpydCNO38caecDKKCz5IuVhqq4I0aeQXvg3unWdOVqE0qb-qQgYsFzSeycLXcrsL2DX0nTvao9Mo6RyB00xvzt6W6Ays/s200/DSC03083.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5058826971668157778" border="0" /></a><br /><br /><br />Hubby succumbs to cabin fever quite easily. Never content to veg in front of the box on a weekend off, he bundled me into the car for a drive. It was <a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgDdCkMlp_tDKzurNuHT5rnq_8xaEWwd3gt0fmDwtzUDUtb1m2jUPzmRWRyeVj1Zq-FDeQTwllRX2GAeW_lIewo5FqZKu5LUPn4Iq7PZaY3l_oFw-XFNlKzd9uDI33kGyu5bjG75d3NCvY/s1600-h/Broome+040.jpg"><img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgDdCkMlp_tDKzurNuHT5rnq_8xaEWwd3gt0fmDwtzUDUtb1m2jUPzmRWRyeVj1Zq-FDeQTwllRX2GAeW_lIewo5FqZKu5LUPn4Iq7PZaY3l_oFw-XFNlKzd9uDI33kGyu5bjG75d3NCvY/s200/Broome+040.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5058825099062416706" border="0" /></a>such a perfect day.<br /><br /><br /><br />'Wow!' was the overused expression of the day.<br />T<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiq4b0-lsE6JfmxkLL9iDOshQBrC8L9GMthNs_Zbk6sl7xnYm-BT1FXZAImN1hFtj3JWDEx4PtHXtJ0uTo4pTfpyU6WoC202B0xbY7vP4CyLDnsHoDaEi8tG_qus11OtGstAvZXCARUp2g/s1600-h/DSC03081.JPG"><img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiq4b0-lsE6JfmxkLL9iDOshQBrC8L9GMthNs_Zbk6sl7xnYm-BT1FXZAImN1hFtj3JWDEx4PtHXtJ0uTo4pTfpyU6WoC202B0xbY7vP4CyLDnsHoDaEi8tG_qus11OtGstAvZXCARUp2g/s200/DSC03081.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5058823179212035378" border="0" /></a>his is just such a gorgeous town.<br /><br />We love living here!<br />At a recent conference we were told that it was difficult to attract doctors to a rural area, like the Kimberley, as doctors are choosing jobs based on the lifestyle it offers....<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhsIVYiiqUuo5wxIkl4D_-tP9NCm7AKqkScb35zLDK-QnWCmJU6CtI0B4ID2wtk2N-Lqg6J7QTpg43vg8M8WtoOrmeexYXFOVXOnh1eVPCW_BZ12Q4LnjLQL3lr-EHvx3DNnKnAqLKnz4I/s1600-h/Broome+028.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 243px; height: 150px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhsIVYiiqUuo5wxIkl4D_-tP9NCm7AKqkScb35zLDK-QnWCmJU6CtI0B4ID2wtk2N-Lqg6J7QTpg43vg8M8WtoOrmeexYXFOVXOnh1eVPCW_BZ12Q4LnjLQL3lr-EHvx3DNnKnAqLKnz4I/s200/Broome+028.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5058828139899262306" border="0" /></a><br /><br /> I think we really chose well.Amanzi Down Underhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12235667869792256049noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3729651596808746961.post-70890346172768464472007-03-24T00:59:00.000+08:002007-03-24T13:36:44.985+08:00The Kimberley<span style="font-family:arial;">The Kimberley, one of the most desolate places on the planet, a population density similar to northern Alaska, where remote family groups are classified as communities. People here live much the same as their ancestors did 40 thousand years ago, except now if they need medical treatment, the charity funded Royal Flying Doctors Service will airlift them to the nearest appropriate facility, several hundred kilometres away or to the state capitol, which is well over two thousand kilometres away. All they need to do is get to the nearest airstrip, which in itself can be several hours drive depending on how much rain fell and how bad the roads are. Often the gravel airstrips are damaged in the wet season and the small planes can only land on the government funded tar airstrip, which is obviously, a further drive on terrible tracks.</span> <span style="font-family:arial;"><br /><br /></span><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhCsFBfuUfD13leZWXlIR0K9ELh-fjjjnA3OUGLbctQMTEtcjc37-Ddp2j6h6-E3o8NpkO8ckgaj1GCAklNXMvL5oPcWSbt8MXXH6QGzE8tmojA336OTqQsncAHLX-IdOuTlM3B_RiUhSs/s1600-h/DSC03242.JPG"><img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhCsFBfuUfD13leZWXlIR0K9ELh-fjjjnA3OUGLbctQMTEtcjc37-Ddp2j6h6-E3o8NpkO8ckgaj1GCAklNXMvL5oPcWSbt8MXXH6QGzE8tmojA336OTqQsncAHLX-IdOuTlM3B_RiUhSs/s200/DSC03242.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5045355053428791458" border="0" /></a><span style="font-family:arial;">This is the <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0">mythically</span> beautiful land that we now call home, albeit we’re in the relatively crowded town of <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_1">Broome</span> on the extreme edge of the Kimberley, on a flat spit of land stretching out into the Indian Ocean, a peninsular reaching west towards Africa, recognising the relationship between the idiosyncratic <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_2">Boab</span> and <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_3">Boabab</span> trees of the two ancient lands. Legends in Black Africa and Aborigin</span><span style="font-family:arial;">al Australia both speak of a tree being planted upside down.</span> <span style="font-family:arial;"><br /></span><br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgKCVTGrbzwTZf5xoEaUcR4I2UnwhXRxprWOthqu2LMv3RvijfVWYWiBN6UfnhZ93aesXRhdB2WH9mZqQHPQcjAlLlu3fYlh6MEclkGEiwmp6Z1E4o7tR_SqMoGva03YQ2C_0hfOobX4w4/s1600-h/DSC03203.JPG"><img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgKCVTGrbzwTZf5xoEaUcR4I2UnwhXRxprWOthqu2LMv3RvijfVWYWiBN6UfnhZ93aesXRhdB2WH9mZqQHPQcjAlLlu3fYlh6MEclkGEiwmp6Z1E4o7tR_SqMoGva03YQ2C_0hfOobX4w4/s200/DSC03203.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5045358459337857202" border="0" /></a><span style="font-family:arial;">This is the land we had to see, Buccaneer archipelago shatters into thousands</span><span style="font-family:arial;"> of uni</span><span style="font-family:arial;">n</span><span style="font-family:arial;">ha</span><span style="font-family:arial;">bit</span><span style="font-family:arial;">ed</span><span style="font-family:arial;"> islands, many hidden by the rising 10 </span><span style="font-family:arial;">metre tides, some hav</span><span style="font-family:arial;">e remnants of dwellings, hinting to a time when people lived purely off the land and sea, whose descendants now walk the</span><span style="font-family:arial;"> streets of towns, looking at the wares for sale, listening to the spirit of Jack Daniels more than the spirit of the land. Some island have remnants</span><span style="font-family:arial;"> of more recent visitors, footprints and tackle, from the</span><span style="font-family:arial;"> adventurous big game fisherman who stopped to camp between hunting these waters for that elusive sailfish. Occasionally these waters give up a sailfish, the biggest ever landed was landed here.</span> <span style="font-family:arial;"><br /><br />This is picture perfect paradise, white beaches and sunshine, where you can discover another secluded beach every day, where the sun is statistically more carcinogenic than any other country, where the water harbours sharks and even several species of stinging jellyfish which swarm and <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_4">envenomate</span> their prey with deadly <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_5">cardio</span> toxins. The most notorious of which is the<a href="http://www.abc.net.au/7.30/content/2002/s475289.htm"> <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_6">Irukanji</span></a>, which is practically invisible in water but deadly to humans. The land, rivers, estuaries and sea is home the Salt Water Crocodile, the planets biggest reptile. Some the planets deadliest snakes also live here. Perhaps it’s obvious why this is the second most sparsely populated place on Earth.<br /><br />Perhaps it’s also obvious why we went to look by means of a light plane, well out of striking range of the Western Brown Snake, where our only worry was the weather, and a third cyclone in as many weeks was pretty unlikely.</span><br /><br /><span style="font-family:arial;">Come to the Kimberley and Good Luck</span>Amanzi Down Underhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12235667869792256049noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3729651596808746961.post-41581432695573064602007-03-09T11:10:00.000+08:002007-03-09T10:17:55.310+08:00Skeletons<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgk9Noj-C1PrvHSpOZMcjxbQCWLuL01ZtQjhhh1Hl_TEp7A3W9DU2VYkmYY7brD3WELB__d0W4ndgL9Bk5_haNzwihu8e9JSLfyV_IlEMQp03dYgOBW0JwAgnWBD5q4Yzs5MLUEYoYOtx0/s1600-h/Broome+084.jpg"><img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgk9Noj-C1PrvHSpOZMcjxbQCWLuL01ZtQjhhh1Hl_TEp7A3W9DU2VYkmYY7brD3WELB__d0W4ndgL9Bk5_haNzwihu8e9JSLfyV_IlEMQp03dYgOBW0JwAgnWBD5q4Yzs5MLUEYoYOtx0/s200/Broome+084.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5039723136612716642" border="0" /></a><br />We took a dawn walk the other day.<br />It was extreme low tide and the sea had retreated some kilometres.<br />The sun was just rising as we walked out to sea not knowing what we would find.<br />We'd heard about Flying boat wrecks from WWII. In 1942 Japan had taken control of South East Asia and the invasion of the Dutch East Indies (present day Indonesia) was imminent. Dutch and other Allied civilians from Java were airlifted to the safety of Western Australia's shores to escape the Japanese invasion. Broome was the obvious landing point being only 900 kilometres away from Java.<br />Tragedy struck one early morning in March. Japanese Zero Fighters attacked the Flying boats, Allied transporters and bombers. The attack was completely unexpected and devastating. 25 aircraft were destroyed. Those that survived the attack had to contend with the burning fuel and oil on the water and sharks. Few survived.<br /><br />Puppy scampered on ahead chasing the tide. We struggled on battling the deceptively wet sand, sometimes sinking ankle deep. Occasionally we came upon a starfish that had been abandoned by the sea. I felt like we'd walked ten kilometres already.<br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjlP-V1sJmKheqvGZAxZ49au5wBHGiBxcR2QKrGF_UoapYXDvYQnitSMKpcUszwYlVzKlkEhKVz19o3Qs2CkD-wSzkv2JTj65M3OlpmuaNxNOH3684KfO6_OrDO2kHZ_RUUrNd83vpPNOg/s1600-h/Broome+145.jpg"><img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjlP-V1sJmKheqvGZAxZ49au5wBHGiBxcR2QKrGF_UoapYXDvYQnitSMKpcUszwYlVzKlkEhKVz19o3Qs2CkD-wSzkv2JTj65M3OlpmuaNxNOH3684KfO6_OrDO2kHZ_RUUrNd83vpPNOg/s200/Broome+145.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5039738065919037554" border="0" /></a><br />And then we saw it.<br />The first ravaged skeleton of a flying boat. Its body rusted by decades of salt water, exposed to the elements for a few hours before being sealed again in its ocean tomb.Amanzi Down Underhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12235667869792256049noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3729651596808746961.post-58132774162575015222007-03-08T10:45:00.000+08:002007-03-08T10:56:51.502+08:00Change<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjQMSC8RyDb1x2Cmp5luFJMO715WHssXCJqs_BInEj1AyWZxaD6bba7Rck15xP7pa9cUHbnW_HMDEcCBdFGESuQhBRhN4DEcORRvDNMRtlN8qlFy_Aj5_QfkxPkK5_LbRt_x9pjScGAKHU/s1600-h/Broome+057.jpg"><img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjQMSC8RyDb1x2Cmp5luFJMO715WHssXCJqs_BInEj1AyWZxaD6bba7Rck15xP7pa9cUHbnW_HMDEcCBdFGESuQhBRhN4DEcORRvDNMRtlN8qlFy_Aj5_QfkxPkK5_LbRt_x9pjScGAKHU/s200/Broome+057.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5039380836309160018" border="0" /></a><br />I suppose the biggest change is that we moved to Australia.<br />We're living in rural Western Australia in the region known as the Kimberley.<br />It is a beautiful little town called Broome. Check it out on Google Earth or at <a href="http://www.ebroome.com/" target="_blank" onclick="return top.js.OpenExtLink(window,event,this)">www.ebroome.com</a><br />We're working in a little District Hospital about 40 hours a week (which is a big change from the 100 hour work week in SA and the 168hour work week in England!!) We're actually getting a chance to spend time with each other :)<br />Can you believe that I had to move half-way around the world to get to spend time with my husband!<br /><br />Broome is quite a seasonal transient town - they have the major tourist season from April to October when the town's population swells from 11000 to 60000. Most people come to Broome and work for a year or two before moving on, so the question we get asked the most is "How long will you be staying?"<br />Our standard answer now is "Until we're locals" to which the response is a sardonically raised eyebrow ....you're only considered a Broome local if you've lived there more than 20 years!<br /><br />Amazingly enough - the two biggest problems in Broome are Unemployment and lack of staff!!!<br /><br />There is a quite a big Aboriginal population here (as compared to the cities) but they're pretty transient too. Our patients are often just on a stop over in Broome whilst on their way elsewhere. The sad thing is we're seeing a lot of 3rd World diseases which we never expected to see in a First world environment. Also drug abuse and alcoholism is rife amongst all he races in this town - a common presentation is PFD (Pissed, fell down), however the incidents of assaults are really not that high... I suppose we expected more due to the alcoholism, but it seems the people prefer to drink themselves into a stupor rather than turning on each other with fists, knives, bottles, bones etc like in SA........ <script><!-- D(["mb"," But.... the domestic violence is sad, the high incidence of Foetal Alcohol Syndrome is heartbreaking <wbr> and rape statistics just deplorable!<br /><br />There has been a lot of talk about solving the 'Aboriginal Problem' but as yet no solutions exist. The first strategy that the Australians tried was attempting to exterminate them, then they tried assimilating them into the White Australian community...now it seems they're attempting to just throw money at them in the hope that that will solve the problems.... Well Centrelink is pretty busy at the end of the month dishing out the dole - and the liquor store is pretty busy receiving the dole and the hospital and the cops are pretty busy with the end effects.... and the people are lying around in a drunken stupor on the oval whilst their kids sit around, dirty, uneducated and neglected.\n<br /><br />When we first came to Aus, we thought that it was pretty sterile and felt that we would have to join 'Aus Doctors for Africa' to make any difference in the world, but it appears that there's plenty work to do right here.\n<br /><br />Cheers<br />Des<br />\n",0] ); //--></script><br />But.... the domestic violence is sad,<br /> the high incidence of Foetal Alcohol Syndrome is heartbreaking<br /> and rape statistics just deplorable!<br /><div id="mb_0"><br />There has been a lot of talk about solving the 'Aboriginal Problem' but as yet no solutions exist. The first strategy that the Australians tried was attempting to exterminate them, then they tried assimilating them into the White Australian community...now it seems they're attempting to just throw money at them in the hope that that will solve the problems.... Well Centrelink is pretty busy at the end of the month dishing out the dole - and the liquor store is pretty busy receiving the dole and the hospital and the cops are pretty busy with the end effects.... and the people are lying around in a drunken stupor on the oval whilst their kids sit around, dirty, uneducated and neglected.<br /><br />When we first came to Aus, we thought that it was pretty sterile and felt that we would have to join 'Aus Doctors for Africa' to make any difference in the world, but it appears that there's plenty work to do right here.<br /></div>Amanzi Down Underhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12235667869792256049noreply@blogger.com0