tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-74344485059940984132024-03-12T17:01:39.272-07:00here, there and everywhereTim and Helen Mansonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01827650755791436414noreply@blogger.comBlogger143125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7434448505994098413.post-62928137487512620622023-05-08T01:37:00.000-07:002023-05-08T01:37:00.805-07:00That time I was on Live TV with Breakfast on TVNZGuys, I have news.<br /><br />This morning I was on Live TV. No big deal. I'm not freaking out, you're freaking out. <br /><br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhrKoOUv_XJ2YetxmA-t4JJp_7rPCcwMFmywdTlBzVU9wmeTij-i1CoCQogZ0b8CMFhmiM4IiDqqNsGloTFvPYZeo1abFH4Ybh74zVacqszl5pkoU-xS3QZpH--5Hdwf68l4JSsnmPb794gilLo_DKvNlhKCAdd8XwSf32hzUdDN-WAxaSAN3RhYZO6/s1170/346105717_612437147584802_9072045175938938085_n.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em; text-align: center;"><img border="0" data-original-height="541" data-original-width="1170" height="185" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhrKoOUv_XJ2YetxmA-t4JJp_7rPCcwMFmywdTlBzVU9wmeTij-i1CoCQogZ0b8CMFhmiM4IiDqqNsGloTFvPYZeo1abFH4Ybh74zVacqszl5pkoU-xS3QZpH--5Hdwf68l4JSsnmPb794gilLo_DKvNlhKCAdd8XwSf32hzUdDN-WAxaSAN3RhYZO6/w400-h185/346105717_612437147584802_9072045175938938085_n.jpg" width="400" /></a><br /><br />As soon as I walked into the studio, hair and makeup wanted to see me. Quite frankly, I wasn't surprised. It was early, I wasn't "my best self". "Is this how you actually want/plan to have your hair on the show?" they said as they waved their perfectly manicured hands over my birds nest of a hair situation. As though no-one in their right mind would CHOOSE this hairstyle for themselves. Their loving but firm tone compelled me to let the professionals take over. <br /><br />Of course I also had to borrow a jacket from my fabulous fashionista friend, Sarah, because I do.not.own.nice.things. Side note - am I the only mid to late thirty something year old who does not know what to wear anymore. What is even happening in our shopping malls these days? Are skinny pants still even a thing? Actually don't answer that. I cant handle the truth.<br /><br />Anywhooo, I was on <a href="https://www.tvnz.co.nz/" target="_blank">TVNZ's <div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div></a><a href="https://www.tvnz.co.nz/shows/breakfast" target="_blank">Breakfast </a>TV Show (1:46:50 mark for just over 5 min) to share about a photography and speaking tour I'm doing with <a href="https://www.tearfund.org.nz/" target="_blank">Tearfund </a>called "A Celebration of Humanity". Over the next 2 weeks I'll be travelling the North Island of New Zealand sharing about my all time favourite images and the people I'll never forget. <br /><br />Please enjoy the exceptionally high quality of me filming it on TV from the comfort of my living room. <br /><br />And if you're in the North Island of New Zealand you could find a location near you, <a href="https://events.humanitix.com/celebration-of-humanity-sponsorship-tour" target="_blank">here</a>! <br /><br />Come join us! Love to see ya. <br /><br />You can watch the clip <a href="https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=2pkLqFRZju4" target="_blank">here</a>: <br /><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><iframe allowfullscreen="" class="BLOG_video_class" height="314" src="https://www.youtube.com/embed/2pkLqFRZju4" width="378" youtube-src-id="2pkLqFRZju4"></iframe></div><br /><br /><br />h.<br />xo<br /> <br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEioHVwe1nmzl58lMc7G7cPD8YGSGG2IXXSzQKEwKGXxNjnA2BUl9Zxbtfbo-RHj54P3xQbqtmBxUqzyLDK2vUskz-lk7XGOCNoFybgmLOC4IrWiawDE0w9Aw-dzhLtEv_ULjV5PS7icvJJknTMiV_OfJeq3ireY9wSir6YoWIvqLi6QMDt9fG-A8mD6/s1560/346063018_795644505237787_7116097789564707462_n.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1560" data-original-width="1170" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEioHVwe1nmzl58lMc7G7cPD8YGSGG2IXXSzQKEwKGXxNjnA2BUl9Zxbtfbo-RHj54P3xQbqtmBxUqzyLDK2vUskz-lk7XGOCNoFybgmLOC4IrWiawDE0w9Aw-dzhLtEv_ULjV5PS7icvJJknTMiV_OfJeq3ireY9wSir6YoWIvqLi6QMDt9fG-A8mD6/w300-h400/346063018_795644505237787_7116097789564707462_n.jpg" width="300" /></a></div><br />Tim and Helen Mansonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01827650755791436414noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7434448505994098413.post-10941351211459737942022-07-04T02:23:00.000-07:002022-07-04T02:23:11.600-07:00Rarotonga – Everything you need to know to go in less than 5 minutes<p><table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: left;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhDuOtsYDKci0Stvpait_zeQ6n6sMhwsxzjxKRux2oM2qx7J0iQQ1Eb4xT7yTWAreyV0m-A_SUpEtEpmtOADKsmntMxHwrE5mX399FI9a1KXVUZM-OP6pb2RtMfpwA2vnHZ84mg24bMFkhpA4p-QdbYL4Fc8MBXDEQ191y7SfPIytLJpPeC5-AAzoA6/s1560/285142492_548896216866222_5324435826147517098_n.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1560" data-original-width="1170" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhDuOtsYDKci0Stvpait_zeQ6n6sMhwsxzjxKRux2oM2qx7J0iQQ1Eb4xT7yTWAreyV0m-A_SUpEtEpmtOADKsmntMxHwrE5mX399FI9a1KXVUZM-OP6pb2RtMfpwA2vnHZ84mg24bMFkhpA4p-QdbYL4Fc8MBXDEQ191y7SfPIytLJpPeC5-AAzoA6/w300-h400/285142492_548896216866222_5324435826147517098_n.jpg" width="300" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The view at Nautilus Hotel and Restaurant<br /></td></tr></tbody></table>We’ve just
spent five incredibly blissful days in one of the most beautiful islands in the
world - Raratonga in the Cook Islands. We were there (just the two of us) to
celebrate our 15 year wedding anniversary and Tim’s 40<sup>th</sup> birthday.
As we were preparing to go I had less than an hour to research things to do/not
do because #thatmumlife. Therefore I found myself in a right panic and
desperate to find a one-stop-shop blog that told me what I needed to know in
less than 5 minutes. I couldn’t find
one, so here goes.<br /></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-US" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US;">Consider me
your on-the-ground eyes and ears covering off all the main things you need to thrive
during your time in Raro. And if you go/have gone and I’m forgetting anything,
let me know and I’ll add it in! <o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-US" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US;">Raratonga
is a little island in the South Pacific (think Fiji or Tahiti- but better) and
is about a 3.5 hour flight from Auckland, New Zealand. It’s a beautiful
circular island 32km around and a causal 45 min drive to circumvent. The main
town is called Avuva and most of the tourists like to be in Muri Beach.<br />
<br />
</span></p><h3 style="text-align: left;"><span lang="EN-US" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US;"><b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><u><br /></u></b></span></h3><h4 style="text-align: left;"><span lang="EN-US" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US;"><b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><u>Before you go</u></b></span></h4><span lang="EN-US" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US;"><table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: right;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgAn2JIwepInNm40cfGtzpWWsZ21zXEi6Bt9naFphCpGAD8sJnSabjo-bizvroSDxXRtZ92sLoS37QgHKaSzGvvpuDOGLcJkyri3PP8jYLj775wmKmFgTqseBLK_gn1aBiRn1M27A1HDCw0nG5hhBVG9Y_MLKcA8pgWis7BzEhuU_arou8mn429q-y6/s1560/286496577_3206111489646022_3781500868955845193_n.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1560" data-original-width="1170" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgAn2JIwepInNm40cfGtzpWWsZ21zXEi6Bt9naFphCpGAD8sJnSabjo-bizvroSDxXRtZ92sLoS37QgHKaSzGvvpuDOGLcJkyri3PP8jYLj775wmKmFgTqseBLK_gn1aBiRn1M27A1HDCw0nG5hhBVG9Y_MLKcA8pgWis7BzEhuU_arou8mn429q-y6/w240-h320/286496577_3206111489646022_3781500868955845193_n.jpg" width="240" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The view at Little Polynesian</td></tr></tbody></table>Remember that you are crossing the dateline. This is very confusing as you are
going BACK in time by about 22 hours. SO many tourists get this messed up and
it causes issues with flight bookings/hotel bookings and taking time off work
etc.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><o:p></o:p></span><p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-US" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US;">Rarotonga
and New Zealand are conveniently on the same currency. Considering a lot of
places only take cash, it pays to use the Kiwi ATM’s before you go to get out
your cash as each time you do that in Raro it’ll cost you $5.<br /><br style="mso-special-character: line-break;" />
<!--[endif]--><o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"></p><h4 style="text-align: left;"><b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><u><span lang="EN-US" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US;">On the flight</span></u></b></h4><span lang="EN-US" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US;">
If you’re flying Jet Star, pack an iPad or device to watch a show on and pack
your own snacks. By the time you land you’ll be starving and the whole island
is closed for food. <o:p></o:p></span><p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><u><span lang="EN-US" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US;">Where to stay<br />
</span></u></b><span lang="EN-US" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US;">We visited
countless hotels in person to check out if the photos were #reality. Here’s my
steer on what was worth considering<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span lang="EN-US" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US;">Budget Picks<br />
</span></b><span lang="EN-US" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US;">The Raratongan
(cheap and cheerful and full of families. Cool pool, beautiful beach but a
little tired overall as a resort. Lots of carbs on the menu…;)<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"> </b><br />
<br />
<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;">Mid- Upper Range</b> <br />
Pacific Beach Resort (where we stayed)<br />
Manuia <br />
<br />
<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;">High End Picks</b><br />
Nautilus<br />
Little Polynesian<br />
Te Manava <o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"></p><h4 style="text-align: left;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiZ_WmaiCgHjJNzoExON6T_YdlCyfSG1WiWOnqeuJfhUfRp2aQ4dzj9LTh_BlJykvawnzuavtNTT4dZ4lcs_ClimyLkC8KAR-11zST6XMK0mD1GYIUpZHnKBu79550-qd8Rs_e800DjPwdvL1iMJWGSi6oDilNH-RKwKnXjG8RCt9Z32Noq0NG6YfqM/s1560/286303085_563853841930208_8697072423016784923_n.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1560" data-original-width="1170" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiZ_WmaiCgHjJNzoExON6T_YdlCyfSG1WiWOnqeuJfhUfRp2aQ4dzj9LTh_BlJykvawnzuavtNTT4dZ4lcs_ClimyLkC8KAR-11zST6XMK0mD1GYIUpZHnKBu79550-qd8Rs_e800DjPwdvL1iMJWGSi6oDilNH-RKwKnXjG8RCt9Z32Noq0NG6YfqM/s320/286303085_563853841930208_8697072423016784923_n.jpg" width="240" /></a></div><b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><u><span lang="EN-US" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US;">Where to eat<br /></span></u></b></h4><b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span lang="EN-US" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US;">
IMPORTANT: </span></b><span lang="EN-US" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US;">The popular
restaurants get booked out quick. If you can, try to book ahead of time via
email or on the phone.<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"> </b>If you don’t
get time to do that before you arrive, simply have your hotel concierge call a
few restaurants on the first day and make bookings for you. <br />
<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;">OF NOTE:</b> A lot of the hotel
restaurants do a happy hour with cheap drinks. There were a few people walking
from hotel to hotel along the main beachees to catch the best prices. <br />
<br />
<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;">Cheap and Cheerful</b><br />
Cook Islands Coffee Company (hands down the BEST croissants and coffee I have
ever tasted and I’ve been to over 45 countries)<br />
Villi’s burgers <br />
Mooring Café <br />
Be Fruitful Café (the most delicious real fruit ice creams and amazing Kiwi owners)<o:p></o:p></span><p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span lang="EN-US" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US;">Mid Range</span></b><span lang="EN-US" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US;"><br />
Manuia On the Beach Café (OTB) <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>-4-6pm
Happy Hour and delicious food<br />
Trader Jacks (classic Raro must do<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>-
sells burgers/chips/pizza etc)<br />
Charlie’s Bar (in between the two best snorkeling places) and has live music on
the beachfront. Fish tacos are delicious). <br />
Soul Café (fab smoothies) <o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span lang="EN-US" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US;">Expensive</span></b><span lang="EN-US" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US;"><br />
Nautilus (the calamari and wok fried vegetables were impeccable)<br />
Little Polynesian (go for the food, stay for the view)<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><u><span lang="EN-US" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US;">Transport</span></u></b><b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span lang="EN-US" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US;"><br />
</span></b><span lang="EN-US" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US;">You have three options
and if you go for option 2 or 3 I’d highly recommend booking BEFORE you go. It
took us hours of walking around to find a company that had any availability. <o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoListParagraphCxSpFirst" style="mso-list: l0 level1 lfo1; text-indent: -18.0pt;"><!--[if !supportLists]--><span lang="EN-US" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US; mso-bidi-font-family: Calibri; mso-bidi-theme-font: minor-latin;"><span style="mso-list: Ignore;">1)<span style="font: 7.0pt "Times New Roman";"> </span></span></span><!--[endif]--><span lang="EN-US" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US;">Bus (there are two that go clockwise
and anti-clockwise every 45 min). <o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoListParagraphCxSpMiddle" style="mso-list: l0 level1 lfo1; text-indent: -18.0pt;"><!--[if !supportLists]--><span lang="EN-US" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US; mso-bidi-font-family: Calibri; mso-bidi-theme-font: minor-latin;"><span style="mso-list: Ignore;">2)<span style="font: 7.0pt "Times New Roman";"> </span></span></span><!--[endif]--><span lang="EN-US" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US;">Car (rent one for about NZ $50 per
day. Speed limit is either 30 or 50km/h on the whole island) <o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoListParagraphCxSpLast" style="mso-list: l0 level1 lfo1; text-indent: -18.0pt;"><!--[if !supportLists]--><span lang="EN-US" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US; mso-bidi-font-family: Calibri; mso-bidi-theme-font: minor-latin;"><span style="mso-list: Ignore;">3)<span style="font: 7.0pt "Times New Roman";"> </span></span></span><!--[endif]--><span lang="EN-US" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US;">Scooter (rent one for about NZ$25
per day. You can fit one or two on a scooter. BUT you have to go to the police
station early that morning and set your theory (easy), then return to get your
scooter and bring it back to the station for your practical test (medium)
before you’re good to go.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></span></p><p class="MsoNormal"></p><h4 style="text-align: left;"><span lang="EN-US" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US;"><b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><u><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjr_4b6JW3nI8S7seIySKCYr4bJxBPvaTkAXXyaoB3XjChoE1SJEyyTaK6tDL4dWN_EwKwQnnjSvMl4IaDzWw3TT4PfngX1NStREZEhop_pvWgh1ytaEpoY9kV4-PvmWteBJxEVrulrGrirGpijLv-X7N9meqXQk6kByAXFVIWIn0R0Fq5h9VPd2Wqq/s1170/290338633_723416265626552_324944186531958841_n.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; display: inline !important; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="658" data-original-width="1170" height="225" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjr_4b6JW3nI8S7seIySKCYr4bJxBPvaTkAXXyaoB3XjChoE1SJEyyTaK6tDL4dWN_EwKwQnnjSvMl4IaDzWw3TT4PfngX1NStREZEhop_pvWgh1ytaEpoY9kV4-PvmWteBJxEVrulrGrirGpijLv-X7N9meqXQk6kByAXFVIWIn0R0Fq5h9VPd2Wqq/w400-h225/290338633_723416265626552_324944186531958841_n.jpg" width="400" /></a></div><br />Activities</u></b></span></h4><span lang="EN-US" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US;">There are heaps of great activities you can do on Raro but here’s my
non-exhaustive pick of the best five.<br />
1. Swim with the Turtles<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>- this is a
MUST do if you are a confident swimmer.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>It’s expensive ($150pp but it’s worth every cent)<br />
2. Snorkeling<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>-You can snorkel anywhere
but here are two really good options 1) Captain Tama’s or Lagoon Cruises for a
paid tour OR 2) DIY and go off the coast at Fruits of Raratonga or out the
front of the Raratongan hotel. <br />
3 Kayak/Paddleboarding – most hotels offer this equipment for free and doing
this around the lagoon area near Muri beach in crystal clear waters is
spectacular. <br />
4. Buggy’s – a lot of people really seemed to enjoy getting muddy in the
buggies. I’d give this a go next time. <br />
5. Saturday markets in the main town – an awesome relaxed vibe with live music,
delicious food and fair prices on souvenirs. <br />
6. Tim would like to add, Whale watching tours and fishing charters and the night
markets in Muri Beach (Sunday is the main night) for cheap eats.</span><p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiR8AJyF_JRgV46vYRzyuFN4EW3iS23HhKS0uPicTU6nfyQOyr-t2I2en8FbeP_XWszJl6Z0MxLeaoxC8d54Xbfwe6vtWqo2FQSHbwzUD7Ddc-ACAGoLslhXa9fYZwIMMX_y3oaArnVGD31m8Sn8H6p9AOD3F5fRbMjDAcOQoD2y5Lj_6ZFXdjCdmzy/s1170/289983899_449247626678623_6266168934343491221_n.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="font-weight: 700; margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em; text-align: center;"><img border="0" data-original-height="658" data-original-width="1170" height="225" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiR8AJyF_JRgV46vYRzyuFN4EW3iS23HhKS0uPicTU6nfyQOyr-t2I2en8FbeP_XWszJl6Z0MxLeaoxC8d54Xbfwe6vtWqo2FQSHbwzUD7Ddc-ACAGoLslhXa9fYZwIMMX_y3oaArnVGD31m8Sn8H6p9AOD3F5fRbMjDAcOQoD2y5Lj_6ZFXdjCdmzy/w400-h225/289983899_449247626678623_6266168934343491221_n.jpg" width="400" /></a></div><p class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-US" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US;"><br /><br /><o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgiTxx8PxqYYV_369lEjRKqT_gj5n9Zxz9O50CuGqto4dhh9dFedx4tYX3wSJNAt9NAAc7TUyveRLFm7c1dUPD_DxbzcSNiExiy6RG8UDXk9GrA2kb9XHlTLBB5PfkNtx-lxXAxlFv8A3Pgq__yp5WeOuuk1kZbPkOhL_u1V66yee3cvbuEIY7NUaDj/s1560/285823027_3231451347182985_73948580440844090_n.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1560" data-original-width="1170" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgiTxx8PxqYYV_369lEjRKqT_gj5n9Zxz9O50CuGqto4dhh9dFedx4tYX3wSJNAt9NAAc7TUyveRLFm7c1dUPD_DxbzcSNiExiy6RG8UDXk9GrA2kb9XHlTLBB5PfkNtx-lxXAxlFv8A3Pgq__yp5WeOuuk1kZbPkOhL_u1V66yee3cvbuEIY7NUaDj/w300-h400/285823027_3231451347182985_73948580440844090_n.jpg" width="300" /></a></div><h4 style="text-align: left;"><b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><u><span lang="EN-US" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US;">Ok, I’m hooked –I want to go. But how can I
save money?</span></u></b></h4><span lang="EN-US" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US;">
Flights – we flew in with JetStar and flew out with AIrNZ saving hundreds. <br />
Luggage – it was significantly cheaper to go with just hand luggage and pack
light. <br />
Hotel transfers – instead of spending $100 EACH WAY for a 25 min car ride, we
hired a local taxi for $40. If your hotel is also trying to charge you $200
return, call Ronald 73223 is his number (and he’ll hook you up. <br />
Half board –A few of the hotels offer full board/half board options. You’ll
want to eat out so go for the half board or no board and eat out! <br />
Instead of using the big car companies (Avis) for hiring a vehicle, we went
local and saved a fair bit.<br />
We brought Kiwi snacks with us to keep us going during the day in between main
meals. <br />
<br />
<br /><b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><br /></b></span><h4 style="text-align: left;"><span lang="EN-US" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US;"><b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;">
What would I do differently next time?</b></span></h4><span lang="EN-US" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US;">
Three things. First, go for longer. I wish we had brought the kids and I wish we
had gone for 2-4 weeks. Secondly, gone for an Air BnB. Now that I know how EPIC
Raro is I’d feel confident in booking a beautiful Air BnB for the family to
enjoy. Thirdly, brought a GoPro with me for the incredible underwater safari that greets you wherever you swim.<o:p></o:p></span><p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-US" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US;"><br />
Love,<br />
Helen<br style="mso-special-character: line-break;" />
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<p class="MsoNormal"></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgqG794PrpmQAvItvNVhPqdb0cQbwQN9uwt9qIxVmMRjpGwMDvtTsZjTGAcsowoC7NIuEBjZTsJzgYD-T6ZtvR5Inn68L6JXgEHxlZJUF_XNISckM1zboWwp2HHzT_geG3fiosPqtucox2u3PGR1MqbGwTOH9c41epkfXoI-isfjWEUPAGMs0wy_9un/s1560/287009279_562644938809351_1236491913295175294_n.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1560" data-original-width="1170" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgqG794PrpmQAvItvNVhPqdb0cQbwQN9uwt9qIxVmMRjpGwMDvtTsZjTGAcsowoC7NIuEBjZTsJzgYD-T6ZtvR5Inn68L6JXgEHxlZJUF_XNISckM1zboWwp2HHzT_geG3fiosPqtucox2u3PGR1MqbGwTOH9c41epkfXoI-isfjWEUPAGMs0wy_9un/w300-h400/287009279_562644938809351_1236491913295175294_n.jpg" width="300" /></a></div><br /><span lang="EN-US" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US;"><br style="mso-special-character: line-break;" />
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<!--[endif]--><o:p></o:p></span><p></p>Tim and Helen Mansonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01827650755791436414noreply@blogger.com10tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7434448505994098413.post-47004684178985720802022-05-04T01:37:00.001-07:002022-05-04T01:37:29.766-07:00 Why mental health? An insider’s insights eight years on<p><span face=""Century Gothic", sans-serif" lang="EN-US" style="font-size: 10pt;"><o:p> </o:p></span></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span face=""Century Gothic", sans-serif" lang="EN-US" style="font-size: 10pt;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh36GtsEzGqse7fqqu7ZKiaiF3sX0uspOA7rU66AC16sLGlcYcLmPI8xj54ItmoM0FhpuGlhXdNR0F1t1oZaU6g7GoJPuWPa9ix8W94A7w5kPq32pUafVSa7dUvip0vZ1tD-eJsgAhb5cX3KHUmcRSw5TWNHU-_LJ5ynRdF0j36ebLz7A36zF74AT0Q/s1280/tim5.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="854" data-original-width="1280" height="428" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh36GtsEzGqse7fqqu7ZKiaiF3sX0uspOA7rU66AC16sLGlcYcLmPI8xj54ItmoM0FhpuGlhXdNR0F1t1oZaU6g7GoJPuWPa9ix8W94A7w5kPq32pUafVSa7dUvip0vZ1tD-eJsgAhb5cX3KHUmcRSw5TWNHU-_LJ5ynRdF0j36ebLz7A36zF74AT0Q/w640-h428/tim5.jpg" width="640" /></a></span></div><span face=""Century Gothic", sans-serif" lang="EN-US" style="font-size: 10pt;"><br />A</span><span face=""Century Gothic", sans-serif" style="font-size: 10pt;">t the end of this week, I’ll be finishing up my time
working with Tutapona- an organisation that provides mental health support for
war affected people. I wanted to take a moment to reflect back on the last 8
years of service with them and share some of what I’ve learnt. </span><span face=""Century Gothic", sans-serif" style="font-size: 10pt;"> </span><p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span face=""Century Gothic",sans-serif" lang="EN-US" style="font-size: 10pt; mso-ansi-language: EN-US;">I first heard about Tutapona’s work in 2010 when my
wife, Helen and I were doing a short 5-month project in Uganda, working at
Watoto’s Suubi High School. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Some of the
students at the school had been abducted by the LRA (Lord’s Resistance Army) and
escaped, and were receiving group therapy from Tutapona’s co-founder Carl Gaede
and a couple of Ugandan staff.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;">Through my relationship with these kids, I
got to hear about how critically important this support was for them and it had
a profound impact on me.<br /><br /></b> <o:p></o:p></span></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span face=""Century Gothic",sans-serif" lang="EN-US" style="font-size: 10pt; mso-ansi-language: EN-US;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgJ4WVFJASMPg1Rv4XlGvK9MsQFoOC-VGYTF094r2hlFWR2C2oj-_DWgg4U2YoTbrRSIRDHlndL_biruoxIRrrAjyYImzmn7EhxkY-XKLFblBs5hXWKuIHYj8C823nbaVxqtSaUCD-5a4ZkqDhdqfZfeYwKvfjP_VT2ABQu5S7qYvs84ROvFdOgfNu6/s1280/tim3.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1280" data-original-width="853" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgJ4WVFJASMPg1Rv4XlGvK9MsQFoOC-VGYTF094r2hlFWR2C2oj-_DWgg4U2YoTbrRSIRDHlndL_biruoxIRrrAjyYImzmn7EhxkY-XKLFblBs5hXWKuIHYj8C823nbaVxqtSaUCD-5a4ZkqDhdqfZfeYwKvfjP_VT2ABQu5S7qYvs84ROvFdOgfNu6/w266-h400/tim3.jpg" width="266" /></a></span></div><p></p>
<p style="background: white;"><span face=""Century Gothic",sans-serif" lang="EN-US" style="font-size: 10pt; mso-ansi-language: EN-US; mso-bidi-font-family: Calibri; mso-bidi-theme-font: minor-latin;">A few years later I
had the privilege of joining Tutapona’s staff. By then the focus had shifted to
refugee response work. Helen and I lived in Mbarara in South West Uganda for a
year and I spent most of my time in East Africa’s oldest refugee settlement,
Nakivale, with Tutapona’s team of mental health workers. Most of the refugees
living there had fled from the Eastern DRC or the Rwandan genocide and the
depth of suffering that they’d experienced was horrific. Murder, rape and
torture. Separated families. Children without parents. <o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p style="background: white;"><span face=""Century Gothic",sans-serif" lang="EN-US" style="font-size: 10pt; mso-ansi-language: EN-US; mso-bidi-font-family: Calibri; mso-bidi-theme-font: minor-latin;">I soon became more
aware of the vast scale of the refugee crisis. Nakivale hosted about 100,000
refugees from nearby countries. But in early 2014, Tutapona also launched field
offices in two other refugee settlements. One in Rwamwanja to support Congolese
refugees and one in the far north in response to an emerging crisis. Civil war
had broken out in the newly formed nation of South Sudan and huge numbers of
people were fleeing. Over the next three years about a million South Sudanese
people (10% of the entire population) crossed Uganda’s northern border. Tutapona
opened a new office in the far-north district of Adjumani to support some of
these people. <o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p style="background: white;"><span face=""Century Gothic",sans-serif" style="font-size: 10pt; mso-bidi-font-family: Calibri; mso-bidi-theme-font: minor-latin;">Trauma expert
Bessel Van der Kolk states: <i>“Trauma is not just an event that took place
sometime in the past; it is also the imprint left by that experience on mind,
brain, and body.... It changes not only how we think and what we think about,
but also our very capacity to think.”</i></span><i><span face=""Century Gothic",sans-serif" style="font-size: 10pt; mso-ansi-language: EN-US; mso-bidi-font-family: Calibri; mso-bidi-theme-font: minor-latin;"> </span></i><b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span face=""Century Gothic",sans-serif" lang="EN-US" style="font-size: 10pt; mso-ansi-language: EN-US;">The World
Health Organization regards mental health support as one of the most critical
development issues of our time.</span></b><span face=""Century Gothic",sans-serif" lang="EN-US" style="font-size: 10pt; mso-ansi-language: EN-US;">
Particularly for displaced people. Yet available services are typically totally
overwhelmed. </span><span face=""Century Gothic",sans-serif" lang="EN-US" style="font-size: 10pt; mso-ansi-language: EN-US; mso-bidi-font-family: Calibri; mso-bidi-theme-font: minor-latin;"><o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiI_iMn2MQuT2ArlcwBNQEQTtj4nYLAPLReDn1hspKGfcftp24AymbaKUdPtd0NE3XlU43OQQC44ZiDGix-35jltjpF5dGjPAY3J1EsND7Wzsn6Xd_FGhzp8YHlAfH0HwFVGIbJCEvViIYk3ikvEkffi8Zpb7XuCLdB_LrHemirSi0JNM1QdK9erbDb/s1280/tim.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="624" data-original-width="1280" height="195" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiI_iMn2MQuT2ArlcwBNQEQTtj4nYLAPLReDn1hspKGfcftp24AymbaKUdPtd0NE3XlU43OQQC44ZiDGix-35jltjpF5dGjPAY3J1EsND7Wzsn6Xd_FGhzp8YHlAfH0HwFVGIbJCEvViIYk3ikvEkffi8Zpb7XuCLdB_LrHemirSi0JNM1QdK9erbDb/w400-h195/tim.jpg" width="400" /></a></div><span face=""Century Gothic",sans-serif" lang="EN-US" style="font-size: 10pt; mso-ansi-language: EN-US;">I believe the old axiom that successful organizations
have a laser-like focus. This is certainly true of Tutapona. Mental health is
the space in which Tutapona exclusively operates. Services include group and
individual therapy, tailored to different age and linguistic groups. And the
quality of support is world class.<b> Program <span style="color: black; mso-themecolor: text1;">participants report an average reduction in trauma
symptoms of over 55% and an increase in wellbeing of more than 52%.<br /> </span></b><o:p></o:p></span><p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span face=""Century Gothic",sans-serif" lang="EN-US" style="font-size: 10pt; mso-ansi-language: EN-US;"><o:p> </o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span face=""Century Gothic",sans-serif" lang="EN-US" style="font-size: 10pt; mso-ansi-language: EN-US;">I can remember many conversations with people who have
attended Tutapona’s programs that bring the above stats to life.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span face=""Century Gothic",sans-serif" lang="EN-US" style="font-size: 10pt; mso-ansi-language: EN-US;">One lady had escaped from the war in South Sudan and
was living in a refugee settlement in Northern Uganda. Her son got in a fight
at school and was killed by a boy from another tribe. She said</span><i><span face=""Century Gothic",sans-serif" lang="EN-US" style="border: 1pt none windowtext; color: black; font-size: 10pt; mso-ansi-language: EN-US; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-bidi-font-weight: bold; mso-border-alt: none windowtext 0cm; mso-fareast-language: EN-GB; mso-themecolor: text1; padding: 0cm;">,
“After my son died, all I wanted was for the one who killed him to remain in
prison for ever and ever. My boy was gone, and I wanted the other family
to lose someone too. When my relatives heard the news, they set fire
to the houses of the tribe who had killed him. But I remembered what
I learned from Tutapona – that revenge would only hurt more. This type of
fighting couldn’t go on – no more violence. </span></i><i><span face=""Century Gothic",sans-serif" style="color: black; font-size: 10pt; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-bidi-font-weight: bold; mso-fareast-language: EN-GB; mso-themecolor: text1;">I asked my parents to take action to call Madi and
Lutogo tribes together for a meeting so that we could say “Let not that
fighting continue, let them stop fighting”.</span></i><i><span face=""Century Gothic",sans-serif" lang="EN-US" style="color: black; font-size: 10pt; mso-ansi-language: EN-US; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-bidi-font-weight: bold; mso-fareast-language: EN-GB; mso-themecolor: text1;"><o:p></o:p></span></i></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><br /></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span face=""Century Gothic",sans-serif" lang="EN-US" style="color: black; font-size: 10pt; mso-ansi-language: EN-US; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-bidi-font-weight: bold; mso-fareast-language: EN-GB; mso-themecolor: text1;"></span></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span face=""Century Gothic",sans-serif" lang="EN-US" style="color: black; font-size: 10pt; mso-ansi-language: EN-US; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-bidi-font-weight: bold; mso-fareast-language: EN-GB; mso-themecolor: text1;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjgntcCb_Af7n6E677j_af9kuLfszx-RIbJEqLbL-nuL_6G0gffe7oBT13ddCjc0bmtD7YNb4dDy0dJo2eJrMGGH5QGuDeNZe0zmFlEIORNyPj-8S6D8vKKhF7QSRqAniYNQD2M2RrxMI21NWOZe2sjXI29oY3zpb7fhH4royM-ob15qir-Ud6FyPCw/s1280/tim6.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="853" data-original-width="1280" height="266" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjgntcCb_Af7n6E677j_af9kuLfszx-RIbJEqLbL-nuL_6G0gffe7oBT13ddCjc0bmtD7YNb4dDy0dJo2eJrMGGH5QGuDeNZe0zmFlEIORNyPj-8S6D8vKKhF7QSRqAniYNQD2M2RrxMI21NWOZe2sjXI29oY3zpb7fhH4royM-ob15qir-Ud6FyPCw/w400-h266/tim6.jpg" width="400" /></a></span></div><span face=""Century Gothic",sans-serif" lang="EN-US" style="color: black; font-size: 10pt; mso-ansi-language: EN-US; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-bidi-font-weight: bold; mso-fareast-language: EN-GB; mso-themecolor: text1;">A
Congolese man in Rwamwanja Refugee Settlement told me that before attending the
GROW program, he had largely given up. Didn’t see a point in setting goals or
striving for anything much. He was existing, but largely stalled. He said this
came out of so much disappointment and struggle in his life. The program had
challenged this cycle of thinking, and he’d subsequently made the decision to
fix his leaking thatch roof and to plant out the land around his home in crops.</span><p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span face=""Century Gothic",sans-serif" lang="EN-US" style="color: black; font-size: 10pt; mso-ansi-language: EN-US; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-language: EN-GB; mso-themecolor: text1;">Most memorably, I can
remember attending GROW (an adult group therapy program) in Northern Uganda.<span style="mso-bidi-font-weight: bold;"> On the last day an older woman got up to
speak. </span></span><span face=""Century Gothic",sans-serif" style="font-size: 10pt;">She
said, without much emotion, that a few days earlier she had been making plans
to hang herself. Her problems were ‘too much’. But she </span><span face=""Century Gothic",sans-serif" lang="EN-US" style="font-size: 10pt; mso-ansi-language: EN-US;">testified</span><span face=""Century Gothic",sans-serif" style="font-size: 10pt;">
that participating in Tutapona’s program had given her a new perspective and
her troubles no longer overwhelmed her. She also said that the message of
forgiveness had an effect on her. <b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;">After
forgiving some people who had hurt her, she felt </b></span><b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span face=""Century Gothic",sans-serif" lang="EN-US" style="font-size: 10pt; mso-ansi-language: EN-US;">freedom for
the first time in many years.</span></b></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><b><span face=""Century Gothic",sans-serif" lang="EN-US" style="color: black; font-size: 10pt; mso-ansi-language: EN-US; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-language: EN-GB; mso-themecolor: text1;">I’ve
seen that good quality mental health support has the ability to awaken motivation.
It can improve relationships, support better sleep, reduce alcohol abuse and
dependency and curb violence. It can also bring hope to people with suicidal
thoughts.</span></b></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span face=""Century Gothic",sans-serif" lang="EN-US" style="font-size: 10pt; mso-ansi-language: EN-US;">Each year Tutapona’s local, trained mental health
workers support about 5,000 people across Uganda and Iraq. <b>The total number
of people supported has now ticked well past 50,000.</b> A remarkable number
none of us could ever have imagined all those years ago when we first began. It’s
also been encouraging seeing Tutapona become the leading mental health actor in
the Ugandan refugee response, with another significant footprint in Iraq.
Active partnerships include Save the Children, Medical Teams International and
War Child Holland with previous projects run in conjunction with Lutheran World
Federation, Food for the Hungry, Alight and the United Nations High
Commissioner for Refugees. <o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span face=""Century Gothic",sans-serif" lang="EN-US" style="font-size: 10pt; mso-ansi-language: EN-US;"><o:p> </o:p></span></p><div style="text-align: right;"><span face=""Century Gothic",sans-serif" lang="EN-US" style="font-size: 10pt; mso-ansi-language: EN-US;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgh_ElfoUrMeizQnB8I_QwLBuNJap79nEz8I98VPagdviaXomVK6WwKEt4L5giKPqBBH0ByvIDqh2treKJoKTmPcxP1Ag-3sFu6UVvwb6mzyCYTsYp0Vo6bFasDYq6UIBYihadGloW1atbiLfuN6dvdKT646VNQJVr-VjJZPVA6wxtNX_ZEIgJwqrh2/s1280/tim7.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="853" data-original-width="1280" height="266" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgh_ElfoUrMeizQnB8I_QwLBuNJap79nEz8I98VPagdviaXomVK6WwKEt4L5giKPqBBH0ByvIDqh2treKJoKTmPcxP1Ag-3sFu6UVvwb6mzyCYTsYp0Vo6bFasDYq6UIBYihadGloW1atbiLfuN6dvdKT646VNQJVr-VjJZPVA6wxtNX_ZEIgJwqrh2/w400-h266/tim7.jpg" width="400" /></a></span></div><span style="font-size: 10pt;">As I step out of this work, I plan to continue to
advocate for the mental health needs of war affected people in general, and
Tutapona’s work in particular. I look forward to seeing how God continues to
use this incredible organization to bring healing and hope to many people who
have experienced the horror of war.</span><p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span face=""Century Gothic",sans-serif" lang="EN-US" style="font-size: 10pt; mso-ansi-language: EN-US;">On Monday, I start a new job with <a href="http://www.tearfund.org.nz" target="_blank">Tearfund </a>and
<a href="http://www.compassion.com" target="_blank">Compassion </a>in New Zealand as their International Programmes Director. I look
forward to getting stuck in to this new project! But as I finish up I want to
say thank you to all of Tutapona’s supporters. I hope this serves as an
encouragement to continue to support this important work. To Carl and Julie and
Tutapona’s wonderful teams in the US, Canada, Iraq and Uganda thank you for
your service to war affected people. <br /><br />Afoyo matek!<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></span><span style="font-size: 10pt;"> <br /></span><span style="font-size: 10pt;">Tim Manson</span></p><p class="MsoNormal"><span face=""Century Gothic",sans-serif" lang="EN-US" style="font-size: 10pt; mso-ansi-language: EN-US;"><br /></span></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span face=""Century Gothic",sans-serif" lang="EN-US" style="font-size: 10pt; mso-ansi-language: EN-US;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhjW1koAbo1rHvsX3ejp6DQeQc2aoHryOAQiQktYAlwllYg8GmsEUKD2n1_TjNXlBTQyKAzr8Vc3B7HHVOgUIbbTu_DZfZNWeiYNqgBKr_2SL6lmVCTBNOBrH2ZjNtxuVMWiLo4zRc_EwsV05NYjXMG42YwlvEOINlLj4YczM3_lVeoS2nS13MunnvJ/s1280/tim4.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="853" data-original-width="1280" height="426" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhjW1koAbo1rHvsX3ejp6DQeQc2aoHryOAQiQktYAlwllYg8GmsEUKD2n1_TjNXlBTQyKAzr8Vc3B7HHVOgUIbbTu_DZfZNWeiYNqgBKr_2SL6lmVCTBNOBrH2ZjNtxuVMWiLo4zRc_EwsV05NYjXMG42YwlvEOINlLj4YczM3_lVeoS2nS13MunnvJ/w640-h426/tim4.jpg" width="640" /></a></span></div><span face=""Century Gothic",sans-serif" lang="EN-US" style="font-size: 10pt; mso-ansi-language: EN-US;"><br /><o:p></o:p></span><p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span face=""Century Gothic",sans-serif" lang="EN-US" style="font-size: 10pt; mso-ansi-language: EN-US;"><o:p> </o:p></span></p>Tim and Helen Mansonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01827650755791436414noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7434448505994098413.post-62932475655763010802022-01-31T23:13:00.001-08:002022-01-31T23:13:12.887-08:00Five reflections after 10 years at Tearfund/Compassion<p><span style="font-family: inherit;"><span lang="EN-US" style="line-height: 107%;">This month
marks a <b>significant milestone for me. </b>Therefore I want to take a brief moment
to slow down and celebrate what God has done. </span><span style="background: white; line-height: 107%;">It continues to be one of the
greatest privileges of my life to serves as the Creative and Communications Lead at
<a href="http://www.tearfund.org.nz" target="_blank">Tearfund</a>/<a href="http://www.compassion.com" target="_blank">Compassion </a>New Zealand and I stand in awe and amazement that I <b><u>get </u></b>to
do this. </span></span></p><p class="MsoNormal"><span><span style="line-height: 107%;"><span style="background: white; font-family: inherit;"></span></span></span></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span><span style="line-height: 107%;"><span style="background: white; font-family: inherit;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEgwN-7QgNb1KBBtsEreEB7oWPNukZ-EQIRycBL85Oc75Kfno8g04iaWFsOyQV2_PK-HW5SUAciDuACW0f5aqPZeU9fe2vx0O6Pwj8HMnojhVUq53h-_HC3u8aYqUYy5sq_-lxOA9rRDp-X_JG0IwOd7piRZeO-Gj7FQA9WdCtbzOAzN1Pw-7417O_Gl=s1127" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1127" data-original-width="972" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEgwN-7QgNb1KBBtsEreEB7oWPNukZ-EQIRycBL85Oc75Kfno8g04iaWFsOyQV2_PK-HW5SUAciDuACW0f5aqPZeU9fe2vx0O6Pwj8HMnojhVUq53h-_HC3u8aYqUYy5sq_-lxOA9rRDp-X_JG0IwOd7piRZeO-Gj7FQA9WdCtbzOAzN1Pw-7417O_Gl=s320" width="276" /></a></span></span></span></div><span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="line-height: 107%;"><span style="background: white;">
Work wise, this has been the place where I’ve grown up… I moved into this “house”
a decade ago when I was 27, explored my creative gifts here, was eventually given
a voice at the management table and encouraged to step up and lead in new ways
here. </span>But <b>first let’s take a brief moment to talk about Day 1 on the job
because it really does deserve a mention. </b></span><span lang="EN-US" style="line-height: 107%;"><o:p></o:p></span></span><p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">My first
day at Tearfund/Compassion was in Kolkuta, India visiting a small fraction of
the 2 million children in our sponsorship projects. Later that afternoon I headed
to a florist in the middle of the city. I was told on arrival to ask to use the
florist’s phone and to call a certain number. Then, two men would escort me to
a secret location down the street so that I could learn more about Tearfund’s
partners work in the city to fight sex trafficking. Seemed legit. #bestmeetingever.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal;"></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEj1zz6tA7j1Ht3LBAg0UdxN6zVXainxYqJST2_-WC2jCYdy4hxk826swB1xODW_KmHwLKPF6LM_XHQ67qlnM7V4-KpWep4pTg4u-CbJerpxpuQoMrjKEnwxGoPykH3kADFX1KNI2eOrgbGbVlAKL0J6sq94QBNg7-wppIFlxKYN1qKDwdiizzbTDJoZ=s2048" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1536" data-original-width="2048" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEj1zz6tA7j1Ht3LBAg0UdxN6zVXainxYqJST2_-WC2jCYdy4hxk826swB1xODW_KmHwLKPF6LM_XHQ67qlnM7V4-KpWep4pTg4u-CbJerpxpuQoMrjKEnwxGoPykH3kADFX1KNI2eOrgbGbVlAKL0J6sq94QBNg7-wppIFlxKYN1qKDwdiizzbTDJoZ=s320" width="320" /></span></a></div><span style="font-family: inherit;"><span>That night my
boss had a family emergency and had to race back to New Zealand. Before she
left she looked me up and down and asked if I would be willing to go into
Bangladesh in the coming days to capture some stories and images for Tearfund’
s next campaign. The next day I found myself on a flight to Dakar where I
landed into a country that was mid coup and swarming with UN peacekeeping
troops before being driven 8 hours into the depths of the jungle. Health and
Safety/ Security Measures were a wee bit lax at Tearfund in those days.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>In Bangladesh I showered with a cup and a
bucket, slept in a house with no door and was the only white person most of our
30,000 beneficiaries had ever seen.<br /><br />
Since then I’ve had almost every immunization on the planet for every possible
tropical disease. I’ve travelled to countless countries photographing, interviewing
and helping write up campaigns and appeals for the people that will benefit. <o:p></o:p></span><br /></span><p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><b><u>A few of my most memorable moments on
the job:</u></b></span></p>
<p class="MsoListParagraphCxSpFirst" style="line-height: normal; mso-list: l1 level1 lfo1; text-indent: -18pt;"></p><ul style="text-align: left;"><li><span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="text-indent: -18pt;"><span style="font-stretch: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; line-height: normal;"> </span></span><span style="text-indent: -18pt;">Hosting
TV3 for the one-year anniversary of the Rohingya Crisis in Bangladesh. With
over 1 million people living within 10 square kilometres, it was incredible to
see them bring this story live to New Zealand TV screens and raise hundreds of
thousands.</span></span></li><li><span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="mso-list: Ignore;"><span style="font-stretch: normal; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; line-height: normal;"> </span></span><!--[endif]-->Entering
into Mosul on the border of Syria and Iraq with one of Tearfund’s partners and
being told to stay within 200 metres of the vehicle at all times and carry a chemical
gas weapons mask with me.<o:p></o:p></span></li><li><span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="mso-list: Ignore;"><span style="font-stretch: normal; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; line-height: normal;"> </span></span><!--[endif]-->Being
tracked and chased out of Sri Lanka’s war torn North by the local FBI and
having to send our photos and videos back – by post.<o:p></o:p></span></li><li><span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="mso-list: Ignore;"><span style="font-stretch: normal; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; line-height: normal;"> </span></span><!--[endif]-->Flying
into Vanuatu three days after Cyclone Pam decimated the island for the Integral
Alliance whilst 9 weeks pregnant.<o:p></o:p></span></li><li><span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="mso-list: Ignore;"><span style="font-stretch: normal; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; line-height: normal;"> </span></span><!--[endif]-->Spending
6 years of my time at Tearfund living and working out of Uganda.<o:p></o:p></span></li><li><span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="mso-list: Ignore;"><span style="font-stretch: normal; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; line-height: normal;"> </span></span><!--[endif]-->Watching
in amazement the work of Compassion to stop child slaves working on Lake Volta
in Ghana.<o:p></o:p></span></li><li><span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="mso-list: Ignore;"><span style="font-stretch: normal; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; line-height: normal;"> </span></span><!--[endif]-->Collaborating
with New Zealand’s largest NGO’s on a national campaign called Live Below the
Line that brought in just over a million dollars for our work to end modern
slavery.<o:p></o:p></span></li><li><span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="mso-list: Ignore;"><span style="font-stretch: normal; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; line-height: normal;"> </span></span><!--[endif]-->Helping
launch New Zealand’s first Ethical Fashion Guide<o:p></o:p></span></li><li><span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="mso-list: Ignore;"><span style="font-stretch: normal; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; line-height: normal;"> </span></span><!--[endif]-->And
most recently, leading and working alongside the most incredible Creative team
of passionate, crazy talented people on countless campaigns, appeals and
disasters to bring desperately needed help to those that need it most.<o:p></o:p></span></li></ul><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEjWkpYpy_R45OtbEooCPoz75QpErjxddqmYnU0zupZmzZwr4zU9vWbvFhrNVQvOuqO51Iyq4k5ZR1UvRrx-KI_AS3mfbpykv5Hi_cS-TxZblndp0Pmk7P8MmQJYgj94Ytui581XA3czLFs81EPbjl_uQkuaW4uATXr4bYScj_HITCTtRwrG_EsJw9JP=s612" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><img border="0" data-original-height="612" data-original-width="612" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEjWkpYpy_R45OtbEooCPoz75QpErjxddqmYnU0zupZmzZwr4zU9vWbvFhrNVQvOuqO51Iyq4k5ZR1UvRrx-KI_AS3mfbpykv5Hi_cS-TxZblndp0Pmk7P8MmQJYgj94Ytui581XA3czLFs81EPbjl_uQkuaW4uATXr4bYScj_HITCTtRwrG_EsJw9JP=w400-h400" width="400" /></span></a></div><div><span style="font-family: inherit;"><br /></span></div><span style="font-family: inherit;"><!--[if !supportLists]--></span><p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">Over the years I’ve been doing this,
I’ve been genuinely scared for my life, cried buckets of tears with the people
I’ve interviewed, and thanked God every time for the privilege.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<h3 style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: small;"><span style="background: white; font-weight: normal;">There’s a quote that
reads; </span><span style="background: white;"><blockquote>“Sometimes I’d like to ask God why He allows poverty, suffering, and
injustice when He could do something about it. But, I’m afraid he’d ask me the
same question.”</blockquote></span><span style="background: white; font-weight: normal;"> I think about this quote all the time. <o:p></o:p></span></span></h3>
<h3 style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0cm;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEg9ieIdTC3VDE5PP2Ms_ldK-GEwtJGgn6-T8WH-cB_pqjztxI1RdOQV8HG9waN4IPjBDpcXxMHF27xPdReGEgHROSRZEnCxCCbVX47lSWzhRnIRsfud1IUfVT5hzWecXoqBXlxyo1v8CEwYtkEi5NV64U-YbDaxVabQZv_uOT_ryQUYFEZjYeyuXmWn=s2447" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em; text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: small;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2447" data-original-width="2447" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEg9ieIdTC3VDE5PP2Ms_ldK-GEwtJGgn6-T8WH-cB_pqjztxI1RdOQV8HG9waN4IPjBDpcXxMHF27xPdReGEgHROSRZEnCxCCbVX47lSWzhRnIRsfud1IUfVT5hzWecXoqBXlxyo1v8CEwYtkEi5NV64U-YbDaxVabQZv_uOT_ryQUYFEZjYeyuXmWn=w320-h320" width="320" /></span></a><span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: small;"><span lang="EN-US"><br /><span style="font-weight: normal;">What has kept me doing this kind of work is primarily my faith in a God
that asks <u>us</u> to be his hands and feet on the earth. A God that cares
deeply for this heaving mess of humanity. </span></span><span style="font-weight: normal;">I’ve never taken one photo, story or
campaign for granted and I am prayerful as I try my hardest to preserve dignity
whilst showing tremendous human need.</span> It is one of the greatest joys of my life
to offer my humble skills and watch him bring to living colour the things He
holds close to his heart.</span></h3>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="background: white;"><u>In a world </u></span><span lang="EN-US"><u>full of
plastic and throw away’s, in a world full of “If it doesn’t work for me, I’m
out”, I find there’s something really beautiful about longevity. About sticking
it out. Investing one’s life in a cause. Pouring out your life for something,
for someone.</u></span></span></p><span><span lang="EN-US" style="font-family: inherit;"><o:p></o:p></span></span><p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal;"><span style="background: white;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"></span></span></p><blockquote><span style="background: white;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">I feel like there’s a rocket on the inside of me and it burns
fierce. I am deeply passionate about this work. Ann Voskamp says “Compassion
isn’t merely a vague sense – but a feeling so strong it causes you to bend. It
shapes your body, your whole life, into a response”. There’s nothing I would
rather do. I am humbled beyond belief to be entrusted to do it. </span></span></blockquote><span style="background: white;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><o:p></o:p></span></span><p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-US" style="line-height: 107%;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><b><u>This is what I
know after ten years.</u></b><o:p></o:p></span></span></p>
<p class="MsoListParagraphCxSpFirst" style="mso-list: l0 level1 lfo2; text-indent: -18pt;"></p><ol style="text-align: left;"><li><span style="font-family: inherit;"><b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span lang="EN-US" style="line-height: 107%;">Those of us that have a front row seat to the
devastation will one day have a front row seat to the restoration. </span></b><span lang="EN-US" style="line-height: 107%;">I believe that with all my heart.<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><o:p></o:p></b></span></span></li><li><span style="font-family: inherit;"><b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span lang="EN-US" style="line-height: 107%;">Just when you think you’ve seen it all, you haven’t</span></b><span lang="EN-US" style="line-height: 107%;">. The longer I’m in this work the more I realize just
how difficult some people have it. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I
stand in awe at what the poor have to carry. <o:p></o:p></span></span></li><li><span style="font-family: inherit;"><b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span lang="EN-US" style="line-height: 107%;">Just because I work for a charity doesn’t make me better than anyone
else.</span></b><span lang="EN-US" style="line-height: 107%;"> Who do you
think pays for charities to stay afloat and help people? It’s the bankers, the stockbrokers,
the teachers, the doctors, the truck drivers and retail staff. Solving big
global issues takes all of us. <o:p></o:p></span></span></li><li><span style="font-family: inherit;"><b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span lang="EN-US" style="line-height: 107%;">God sustains this work</span></b><span lang="EN-US" style="line-height: 107%;">. Not me, not my team. God.<o:p></o:p></span></span></li><li><span style="font-family: inherit;"><b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span lang="EN-US" style="line-height: 107%;">I’ve never seen a situation where there was no hope.</span></b><span lang="EN-US" style="line-height: 107%;"> Truly, I tell you. In every country I’ve ever been to
and with every story I’ve ever heard, there is always something to be hopeful
for. <o:p></o:p></span></span></li></ol><span style="font-family: inherit;"><!--[if !supportLists]--></span><p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: inherit;"></span></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEgIC-KRnUKtzw58h8IdHNAy39TletytRb_6mFcS8ofA_sFrh7ZwPkIg7QneHzRjkCq7wrYmRgZ79k2UYnW9sB0POnx8PoV3vycph0Lb8gsYY4n3ZW0WPgHv2nA4ZVsRtNDWawZUDmUwqJKKs3LNkLhooAbNwdifHAZgMmsW2LVQJkRJgwvWHmEn9gM-=s2448" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2448" data-original-width="2448" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEgIC-KRnUKtzw58h8IdHNAy39TletytRb_6mFcS8ofA_sFrh7ZwPkIg7QneHzRjkCq7wrYmRgZ79k2UYnW9sB0POnx8PoV3vycph0Lb8gsYY4n3ZW0WPgHv2nA4ZVsRtNDWawZUDmUwqJKKs3LNkLhooAbNwdifHAZgMmsW2LVQJkRJgwvWHmEn9gM-=s320" width="320" /></a></span></div><span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="background-color: white;">Under the Tearfund roof I’ve experienced things I could never
have imagined in my wildest dreams. And even though I’ve been “grounded by a
pandemic” these last two years, perhaps the thing I’m most proud of is the fact
that during this season we’ve been building a strong foundational team from the
ground up filled with young people that are going to shape this organisation
moving forward. We’re growing, sharing the load and, Lord willing, soon we’ll
be back out there telling the stories that need to be told.</span></span><p></p><p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><span lang="EN-US" style="line-height: 107%;"><b>I can’t promise I’ll work here
forever. But I can tell you, no matter how long I’m here or there or
everywhere, Tearfund/Compassion will always be home for me. </b></span><span style="background: white; line-height: 107%;"><o:p></o:p></span></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-US" style="font-family: inherit; line-height: 107%;"><span>Onwards and
upwards,<br />
Helen</span><span face=""Century Gothic", sans-serif"><o:p></o:p></span></span></p><p class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-US" style="line-height: 107%;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><br /></span></span></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEik5osiqSf57fhzPgv_liPhjIdFBkZZqcDup4YrJrethNDgYaiXHikFf1kdeJS4_Varokb-rq9Y2QbeuzvNm7x3Hb2nOe6VK_JrAe_PiAwao9SBvx151vOV0nwFczfa2EIt41UHMIA1xpv5BFu1zXVWG9vszzZtjnETzGiVXSMcfMW67QtYGBblF0wk=s612" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em; text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><img border="0" data-original-height="612" data-original-width="612" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEik5osiqSf57fhzPgv_liPhjIdFBkZZqcDup4YrJrethNDgYaiXHikFf1kdeJS4_Varokb-rq9Y2QbeuzvNm7x3Hb2nOe6VK_JrAe_PiAwao9SBvx151vOV0nwFczfa2EIt41UHMIA1xpv5BFu1zXVWG9vszzZtjnETzGiVXSMcfMW67QtYGBblF0wk=w400-h400" width="400" /></span></a></div><p class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-US" style="line-height: 107%;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"></span></span></p>Tim and Helen Mansonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01827650755791436414noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7434448505994098413.post-20290222459975635052021-10-04T00:50:00.004-07:002021-10-04T00:53:30.517-07:00Healthy Women, Healthy World - the American women that know.how.to.fundraise!<p><span style="font-family: arial;"></span></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: arial;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEianrS_gDJ2hHkQ8i_4yXgGYB3B-bouWsxVPTCLADxZt5kBlkcL5RFAvZAhkcdnM7LM1tP8XwoBgASbBROtR5rShJAD9ghjV207y6ZDhNWsMIwyWirwH77D8WpxvuqKw-LY6QGK4bElHiI/s2048/Helen+Manson+Recent+Work+%25282%2529.JPG" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1365" data-original-width="2048" height="266" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEianrS_gDJ2hHkQ8i_4yXgGYB3B-bouWsxVPTCLADxZt5kBlkcL5RFAvZAhkcdnM7LM1tP8XwoBgASbBROtR5rShJAD9ghjV207y6ZDhNWsMIwyWirwH77D8WpxvuqKw-LY6QGK4bElHiI/w400-h266/Helen+Manson+Recent+Work+%25282%2529.JPG" width="400" /></a></span></div><span style="font-family: arial;"><br />Friends, two weeks ago I had the tremendous privilege of being the Keynote Speaker for<a href="https://medicalteams.org/" target="_blank"> Medical Teams International</a> at their event - <a href="https://medicalteams.org/donation/healthy-women-healthy-world/" target="_blank">Healthy Women, Healthy World</a> in America.</span><p></p><p><span style="font-family: arial;">I spoke for 23 min and took the viewers of their virtual luncheon on</span><span style="background: white; font-family: arial;"> a journey both
behind the lens and behind the curtain of the work that Medical Teams does. Having seen their work first hand in action in multiple
countries I took them with me on a trip to Uganda and Tanzania and told them exactly what I saw and the all important context behind it. I talked about who
I met and did my honest best to show the realities of the absolute rollercoaster
the</span><span style="background: white; font-family: arial;"> Medical Teams doctors, nurses and staff get on every
single day. </span></p><p><span style="font-family: arial;"><span style="background: white;">The best part of this entire luncheon? That in 24 hours after this airing we raised USD $249,000 for Mamas and their little ones. </span></span></p><p><span style="font-family: arial;"><span style="background: white;">What. An. Honour.</span></span></p><p><span style="font-family: arial;"><span style="background: white;">This once a year event is largely run by a group of incredibly passionate women who have been to the field with Medical Teams, loved it, come back and gathered the troops (200-450 women) in Oregon and Seattle for a luncheon that packs a serious punch. I was beyond impressed by them and the Medical Teams staff that put the event on without a hitch! </span></span></p><p><span style="font-family: arial;"><b><u>If you'd like to watch my section, forward to 21:28 and press play below!</u></b></span></p><p><span style="background-color: white;"><span style="font-family: arial;">Love to you all!</span></span></p><p><span style="background-color: white;"><span style="font-family: arial;">h. </span></span></p><p><br /></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><iframe allowfullscreen="" class="BLOG_video_class" height="279" src="https://www.youtube.com/embed/vImJbqtfE_Y" width="485" youtube-src-id="vImJbqtfE_Y"></iframe></div><br /><p><br /></p>Tim and Helen Mansonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01827650755791436414noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7434448505994098413.post-36200906780503748522020-12-09T22:56:00.003-08:002020-12-09T23:04:13.962-08:00How are we really doing one year on? Here’s the Good, the Hard and The Ugly.<p><span face=""Century Gothic", sans-serif" style="font-size: 10pt;"><br /><br /><br /></span></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjZELe_BM9L3CtQkpXpDPwZRXW-EnsIqQ0BwrbqRted-Dsai9BkH4twRfnva-nXSnQlmJnUJKRhOTZw3DGjSFI_3yM77bS0aoAnnURAfOM1_DR5lUmIDuahFt_87b6fQIDA0qJKlz-wzkU/s1440/54EC5DEB-2AAE-44BB-B98F-275B324D2C28.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1085" data-original-width="1440" height="482" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjZELe_BM9L3CtQkpXpDPwZRXW-EnsIqQ0BwrbqRted-Dsai9BkH4twRfnva-nXSnQlmJnUJKRhOTZw3DGjSFI_3yM77bS0aoAnnURAfOM1_DR5lUmIDuahFt_87b6fQIDA0qJKlz-wzkU/w640-h482/54EC5DEB-2AAE-44BB-B98F-275B324D2C28.jpg" width="640" /></a></div><br />Many of you have so kindly been asking us <b style="font-family: "Century Gothic", sans-serif;">how we’ve been going</b><span face=""Century Gothic", sans-serif">. How we’ve transitioned
and if we’ve settled into NZ yet? So here’s my </span><b style="font-family: "Century Gothic", sans-serif;">very honest, very vulnerable</b><span face=""Century Gothic", sans-serif"> assessment of just that.</span><p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span face=""Century Gothic",sans-serif" style="line-height: 107%;">Of course, I could give you surface level. And
tell you about how I’m so far behind on technology it’s not even funny. I’ve
missed out on 6 years of technological advancements -<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>and it shows. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>What on earth is Microsoft Teams, Planner and Snapchat?
Don’t tell my work but I literally don’t even know where to save anything so I just
save it to my desktop. Pretty sure that’s really bad and not allowed but I’m
too scared to tell the IT Department. <br />
<br />
Since when were Instagram stories more popular than Instagram and why is all my
text right aligned and how do I add music to videos and why is it so hard for
me to learn this stuff? I cannot.even.deal. Also, I have no idea what to wear
anymore. I used to pride myself in my “fashion sense”. Not anymore folks, not
anymore. I have officially lost touch. My friends pretend not to be embarrassed
when around me. Oh and training the kids to be more civilised has been a real
up- hill battle. They eat food off the floor, wipe their nose with their shirt,
dress in whatever the heck they want and don’t even get me started on the mall.
Let’s just say they do not know the correct “protocol” and call the escalators
“magical stairs”. <o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span face=""Century Gothic",sans-serif" style="line-height: 107%;">It’s also been weird getting used to being “on
time” again. I’m so used to showing up to things late (as that’s on time in
Uganda). It’s been my excuse for about a year now and I think it’s reaching its
shelf life. Pshh.<br />
<br />
</span></p><h4 style="text-align: left;"><span face=""Century Gothic",sans-serif" style="line-height: 107%;"><b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;">How are we <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><u>really</u></i> doing one year on? <u>Here’s the Good, the Hard and
The Ugly.</u></b></span></h4><p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><u><span face=""Century Gothic",sans-serif" style="line-height: 107%;">The
Good:</span></u></b><span face=""Century Gothic",sans-serif" style="line-height: 107%;"></span></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgIEo4zCjTqUYjM5SAUOtKGMhTA74NlAUoZn07Mc7xT577WEm7TRF7AdB4kku6DcxV3vizKJQDSx-deQ0FYOqA_oLJRiqrWnarCeIDYPTBuUwe4H2M1aSYvZ8oBQUb_wenPDJhCNg_V-Gk/s3088/IMG_3906.HEIC" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2320" data-original-width="3088" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgIEo4zCjTqUYjM5SAUOtKGMhTA74NlAUoZn07Mc7xT577WEm7TRF7AdB4kku6DcxV3vizKJQDSx-deQ0FYOqA_oLJRiqrWnarCeIDYPTBuUwe4H2M1aSYvZ8oBQUb_wenPDJhCNg_V-Gk/w400-h300/IMG_3906.HEIC" width="400" /></a></div> <br />
It is so wonderful to be back. I’m really happy we are here. It feels right.
Who knew when we left that a global pandemic would sweep the world a mere three
months later? Being back with our families is everything I hoped it would be.
Reconnecting with my brothers has been especially sweet. Spending time with old
friends and meeting new ones is amazing. In fact, I’d say in the last two
months it feels like we’re finally hitting our stride. We’re getting to know
who our people are, we’ve worked out where to get the things we need, we’re
starting to make new traditions and we are truly loving New Zealand.<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><o:p></o:p></i><p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><u><span face=""Century Gothic",sans-serif" style="line-height: 107%;">The
Hard:</span></u></b><span face=""Century Gothic",sans-serif" style="line-height: 107%;"><br />
<br />
1) <b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;">My kids haven’t grown up here.</b>
Instead their childhood quirks and experiences are sacredly stored amongst many
missionary/expat women now (mainly thanks to Covid) scattered all over the
globe. This makes me eternally grateful and also sometimes deeply sad. I wish I
had that shared history and those inside jokes with my friends here. And I wish
those Mamas lived in New Zealand too.<o:p></o:p></span></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjUNED-k_pD2xN1fenvXQQizyOq5cmmRb3s14wc0FFDWE19zgvUNXvCDKBnAfcvNURTNn09THATNLiX8GAtJ9-dW0Ss0hGIjhOuBcrlc9MtXr6-dtrgdIBHNAL7Ct9YkFh14FETyjFXuFU/s2320/IMG_3615.HEIC" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2320" data-original-width="2320" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjUNED-k_pD2xN1fenvXQQizyOq5cmmRb3s14wc0FFDWE19zgvUNXvCDKBnAfcvNURTNn09THATNLiX8GAtJ9-dW0Ss0hGIjhOuBcrlc9MtXr6-dtrgdIBHNAL7Ct9YkFh14FETyjFXuFU/w400-h400/IMG_3615.HEIC" width="400" /></a></div><p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span face=""Century Gothic",sans-serif" style="line-height: 107%;">2) <b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;">Speaking
of friendship:</b> This year I’ve grieved the loss of the incredibly close
community I had in Uganda. Moving back, some friendships here are deeper than
ever, others have moved on and that’s ok. Some of the drift is us. I know that.
We’ve changed and lived away for 6 years! God has been so kind in bringing incredible
new friends to us too! <span style="color: red;"><o:p></o:p></span></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span face=""Century Gothic",sans-serif" style="line-height: 107%;">3) <b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;">Both of
us have been used to living in a constant state of adrenalin.</b> Coming down
off the ‘high’ of living on that level has been something to get used to. </span><span face=""Century Gothic",sans-serif" style="line-height: 107%; mso-bidi-font-family: Calibri; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">That
daily life adventure of stress and excitement all rolled into one is (for the
most part) gone for now.</span><span face=""Century Gothic",sans-serif" style="line-height: 107%;"> Doing 30 trips a year between us is
off the radar for the foreseeable. And we miss it. I think because we haven’t
been travelling and we’re not used to the quiet life, much less the lockdown
life, we’ve tried throwing ourselves full steam into projects, even crazy
projects to make us feel normal because chaos was our normal! That’s probably
not been very healthy.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span face=""Century Gothic",sans-serif" style="line-height: 107%;">4) <b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;">Not
being surrounded by Ugandans.</b> We miss it ever so much. And I’m acutely
aware of not wanting my children to be the only brown faces in the room. I hate
it that we’ve taken them from a majority culture to a minority one. I spend a
lot of my time trying to work out how to mitigate that from everything to where
we go to school to where we live and who we hang out with. <o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span face=""Century Gothic",sans-serif" style="line-height: 107%;">5) I still have a <b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;">scarcity mentality</b> and I can’t shake it. Especially with shopping
and food. Despite the fact that I live in the land of plenty, I still find
myself not trusting stock levels and things to be available. I am hyper
vigilant and insanely organised with food and birthdays and backstock for all
things from Father’s Day cards to shampoo. This is a blessing and a curse.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><u><span face=""Century Gothic",sans-serif" style="line-height: 107%;">The
Ugly:</span></u></b><span face=""Century Gothic",sans-serif" style="line-height: 107%;"></span></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjpCAybYyhTrY-t37vxaDc7yfbtuad7MPbqnZspTDZXuWB0jtJhruyeJt5ISDqY0rZaYB6Kx1PQMhgksI0yfDL2f47h5mlfK4Zx1r01N5m2X8JhHP6tKx-6-xJaj0mBm7YuUnp6tAqUF8s/s4032/IMG_3926.HEIC" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="4032" data-original-width="3024" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjpCAybYyhTrY-t37vxaDc7yfbtuad7MPbqnZspTDZXuWB0jtJhruyeJt5ISDqY0rZaYB6Kx1PQMhgksI0yfDL2f47h5mlfK4Zx1r01N5m2X8JhHP6tKx-6-xJaj0mBm7YuUnp6tAqUF8s/w240-h320/IMG_3926.HEIC" width="240" /></a></div> <br />
A few weeks back we did a two day debrief with a trained therapist who debriefs
people that have lived in challenging environments and been witness to hard
things. Out of this, one of the many things that came up was loss. And I
realised that<b> if I’m honest, a big part of my identity was wrapped up in living
and working in Uganda. Now that we are here, I feel like I’ve lost 49% of
myself. And that’s a big chunk. </b><br />
<br />
During the debrief I felt like I was being asked to let go. To put a full stop
on that chapter of our lives and turn the page. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I kept getting the strong sense that God was
trying to do a new thing and <b>I kept trying to fit my old life into my new life</b>.
So I picked up a shell from the beach, told it what it symbolised to me and
together we threw it into the ocean. Closing this beautiful chapter and turning
the page to a promising new one. <o:p></o:p><p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span face=""Century Gothic",sans-serif" style="line-height: 107%;">And then I was reminded; whenever I’m on the field
about to do a shoot I always pray, <b>“God, show me where you are here. </b>Show me
what you’re up to. I need to find you here.” That’s my new prayer for now
too.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Maybe it can be yours for 2021 as
well?<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span face=""Century Gothic",sans-serif" style="line-height: 107%; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";"><o:p> Love, Helen </o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span face=""Century Gothic",sans-serif" style="font-size: 10pt; line-height: 107%; mso-bidi-font-family: Calibri; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";"> <o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span face=""Century Gothic",sans-serif" style="font-size: 10pt; line-height: 107%; mso-bidi-font-family: Calibri; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";"><br style="mso-special-character: line-break;" />
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<!--[endif]--></span><span face=""Century Gothic",sans-serif" style="font-size: 10pt; line-height: 107%;"><o:p></o:p></span></p>Tim and Helen Mansonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01827650755791436414noreply@blogger.com7tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7434448505994098413.post-50049699195968358672020-11-08T14:44:00.005-08:002020-11-08T14:44:46.166-08:00An interview I did recently with the team at We are Human As<p><span style="background-color: white; color: #050505; font-family: "Segoe UI Historic", "Segoe UI", Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 15px; white-space: pre-wrap;">Hey friends!
I’m so excited to share with you an interview I did with the beautiful team at <a href="https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=WsZQ8MkYY3E&t=3s">We are Human As.</a>
In this interview I share a little bit about our adoption journey, my job as a humanitarian photographer and storyteller and three photos that are really meaningful to me.
Photos taken on the field for <a href="https://www.tearfund.org.nz/" target="_blank">Tearfund</a>, <a href="https://www.compassion.com/" target="_blank">Compassion</a>, <a href="https://www.medicalteams.org/" target="_blank">Medical Teams Internationa</a>l and <a href="https://www.worldvision.org.nz/" target="_blank">World Vision</a>.
There are a few tears at the end but I know you’ll understand why..
</span><span style="background-color: white; color: #050505; font-family: "Segoe UI Historic", "Segoe UI", Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 15px; white-space: pre-wrap;">Love to hear your thoughts - please do comment below! </span><span style="background-color: white; color: #050505; font-family: "Segoe UI Historic", "Segoe UI", Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 15px; white-space: pre-wrap;">
Watch the full interview here </span><span style="color: #050505; font-family: Segoe UI Historic, Segoe UI, Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: 15px; white-space: pre-wrap;">https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=WsZQ8MkYY3E&t=3s </span></span></p><p><span style="background-color: white; color: #050505; font-family: "Segoe UI Historic", "Segoe UI", Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 15px; white-space: pre-wrap;">M</span><span style="background-color: white; color: #050505; font-family: "Segoe UI Historic", "Segoe UI", Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 15px; white-space: pre-wrap;">uch love to you all! Xo </span></p><p><span style="color: #050505; font-family: Segoe UI Historic, Segoe UI, Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif;"></span></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="color: #050505; font-family: Segoe UI Historic, Segoe UI, Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif;"><iframe allowfullscreen="" class="BLOG_video_class" height="406" src="https://www.youtube.com/embed/WsZQ8MkYY3E" width="488" youtube-src-id="WsZQ8MkYY3E"></iframe></span></div><span style="color: #050505; font-family: Segoe UI Historic, Segoe UI, Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif;"><br /><span style="font-size: 15px; white-space: pre-wrap;"><br /></span></span><p></p>Tim and Helen Mansonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01827650755791436414noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7434448505994098413.post-76976537691575500972020-05-03T15:20:00.000-07:002020-05-03T15:20:19.208-07:00The surprise Mothers Day photoshoot we did last week! <div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgDtj11f5IDt2SsoScpAfv_IEubcgmQ7AgRaPpnQeMmThof-BATPdboG_czssdfPeki9v2S448qH7JaoUrovIgxj-0dZxvItpxf87vCbrwtIVwLY7J1L-SmY9lXzJvuE2tVJXsK0VaERq0/s1600/Image-0481.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1068" data-original-width="1600" height="427" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgDtj11f5IDt2SsoScpAfv_IEubcgmQ7AgRaPpnQeMmThof-BATPdboG_czssdfPeki9v2S448qH7JaoUrovIgxj-0dZxvItpxf87vCbrwtIVwLY7J1L-SmY9lXzJvuE2tVJXsK0VaERq0/s640/Image-0481.jpg" width="640" /></a></div>
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<div style="text-align: left;">
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Hey friends!</span></div>
<br />
<div style="text-align: left;">
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">It was such an honour to be a part of this years Mothers Day campaign for <a href="https://www.saben.co.nz/">Saben </a>- N<span style="background-color: white; text-align: center;">ew Zealand’s premium leather handbag and accessories label. </span></span></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<span style="background-color: white; text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br /></span></span></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><span style="background-color: white; text-align: center;">Below are a few photos from the shoot but <a href="https://saben.co.nz/blogs/sabenette/at-home-with-helen-manson">here is a </a></span><a href="https://saben.co.nz/blogs/sabenette/at-home-with-helen-manson">link to the full blog on their site.</a></span></div>
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Tim and Helen Mansonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01827650755791436414noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7434448505994098413.post-43696465862046034552020-03-14T01:38:00.002-07:002020-03-14T01:38:33.275-07:00A love letter to Uganda<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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<span style="font-family: "Century Gothic", sans-serif; font-size: 10pt;">Dear Uganda, </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "Century Gothic",sans-serif; font-size: 10.0pt; line-height: 107%;">
<br />
Ten years ago, Tim and I touched down for the very first time here in The Pearl
of Africa. We were wide-eyed, excited, naïve, ready to learn and keen to
experience all your beautiful country had to offer. After an initial 5 month
volunteer stint we headed back to New Zealand promising to each other that we’d
come back to live in 3 years’ time. We moved here indefinitely in January 2014
and have been here ever since. In a couple of days, we’ll be leaving to move
back to New Zealand. I want, and, quite frankly, need, to process some of those
feelings with you. <br /><br /><o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Century Gothic",sans-serif; font-size: 10.0pt; line-height: 107%;"><b>If I’m honest, I’d tell you that before I moved to
Uganda I thought I would be “giving up a lot”. Missionary/aid worker style. “Sacrificing”
a lot. And in some ways I was. <u>But in most ways I wasn’t. </u></b><o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Century Gothic",sans-serif; font-size: 10.0pt; line-height: 107%;"><b><br /></b></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Century Gothic",sans-serif; font-size: 10.0pt; line-height: 107%;">I thought I was giving up my lovely <b>house </b>in New
Zealand. Instead, you and God gave us the best house we could ever have wished
for complete with a huge yard – perfect for our growing brood of children.
Speaking of children, I thought I was giving up my chance to have <b>children</b>. And
yet literally weeks after arriving in country our paths intersected with the
most precious little girl who went on to become our daughter. Later on a son
followed. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I thought I was giving up my <b>dream
job</b> and yet somehow the jobs we both have right now are the best thing ever. We
thought we were giving up a wonderful group of <b>friends </b>that deeply cared about us
and had known us decades. Instead, we found <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>those relationships continued to grow albeit
across the oceans! <i>And </i>an equally special group of friends came into our lives
and walked side by side with us through our toughest seasons yet. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Century Gothic",sans-serif; font-size: 10.0pt; line-height: 107%;">W</span><span style="font-family: "Century Gothic", sans-serif; font-size: 10pt;">e thought we were giving up our families. <b>And
that one, we were</b>. For the last six years our families have patiently and
graciously waited on the sidelines watching through Facebook and Facetime and
once yearly visits to see their grandchildren and us in the same room. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Century Gothic",sans-serif; font-size: 10.0pt; line-height: 107%;"><br /><o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Century Gothic",sans-serif; font-size: 10.0pt; line-height: 107%;">I thought I was giving up <b>shopping</b>. And I was. But,
instead I found ways to “manage”. Working with local artisans to create
beautiful goods, getting down on my hands and knees to rummage through second
hand piles at the downtown markets, going to Dubai once a year to get my “fix” and
being a regular at expat garage sales. Best yet though was realising that
simplicity and minimalism are my new MO (modus operandi) and I don’t need that
stuff to make me happy.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>In saying that,
I’m really looking forward to hitting up Kmart when I’m back in NZ. Hey, I’m being
honest, right? <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Century Gothic",sans-serif; font-size: 10.0pt; line-height: 107%;"><br /><b>Of course there’s been challenging times too. </b>The
rat in my bed wrapped around Eva’s head drinking milk that had fallen onto the
foam mattress. The countless snakes. The police that pull us over looking for
bribes. Getting pneumonia and malaria. The power company we have on speed dial
because EVERY. SINGLE. DANG. WEEK there’s an issue. The water company that constantly
likes to turn off water when we have large numbers of people over for a party.
The burglars that stole from us. The people that scammed us. The lies we’ve
been told. Immigration dramas, roads that put your neck out they’re so bumpy
and pollution levels so high its dangerous to go outside. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>You’ve legit driven me crazy sometimes. Often
times. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Century Gothic",sans-serif; font-size: 10.0pt; line-height: 107%;">But all of that is <b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><u>NOTHING</u></b> in comparison to what you’ve given<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>me.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>My
babies. My incredible friends. The grandmother to my children, (Jane, our househelper),
Opportunities to serve people in big and small ways.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The best Indian (ironic, I know) food in the
world. A community of people we absolutely adore. <br /><br /><o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Century Gothic",sans-serif; font-size: 10.0pt; line-height: 107%;"><b>Uganda, (and I’m crying now), thank you. Thank you
for giving me some of the best years of my life to date. You are the reason I
became a Mother. There is nothing I can do to repay you for that. All three of
my children have danced on your soil and grown up under your sun and leant to
walk and talk on the mis-matched tiled floors of this beautiful home.</b><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"><b> </b><br /></span><o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Century Gothic",sans-serif; font-size: 10.0pt; line-height: 107%;">In just a few short days the time will come to put
a full stop on our time here. Our son, Maz needs to have a significant heart
operation and we know just the place to help – New Zealand. It’ll be the tenth
time I’ve moved internationally and the 11<sup>th</sup> time Tim has. We’re
ready to put down some roots for a while. <br /><br /><o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Century Gothic",sans-serif; font-size: 10.0pt; line-height: 107%;">But we’ll be back to visit I promise. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Tim’s here for a work visit twice next year
and I’ll be touching down again around May.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>We hope to bring the kids back in a few years too. Because there’s
nowhere quite like Uganda. <b><u>Nowhere</u></b>. <br /><br /><o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Century Gothic",sans-serif; font-size: 10.0pt; line-height: 107%;">With all our love and affection,<br />
Tim, Helen, Hope, Eva and Maz</span></div>
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<o:p></o:p><br />
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Tim and Helen Mansonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01827650755791436414noreply@blogger.com7tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7434448505994098413.post-27859789886772726212020-02-14T04:59:00.000-08:002020-02-14T07:11:44.085-08:00Kampala Life Hacks: <div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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<span style="font-family: "century gothic" , sans-serif; font-size: 10.0pt; line-height: 107%;">Our family lived in Uganda for 6 years - so as my
parting gift I thought it might be helpful to open up our little black book of
contacts. Please note, this information is current as at February 2020.</span></h4>
<h4 style="text-align: left;">
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiNAwbMbjVf0Xx6rTwPeUITX-uE4Hqvr1QB9ly6PDDa4gB-IyDcJ0dbmbAhblI4VVt3o0TwHf95zYEECRBv09obj7KRWSGGSQU6gX2a94xRmpJHvv3HUyj5pZJcLzJSweOecUf6ugR3_Gs/s1600/Helen+Nov+2019_2.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1112" data-original-width="1600" height="444" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiNAwbMbjVf0Xx6rTwPeUITX-uE4Hqvr1QB9ly6PDDa4gB-IyDcJ0dbmbAhblI4VVt3o0TwHf95zYEECRBv09obj7KRWSGGSQU6gX2a94xRmpJHvv3HUyj5pZJcLzJSweOecUf6ugR3_Gs/s640/Helen+Nov+2019_2.JPG" width="640" /></a></div>
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<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="background: white; font-family: "century gothic" , sans-serif; font-size: 10.0pt; line-height: 107%;">American Food </span></b><span style="background: white; font-family: "century gothic" , sans-serif; font-size: 10.0pt; line-height: 107%;">– Verity Stores in Bugolobi is a
fabulous place to go for American treats.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>Plot 10-12 Mulwana Road, Industrial Area, Kampala 0750 324 627 or </span><a href="mailto:tharun@verityfoodsuganda.com"><span style="background: white; font-family: "century gothic" , sans-serif; font-size: 10.0pt; line-height: 107%;">tharun@verityfoodsuganda.com</span></a><b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-family: "century gothic" , sans-serif; font-size: 10.0pt; line-height: 107%;"><br />
Artists – </span></b><span style="font-family: "century gothic" , sans-serif; font-size: 10.0pt; line-height: 107%;">I love supporting local artists that do beautiful work.
Two I’ve worked with on multiple pieces are Mahony </span><a href="mailto:ssemagandamahadi@gmail.com"><span style="background: white; font-family: "century gothic" , sans-serif; font-size: 10.0pt; line-height: 107%;">ssemagandamahadi@gmail.com</span></a><span style="background: white; font-family: "century gothic" , sans-serif; font-size: 10.0pt; line-height: 107%;"> </span><span style="background: white; font-family: "century gothic" , sans-serif; font-size: 10.0pt; line-height: 107%;">0752543136</span><span style="font-family: "century gothic" , sans-serif; font-size: 10.0pt; line-height: 107%;">
and Ricky </span><span style="background: white; font-family: "century gothic" , sans-serif; font-size: 10.0pt; line-height: 107%;">0782704083
or 0701033068<br />
<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;">Beauty</b> – Beatrice does waxing 0772 471 385 and Rona does eyelash extensions 0778 444 386.</span><b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-family: "century gothic" , sans-serif; font-size: 10.0pt; line-height: 107%;"><br />
Canvas Prints – </span></b><span style="font-family: "century gothic" , sans-serif; font-size: 10.0pt; line-height: 107%;">Decorating your home in Kampala is
challenging at the best of times. Kenneth 0782 369 828 is the best person to
print anything you need onto canvas. He also prints photographs. His email Is </span><a href="mailto:dbpixprint4u@gmail.com"><span style="font-family: "century gothic" , sans-serif; font-size: 10.0pt; line-height: 107%;">dbpixprint4u@gmail.com</span></a><span style="font-family: "century gothic" , sans-serif; font-size: 10.0pt; line-height: 107%;">
<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>and he delivers. <br />
<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;">Clothes</b> – It’s hard to find clothes
for yourself and kids in Kampala. If you don’t want to rummage through bargains
at a local market I can recommend Sarah at Kampala Dresses who scouts Owino for
you and sells the dresses at 30k each. You can find her on Facebook. Chloe’s
Closet<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>0784 814 748 is the best one to
go to for high end designer ware.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>And in
a pinch I visit Mr. Price at Acacia Mall or Pep in Kabalagala. <br />
<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;">Counselling Services</b> – Tumaini
Kampala<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></span><a href="http://www.tumainicounselling.net/"><span style="font-family: "century gothic" , sans-serif; font-size: 10.0pt; line-height: 107%;">www.tumainicounselling.net</span></a><span style="font-family: "century gothic" , sans-serif; font-size: 10.0pt; line-height: 107%;">
<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><br />
Driver</b> – Robert is on time, reliable and charges a fair price 90k from
Kansanga to the Airport. He’s also picked me up from Tanzania before and driven
me back. Day rate should be 200k. 0772 439 870<br />
</span><b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="background: white; font-family: "century gothic" , sans-serif; font-size: 10.0pt; line-height: 107%;">Doctors</span></b><span style="background: white; font-family: "century gothic" , sans-serif; font-size: 10.0pt; line-height: 107%;"> – Our entire family uses The Clinic at Bugolobi
Village Mall 0392 177 283 </span><a href="mailto:clinicatthemall@gmail.com"><span style="background: white; font-family: "century gothic" , sans-serif; font-size: 10.0pt; line-height: 107%;">clinicatthemall@gmail.com</span></a><span class="MsoHyperlink"><span style="background: white; font-family: "century gothic" , sans-serif; font-size: 10.0pt; line-height: 107%;"> . </span></span><span class="MsoHyperlink"><span style="background: white; font-family: "century gothic" , sans-serif; font-size: 10.0pt; line-height: 107%; text-decoration: none;">If the issue is for a child under 2 I would highly
recommend Doctor Michael at Nakasero Annex. </span></span><b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-family: "century gothic" , sans-serif; font-size: 10.0pt; line-height: 107%;"><br />
Flowers</span></b><span style="font-family: "century gothic" , sans-serif; font-size: 10.0pt; line-height: 107%;"> – The best florist in town is 1921 Lifestyle 0772
419 295. They deliver and import their gorgeous flowers and are the next level
up if you’re looking for something better than the 10k variety at the
supermarket. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><br />
<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;">Framing</b> –Kenneth (mentioned under
canvas) does framing but you can also contact Tagaframe or visit their workshop
in Kismenti. Taga Nuwagaba, 0772 500 286 or </span><a href="mailto:taganuwagaba@gmail.com"><span style="font-family: "century gothic" , sans-serif; font-size: 10.0pt; line-height: 107%;">taganuwagaba@gmail.com</span></a><span class="MsoHyperlink"><span style="font-family: "century gothic" , sans-serif; font-size: 10.0pt; line-height: 107%;"><br />
</span></span><span class="MsoHyperlink"><b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-family: "century gothic" , sans-serif; font-size: 10.0pt; line-height: 107%; text-decoration: none;">Food – </span></b></span><span class="MsoHyperlink"><span style="font-family: "century gothic" , sans-serif; font-size: 10.0pt; line-height: 107%; text-decoration: none;">For the best donuts and cinnamon rolls you need to know about Simply
Donuts. You can find them on Facebook. They deliver. If you need apples or
absolutely delicious spaghetti sauce, Jane Mutesi is your go to girl. 0777 358
437. For the best Indian food, it’s got to be Khazana Verandah in Muyenga. For
the best steak it’s Cantina Divino in Kololo.</span></span><span style="font-family: "century gothic" , sans-serif; font-size: 10.0pt; line-height: 107%;"><br />
<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;">Fumigation</b> – We use Eco Nation 0774
623 044<br />
</span><b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="background: white; font-family: "century gothic" , sans-serif; font-size: 10.0pt; line-height: 107%;">Furniture Maker</span></b><span style="background: white; font-family: "century gothic" , sans-serif; font-size: 10.0pt; line-height: 107%;"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>- Our huge
black couch was made by Didas Kamugisha , Namuwongo 0782171789 or 0705586755</span><span style="font-family: "century gothic" , sans-serif; font-size: 10.0pt; line-height: 107%;"><br />
<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;">Glass Guy</b> – Kaja makes drinking
glasses out of old wine bottles. They are 4-5k each compared to 10k at Good
Glass. His “store” is next to Prifare on Kiwafu Road. 0793383829.<br />
<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;">Gymanstics</b> – Ben is a wonderful
coach. He comes to our home during the school holidays and does lessons for the
kids.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>10-15k each. 0776548399.<br />
<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;">Hairdresser</b> – Erika at Mirror Salon
is fabulous at cutting every type of hair. Her salon on Tank Hill is relaxing
and peaceful. 0785 528 294. Approximately 70-80k for a wash, cut, blow dry <br /><b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;">Masseuse – </b>Bosco is the BEST
massage/physio therapist I’ve ever had the pleasure of knowing. 0752 263 227.
He comes to your home with his own table – you provide the towels/sheets and
it’s 80k for an hour of getting those knots out and leaving you healthier than
when you began.<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><br />
Mosquito Net – </b>Wilbur specialises in gorgeous safari style tie up mosquito
nets. They are expensive but they are beautiful – 0785 231 157. <b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><br />
Mechanic</b> – Marvin has been great to our family. 0777140900.<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><br />
Musician</b> - For live music there’s no one better than Herbet Ssensamba<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>- 0702 457 125<br />
<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;">Pedicure – </b>Bishop is HANDS DOWN the
best pedicure man in the city! He comes to your house, brings all the items he
needs and is clean, tidy and calm to work with. 0777028683.<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><br />
Playground – </b>Our kids are obsessed with Prifare on Kiwafu Road in Kansanga.
0781706543. <b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><br />
Photographer</b> – Karibu Media specialises in family photographs (they also do
interiors, schools, NGO etc) and do a fabulous job. 0773 320 625<br />
<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;">Rugs</b> – Villa Kololo (Kismenti) and
Mr Price (Acacia Mall)<br />
<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;">Ugandan Hair</b> – We love Prossy, she
comes to the house, does my daughters hair in braids or twists and charges a
fair price. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>0774338709.<br />
<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;">Wood Engraver</b> – Jude - 0392886526 or
0772 459 129<br style="mso-special-character: line-break;" />
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Tim and Helen Mansonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01827650755791436414noreply@blogger.com6tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7434448505994098413.post-53723585052744127512019-11-27T08:38:00.003-08:002019-11-27T08:38:58.786-08:00Our home in Uganda - Homestyle Magazine<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
Earlier this year the amazing team at <a href="https://www.homestyle.co.nz/" target="_blank">Homestyle Magazine</a> asked if we would open the doors of our home in Uganda to their readers. Of course, the answer was yes!<br /><br /><b><span style="font-size: large;">You can read the beautiful story and see the images <a href="https://www.homestyle.co.nz/our-world-2/">here.</a> </span></b><br />But if you just want to see some of my favorite photos of our home, I've popped them down below for you. Much love, Helen<br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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Tim and Helen Mansonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01827650755791436414noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7434448505994098413.post-62634576263864220102019-10-21T10:21:00.000-07:002019-10-21T10:24:05.518-07:00Our family is moving<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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Lately we’ve been a little quiet on social media and that’s
because we’ve been processing some big life decisions! Namely, our family is
moving back to New Zealand this Christmas.</div>
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<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><u>Why? Three
reasons:</u></b></h3>
1) We found out earlier this year that our son, Maz, needs to have open heart
surgery for multiple issues he has with his heart/lungs. This was a surprise
for us and really hard to hear. We’ve been thinking lots, praying hard and weighing up
the different options for months. Finally, we ended up landing on moving back to Auckland, New Zealand - indefinitely. <br />
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2) Both of our jobs recently offered us roles back in NZ
starting Jan 2020. Tim has accepted an offer with Tutapona that will see him as
the Vice President of Global Programs for Tutapona. He will be overseeing the
Country Directors/Project managers in Uganda, Iraq and Lebanon as well as
developing Tutapona’s Australasia funding base. I will be working part time at
Tearfund leading their Creative Team and still doing humanitarian
photography/storytelling. <br />
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3) All up, we’ve been living in Uganda for a total of 6
years. If we were to include Dubai, it’d be 7 years overseas. Not to mention
that Tim and I both spent the majority of our childhood years overseas (him in
Africa and me in the USA and Australia). Both of us noticed when we went home
this Christmas that things were maybe starting to “shift” in us. <b><i>Can I be
really honest?</i></b> The wear and tear of living apart from family and our community
back in NZ was taxing us. The challenges of living in a developing country that
was not our “home” were starting to show. Higher than healthy stress levels,
irritations over little things and building frustration. Neither of us would
<u>ever </u>want to leave Uganda bitter or resentful. So we accepted these promptings
as little signposts that perhaps a change was coming. <b>We want to leave how we
feel now. Deeply grateful, in love with this country and her people but also
excited for a new chapter. </b>Not burnt-out or cynical. Just a feeling, backed up
with many heartfelt prayers that our season here is coming to a close and the timing
feels right. </div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgOdFgchszVltFMBd8YRsnZOr-O7iyEtxMyRVD4UBqGxAqHDH7iq4X7aXxPafXw5hZV4Lt2DDYU_zWK-8pkbLFXse9SN0qj0a9o8Oei0OG4Cikf3xDTAreplmwFvfB0KcqS488THLKEDr0/s1600/MET03656.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1600" data-original-width="1067" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgOdFgchszVltFMBd8YRsnZOr-O7iyEtxMyRVD4UBqGxAqHDH7iq4X7aXxPafXw5hZV4Lt2DDYU_zWK-8pkbLFXse9SN0qj0a9o8Oei0OG4Cikf3xDTAreplmwFvfB0KcqS488THLKEDr0/s640/MET03656.jpg" width="425" /></a></div>
<h3 style="text-align: left;">
<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><u>How are we feeling? </u></b></h3>
Mixed. Really mixed. Sad to leave the country that has given us so much.
Our babies, dream jobs, an unbelievably rich in friendship community. Our
beautiful home, a fabulous school, a wonderful church and a lifestyle that
means daily in-person chats with your besties is a given. Weather that delights
us and a perspective on poverty that haunts us. <o:p></o:p><br />
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<br />
Also, super excited to have our families and close friends in NZ get
to know our kids and to be able to make everyday memories together. Excited for
good food, malls, and beaches. Excited for a change but grateful we get to keep
the biggest part of our lives in Uganda – our work. Excited for the next
chapter. <br />
<br />
<o:p></o:p></div>
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Tim will be back in Uganda twice a year and I’ll be back
about once a year. That feels really good to have down on the internet in black and white. <br />
<br />
<o:p></o:p></div>
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Talk soon,<br />
us<br />
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<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;">*Photos by Candice Lassey* <br style="mso-special-character: line-break;" />
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Tim and Helen Mansonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01827650755791436414noreply@blogger.com9tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7434448505994098413.post-70876040960409934502019-09-09T10:47:00.000-07:002019-09-09T11:00:16.640-07:007 FAQs about being a Humanitarian Photographer and Storyteller<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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<span style="font-family: "century gothic" , sans-serif; font-size: 10pt;">Over the past few years I’ve been receiving a reasonable amount of messages from people that would like to know a bit more about humanitarian
photography and storytelling as a career. I love hearing from you - what an
honour! During this particular season of life though, it’s hard to reply to
every single one in depth like I’d like to – so here goes! My attempt to answer
the most frequently asked questions via blog. <i><b>Please feel free to reach out if there
is anything else I’ve forgotten!</b></i></span></div>
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<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-family: "century gothic" , sans-serif; font-size: 10.0pt;"><u>1. How
did you get into humanitarian photography/storytelling?</u><br />
</span></b><span style="font-family: "century gothic" , sans-serif; font-size: 10.0pt;">I remember having an interest in photography as
young as 7 years of age. I used to feel like something couldn’t be fully remembered
unless it was captured – frozen forever in time by the click of a finger. </span><span style="background: white; font-family: "century gothic" , sans-serif; font-size: 10.0pt;">By the time I reached high school I’d had a few
more of those, “have to grab it” moments and so decided to take photography as
one of my options. It was there I learnt the art of using a film camera and
developing my own images in the Darkroom.</span><span style="font-family: "century gothic" , sans-serif; font-size: 10.0pt;"> I graduated
from university 14 years ago with a Bachelor of Communication Studies majoring in
Public Relations and Advertising Creativity. At first, I did fashion, beauty
and lifestyle PR for agencies and worked in both New Zealand and Dubai. Then, in
2010 my husband and I moved to Uganda</span><span style="font-family: "century gothic" , sans-serif; font-size: 10.0pt;"> and I worked “in-house” for the first
time. I found the experience so rewarding and loved getting to know and focus
on one brand. <br />
<br />
During that season in Uganda, I met two people that changed the course of my
life forever. Firstly, a former child soldier called Ivan, and secondly, my
sponsor child Whilifred. When I got home to New Zealand I began volunteering with
Tearfund/Compassion and a year later was offered the Media and Communications
Manager role. Just before I started, I did two six week hobby courses on
photography that were really significant in teaching me about the digital age
of capturing images.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I had switched from
fashion weeks to famines and am forever grateful I did. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-family: "century gothic" , sans-serif; font-size: 10.0pt;"><u>2. How
did it all begin?</u><br />
</span></b><span style="font-family: "century gothic" , sans-serif; font-size: 10.0pt;">My
first day on the job for Tearfund was 8 years ago in Kolkata, India. I was there
to meet with some of the 2 million kids in our care through child sponsorship
and to meet with an organisation doing undercover anti-trafficking work. The
next week, my boss had a family emergency and had to race back to New Zealand. Before
she left she looked me up and down and asked if I would be willing to go into
Bangladesh to capture some stories and images for Tearfund’ s next campaign. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I said yes. The next day I found myself on a
flight to Dakar where I landed into a country that was mid coup and swarming
with UN peacekeeping troops before being driven 8 hours into the depths of the jungle.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>In Bangladesh I showered with a cup and a
bucket, slept in a house with no door at the entrance or to my bedroom and was
the only white person some of our 30,000 micro enterprise beneficiaries had
ever seen. <br />
<br />
</span></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEisRneLfJll8TAHOSQWZksBiY90nv4gJ1gDx0uwaE5xhtNthEtIzEvQYTiy0yRFQo3GTPCs7sQDKtgsiPCeUh6YcNZH29P7dqepRWy756MYLlONWMVbRoAu-kmd86bwhF3VE9pty3qDrV4/s1600/Helen+in+Iraq.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1600" data-original-width="1600" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEisRneLfJll8TAHOSQWZksBiY90nv4gJ1gDx0uwaE5xhtNthEtIzEvQYTiy0yRFQo3GTPCs7sQDKtgsiPCeUh6YcNZH29P7dqepRWy756MYLlONWMVbRoAu-kmd86bwhF3VE9pty3qDrV4/s320/Helen+in+Iraq.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
That first trip was the beginning of what would be the adventure of a lifetime.
Since then I have had almost every immunisation on the planet for every
possible tropical disease. I’ve travelled to 37 countries and worked for over 50
incredible NGO’s, charities and non-profits both photographing and interviewing
the people that benefit from those programmes. My <span style="border: none windowtext 1.0pt; mso-bidi-font-style: italic; mso-border-alt: none windowtext 0cm; padding: 0cm;">work
has taken me to some of the most challenging environments documenting famine,
refugee settlements, post war environments, child sponsorship, micro-enterprise,
trauma counselling and disaster zones. </span>My job is to bring the amazing
work of these organisations to life.<o:p></o:p><br />
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<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-family: "century gothic" , sans-serif; font-size: 10.0pt;"><u>3.How
did you jump from working in–house to going freelance? </u><br />
</span></b><span style="font-family: "century gothic" , sans-serif; font-size: 10.0pt;">After
three years at Tearfund, Tim was offered a job back in Uganda. I was grateful
to work out an arrangement where I would stay on with Tearfund/Compassion part
time and work from the field. This is still my arrangement to this day. Being
based in the field meant having a lot more opportunities to travel (cost effectively)
thrown my way. It also caught the attention of the Integral Alliance (a network
of 27 aid and development agencies). A couple of them started contacting me to
see if I might have capacity to photograph/tell stories for them. I did! After
working for about 10 different NGO’s I decided I should probably get a bit more
professional and set up a website. Over the last six years living here in
Uganda it’s been incredible to network with a huge range of incredible
organisations – most of whom are looking for help to bring their work to living
colour. Because I am someone with a Western eye that lives locally here in
Uganda, the organisation doesn’t have to pay $1500-2000 in flights just to get
me to the location. I mainly travel to Africa/Middle East and there is so much
work to do that I take on about 1 in every 3 jobs offered.</span></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj_ethzhp-NeyRTLWnSbKiQjVOKufNiGxvN7oy5eqJvOdLbtlwnN8CC7e0XPxlzOYRwxen0O7vzhc90diXvbYP8retLgtKSqAQ58VL4kJIXM1eH6eXGsPnTpLV1q057enhvNX-p5X5GZDo/s1600/DSC01800.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1600" data-original-width="1200" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj_ethzhp-NeyRTLWnSbKiQjVOKufNiGxvN7oy5eqJvOdLbtlwnN8CC7e0XPxlzOYRwxen0O7vzhc90diXvbYP8retLgtKSqAQ58VL4kJIXM1eH6eXGsPnTpLV1q057enhvNX-p5X5GZDo/s400/DSC01800.jpg" width="300" /></a></div>
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<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-family: "century gothic" , sans-serif; font-size: 10.0pt;"><u>4. What
do you shoot with?</u></span></b><span style="background: white; font-family: "century gothic" , sans-serif; font-size: 10.0pt;"><br />
I own a Canon 5d and Canon 6d and shoot with both most trips.<br />
I own a 24-105mm Canon lens, 50 mm Portrait Canon lens, 16-30mm Wide Angle Canon
Lens and a 70-300 Tamron telephoto lens.</span><span style="font-family: "century gothic" , sans-serif; font-size: 10.0pt;"><br />
PLEASE KNOW, I am the most low-tech photographer you will ever meet. I don’t own
a flash, reflector, ND filters or any fancy equipment</span><em><span style="background: white; font-family: "century gothic" , sans-serif; font-size: 10.0pt;">. </span></em><span style="background: white; font-family: "century gothic" , sans-serif; font-size: 10.0pt;">I’ve used the same camera for almost 5 years and
the last time I bought a new lens was 2 years ago. I do this for a reason. It’s
because I want things to look as real as possible. I don’t want to manufacture
or over compensate for what is naturally there.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>I don’t want things to feel fake, overly posed or overly edited. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I want to fly under the radar wherever I go
just a small backpack.</span></div>
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<b><span style="font-family: "century gothic" , sans-serif; font-size: 10.0pt; line-height: 107%;"><u>5.Advice
for anyone wanting to get into this line of work?</u></span></b></div>
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<li><span style="font-family: "century gothic" , sans-serif; font-size: 10.0pt; line-height: 107%;">Hone your craft. I did two six-week night
courses at a university for two nights a week and it was the best investment I ever
made. My lecturer taught me how to solve the technical problems I’d been having
and that honestly set me free when I first started out! Even to this day I am consciously
trying to get better year on year and take active steps to do so. <o:p></o:p></span></li>
<li><span style="font-family: "century gothic" , sans-serif; font-size: 10.0pt; line-height: 107%;">Study/Learn something wider than just
photography. It would be a rare NGO/non-profit/charity that would be hiring a <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>full time “photographer” in-house. They would
probably be hiring a Creative Manager or a Communications Specialist in which
case photography might be one of the core competencies. Next to photography, I’d
say that being a good writer would be top of the list for many of these
organisations. <o:p></o:p></span></li>
<li><span style="font-family: "century gothic" , sans-serif; font-size: 10.0pt; line-height: 107%;">If you only want to go freelance
consider having a ‘core’ business ie:family photography and then doing humanitarian
stuff on the side to relieve pressure.<o:p></o:p></span></li>
<li><span style="font-family: "century gothic" , sans-serif; font-size: 10.0pt; line-height: 107%;">Give of your time. Find a local NGO in
your community that might benefit from having a gift of some complimentary
photography. Start there and if you like it, perhaps try offering that to a
smaller NGO overseas that you have an existing relationship with. <o:p></o:p></span></li>
<li><span style="font-family: "century gothic" , sans-serif; font-size: 10.0pt; line-height: 107%;">Consider living in a developing
country – this has been huge for me. The cost of flying a Westerner from the
USA or Australia to a developing nation is astronomical. It helps a lot to take
that part out of the equation. <o:p></o:p></span></li>
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<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span lang="EN-US" style="font-family: "century gothic" , sans-serif; font-size: 10.0pt;"><u>6. What’s it really like?</u><br />
</span></b><span style="background: white; font-family: "century gothic" , sans-serif; font-size: 10.0pt;">I’ve suffered near burnout,
got pneumonia, gained weight, lost weight, got more wrinkles and grey hair than
I should and had a lot of sun damage done to my face. I spend myself, but I do
it for a cause I believe worth spending myself on. W</span><span lang="EN-US" style="font-family: "century gothic" , sans-serif; font-size: 10.0pt;">hat keeps me doing this kind of work is primarily my faith in a God that
asks us to be his hands and feet on the earth. A God that cares deeply for this
heaving mess of humanity. </span><span style="font-family: "century gothic" , sans-serif; font-size: 10.0pt;">I’ve never taken one photo or story for granted
and I am in a constant state of prayer in the field as I try my hardest to
bestow dignity whilst showing tremendous human need. am forever grateful to be
used to raise awareness and much needed funds for those that truly need it.</span><span style="background: white; font-family: "century gothic" , sans-serif; font-size: 10.0pt;"> <b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><u>There’s
nothing I would rather do. I am humbled beyond belief to be entrusted to do it.<o:p></o:p></u></b></span></div>
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<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-family: "century gothic" , sans-serif; font-size: 10.0pt; line-height: 107%;"><u>7. Does
it pay well?</u></span></b><span style="font-family: "century gothic" , sans-serif; font-size: 10.0pt; line-height: 107%;"><br />
No. If you want to get rich, this is not the field to do it. I work for
charities that have to account for every single dollar that goes out the door. Not
only that, but I WANT every single dollar possible to go to their beneficiaries
who need it far more than me. I have tried really hard to find a personal
balance for me where I feel like I’m being paid a fair wage for the work I’m
doing (and it’s worth it to be away from my kids) whilst also feeling like I’m
not ripping anybody off. But then, why settle for cash when joy is on the line.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "century gothic" , sans-serif; font-size: 10.0pt; line-height: 107%;">Xo<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "century gothic" , sans-serif; font-size: 10.0pt; line-height: 107%;">Helen <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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Tim and Helen Mansonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01827650755791436414noreply@blogger.com7tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7434448505994098413.post-24303978979624087692019-06-26T04:28:00.003-07:002019-06-26T10:14:57.498-07:00The work day I'll never forget<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
<span style="background-color: white; font-family: "century gothic", sans-serif; font-size: 10pt;">Recently,
I challenged myself to try and think of the three humanitarian photography assignments I've done that have impacted me the most. The ones I could never forget. The ones I want you
to know about too.</span><span style="font-family: "century gothic", sans-serif; font-size: 10pt;"> </span><b style="font-family: "century gothic", sans-serif; font-size: 10pt;">Here’s one of them.</b><br />
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<span style="background: white; font-family: "century gothic" , sans-serif; font-size: 10.0pt; line-height: 107%;">In March this year I was invited by <a href="https://www.medicalteams.org/" target="_blank">Medical Teams International</a> to photograph their work with <a href="http://trcs.or.tz/" target="_blank">the Red Cross </a>in the hospitals within the refugee camps of Tanzania on the borders of Congo and Burundi.<br /></span></div>
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<span style="background: white; font-family: "century gothic" , sans-serif; font-size: 10.0pt; line-height: 107%;"><br />
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On one of the days I </span><span style="font-family: "century gothic" , sans-serif; font-size: 10.0pt; line-height: 107%;">spotted through my lens a little
boy and his mother in line waiting to see the Doctor. They stood out to me
because of the beautiful way the Mum was holding his lifeless little body. She
had such a tenderness to her. Through an interview we found out that her three
year old son was very ill, unable to walk and struggling to breathe. After
seeing the doctor and being admitted to the wards, we later found out he had
severe malaria and pneumonia and his treatment began. </span><br />
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We moved through to the Women’s Ward and <span style="background: white;">I
saw 9-year-old Kentia. She was lying on a hospital bed while her mother wept
over her frail body. She shook rapidly, her eyelids barely opened and when they
did her eyes would roll back into her head. My colleague Angela later wrote,
<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">“<strong><span style="font-family: "century gothic" , sans-serif; font-weight: normal;">I found myself desperately praying that the medicine
entering her veins through the IV drip would work faster — no child should
suffer this way, and no mother should have to watch it.”</span></strong></i><strong><span style="font-family: "century gothic" , sans-serif; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-bidi-theme-font: minor-bidi;"> </span></strong>We learned from the nurse
that she had been struck by a severe case of malaria.</span><br />
<u1:p></u1:p><o:p></o:p><br />
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<span style="font-family: "century gothic" , sans-serif; font-size: 10.0pt; line-height: 107%;">Later that same
afternoon as we were leaving I noticed another very sick little girl about 8
years old on an oxygen tank. <span style="background: white;">As we left the
camp that night, I was scared not knowing if these children would make it
through the night. </span>In the morning, I could hardly wait to get back
to the hospital to check on them all.<u1:p></u1:p><o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "century gothic" , sans-serif; font-size: 10.0pt; line-height: 107%;">As I walked into the
paediatric ward the first thing I noticed was that the 3 year old boy from
yesterday was now sitting up! Later that day I even saw him outside drinking
water from a soda bottle all by himself. The 9-year-old girl whose mother had
been weeping over her was now sitting up too, her recovery was slower, but
progress was being made. I breathed a huge sigh of relief.</span></div>
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And then I looked to my left and there lay the other sweet little girl from
yesterday. She now had her eyes closed and her mother and her Aunty were trying
to feed her whatever they could. She was attached to oxygen and it wasn’t
looking good. All of a sudden, she started making a noise I’ll never forget and
the next thing I knew the Dr placed his hand gently on my back and whispered it
was time to go. I held myself together until I walked out into the
sunlight and then I completely lost it. Sobs came up from the deepest place
they possibly could. I’ll never forget that moment.<br />
<br />
Once I had composed myself, we decided to go check in on some of the mothers
that we had spoken to in labour the day prior. I walked in the door, was given
a pair of gumboots and told to head into the labour room. And within
minutes I watched twins come into the world.<br />
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The twins were a surprise. The mother had no idea. <span style="background: white;">I took two short iPhone videos while I was there. One shows the twins a
few hours after they were born and one shows the traditional way a Mother
leaves the hospital with her newborn baby.</span></span></div>
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It’s <b>hard</b> to wrestle with both the tragedy of death and the
celebration of new life within <b>10 minutes</b> of each other, but I
guess that’s the business end of hospitals. <span style="background: white;">Just
when this world seems ruined beyond repair, a baby is born.<u1:p></u1:p></span><o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "century gothic" , sans-serif; font-size: 10.0pt; line-height: 107%;">Before this hospital
and the many others now in the camps were there, lives that could have been
saved were lost for stupid reasons like medication for malaria wasn’t
available. Now, that is not the case. If someone gets a treatable illness like
malaria or pneumonia, they have a good chance of survival and the drugs to help
them. The good news is that incidences of malaria have dropped by 30% globally.
In addition, the number of u<span style="background: white;">nder-fives dying
from pneumonia has </span><a href="https://data.unicef.org/wp-content/uploads/2016/11/UNICEF-Pneumonia-Diarrhoea-report2016-web-version_final.pdf" target="_blank"><span style="background: white; border: none windowtext 1.0pt; color: windowtext; mso-border-alt: none windowtext 0cm; padding: 0cm;">decreased by
47 percent</span></a><span style="background: white;">. This is thanks in
part to the incredible work of organisations like Medical Teams International
and the generous support of people like you!</span></span></div>
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Tim and Helen Mansonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01827650755791436414noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7434448505994098413.post-30361234769172688692019-06-18T04:39:00.002-07:002019-06-18T04:39:47.278-07:00An open letter to my neighbor - the 3 things you've taught me<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiGNAU7DUd04IbUQnTCVYnohvwLh2pbcqmfgKPGShF7DoDBy9qH-oCCzoIBgFqB_vYUZBPAO1s_-UmyJ_MErkjMaFlCBD5cwB3iB6UOT2CvEmXaZwoOzKj9e33LlqvrHYGWJE1RyCVFfRw/s1600/64446621_482451629174040_3204243149836779520_n.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1024" data-original-width="768" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiGNAU7DUd04IbUQnTCVYnohvwLh2pbcqmfgKPGShF7DoDBy9qH-oCCzoIBgFqB_vYUZBPAO1s_-UmyJ_MErkjMaFlCBD5cwB3iB6UOT2CvEmXaZwoOzKj9e33LlqvrHYGWJE1RyCVFfRw/s320/64446621_482451629174040_3204243149836779520_n.jpg" width="240" /></a><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: x-small;">I</span><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"> remember the day we first met. You and I were both Mum’s of new-borns. You
walked into a playgroup I was attending and we hit it off. You mentioned you
were looking for a place to live. My neighbour’s house was available. <b>You moved
in within the week. And life’s never been quite the same again. </b>You’ve taught
me so much about what healthy community can look like. You live it. <br />
<br />
Before I came to Uganda I had a wonderful circle of friends in New Zealand. I
had a close-knit family and felt deeply attached to both. Then I came here and
all of that was stripped away as we flew mile after mile to the other side of
the earth to start a whole new life.<br /><br /><b><u><o:p></o:p></u></b></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Shortly after I arrived, I remember
expats (foreigners like me living in Uganda) talking about the importance of community
here. I remember rolling my eyes imagining their weird little commune life.
They used words like “fellowship.”<u> I just wanted to be someone’s friend like a
NORMAL person. </u><br /><br /><o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">You were the same. Normal. Nice. And
we both needed each other and appreciated the friendship. At first it was for
dinners as a couple, then dinners as a family and other such "official" invites.
Fast forward 3.5 years there's not been an official invite since. In fact, I think your kids were at my house every single day
this past week – at least once. Usually twice. Did we arrange it<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>- unlikely? Were they welcome – absolutely! <br /><br /><o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi3Ip8Jepa2PltseImI6kIdRz0tkmI8Xh9owUecJXUtlyCOrBX6tMWMMqowmDGEd02k6B-2DB6LetsRRVbOfbKnJGdNBIrwxSG3JllaITDhv3hYhmoOdMQzlRATRlgc-_in1oOFFkO3XFo/s1600/60341384_342069709826425_4768850975005868032_n.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="768" data-original-width="1024" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi3Ip8Jepa2PltseImI6kIdRz0tkmI8Xh9owUecJXUtlyCOrBX6tMWMMqowmDGEd02k6B-2DB6LetsRRVbOfbKnJGdNBIrwxSG3JllaITDhv3hYhmoOdMQzlRATRlgc-_in1oOFFkO3XFo/s400/60341384_342069709826425_4768850975005868032_n.jpg" width="400" /></a><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;">You’ve
showed me that community means doing <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">every-day
life together</i> with people that want to do <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">every-day life </i>with me back</b>. It means being vulnerable to share
about all the aspects of yourself from your love life to your work life to your
failures as a parent and your hopes for the future. It means engaging
wholeheartedly with each other to the point where you celebrate their success
and deeply feel their losses. It means stopping what you’re doing to rush to
the aid of a friend who needs support. I call it the Red Cross effect. Us girls
can mobilize anywhere in three minutes. It means surprise birthday parties and endless
inside jokes. It means fire pit dance parties and dropping off meals. <br /><br /><o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal;">
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><b>Do you know what you’ve taught me
Courtney? </b><br /><br /><o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<ol style="text-align: left;">
<li><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><span style="text-indent: -18pt;"><b>My house doesn’t have to be perfect.</b></span><span style="text-indent: -18pt;"> I clearly remember
when you first started coming over I felt like I had to make sure the house was
in tip-top shape. I fluffed the cushions and lit the candles even if it was for
a casual playdate. That stopped on about week 4 of our friendship when I
couldn’t keep up anymore and you clearly couldn’t care less. I <u>put my hand
on my heart and promise I’ve never cleaned up for you since</u>. Last week you
helped me kill a rat in here while our kids ran buck wild and the house looked
like a jaguar was on the loose pulling everything from the shelves.</span></span></li>
<li><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><b style="text-indent: -18pt;">People are lonely. Take a risk, invite them in. </b><span style="text-indent: -18pt;">I had no idea
what I was missing. </span></span></li>
<li><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><b>Community gives space when needed and comes around
when the time is right</b><span style="text-indent: -18pt;">. It is respectful. Thank you for modelling that.
And for having a supernaturally high capacity for interaction with your neighbour.</span></span></li>
</ol>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">PS: I still
don’t like the word fellowship. But community…. Now that I like very much.</span><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: x-small;"> </span></div>
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Tim and Helen Mansonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01827650755791436414noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7434448505994098413.post-75212972927161049122019-06-11T10:56:00.000-07:002019-06-11T10:56:48.084-07:00Denizen Magazine - Heroes Edition<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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<span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">It's not everyday I get published in <a href="https://www.thedenizen.co.nz/" target="_blank">Denizen Magazine</a>. Ok, it's never happened before. But this month, I was honored to partner with them for their Heroes issue and do a beautiful story together on 5 heroes I've met. </span></div>
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<span style="line-height: 107%;"><span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">The people you’re about to read about haven’t
solved a medical mystery. They haven’t discovered a new planet or paid for a
hundred heart operations in India. They’ve just survived. Despite all odds and
beyond all common sense or knowledge. Their resilience is inspiring. Their
resolve breath-taking. L</span></span><span style="line-height: 107%;"><span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">et me take you to the front lines of some of our
planet’s most challenging places. There’s some heroes there I'd love you to
meet.</span><span style="font-family: "Century Gothic", sans-serif; font-size: 10pt;"><o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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Tim and Helen Mansonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01827650755791436414noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7434448505994098413.post-24223825122258004622019-06-06T09:55:00.000-07:002019-06-06T09:55:27.731-07:00The reason I'm choosing to go 40 hours without food<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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<span style="font-family: inherit;">Six months ago I met a girl I’ll never forget. Her name was
Edna. And what she told me is precisely why I’m choosing to go 40 hours without food.<br /><br /><o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiRANmig4zbz8T6Udvz37pe37NvNvoW4EBXmDXXAjNqgFALLPn2VCtePMvwTnjp3YBk5saFq5Es8A56J39Eg5Zv69UJo_6S0MMBXscTVBliEFeQdr_A0OzLiwwhU_cqbPNiDiiLTq94kT0/s1600/6I1A7779.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1067" data-original-width="1600" height="425" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiRANmig4zbz8T6Udvz37pe37NvNvoW4EBXmDXXAjNqgFALLPn2VCtePMvwTnjp3YBk5saFq5Es8A56J39Eg5Zv69UJo_6S0MMBXscTVBliEFeQdr_A0OzLiwwhU_cqbPNiDiiLTq94kT0/s640/6I1A7779.JPG" width="640" /></span></a><span style="font-family: inherit;"><i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">“I was 8
years old and at school in South Sudan when the soldiers began to shoot
bullets. People were running. I remember seeing many people had died. There was
lots of blood. People were floating in the river. I kept asking myself, why do
people do things like this? My older sister, brother and I ran home to try find
our parents and three younger siblings. They were not there. We had to run.
After three days we reached Uganda and were registered as refugees. My legs
were swollen. My parents weren’t there either.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>We were all alone, we didn’t know anyone. There was no one that could
build for us a house. Our parents loved us so much and had taught us how
important school was. Soon after we sold our food rations to pay for school
fees. One day we introduced ourselves to World Vision. They registered us and
gave us food. By this time I had gone four days without food. I wanted to die
at that time. W</i><i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">orld Vision then built for us a house. We now
also have a foster mother who keeps an eye on us. I don’t know where my parents
are.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The war has separated us. I do not
know whether they are alive or dead. I like playing in the playground (installed
by World Vision) near to my house. I like learning about maths and science.
When I grow up I want to be a pilot.” </i><span style="background: white;"><o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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<a href="https://youtu.be/yIpd8MX4F5E." target="_blank"><span style="font-family: inherit;">(You can also watch Edna's story on video here)</span></a></div>
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<span style="font-family: inherit;">When Edna told me she wanted to be a pilot
I asked her if she wanted to go play with me. That day she’d been wearing a
blanket and so went out into the field behind her house and shot these.</span></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiG3CH1r7GRtw0FRiarC_sT2OczHveSM3eQCGBWuvr359Iv6IIaGZzyRkHKucYgc8aGymPw0BFrcKQ53LMCwUf5B5GyEPgJUse6lA-T_dhCLzg3Pi7MByeu0EL8QZQaiDySwutnOj5m7oc/s1600/6I1A8237.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1067" data-original-width="1600" height="426" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiG3CH1r7GRtw0FRiarC_sT2OczHveSM3eQCGBWuvr359Iv6IIaGZzyRkHKucYgc8aGymPw0BFrcKQ53LMCwUf5B5GyEPgJUse6lA-T_dhCLzg3Pi7MByeu0EL8QZQaiDySwutnOj5m7oc/s640/6I1A8237.JPG" width="640" /></span></a></div>
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I think her story stuck with me so much because she <b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><u>reminded me of my own daughter</u></b>. She even looked like her a
little bit. <span style="background: white;">My Mama arms just wanted to wrap
around her and hold her so tight. I wanted to buy her new clothes and cook her healthy
food. I wanted to read her a bedtime story and sing to her as she went to
sleep. She</span> told me with such despair in her voice about how they have to
eat the same thing every single day. She cried telling me about how her Mum
used to give her meat and fish and vegetables and she has not had that since.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Her Mum and Dad love Edna and her siblings so
much - I could tell by the way they held themselves and the way they spoke. <o:p></o:p></span><br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgFdcWdGKLgvvy3_IXsrB6jw1hJmAGJaICbk8CvfMhv0mpROF780FWCvdr_wZxNjbEtu33PtBOI2RR9yH4DEm_mzUnjQZ6RgBpqaKftumQwJ5tSWGBYb_bSPksted6Ukckd994jisp2yJE/s1600/6I1A9442.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1600" data-original-width="1067" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgFdcWdGKLgvvy3_IXsrB6jw1hJmAGJaICbk8CvfMhv0mpROF780FWCvdr_wZxNjbEtu33PtBOI2RR9yH4DEm_mzUnjQZ6RgBpqaKftumQwJ5tSWGBYb_bSPksted6Ukckd994jisp2yJE/s400/6I1A9442.JPG" width="266" /></span></a><span style="font-family: inherit;">I hope and pray that Edna and her siblings will
one day reunite with their Mum, Dad and three younger siblings.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>And while they wait, be encouraged that there
are some really wonderful organisations like our friends over at World Vision
trying their best to help unaccompanied children like Edna find their
feet.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: inherit;">On a much wider note, I want you to <b><u>encourage
you</u></b> that step by step, year by year our world is improving. In the last 20
years alone there has been<span style="background: white;"> a </span><a href="https://ourworldindata.org/extreme-poverty"><span style="background: white; color: windowtext; text-decoration: none;">huge decline in the share of the
world’s population living on less than $2 a day</span></a>. It used to be<span style="background: white;"> 35 percent in 1987 and now it’s under 10 per cent. </span><b>Though
our planet still faces huge challenges, we have made tremendous progress. </b><br />It is the least I can do to go 40 hours without food this weekend and support the Youth Ambassadors and World Vision staff I worked alongside to bring this story to life through this years <a href="https://www.worldvision.org.nz/connect/40-hour-famine/" target="_blank">40 hour famine.</a></span></div>
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Tim and Helen Mansonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01827650755791436414noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7434448505994098413.post-72682799885181992112019-06-05T11:04:00.002-07:002019-06-05T11:04:44.370-07:00The First Hello<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEglxGQqlSu6EIKhQ6nQCVzQpSE70XKB3nUdaSuudbhvdCbF8fwsqeKn68Pd4q4mRZdC3dTPhnB0knc4DKYiPdoFdidnT628h72QhOk8YEBaMB9O8hh7EElLOrXYrwwrSLbSTQ7OmIJAMfY/s1600/6I1A5441.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1067" data-original-width="1600" height="425" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEglxGQqlSu6EIKhQ6nQCVzQpSE70XKB3nUdaSuudbhvdCbF8fwsqeKn68Pd4q4mRZdC3dTPhnB0knc4DKYiPdoFdidnT628h72QhOk8YEBaMB9O8hh7EElLOrXYrwwrSLbSTQ7OmIJAMfY/s640/6I1A5441.jpg" width="640" /></a></div>
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<span style="background-color: white; font-family: "Century Gothic", sans-serif; font-size: 10pt;"><br />For the last 15 months of my life, I’ve been following the stories of
three Ugandan Mums from from pregnancy to the first birthday in a photo
journalism assignment I’ve called, <b><u><a href="https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=X_PSxqlOj2I" target="_blank">T</a></u></b></span><b style="font-family: "Century Gothic", sans-serif; font-size: 13.3333px;"><u><a href="https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=X_PSxqlOj2I" target="_blank">he First Hello.</a></u></b><span style="background-color: white; font-family: "Century Gothic", sans-serif; font-size: 10pt;"><br /></span></div>
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<span style="background: white; font-family: "Century Gothic",sans-serif; font-size: 10.0pt; mso-bidi-font-family: Arial;">The idea came about because <b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><a href="https://www.compassion.com/" target="_blank">Compassion</a> (also known as <a href="https://www.tearfund.org.nz/" target="_blank">Tearfund in New Zealand</a>)</b> had recently launched a “Survival”
program that comes alongside mothers in developing countries in the first five
years of a child’s life. Traditionally, child sponsorship has always started at
5. However, it became clear that a reasonable portion of kids were not even
making it to 5! The Survival project intervenes from the early stages of
pregnancy to ensure vulnerable mothers are being given the correct nutrition,
the right medical care and the support of the local church to help them on the
other end. This assignment was my attempt to bring that to life. <b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><o:p></o:p></b></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Century Gothic",sans-serif; font-size: 10.0pt; mso-bidi-font-family: Arial;"><a href="https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=X_PSxqlOj2I" target="_blank">Want to see a quick video we made about it? Click here</a> or below</span></div>
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As I kicked off the assignment, I couldn’t help but notice that the average
Ugandan woman has 6 children. In New Zealand, our average is 1.9.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>In Uganda there are about 1.3 nurses or
midwifes for every 1000 people.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>In New
Zealand we have an average of 11 for every 1000 people.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Uganda’s neonatal mortality rate is 38 deaths
per 1000 live births, which means it is<span style="background: white;"> among
the highest in the world.</span> In New Zealand we’re down to 3.8 deaths per
1000 live births. <b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;">To put that another
way, a new-born baby in Uganda is 10 times more likely to die than a NZ born
baby</b>. I believe our job is not to deny the story, but to deny the ending.<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"> </b><span style="background: white;"><o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgiw_CYXsClK6D4sZwDNsWLJKkDCqlfkUOEYA6TZJCWnvzHpw46PobiSEo26o7GHa_pbGfkmWlQhlLrI3YeQS3NgPYrfFXu0ik7HGNHsZlUzbDyWybpI97naHu0tkRoHLpStfJr1w0ZTg0/s1600/6I1A5458.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1067" data-original-width="1600" height="266" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgiw_CYXsClK6D4sZwDNsWLJKkDCqlfkUOEYA6TZJCWnvzHpw46PobiSEo26o7GHa_pbGfkmWlQhlLrI3YeQS3NgPYrfFXu0ik7HGNHsZlUzbDyWybpI97naHu0tkRoHLpStfJr1w0ZTg0/s400/6I1A5458.jpg" width="400" /></a><span style="background: white; font-family: "Century Gothic",sans-serif; font-size: 10.0pt; mso-bidi-font-family: Arial;">The First Hello helped me break down the divide I’d created in my mind
between me and them. It showed me the common humanity we all share. </span><span style="font-family: "Century Gothic",sans-serif; font-size: 10.0pt; mso-bidi-font-family: Arial;">I found them to be Mum’s just like me with kids just like mine. And I
discovered <b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><u>there’s really no
difference in what we want for our children, only in what we can give them</u></b>.
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<u><b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;">Mama Juliet</b>.</u> Having not had the
opportunity to go to school, Juliet met her husband Edward at a young age. They
got pregnant soon after and had little to no money to their name. A member of a
local church helped register them into the </span><span style="font-family: "Century Gothic",sans-serif; font-size: 10.0pt;"><a href="https://www.compassion.com/"><span style="color: windowtext; mso-bidi-font-family: Arial; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman"; text-decoration: none; text-underline: none;">Compassion</span></a></span><span style="font-family: "Century Gothic",sans-serif; font-size: 10.0pt; mso-bidi-font-family: Arial; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";"> </span><span style="font-family: "Century Gothic",sans-serif; font-size: 10.0pt; mso-bidi-font-family: Arial;">program.
Juliet gave birth, <u>by herself</u>, inside a local hospital after a nurse had
suddenly gone off duty. I remember waiting for the call. It was fun to feel
like a midwife waiting for my three Mums to give birth so I could race to the
hospital. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>It’s also been beautiful to
watch Juliet’s love for her daughter grow. “</span><span style="font-family: "Century Gothic",sans-serif; font-size: 10.0pt; mso-bidi-font-family: Arial; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">I am so much in love with my daughter Christine,”
she told me. “<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Maybe it’s because she’s my
first born? I love my husband too, but he annoys me whereas she cannot annoy
me.” </i>Juliet made me laugh when she said<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">,
“I’ve heard that white women don’t feel pain when they give birth? That you
have schedules for napping and you get mad if the baby doesn’t follow it!?”</i><br />
<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></span><span style="background: white; font-family: "Century Gothic",sans-serif; font-size: 10.0pt; mso-bidi-font-family: Arial;"><br />
<u><b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;">Mama Kate</b>. </u><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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Kate’s Mum died at 14 and
for many years she endured awful abuse at the hands of her stepmother. By 16
she was forced to drop out of school. By 17 she was pregnant. </span><span style="font-family: "Century Gothic",sans-serif; font-size: 10.0pt; mso-bidi-font-family: Arial;">The man Kate met as a teenager eventually became her husband. But after
two kids together he left her for another woman. When I met Mama Kate she was
in a bad way.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>She was not able to afford
to put her current daughter in school full time and providing regular food was
difficult. The baby came at 41 weeks and when I came to see her she told me
that she was so happy that Compassion had come alongside her and paid for all of
her hospital costs to have Pamela. After seeing Kate’s confidence grow over the
course of the year, and the help Compassion was providing for Baby Pamela, <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>her ex-husband came back to her and he’s been a
transformed man ever since. By 6 months Kate had begun selling fish to make a
little money to support her and her three kids. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Today you’ll find her learning about income
generating activities like beadwork and handbag making most days. <o:p></o:p></span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "Century Gothic",sans-serif; font-size: 10.0pt; mso-bidi-font-family: Arial;">When I
asked her about what she thought of white women and Motherhood she said, “Westerners
seem to really rush with everything. They have a lot to do. They have to get it
<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">done. We do what we do in a relaxed way.
For them, everything is now, now. For them it has to be exactly that time (Fairly
confident she was not so subtly talking about me). I hear that white people, by
the time they give birth have prepared in every way for their babies and they
are just waiting for the baby to come. They get a room for the baby, they
decorate it specifically for the baby ,they get the baby it’s own bed, toys and
clothes. I don’t know if I can ever be like that. But that’s how I would have
liked to have done it.”<br /></i> <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi-eNtxvIhZ92iUIeIMjIeA-Hba-6nniyLIdlP003ZZv3yCNlmXYL0nOtmVnVcSncAVyRrJPLL5RDuSq0GezCHYoRDlFUS6WN9E1ZdLPR5dN7Z_GxJiFNhKhg4-brlf8tjuXlURH3SXHdc/s1600/6I1A6857.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1067" data-original-width="1600" height="266" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi-eNtxvIhZ92iUIeIMjIeA-Hba-6nniyLIdlP003ZZv3yCNlmXYL0nOtmVnVcSncAVyRrJPLL5RDuSq0GezCHYoRDlFUS6WN9E1ZdLPR5dN7Z_GxJiFNhKhg4-brlf8tjuXlURH3SXHdc/s400/6I1A6857.jpg" width="400" /></a><b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-family: "Century Gothic",sans-serif; font-size: 10.0pt; mso-bidi-font-family: Arial;"><u>Mama Rahuma</u></span></b><span style="font-family: "Century Gothic",sans-serif; font-size: 10.0pt; mso-bidi-font-family: Arial;"><u>.</u><u> </u> Rahuma was the youngest of 7 children and
because of money, was forced to drop out of school at 13. At 20 she married her
childhood sweetheart but the money they made meant they were only able to cook
once a day. When she found out she was pregnant they both strongly considered
an abortion. Around that time some members from the local church told her about
the Compassion Survival program and she registered for it. After almost 56
hours of being in pain, Compassion stepped in and demanded and paid for a
C-section to save the mother and babies life. Baby Faith is the apple of her parent’s
eyes. She is adored and treated like a princess. When we met up on Faith’s first
birthday she told me, “<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">The best thing
about this year is that we are alive and our child is too</i>.” Today Rahuma is
a better mother than you could ever hope for. She’s learning how to make books
and fix shoes. She makes her own Vaseline and is patient and strong. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Century Gothic",sans-serif; font-size: 10.0pt; mso-bidi-font-family: Arial;">Compassion’s
Survival program helps children and their mothers to survive those <b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;">crucial</b> early years. The program
teaches mothers how to read and write, how to calculate, what proper nutrition
looks like and how to be a positive parent. Many of the Mothers in the program
have gone through domestic violence and have exhausted all financial opportunities.
They feel discouraged. This program encourages them that they can indeed make
it and they can thrive. Compassion keeps their family together with a simple
but crucial intervention. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj4hPwnVxwwb42a3VJqxd1pNrhZYABs4_Bwtsuxok1GMByZGtL_Ox0-Bj4fSpBCO2beY4Nd2F-pyOqLMjTf-jVt1otgnDqJ41hYdDV80LVfjTbNXdcvhKgJo7QZ5RA3Z5CC0Wkml-L8itM/s1600/6I1A0085.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1067" data-original-width="1600" height="213" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj4hPwnVxwwb42a3VJqxd1pNrhZYABs4_Bwtsuxok1GMByZGtL_Ox0-Bj4fSpBCO2beY4Nd2F-pyOqLMjTf-jVt1otgnDqJ41hYdDV80LVfjTbNXdcvhKgJo7QZ5RA3Z5CC0Wkml-L8itM/s320/6I1A0085.JPG" width="320" /></a><span style="background: white; font-family: "Century Gothic",sans-serif; font-size: 10.0pt; mso-bidi-font-family: Arial;">I’ve visited and engaged with a lot of development projects over the
years in a wide range of different contexts. I’ve seen desperately needed aid,
food and water handed out to victims of natural disasters and I’ve seen the
steady flow of support that can come from a self-help savings and loans group. <u><b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;">I’ve also had the opportunity to think hard
about the question, what can we do? I believe one of the best ways we can
engage is through child sponsorship.</b> </u>It’s not sexy, it’s not fast,
it’s not new. But it works. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="background-color: white; font-family: "Century Gothic", sans-serif; font-size: 10pt;">At the end of the First Hello assignment on the girls first birthday’s I
wondered what to give them. But deep down I knew the answer about 11 months and
29 days prior.<br /></span><br />
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<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="background: white; font-family: "Century Gothic",sans-serif; font-size: 10.0pt; mso-bidi-font-family: Arial;"><a href="https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=aQuLrPd4rro&feature=youtu.be" target="_blank">Want to see what I got them? Click here</a> OR below</span></b></div>
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<span style="background: white; font-family: "Century Gothic",sans-serif; font-size: 10.0pt; mso-bidi-font-family: Arial;">On each of the babies first birthday’s I handed them a card that asked
if our family could be their sponsor. Our kids will now grow up with these
kids. And it’s great that Baby Christine, Baby Pamela and Baby Faith have been
sponsored. But the reason I’m writing this blog is because I need your help to
ensure all their little friends in their Survival projects are sponsored to. <a href="https://www.tearfund.org.nz/" target="_blank">You can sponsor a child by clicking here if you live in New Zealand </a>OR <a href="https://www.compassion.com/" target="_blank">here if you live anywhere else.</a><br /><br /><o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjlnO651csRMOdLNqWObIjI2_jTMy18xPCZ1tWmlYM505y7aj0vyBFcKl895IMjMqXIpEjQB8X4Krx83FssEVtiuasBKyCeOqOwHHQMYKHrjEuPjaURvmodyw1k5vJes5rwO9qHXvEIGNk/s1600/6I1A7307.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1067" data-original-width="1600" height="266" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjlnO651csRMOdLNqWObIjI2_jTMy18xPCZ1tWmlYM505y7aj0vyBFcKl895IMjMqXIpEjQB8X4Krx83FssEVtiuasBKyCeOqOwHHQMYKHrjEuPjaURvmodyw1k5vJes5rwO9qHXvEIGNk/s400/6I1A7307.JPG" width="400" /></a><span style="background: white; font-family: "Century Gothic",sans-serif; font-size: 10.0pt; mso-bidi-font-family: Arial;">As a Mum to three little kids myself I feel sick when I think about kids
around the world who don’t have access to the same things mine do. Simple stuff
like food, clean water and medical care. That’s not ok with me. And I think
that’s why I love child sponsorship so much because it <b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><u>gives a child their childhood back</u></b>. It says to a kid living
in poverty, don’t worry. Don’t worry about your schooling, your food, your
medical care anymore. We have your back.Poverty comes to steal to rob, to kill
and destroy. It tells a child you will never get out of this. Child sponsorship
is one very important antidote to that. It says, <b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;">NO</b>. Not on my watch. I see you. I hear you. And I might not live
next to you or even in the same country as you, but I’m going to play the long
game and walk with you until you graduate school and can go off on your own. <br />
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Today I’m asking you to <b><u>give childhood back</u></b> to a child who likely won’t have it
otherwise. Not only is there really strong independent research that backs
Compassion’s specific model up, but I’ve personally visited countless
Compassion projects the world over and have seen the impressive results first
hand. </span><a href="https://www.tearfund.org.nz/" style="font-family: "Century Gothic", sans-serif; font-size: 13.3333px;" target="_blank">You can sponsor a child by clicking here if you live in New Zealand </a><span style="background-color: white; font-family: "Century Gothic", sans-serif; font-size: 13.3333px;">OR </span><a href="https://www.compassion.com/" style="font-family: "Century Gothic", sans-serif; font-size: 13.3333px;" target="_blank">here if you live anywhere else.</a></div>
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Thank you! xo</div>
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Tim and Helen Mansonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01827650755791436414noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7434448505994098413.post-17116494769882848742019-03-28T09:46:00.001-07:002019-03-28T09:48:05.495-07:00Top Ten Tips for Travelling with Toddlers on Planes<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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Dear friend,<br />
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A few months ago our family (2, 3 and 5 year old kids) experienced what can only be
described as a t<b>ravel experience from hell.</b> Need a recap? <span style="color: purple;">H<a href="https://timandhelenmanson.blogspot.com/2019/01/our-familys-epic-60-hour-journey-to.html" target="_blank">ere’s a little video we made</a>. </span>Suffice to say, I vowed to write a blog to help anyone else that finds
themselves in the air with little ones, because flying with toddlers is not for
the faint of heart. Our family has racked up hundreds of hours in the air and
so I hereby lay out my top ten tips for travelling with toddlers for your
perusing pleasure.
</div>
<h4 style="text-align: left;">
<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;">BEFORE THE FLIGHT</b></h4>
<br />
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<u><b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;">1. Allow more time than
necessary.</b> </u>Oh the fights I have had with my husband because we cut things
too fine in traffic to get to the airport. Oh the stress and sweat I feel when
I have to re-pack bags because they are overweight and the lines are building
up behind me. Oh the drama when we have to shuffle and stop, shuffle and stop
our way through the airport because we are pushing three trolleys and there’s
only two of us. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjtgOh_s9Godtz6gJlOVes-L-x8YNJW89Eg6feovMllm_n6z7MqMXiqWvbBp5L1GjVwKNyEgxHB6w6ZzYKCf7oK1hN1_RG917Qgfdq0u1MaOmDtITsFQBQ0k-nY-PldAP5shPEpa26ld_k/s1600/55492986_999751370220101_8155586112723615744_n.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1080" data-original-width="1080" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjtgOh_s9Godtz6gJlOVes-L-x8YNJW89Eg6feovMllm_n6z7MqMXiqWvbBp5L1GjVwKNyEgxHB6w6ZzYKCf7oK1hN1_RG917Qgfdq0u1MaOmDtITsFQBQ0k-nY-PldAP5shPEpa26ld_k/s320/55492986_999751370220101_8155586112723615744_n.jpg" width="320" /></a><u><b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;">2. Pack smart and weigh
before you go.</b> </u>Common sense you’d think? Not the case apparently for a
shopaholic like yours truly. Tim has legitimately put UN sanctions on me
because of the number of times I have broken the rules. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>We now have to weigh every single piece of
luggage before we go to the airport to ensure we are not overweight. He begins
this process days before we travel. He permits only five pieces of hand luggage
total (despite the fact that technically we could have ten). <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>He requires one hand luggage carrying all
changes of clothes/diapers and one hand luggage requiring all toys. Pyjamas are
in colour coded bags (ok, that’s my influence) and changes of clothes are in
other ziplocks. I love me a ziplock.<o:p></o:p></div>
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<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><u>3. The wagon.</u></b> We
have three toddlers five and under. It is a nightmare to transport our tired bodies
and their squirmy ones, plus our hand luggage through airports at
midnight.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Not wanting to purchase a ridiculously
large stroller that would fit three children, our friend introduced us to “the
wagon”. Don’t ask questions, just buy one now. It’s accepted as a stroller on
all airlines, is perfect for throwing copious numbers of children inside, is
light as a feather and works wonders for corralling children in an efficient
manner. <a href="https://www.amazon.com/Sports-Collapsible-Folding-Outdoor-Utility/dp/B00BUUUIGK/ref=sr_1_3?keywords=wagon&qid=1553791656&s=gateway&sr=8-3" target="_blank">This is our one</a></div>
<h4 style="text-align: left;">
<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><br />DURING THE FLIGHT</b></h4>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjrxxFAoq5Bj1xkHuLrO-avNhU91UW92ErUUoGh08jnX2GO2w6hruUulWJ2ethH2Wca9AaCXwSahbD_LXSdOz4-uZ0JWoqEvKmLwg6hIxGF44GBUNcYHX2u3lauCmSw59-m_RMZzSEJUm8/s1600/55882138_1485731048228917_4306752372727611392_n.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1080" data-original-width="1080" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjrxxFAoq5Bj1xkHuLrO-avNhU91UW92ErUUoGh08jnX2GO2w6hruUulWJ2ethH2Wca9AaCXwSahbD_LXSdOz4-uZ0JWoqEvKmLwg6hIxGF44GBUNcYHX2u3lauCmSw59-m_RMZzSEJUm8/s320/55882138_1485731048228917_4306752372727611392_n.jpg" width="320" /></a><b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><u>4. Invest in an Inflatable
Bed.</u></b> The single most useful invention made for children on planes is the Inflatable
Bed. We bought ours from Amazon and inflate them for our kids to sleep on.
Simply blow it up, stretch a blanket over it and watch your kids sleep well for
hours. <a href="https://www.amazon.com/gp/product/B00MQCZOBU/ref=ox_sc_act_title_1?smid=A5XVYGDJOW8GO&psc=1" target="_blank">I researched this is a lot - this is the best value one I found that does the job. </a><o:p></o:p></div>
<u> <b>5. You can never have
enough snacks.</b></u> I don’t know if it’s because we travel through Africa and
the Middle East and the snacks aren’t quite to their taste or if our kids start
acting like bears coming out of hibernation but I can never have enough snacks.
I legit bring a small cooler bag on board.<br />
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<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><u>6. Consider Melatonin
Drops for Kids</u></b> <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>- We use a natural
sleep remedy for the kids when we change time zones if they are struggling (of
if we are struggling). I can highly recommend this one. Sometimes it helps to
use it that first night in the new country too. Also, on the plane consider
putting all the kids in diapers overnight so you and they don’t have to go up
and down to the toilet. <a href="https://www.amazon.com/Zarbees-Naturals-Childrens-Melatonin-Natural/dp/B079L7F99T/ref=sr_1_3?keywords=melatonin+drops&qid=1553791236&s=gateway&sr=8-3" target="_blank">We use these ones. </a><o:p></o:p></div>
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<u><o:p><b>7.</b> </o:p><b>You can never have
enough wet wipes.</b></u> I wipe down arm rests, remotes, tv’s, hands, feet, faces.
Trust me on this.</div>
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<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><u>8. Make sure you order a
kids meal.</u> </b>Apparently, this isn’t guaranteed if you book your own tickets
online. Make sure you request it before you fly as then their meals come
earlier and are kid friendly. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><o:p></o:p></div>
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<u><b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;">9. Bring mini trash bags
with you</b>. </u>I am telling you right now that the trash situation gets out of
control on flights. I do not know what possess airlines to wrap every single
item possible in plastic but I can tell you that having mini trash bags to dump
all the junk works wonders. <o:p></o:p></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgOJMQpaCTZU72qDQX65hYcWnV5FGadTzUmi_6t9ICH8JUMaHhXoNfGvaEjziw120IFFIUaHi2J2hlpGt_wkPoCylOQb-21lVQB296IeZtRzXBL2WXzHz15lyyYqytWxvWntdWUBwe0xRA/s1600/55576210_525919467934849_9209506447904210944_n.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1080" data-original-width="1080" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgOJMQpaCTZU72qDQX65hYcWnV5FGadTzUmi_6t9ICH8JUMaHhXoNfGvaEjziw120IFFIUaHi2J2hlpGt_wkPoCylOQb-21lVQB296IeZtRzXBL2WXzHz15lyyYqytWxvWntdWUBwe0xRA/s320/55576210_525919467934849_9209506447904210944_n.jpg" width="320" /></a><b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><u>10. Bring empty
(leak-proof) water bottles on board,</u></b> then fill them up asap. Every time you
get served a drink or meal, put the water into your kids water bottles so they
don’t spill those stupid flimsy plastic cups on the people sitting behind you
and their laptop or phone. (this has happened to us. Twice). <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><a href="https://www.amazon.com/CamelBak-eddy-Bottle-Glitter-Rainbows/dp/B076DJXL26/ref=sr_1_1_sspa?crid=2BR77YMD5G1A3&keywords=camelbak+water+bottle+kids&qid=1553791561&s=gateway&sprefix=camelabk%2Caps%2C431&sr=8-1-spons&psc=1" target="_blank">Our favourites are Camelbak. </a><o:p></o:p></div>
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<b>BONUS 11: </b>We love it that our kids have these awesome books sold by <a href="http://myflightlogbook.com/" target="_blank">My Flight Log Book.</a> It means whenever we take a flight we give the book to a steward who gives them to the captain and then the kids have a record and fun note to look at when they're older. </div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhofnQadAZ5wNKJ-VedxF6IYeLf1RC_5HCEdoMqHPSlWwGw4KYGYeC25K-hTnqGBAoZfhQBjU8G4TgAFhoeOEeQRJZjeP7enWWNsL70qpOlPDc7lU5Avqo8imeshx9Hq3LulOFXz9BqAqA/s1600/55614134_2403863363176587_6136356355755212800_n.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1080" data-original-width="1080" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhofnQadAZ5wNKJ-VedxF6IYeLf1RC_5HCEdoMqHPSlWwGw4KYGYeC25K-hTnqGBAoZfhQBjU8G4TgAFhoeOEeQRJZjeP7enWWNsL70qpOlPDc7lU5Avqo8imeshx9Hq3LulOFXz9BqAqA/s320/55614134_2403863363176587_6136356355755212800_n.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
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Have I forgotten anything? Love to hear your tips, tricks and hacks! </div>
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<b><br /></b></div>
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<b>Happy travels friends!</b></div>
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<b><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhfkyyanFGNPOXWlejWeikUDnT4eqFcTxM5uaToyRpQcuzmhzNnIXCIm7lbMgm94V3XdfNj51CrPiPzRs38VxbPcUHQacE-c__kGGH9N3NRrHxV7t2Xtca0GqiE8L4MWGMOf2dIxyZYebg/s1600/55704649_1048856375311859_6414927805724753920_n.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1600" data-original-width="1600" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhfkyyanFGNPOXWlejWeikUDnT4eqFcTxM5uaToyRpQcuzmhzNnIXCIm7lbMgm94V3XdfNj51CrPiPzRs38VxbPcUHQacE-c__kGGH9N3NRrHxV7t2Xtca0GqiE8L4MWGMOf2dIxyZYebg/s400/55704649_1048856375311859_6414927805724753920_n.jpg" width="400" /></a></b></div>
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Tim and Helen Mansonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01827650755791436414noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7434448505994098413.post-76652482795400712392019-01-07T23:09:00.000-08:002019-01-07T23:09:24.349-08:00Our Family's EPIC 60 Hour Journey to surprise our family at Christmas <div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
Friends, the reason I've been so quiet lately is because we've been planning the best surprise we've ever done. Coming home to New Zealand for a visit with our son (a newly appointed Kiwi citizen). What was supposed to be a 'mere' 35 hours door to door turned out to be 60 hours door to door after Kenya airways had multiple delayed flights.<br />
<br />
We decided to film 5 second clips from the moment we left our house until the moment we surprised our families. Little did we know the gigantic journey we were about to embark on.<br />
<br />
It's a rough and ready video, but it's raw and real. <br />
And if you just want to get to the best part, forward to 3:38.<br />
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<iframe width="320" height="266" class="YOUTUBE-iframe-video" data-thumbnail-src="https://i.ytimg.com/vi/GHOU9P7tkIQ/0.jpg" src="https://www.youtube.com/embed/GHOU9P7tkIQ?feature=player_embedded" frameborder="0" allowfullscreen></iframe></div>
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<br />
Filming: Tim and I.<br />
Spliced together by: My graciously patient brother Joshua Buckley.<br />
Music: PEACE by Hillsong Young and Free<br />
Surprising our family at Christmas: Priceless.<br />
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Tim and Helen Mansonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01827650755791436414noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7434448505994098413.post-80266154937892124302018-10-24T05:25:00.002-07:002018-10-24T11:25:03.518-07:00At long last Welcome Home<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: right; margin-left: 1em; text-align: right;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgvaYr7bUWGoQcQlcsqgV8eVRBYc0VDVZPMovcGaFvgWMnCqUthoB_YaRv265lDEyqVLMlExGTLN8ffdI0VLa2lTJBVFDdz-eA06l3TaqpCu-N0ORbzc_31p_dtob4WnOefkCBWb0y3FjU/s1600/kid0.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="425" data-original-width="604" height="225" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgvaYr7bUWGoQcQlcsqgV8eVRBYc0VDVZPMovcGaFvgWMnCqUthoB_YaRv265lDEyqVLMlExGTLN8ffdI0VLa2lTJBVFDdz-eA06l3TaqpCu-N0ORbzc_31p_dtob4WnOefkCBWb0y3FjU/s320/kid0.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Me and my little brother Josh about 21 years ago.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
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<div class="MsoNormal">
Twenty one years ago something happened that changed
the course of my life forever. I was a Kiwi girl living in California with my
three younger brothers and my parents. My best friend Natalie was an only
child. Until she wasn’t. Overnight and seemingly out of the blue, she was given
two brothers in quick succession. That was my first exposure to the world of
adoption and it fascinated me. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"><br /></span><o:p></o:p><br />
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Over the years it became more than a simple fascination, it
became a passion. Reflecting back, I think what I loved about it was that my
traditional view of family was blown out of the water as I watched their family
come to life before my very eyes. From there on out I read books, watched
movies and of course (like the detective I am) watched their family closely.
Did Norb and Kathy love those boys the same as Natalie? Did their family feel
like a ‘real’ family? Yes and yes. Around the same time I started learning more
about the world we live in and the challenges people face in countries
different to mine. We had people come and speak at our school and our church
about what life was like for those living in developing countries. My heart was
broken completely in two, my fate sealed. I would adopt a child from one of
those countries. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><b>Adoption was <u>never </u>a
‘second best’ option for me, it was my always my <u>preferred </u>option. </b><o:p></o:p></div>
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<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: left; margin-right: 1em; text-align: left;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiPTXVog70Ms3ttgH5ToYxBYQKaklQ3DAWraqpKEj5vkZepN-N9tZWQHZbVVXiqdk50EqMGKswNhJYDKiG48VzvD2c_TFUaz7p9CFL-iravcq9Ff72-fq2702srxxonsOHozq2R_pMb9L8/s1600/1929589_26592939808_9082_n.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="453" data-original-width="604" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiPTXVog70Ms3ttgH5ToYxBYQKaklQ3DAWraqpKEj5vkZepN-N9tZWQHZbVVXiqdk50EqMGKswNhJYDKiG48VzvD2c_TFUaz7p9CFL-iravcq9Ff72-fq2702srxxonsOHozq2R_pMb9L8/s320/1929589_26592939808_9082_n.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Tim and I in our early dating years</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
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Fast forward to my first date with Tim. Over an Oreo
Milkshake from Denny’s (all class that boy), he told me that if I wouldn’t be
willing to live in Africa that was a deal breaker for him. Never one to be
shy with direct statements I shot back with, “If you wouldn’t be willing to
adopt, that’s my deal breaker.” Spoiler alert. I’m typing this from my couch in
Uganda with my two adopted children playing outside with their Dad, the
aforementioned, classy Tim.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
The weird thing is, the child I’d dreamed about adopting was
always a boy. If I told you I thought about this most weeks for the next 21
years of my life - would you believe me? If I told you I hired books from the
library on this regularly would you believe me?<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>If I told you I bought clothes for him over the last 15 years – would
you believe me? I truly, earnestly did. Ask my Mum and Dad, Kelly Anne or
Sarah. They’ll testify. God’s had that little boy on my heart for <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">decades</i>. I wished for him so badly.
Prayed for him so much. Had his name doodled in each diary I’ve owned. If I had
one wish as I blew out the candle on every birthday it was for us to one day
find each other in this great big world.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
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See I’ve always believed that we serve a God that sits up
there in the heavens looking across the whole earth. He saw my heart (a heart I
believe He gave me to adopt) and he saw not one, but two children coming down
the pipeline that for whatever reason wouldn’t be able to stay with their
biological families. Trauma and deep loss for those two children. And yet, he’s
in the business of restoration and redemption. And what I’ve discovered is that
this God is so extravagant that sometimes he’ll send people from one side of
the earth to the other for another. He saw Tim and I with our hands up in the
air, asking God that if a child ever needed a home, we’d be there in a
heartbeat.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>And one day, that day came. <o:p></o:p></div>
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Suffice to say when Hope entered our family I was most
confused because she was most certainly a girl. A beautiful, wonderful,
precious, adored baby girl nonetheless. But did I have it wrong? Did I hear
incorrectly, did I need to feminise the doodled name? What on earth was I going
to do with the boys clothes at my parents? I’d never hear the end of it from my
brothers! Nothing made sense other than the fact that I KNEW this little girl
was made for our family. Maybe the ‘boy’ was supposed to be biological I hypothesized?
But 18 months later our biological daughter, Eva was born. Also, most certainly
a girl. <o:p></o:p></div>
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<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: left; margin-right: 1em; text-align: left;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgQp9NufE2HhpcMIIo-KENe4iTBrzQQcNUZ0N6pGP0ZSpRsW8bgRYCmFpRQ2JjTM9TOiAPO9Uxb5B_pQdKtTV9_ZJR1YBfkaGxPmxjT3qsfAWwU4QiU3b9vdTpNzTHqMDEKm8pJDmZIxig/s1600/file3.jpeg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1080" data-original-width="1080" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgQp9NufE2HhpcMIIo-KENe4iTBrzQQcNUZ0N6pGP0ZSpRsW8bgRYCmFpRQ2JjTM9TOiAPO9Uxb5B_pQdKtTV9_ZJR1YBfkaGxPmxjT3qsfAWwU4QiU3b9vdTpNzTHqMDEKm8pJDmZIxig/s400/file3.jpeg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The little boy I'd dreamed of. </td></tr>
</tbody></table>
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So in April 2017 on our 10 year anniversary I asked Tim for
permission to ‘knock’ one last time. He set (quite extreme) stipulations and
off I went. I wish I could tell you the details of his case but those details
are just that, his. What I can tell you is that August 31<sup>st</sup> 2017 was
a day I’ll never forget because it was the day I met my son. The boy I’d been
dreaming about. The wish I’d wished and the fulfillment of a dream decades in
the making. It wasn’t anything like I expected it to be. Driving there we
didn’t know if they’d matched us with a boy or a girl. We didn’t know the age
or the background of the child. And so when he was carried through the door and
our two worlds collided there was no drama, no fuss, no Eureka moment, just a
little nudge in my heart as they read his file and I took it all in that this
was indeed - him. <o:p></o:p></div>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhc0na3Tp_86WgPjgnkJZFHT2FAHPsXOCx8Pepy3GYG0WfjcqqYsrPGuq6RR4ngzirOi6p5rmNEd39jvB8kInKyEmPeLb6occr8JzHc82OexKB0m7MslCyemCMNcH4m2rn_siQ7-EUAPJo/s1600/file1-1.jpeg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1080" data-original-width="1080" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhc0na3Tp_86WgPjgnkJZFHT2FAHPsXOCx8Pepy3GYG0WfjcqqYsrPGuq6RR4ngzirOi6p5rmNEd39jvB8kInKyEmPeLb6occr8JzHc82OexKB0m7MslCyemCMNcH4m2rn_siQ7-EUAPJo/s320/file1-1.jpeg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Our family </td></tr>
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And so here I type today friends. The day of his adoption.
The day a judge in the High Court of Uganda looked me in the eye and said the
three letters I’ve prayed for most of my life. </div>
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Yes. </b><br />
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There are truly no words someone can say to explain what it feels like to be
given the legal right to be a Mother. I just shook her hand and let the tears
fall down my cheeks, mustering up a squeaky “Thank you” as she kindly let me
have a moment. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><o:p></o:p></div>
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<b>Welcome Home </b><b>baby boy, at long last, Welcome Home.<br /><br />Thank you Jesus. </b></div>
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Tim and Helen Mansonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01827650755791436414noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7434448505994098413.post-44301123046938469732018-10-05T04:36:00.000-07:002018-10-17T04:27:57.205-07:00Good Magazine Story - October 2018<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEibmvGI2B2SkdzqrbfZyKYp_fmz41Ul0u70cyEU1ZM_2dPrS2gpk7xIwVtr4HzF11CtnCj7FCIt7U8KKt-4YR9N_4ySsjvgT3J4q2YVcYyg1LKIekkKjPJPvF8H-erdnF8xFQ-0dRC9SUM/s1600/file.jpeg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="476" data-original-width="730" height="260" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEibmvGI2B2SkdzqrbfZyKYp_fmz41Ul0u70cyEU1ZM_2dPrS2gpk7xIwVtr4HzF11CtnCj7FCIt7U8KKt-4YR9N_4ySsjvgT3J4q2YVcYyg1LKIekkKjPJPvF8H-erdnF8xFQ-0dRC9SUM/s400/file.jpeg" width="400" /></a></div>
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<span style="font-family: "century gothic" , sans-serif;">It is an honor to have my work featured in this month's <a href="https://www.good.net.nz/" target="_blank">Good Magazine</a>.<br /><br /></span><span style="font-family: "century gothic" , sans-serif;">Lake Volta in Ghana is the </span><span style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: "century gothic" , sans-serif;">world's largest man-made lake. It sustains thousands of lives -
but its fishing industry is built on the backs of vulnerable children, most
under 10 years old. <a href="https://www.compassion.com.au/" target="_blank">Compassion </a>and <a href="http://tearfund.org.nz/" target="_blank">Tearfund </a>are there to stop that.<br /><br /></span></span></div>
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<span style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: "century gothic" , sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: large; font-weight: bold;"><a href="https://drive.google.com/file/d/1yybvaEzevLrWuphrivcbqTaIIRhd5cKx/view?usp=sharing" style="font-weight: bold;" target="_blank">View the Good Magazine story as it appeared in print here. </a><br /><br />or </span></span></span><a href="https://www.good.net.nz/article/behind-the-nets" style="font-family: "century gothic", sans-serif; font-size: x-large; text-align: center;" target="_blank">The online version is here </a><br /></h3>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiQhRoYoKVFS963RKOwrmgCQCFCre8aDUwgvJWFcqnMakWkZuZWtYTOrNGT91G-E_qOUthaCn0MY21_3VduX2tsbTMHG8bs0b7ENdqcIv2k6Bzww8ih5bnacPtP0OklMTAmfyUCf_8-CWg/s1600/CID+Photo+Competition+Helen+Manson+%25281%2529.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1067" data-original-width="1600" height="426" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiQhRoYoKVFS963RKOwrmgCQCFCre8aDUwgvJWFcqnMakWkZuZWtYTOrNGT91G-E_qOUthaCn0MY21_3VduX2tsbTMHG8bs0b7ENdqcIv2k6Bzww8ih5bnacPtP0OklMTAmfyUCf_8-CWg/s640/CID+Photo+Competition+Helen+Manson+%25281%2529.jpg" width="640" /></a></div>
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<b><span style="font-family: "century gothic" , sans-serif; font-size: 10.0pt;"> </span></b><span style="font-family: "century gothic" , sans-serif; font-size: 10pt; text-align: left;">His name was Ebenezzer. And as I sat next to him on
the rickety bus rumbling its way down some red dusty roads in West Africa, we
got to talking. Turns out that at 19 years old, Ebenezzer had spent three years
of his life on the lake we were now heading straight towards.</span><span style="font-family: "century gothic" , sans-serif; font-size: 10pt; text-align: left;"> </span><span style="font-family: "century gothic" , sans-serif; font-size: 10pt; text-align: left;">But for those thousands of hours of labour
and heartache he was paid a total of $75 NZD for his work. He was a child
slave. </span></div>
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Ghana hosts the largest man-made lake in the world. It's absolutely beautiful,
but there's a dark underbelly to its beauty. The slavery of thousands of
children that are brought here to work on it. They are recruited as young as
five for their little fingers to untie nets, their ability to hold their breath
for long periods of time and their inability to fight back. Behind every net is
a story. This, is Ebenezer’s. <br />
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“Shortly after I was born my mother died. My Father had been killed months
earlier by the witch doctor and so my Grandmother came to take me. I was one of
nine grandchildren in her care and she found it difficult to take care of me.
When I was six years old a distant relative came to our home. </span><span style="font-family: "century gothic" , sans-serif; font-size: 10.0pt;">He
promised a good job, a steady wage, enough food and a safe place to sleep for
young boys who would work with him. </span><span style="font-family: "century gothic" , sans-serif; font-size: 10.0pt;">Those first few days I was so scared.
I would dream at night about going back to my Grandma but I had no way to reach
her. We used to wake up at 4am each day and then comeback by midday for
something small to eat. Then we would work again until nightfall cut up fish,
bait them, put them in the water, collect the nets, bail water out of the
boats, untie knots and dive deep. Sometimes the man who owned the boat would
beat the other boys with paddles or bamboo on their backs.”<br />
<br />
“One day our boat capsized in a thunderstorm and the man who took me to the
lake could not operate his business anymore. He called my Grandma to pick me up
and she spoke to (Tearfund’s partner, Compassion) the local project in our area
about helping to get me back and into a school. When my Grandma came to get me she began to
cry as she realised what had happened out there on the lake for those years.
She said that if she had realised what was going on she would have never sent
me with that man.”<br />
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</span><span style="font-family: "century gothic" , sans-serif; font-size: 10.0pt;">Trafficking is illegal in Ghana. But on the water,
there is no law. Children like Ebenezzer are routinely beaten with paddles,
heavy ropes, and electrical cables. Many have spoken about sleep deprivation,
malnutrition, sexual assault and abuse, and grievous injuries. They are
deprived of medical attention, education and recreation. When they refuse to
dive to free the tangled nets, they are pushed or bludgeoned overboard. When
they fall asleep or move too slowly to do their masters' bidding, they are
beaten. When they complain or try to escape, they are denied food and water.
They are slaves.<br />
<br />
</span><span style="font-family: "century gothic" , sans-serif; font-size: 10.0pt;">Tearfund New Zealand has been working on Lake Volta
and it’s surrounds through their local partner, Compassion International to
release children from poverty through child sponsorship. With over two million
children sponsored worldwide, their overarching goal is to make sure these
children are known, loved and protected. In every developing country that comes
to life in a slightly different way. But in Ghana, on Lake Volta it looks like
setting up projects within walking distance of the lake. It looks like ensuring
that all the children in the project are placed in school, given nutritious
food, and a safe place to play aware from the allure of evil traffickers preying
around their villages. And if a child is ever unwittingly taken, they work
relentlessly to ensure their immediate and safe return. <br />
<br />
</span><span style="font-family: "century gothic" , sans-serif; font-size: 10.0pt;">Now in his final years of high school, Ebenezer
hopes to become a mechanical engineer one day. But for now he’s protected by
the project, living safely back with his grandmother and encouraged by his
sponsor. "I have suffered enough in my life and so I don't want my family
or my future children to suffer. I want them to acquire some knowledge so they
can lead a better life, </span><span style="font-family: "century gothic" , sans-serif; font-size: 10.0pt;">If
not for Compassion, I would be on the lake still. But because I am now with
Compassion I can talk about what happened and my future with confidence.”<br />
<br />
As I reflect on the week I spent with Ebenezzer and his friends on Lake Volta,
untangling their stories and listening hard to learn what life was like for
them - I couldn’t help but think how
every child on these shores should be sponsored. Needs to be sponsored.
Deserves to be sponsored. As a Mum of three children, the right to a childhood
for my own kids and countless others is something I’ll fight for all my life.
Join me. <br />
<br />
<i>Helen Manson is a Kiwi humanitarian
photographer and storyteller living in Uganda. <br />
For more information on sponsoring a child visit tearfund.org.nz </i></span></div>
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<i><span style="font-family: "century gothic" , sans-serif; font-size: 8.0pt;">Please note: Other than Ebenzzer and his grandmother, the children
pictured do not work in the fishing industry; they recreated scenes of life on
Lake Volta willingly and with permission.</span></i><span style="font-family: "century gothic" , sans-serif; font-size: 10.0pt;"><o:p></o:p></span></div>
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Tim and Helen Mansonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01827650755791436414noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7434448505994098413.post-13738448677683287622018-08-28T10:32:00.000-07:002018-08-28T11:22:31.907-07:00The 11 photos that bring to life the Rohingya crisis for me<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhjXLKHbalkzw2qdJbSPNZUuThRYF1RWWAUZu_j8GPiAfTITsPdWk0YCjjaWhyphenhyphennyp9I0h4B6EnT1SDjh1qWGscOhLiR0kP0eQofI9XT2ad1Xw-T91Omfw_xyTJNbtZ2DQw1AJSXRQjdlZ8/s1600/6I1A0055.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1067" data-original-width="1600" height="426" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhjXLKHbalkzw2qdJbSPNZUuThRYF1RWWAUZu_j8GPiAfTITsPdWk0YCjjaWhyphenhyphennyp9I0h4B6EnT1SDjh1qWGscOhLiR0kP0eQofI9XT2ad1Xw-T91Omfw_xyTJNbtZ2DQw1AJSXRQjdlZ8/s640/6I1A0055.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The camp is a sprawling mess of hundreds of thousands of dusty makeshift shelters set atop hilly, shaky terrain.</td></tr>
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<b><span style="font-family: "helvetica neue"; font-size: 12.0pt;"><u>"When words fail me I shall choose to focus with
photographs.”</u></span></b></div>
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</span><span style="font-family: "century gothic" , sans-serif; font-size: 10.0pt;">So the truth is that this week as I stood in the
middle of the world’s both largest <i>and</i>
fastest growing refugee camp, <b>word’s failed me</b>. Something, that if we know each
other, you'll know is very, very rare. Wink Wink.</span><br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgA_JVentryoIJBO6cTHl5qSoU5GwwDhTnf3SpMM3AkXwWZ6opfQNEnw353jXLKdbD5iNjlSaz0Aat52TVqqdYAANQjlNPCf7xaGsr2NMdslsSw3cFaL1AJ9tfX3bDl0Wnn6qf3XZND-Ew/s1600/6I1A9854-2.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1067" data-original-width="1600" height="212" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgA_JVentryoIJBO6cTHl5qSoU5GwwDhTnf3SpMM3AkXwWZ6opfQNEnw353jXLKdbD5iNjlSaz0Aat52TVqqdYAANQjlNPCf7xaGsr2NMdslsSw3cFaL1AJ9tfX3bDl0Wnn6qf3XZND-Ew/s320/6I1A9854-2.jpg" width="320" /></a><span style="font-family: "century gothic" , sans-serif; font-size: 10.0pt;">See, I was feeling a lot of pressure to get some
social media-esque videos up as fast as I could for my bosses (and for all of
you) and yet every time I turned on my iPhone to show you what I saw and to try
and explain it, I just couldn’t. Couldn't find the words. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "century gothic" , sans-serif; font-size: 10.0pt;">After all, how does one put into words what it
feels like to sit in a bamboo hut in almost
40-degree heat, as you listen to a mum bravely telling you her story of
survival from genocide? Or when you see a little child barely able to sit up
because of malnutrition? Or a father left to raise five daughters after their
mother was brutally killed?</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "century gothic" , sans-serif; font-size: 10.0pt;"> <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "century gothic" , sans-serif; font-size: 10.0pt;">Of course the journalist I was hosting from
<a href="https://www.newshub.co.nz/home.html" target="_blank">Newshub, TV3, Michael Morrah</a> did a wonderful job of putting words to it all. <b>Here’s
five stories from this week that we made while on the field together that
played on 6pm news on New Zealand’s national news network.</b></span></div>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh9pf0olX7maidZwLmbTfg53ZVk_RxGSMuuDVkcqKRgw8CeBtjluD2yjE-cirRJq12Mtv_cLjdZs7hdn3h286wTOmACOkwMMFTRMjzCBzlTJWTytz9ywwzgApJvTjIBCMQsLB65sLa4zMs/s1600/tv3.png" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="586" data-original-width="973" height="192" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh9pf0olX7maidZwLmbTfg53ZVk_RxGSMuuDVkcqKRgw8CeBtjluD2yjE-cirRJq12Mtv_cLjdZs7hdn3h286wTOmACOkwMMFTRMjzCBzlTJWTytz9ywwzgApJvTjIBCMQsLB65sLa4zMs/s320/tv3.png" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Please click on the hyperlinks under each Story to see the clip</td></tr>
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<span style="color: blue; font-family: "century gothic" , sans-serif; font-size: 10.0pt;"><b><a href="https://www.newshub.co.nz/home/world/2018/08/the-reality-of-cox-s-bazar-home-to-the-world-s-fastest-growing-refugee-crisis.html" target="_blank">Story 1 - General Overview </a><br /><a href="https://www.newshub.co.nz/home/world/2018/08/rohingya-refugees-being-offered-fake-jobs-then-being-forced-into-prostitution.html" target="_blank">Story 2 - Threat of Trafficking </a><br /><a href="https://www.newshub.co.nz/home/world/2018/08/malnutrition-reaches-emergency-levels-at-rohingya-refugee-camp.html" target="_blank">Story 3 - Malnutrition reaches Emergency Levels</a><br /><a href="https://www.newshub.co.nz/home/world/2018/08/they-tried-to-kill-me-but-i-ran-rohingya-refugee-kids-on-how-they-wound-up-in-cox-s-bazar.html" target="_blank">Story 4 - Unaccompanied Kids</a><br /><a href="https://www.newshub.co.nz/home/world/2018/08/the-rohingya-crisis-one-year-on.html" target="_blank">Story 5 - In depth look at the crisis </a></b></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "century gothic" , sans-serif; font-size: 10pt;">Earlier this year, you may remember I
found myself here at the height of this crisis, watching it unfold. Children
and adults alike were traumatised, dehydrated and exhausted. T<b>hey stared into a
void, without even the energy to cry. </b></span><span style="font-family: "century gothic" , sans-serif; font-size: 10.0pt;">What I saw last week was that <b>this crisis is not over. People really
are in a desperate state and we need to stay with them, to keep caring. </b>These
people are not allowed to build a permanent home, not allowed to work, not
allowed to send their children to high school, not allowed to even leave the
camps. If they choose to go back to Myanmar, the persecution would most
certainly continue. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "century gothic" , sans-serif; font-size: 10.0pt;">So this is my little way of bringing this crisis to
life through photographs. Trying to show you why this means so much to
me. <b>These are the images (taken in April and last week) that bring it to life the
most for me. I’ve written a wee caption to explain why. </b><br />
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I hope you see what I see. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi5l5Grtkne0A5BWYnLx9fVIrrKoZre8JA6GkmXLYahhcr2BvtvxQ6apmVUpm6vzwn53rDcwJBio4zbr7Ic-pTcaKzx21A7kYwCX_xE7_KqDzhkwtWEYkgNHSmqrrnxgeIvV3x8gwDI0_c/s1600/IMG_0377.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1067" data-original-width="1600" height="425" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi5l5Grtkne0A5BWYnLx9fVIrrKoZre8JA6GkmXLYahhcr2BvtvxQ6apmVUpm6vzwn53rDcwJBio4zbr7Ic-pTcaKzx21A7kYwCX_xE7_KqDzhkwtWEYkgNHSmqrrnxgeIvV3x8gwDI0_c/s640/IMG_0377.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The scale of this crisis is enormous. Close to a million people live within 10 square kilometers. </td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh5XhbLfZGWWGE6Lgauhk1ptQfiT6HLgP8XU6Ua7hs8Zy897IlluLiEo-BMcAYzfLHcm1Z6nCC3zoiHozDWfMKn_RxrWmB5tWzumgLKw5XvayHGTqe5_llBxyVLkFOvGd-b4c3Iy8-m1qQ/s1600/6I1A0686.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1067" data-original-width="1600" height="426" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh5XhbLfZGWWGE6Lgauhk1ptQfiT6HLgP8XU6Ua7hs8Zy897IlluLiEo-BMcAYzfLHcm1Z6nCC3zoiHozDWfMKn_RxrWmB5tWzumgLKw5XvayHGTqe5_llBxyVLkFOvGd-b4c3Iy8-m1qQ/s640/6I1A0686.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Modena shared with me how she lost her husband and is now raising 8 daughters by herself. She feels sad that she is prohibited by the government to work and so therefore cant provide them with pretty dresses and chocolates on Eid (Muslim festival happening last week) because they have no money. Pictured below is Modena with her youngest daughter.<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEidJfCw3egNFU8HWFOR35CifyqZDLvs27EfFiWvhfOyOhBw0iYOmj3Mc9LCqjAgkHecCx0EoCsQ9PjHmGTDFv-uQFZ8N3rzm9EpyTsbH1Ougwa2CH2hBQJWNTLKlT3jOXcvYNUftSug458/s1600/6I1A0715.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1067" data-original-width="1600" height="426" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEidJfCw3egNFU8HWFOR35CifyqZDLvs27EfFiWvhfOyOhBw0iYOmj3Mc9LCqjAgkHecCx0EoCsQ9PjHmGTDFv-uQFZ8N3rzm9EpyTsbH1Ougwa2CH2hBQJWNTLKlT3jOXcvYNUftSug458/s640/6I1A0715.jpg" width="640" /></a></div>
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjC5dYzSnr_cpgH07ycz5SfYvgbCp0TdOb9mYuU8C9LdMHYWLrYVocAOuJ5OnZWAAD93SRmsnDzPtzh4sMHpG7lM0Tm3YA56dXlIYMb2857mXfjOCzqyilhDfdbtAjSed5BvFe51BipKqE/s1600/6I1A0989.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1067" data-original-width="1600" height="426" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjC5dYzSnr_cpgH07ycz5SfYvgbCp0TdOb9mYuU8C9LdMHYWLrYVocAOuJ5OnZWAAD93SRmsnDzPtzh4sMHpG7lM0Tm3YA56dXlIYMb2857mXfjOCzqyilhDfdbtAjSed5BvFe51BipKqE/s640/6I1A0989.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"> I cant imagine what it must be like for a mother to have to throw faeces down a rubbish filled embankment mere meters from your house. The overcrowded conditions of the camp mean that sanitation is a huge challenge.</td></tr>
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhf65NZfV9vkW0ap1k8r7HOyATqAfxPBQFXHlHlpTS-YobAMMRBVE_mZW3lyiyj0r613TmRA1IkRUu2riunGHKwaXmwWeGQgKDITNp3fQ0Eaw0rDz8cywzXkYyhDIGWRlTZ8ssShCfFfRQ/s1600/IMG_0169.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1067" data-original-width="1600" height="426" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhf65NZfV9vkW0ap1k8r7HOyATqAfxPBQFXHlHlpTS-YobAMMRBVE_mZW3lyiyj0r613TmRA1IkRUu2riunGHKwaXmwWeGQgKDITNp3fQ0Eaw0rDz8cywzXkYyhDIGWRlTZ8ssShCfFfRQ/s640/IMG_0169.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">I think it's the kids in the camps that capture my heart the most. They deserve toys, safe places to play, a roof that wont leak and enough food to eat. And yet, that's a luxury. </td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi6JFn_-hQVjXz1Jo7UEYkBidH5SFqxI95Mzn9T3SRsnXCtxC9KIhW0ePqO24Hz1mTKEIJrUpp3GYry4lCcxpVdr5dyT3XWyaiyCkCYlV0XxhMQ1cKSsh_5q_34MRUNUsMycdgk1tnAjTs/s1600/6I1A1039.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1067" data-original-width="1600" height="426" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi6JFn_-hQVjXz1Jo7UEYkBidH5SFqxI95Mzn9T3SRsnXCtxC9KIhW0ePqO24Hz1mTKEIJrUpp3GYry4lCcxpVdr5dyT3XWyaiyCkCYlV0XxhMQ1cKSsh_5q_34MRUNUsMycdgk1tnAjTs/s640/6I1A1039.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">One boy I met called Hamid is 19 years old. On the way his best friend and brother were shot. Shortly after, he heard the sound of a baby crying in a village that had just been decimated. He found a five-month-old baby girl amid the rubble. Together they now live in the camps. Hamid was a star student in one of Tearfund's projects English classes. Now employable, after finishing the course, the little money he makes as a volunteer sustains him, his family and this little girl. </td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhz6QajPIrjeS7CB_0uSTe_liH_OOl3GC4kTF-Kw1yZqjTwvk8pMBFdv4_nrrWveAr3bzz645XQ9hbokBSR6oFZvdpB3lnYIgKe9eoS2IemnA6TJ_pNL_YXNUafxKVPetCXvbedbZBSTBs/s1600/6I1A9787.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1067" data-original-width="1600" height="426" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhz6QajPIrjeS7CB_0uSTe_liH_OOl3GC4kTF-Kw1yZqjTwvk8pMBFdv4_nrrWveAr3bzz645XQ9hbokBSR6oFZvdpB3lnYIgKe9eoS2IemnA6TJ_pNL_YXNUafxKVPetCXvbedbZBSTBs/s640/6I1A9787.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">I remember this young girl telling me that every time she eats rice she cant help but think of her Daddy. He loved rice, just like her, and now he's dead and so is her brother and rice could never taste the same again.</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgHv4k17Jxql_KYHtbN_X8u2diMiElG4HP6Cv3wMGUBFMgcLqjhEAVRHXW09TBSisUSBHQSwcFUoG_T8l8e1x0pDv2xLZtazSMqyB-AC1BhnYdhnEyoMgn6a1JJmhQYVE70YZZh6r5HtJY/s1600/6I1A1367.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1067" data-original-width="1600" height="426" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgHv4k17Jxql_KYHtbN_X8u2diMiElG4HP6Cv3wMGUBFMgcLqjhEAVRHXW09TBSisUSBHQSwcFUoG_T8l8e1x0pDv2xLZtazSMqyB-AC1BhnYdhnEyoMgn6a1JJmhQYVE70YZZh6r5HtJY/s640/6I1A1367.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">At a nutrition clinic for malnourished children I spotted this sweetheart cuddled up next to her Mama. Malnutrition in the camp is now at emergency levels and so this center is a lifeline for her, and her Mum.<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiGOcVRvl75sUSrFa3fC_VncMSyarV-JQRiXf4cEkHDiFimV2obi_n51aOUC8OmInCAyy99l7xavKwuAsoHANqqDvuMpYAfWl79F2lWCUqWcCiR8-cNWPWaerb0OpDQtY19IyN93MG_NlQ/s1600/IMG_5564-3.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1067" data-original-width="1600" height="426" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiGOcVRvl75sUSrFa3fC_VncMSyarV-JQRiXf4cEkHDiFimV2obi_n51aOUC8OmInCAyy99l7xavKwuAsoHANqqDvuMpYAfWl79F2lWCUqWcCiR8-cNWPWaerb0OpDQtY19IyN93MG_NlQ/s640/IMG_5564-3.jpg" width="640" /></a></div>
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<span style="font-family: "century gothic" , sans-serif; font-size: 10.0pt;">Reflecting
on my week in the camps, <b>two things give
me hope</b>. The incredible determination and resilience of the Rohingya people
and the growing community of Tearfund supporters getting stirred up to stand
with these people.<a href="https://www.tearfund.org.nz/Rohingya-Crisis-Appeal.aspx" target="_blank"> </a></span><b><span style="color: blue; font-family: "century gothic" , sans-serif; font-size: 10.0pt;"><a href="https://www.tearfund.org.nz/Rohingya-Crisis-Appeal.aspx" target="_blank">Please consider making a donation to help this critical work continue.</a></span></b><br />
<b><br /></b>
Love,<br />
Helen</div>
<br /></div>
Tim and Helen Mansonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01827650755791436414noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7434448505994098413.post-12015361776793256282018-08-14T10:15:00.001-07:002018-08-14T10:15:16.232-07:00The truth about expat friendships <div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiybBgLjVUHncn40o6Pa-yxLuiL27VbE8NQQd33SlY8Gibt6nGSbvgxr2AVjQWIExDE2KCl_ypS7k7gBoHezP877kBjYk1hVsQpKP5Cr9kyKrbPwuON3-EYTGTJw5PobGxnHhg4AwTa_tE/s1600/39186585_310993646130629_4524308546627567616_n.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1600" data-original-width="1200" height="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiybBgLjVUHncn40o6Pa-yxLuiL27VbE8NQQd33SlY8Gibt6nGSbvgxr2AVjQWIExDE2KCl_ypS7k7gBoHezP877kBjYk1hVsQpKP5Cr9kyKrbPwuON3-EYTGTJw5PobGxnHhg4AwTa_tE/s200/39186585_310993646130629_4524308546627567616_n.jpg" width="150" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The woman in question - Alicia.<br />Wearing her Sunday best. </td></tr>
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<span style="font-family: "Century Gothic",sans-serif; font-size: 10.0pt; line-height: 107%;">So I’m sitting here at my desk on a Wednesday
afternoon after what turned out to be quite an emotional morning. See, my
friend Alicia is leaving after two years of living and working here in Uganda
and we had a farewell thing for her today. And when it came time for my turn to
speak around the table about how amazing she is and how much we’ll all miss
her, I couldn’t even speak for fear the lump in my throat would spill over.
Couldn’t even say one word.</span><span style="font-family: "Century Gothic", sans-serif; font-size: 10pt;"><br /><br />That’s because I feel like I’ve had enough
goodbyes to last me a lifetime. <b>Tim and I sat down at dinner last week and
counted by name 187 friends that have left in the last five years we’ve called
Uganda home. 187. And I’m over it. </b></span></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEguEkv-AqJuHu6cfsac-dc96fLaxSumykP-FqD5ucRGqd-2GlknYMHzov-y96CV-MAWuLbIxKCThvr-Wpwudf5liKH73ib-LZ4XWT4Aw3mcshGGaTLwPhdmKyK0LJ7M9-h6eQIS5yrmMNo/s1600/39177638_219755525361832_5150816366692925440_n.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1600" data-original-width="1600" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEguEkv-AqJuHu6cfsac-dc96fLaxSumykP-FqD5ucRGqd-2GlknYMHzov-y96CV-MAWuLbIxKCThvr-Wpwudf5liKH73ib-LZ4XWT4Aw3mcshGGaTLwPhdmKyK0LJ7M9-h6eQIS5yrmMNo/s320/39177638_219755525361832_5150816366692925440_n.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Century Gothic", sans-serif; font-size: 10pt;">Let me rewind a bit. When we first moved here I
remember people talking to me about how “</span><i style="font-family: "Century Gothic", sans-serif; font-size: 10pt;">amazing</i><span style="font-family: "Century Gothic", sans-serif; font-size: 10pt;">
the community is here” and me rolling my eyes. Ok people, you can have your
freaky deaky weird little ‘community’ and I’ll be justttt fine over here living
like a normal person thanks. See, what fresh off the boat me didn’t realise is
that when you move to a place like Uganda as an expat (someone who lives in a country that's not your birth country) your friends become
family. Fast. They have to. You have no family, no ‘old friends’ and you don’t
know anyone. So friends have to become like family or you’ll drown in the
bureaucracy, drama, setbacks and frustrations. You’ll lose your mind when your
power goes out for the third time – today. Swear black and blue when your water
is cut off for no reason and want to punch someone in the face when you get
asked for a bribe - again. But not with friends by your side. Oh no. With friends
you’ll not only survive this crazy town, you’ll thrive in it.</span></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj3Th303OETrcfTi3npC_2WbZn8LzUtyuejgtpBfQjAbQ1RyjptfHm4-cpKKA5GvqwK9tTN6RWJWAZGpQq00XGZhKIRpFij7cNTG-XgWnglIyAJMvDAJAy7crDpMaZZ-hSTCk4NauN0qeU/s1600/39216012_2126147014370938_8997671548399648768_n.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="810" data-original-width="1080" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj3Th303OETrcfTi3npC_2WbZn8LzUtyuejgtpBfQjAbQ1RyjptfHm4-cpKKA5GvqwK9tTN6RWJWAZGpQq00XGZhKIRpFij7cNTG-XgWnglIyAJMvDAJAy7crDpMaZZ-hSTCk4NauN0qeU/s320/39216012_2126147014370938_8997671548399648768_n.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh7bGpXC4ZGT3RIYmwekcwhYfSj4MTKPfEi6xb8R6tRe_kfPDxsuuxjFASUIkU_o7HH98s6TANm3PjawnrrDYmowUGn_ACjKgwzQ0VRHHWm6NYgxNrPA-YkOzPm0Xp3vPKeOqp73R1GbFc/s1600/39077841_835804199958544_2121386142514282496_n.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1080" data-original-width="1080" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh7bGpXC4ZGT3RIYmwekcwhYfSj4MTKPfEi6xb8R6tRe_kfPDxsuuxjFASUIkU_o7HH98s6TANm3PjawnrrDYmowUGn_ACjKgwzQ0VRHHWm6NYgxNrPA-YkOzPm0Xp3vPKeOqp73R1GbFc/s320/39077841_835804199958544_2121386142514282496_n.jpg" width="320" /></a><br />
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<span style="font-family: "Century Gothic",sans-serif; font-size: 10.0pt; line-height: 107%;">See there’s no time for small talk, chit chat and
bullsh*tting about how you feel living here. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>You’re all just trying to keep your head above
water and t<b>hese friends you find yourself living alongside are the only ones
who get it. Like really, really get it.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>And
so you go deep quick. </b>You go quick because you or they might be here three
months or three years and neither of you really knows which one because that’s
the very nature of this transient country and this transient expatriate lifestyle. But
you need each other. And so you tell your secrets, see each other every single
day (and I do really mean every single day) and you become Aunts to their
children and intrinsically involved in every aspect of one another’s lives. You
do X-fit on a Monday, a smoothie right after and grocery shopping all before
11am. That afternoon you hang out for a playdate and that evening you text each
other about what you managed to make for dinner in a country where you have to
go to four grocery stores to get what you tend to eat each week. Oh and then
you do it all again tomorrow. <br /><br /><o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Century Gothic",sans-serif; font-size: 10.0pt; line-height: 107%;">So you might be able to see why it’s catching up
on me all this “Goodbye” stuff. E<b>specially when you feel like with each goodbye
goes a little piece of you. Moments you’ll never re-live, memories no-one else
was there for but them. </b>And it’s been like this all my life right? Not just
Uganda but California, Sydney, New Zealand and Dubai. All places I’ve lived and
said my fair share of goodbyes in. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>A<b>nd
so when yet another friend left today it felt like on some deep level another
part of me was leaving too. Memories, photos, tears and laughs left with her and stayed with me.</b><br /><br /><o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="line-height: 107%;"><span style="font-family: Century Gothic, sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: 10pt;">So I've been reflecting on this today, processing by writing to you. Ir<b>onically, that same girl who rolled her eyes at
the concept of “true community” is now the same one wiping said eyes as one of
her closest members of that community leaves. </b></span></span><span style="font-family: "Century Gothic", sans-serif; font-size: 10pt;"><b> </b></span><span style="font-family: Century Gothic, sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: 10pt;">And although my friend leaving today (and all
the ones that have gone before her) can never be replaced, the one thing I know
for certain is that for every goodbye in Uganda, there’s another Hello. </span></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Century Gothic, sans-serif;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjRVDiB5ZOvfe2tuBmge-GsqTPArIihSJgAyKJAH10GqetWG0GyQYHWfbD_bQBLSxVpO5LQPZTUoHt14NG22AcQNf2pMbunf5nw4NUeOpbpu5d-Fl9MygL7tLjzpJUnRD7xeRE9nYbOuP0/s1600/39155868_250214658943857_3685377236149469184_n.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1200" data-original-width="1200" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjRVDiB5ZOvfe2tuBmge-GsqTPArIihSJgAyKJAH10GqetWG0GyQYHWfbD_bQBLSxVpO5LQPZTUoHt14NG22AcQNf2pMbunf5nw4NUeOpbpu5d-Fl9MygL7tLjzpJUnRD7xeRE9nYbOuP0/s320/39155868_250214658943857_3685377236149469184_n.jpg" width="320" /></a></span></div>
<br /><br /><span style="font-family: Century Gothic, sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: 10pt;">It’s
August. That means the Embassies are turning over their staff and the
missionaries are moving into town for the school year and the aid workers are
coming back from home assignment leave. <b>See what I </b></span><span style="font-size: 13.3333px;"><b>realized</b></span><span style="font-size: 10pt;"><b> today is is that the silver lining to all these goodbyes is
that somewhere along the line I said Hello. A lot.</b> And Hello’s are fun. Hellos
are promising. So it's taken me a week to be able to post this but that's because it's the truth and the truth is sometimes hard to swallow. But today I said Hello again to someone. Turns out I suck at Goodbyes. But Hello’s - well Hello's are what I do best. I
should know, I’ve done 187 of them. <table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjTQl4Z6yWyoeexhPI5ubytg4WLWrnXrzE4nqOxtJ7aEYbObFQ6dXg8Kq-AuJm2OEpr-dzMnpqPkOO5-savKaBPHq4rjfTWKHGvB2y2fMsWF0pnq0qg64E5o2Vk8ktBO4z_boLYDElF8Pw/s1600/friends.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="720" data-original-width="960" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjTQl4Z6yWyoeexhPI5ubytg4WLWrnXrzE4nqOxtJ7aEYbObFQ6dXg8Kq-AuJm2OEpr-dzMnpqPkOO5-savKaBPHq4rjfTWKHGvB2y2fMsWF0pnq0qg64E5o2Vk8ktBO4z_boLYDElF8Pw/s400/friends.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Please know we NEVER dress like this. We decided to do Prom night in Uganda <br />and, well, these were the dresses we found. </td></tr>
</tbody></table>
</span></span><br />
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Tim and Helen Mansonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01827650755791436414noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7434448505994098413.post-53405313247463789222018-07-20T05:14:00.002-07:002018-07-22T11:25:25.081-07:00Surprise Triplets: The best birth story I've ever heard<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgMbW1CkFKLhGSnIL5nd8yXPIDTtBcIt_B6J-v72OHpd_Q3mS_wpm0gn3pHBl8Ft0iyG9FbwLrZ13xbUUeuGfLDcaqn5GhpKwQ5ibpZuUazP_N1fim8hAnRNKDPW8wOOtxrIC_YeKkWq8c/s1600/6I1A0038.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1600" data-original-width="1067" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgMbW1CkFKLhGSnIL5nd8yXPIDTtBcIt_B6J-v72OHpd_Q3mS_wpm0gn3pHBl8Ft0iyG9FbwLrZ13xbUUeuGfLDcaqn5GhpKwQ5ibpZuUazP_N1fim8hAnRNKDPW8wOOtxrIC_YeKkWq8c/s400/6I1A0038.jpg" width="265" /></a></div>
<span style="font-family: inherit;">It's not everyday you hear a birth story that prominently features a motorbike. But then, it's not everyday you hear about a Mum giving birth again, again and again in one day. </span><br />
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<div style="background: white; margin-bottom: 20.55pt; margin-left: 0cm; margin-right: 0cm; margin-top: 0cm;">
<span style="font-family: inherit;">When 27 year old Annet went into labour, she had no
idea she would be giving birth to more than one baby that day. Her husband had
gone to the city and she began feeling some pain that evening. Her son Samuel
was born that night alone in her house. After Samuel was born, she had trouble
cutting the umbilical cord and so jumped on a boda (motorbike) with her sister
in law to rush to the nearest medical centre where a nurse told a very
surprised Annet that there was another baby on the way.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhfS1oIfSWvbfMe2qx4WEi2Qi3cGcPH6aTgbYc2zCqwRXYvnz7GcJa85QxXGMxOI3_5x2co3l2sw-owKA0BxuwZVlRchE1fa_eQq3tbZGRIyPMWBsUOIiKU1_1kHB5PdAwOo76_VV3VulU/s1600/Triplets.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1600" data-original-width="1063" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhfS1oIfSWvbfMe2qx4WEi2Qi3cGcPH6aTgbYc2zCqwRXYvnz7GcJa85QxXGMxOI3_5x2co3l2sw-owKA0BxuwZVlRchE1fa_eQq3tbZGRIyPMWBsUOIiKU1_1kHB5PdAwOo76_VV3VulU/s320/Triplets.jpg" width="211" /></a><span style="font-family: inherit;">The nurse was concerned about the delivery so Annet
got on another motorbike and travelled to a larger hospital for help. There,
she had the first scan of her entire pregnancy and was told by the doctor there
was not one, but two more babies coming! The Doctor could see that she was losing
strength and so called her husband to ask for permission to operate and do a </span>cesarean<span style="font-family: inherit;"> section. In Ugandan culture twins are a blessing but triplets are a curse and so he
said no. The doctor </span>realized<span style="font-family: inherit;"> this was a life and death situation and performed
the operation. Soon after, Grace and Patience entered the world, weighing just 1.8kgs
each.</span></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEixYHxRw6mmzDhB4AEW-lEHZsnTEdZs8Fncmh4gSX080C5de0co00etrnwgdKQ1nCeFrZroNC9tlB2qgCBqTXU90_gLE7-YakH9xvohcHDd5qdWBps4HKuqbjsIg-cNKmEy4Ya8W5cRE94/s1600/6I1A9858.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1067" data-original-width="1600" height="266" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEixYHxRw6mmzDhB4AEW-lEHZsnTEdZs8Fncmh4gSX080C5de0co00etrnwgdKQ1nCeFrZroNC9tlB2qgCBqTXU90_gLE7-YakH9xvohcHDd5qdWBps4HKuqbjsIg-cNKmEy4Ya8W5cRE94/s400/6I1A9858.jpg" width="400" /></a></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgLDGyMqTsysd8hdy3f4dWdo1cm5tEEsr3hj6bQTq7Ktc68Uqm4ALwA2W4dZAFaVNqV4rZOtYJmkQxeJ8G6CVZ-xI8m-kPnm6uD4tALsA9BDzN3q6kuqOdZuC0EeVMpWQ1UH2CvkCEMKuI/s1600/IMG_6710.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1067" data-original-width="1600" height="266" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgLDGyMqTsysd8hdy3f4dWdo1cm5tEEsr3hj6bQTq7Ktc68Uqm4ALwA2W4dZAFaVNqV4rZOtYJmkQxeJ8G6CVZ-xI8m-kPnm6uD4tALsA9BDzN3q6kuqOdZuC0EeVMpWQ1UH2CvkCEMKuI/s400/IMG_6710.jpg" width="400" /></a><span style="background-color: transparent; font-family: inherit;">With a mounting hospital bill, the
doctor who signed the paperwork didn’t know what to do so he ended up calling
TV, radio and newspaper journalists to come and take photos and put the news
out there about Annet’s situation. When the story went public a Compassion
staff member saw it and contacted the nearby project. Shortly after some
Compassion staff came to the hospital and helped Annet leave. At first they tried to reconcile Annet with
her husband and in-laws but that didn’t work. </span></div>
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<div style="font-family: inherit;">
<span style="background-color: transparent; font-family: inherit;">For the last four years
Compassion has been helping pay for Annet to rent a home with her children but
they are now outgrowing that space and desperately need another option. Their
home is small and hot and about 6 metres by 3 meters in size.</span><span style="background-color: transparent; font-family: inherit;"><br />Annet was given some land by her Father
but doesn’t have enough money to build a home for her and her children. Compassion
is hoping to change that.</span></div>
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<span style="line-height: 107%;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">This week the triplets turn four and Compassion has been running a campaign to give them the best birthday present ever – a forever home, debt free.
Today I saw that they had been successful in that endeavor and that $40,000 has come in to build not only these triplets, but friends like them safe shelters too. So amazing. Have a wonderful week everyone! <o:p></o:p></span></span><br />
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<span style="color: blue;"><a href="https://www.compassion.com.au/blog/help-these-miracle-triplets-have-the-best-birthday-ever" style="background-color: white;" target="_blank">Read more about the triplets and their Mum here </a></span></div>
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Tim and Helen Mansonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01827650755791436414noreply@blogger.com0