The day after the rally we jumped the bus again and went to the city center to meet with a friend of mine.

Canberra is not an exciting place by any stretch of the imagination. In fact, I cried the day I arrived all those years ago. I did. I sat on the floor of my hotel room and cried, wondering what the hell am I doing in this god forsaken place at the end of the world. Still, the center has had this nice feel to it since then, as it is basically enclosed by buildings and free of cars and full of little shops, cafes and whatnots. Small, but friendly and mellow like.

So we got off the bus at the interchange and that part looked a bit more put together. It didnt have the old feel of being the night toilet area for various drunk individuals. Then we entered Garema Place (the pedestrian area) and I thought something must have happened. Something wrong. The place was dead. Yes, it was Tuesday, but it was almost lunch time and people still had to eat. Where were all the people! Then I walked and I saw all the FOR LEASE signs on old favorites.

Something was not right. I walked further and a bit further, but the area was ghost town. Then at the end I entered the shopping mall kind of a place to try and figure out where the book store was that I was meeting my friend. And there was my answer. The Canberra Centre had grown, grown, grown into this huge monolithic, never ending town of its own.  It had expanded from its original size to about 5-7 times the size, sprawled down the length of the street into what used to be parking areas, both indoor and outdoor. Once you enter it, you dont have to show your nose outside at all. Just walk up and down through one of its fancy floors and buy to your heart’s desire.

This is just one street over from Garema Place. From the FOR LEASE signs that sit lonesomely on dusty windows reminiscing for the times that were, the times that have passed and will never come back.

The old Sammies Kitchen we used to order from, when I would pick Mr.Blab from work and do a run in pick up from, was now a fancy restaurant with hurried waitresses that didnt want to accommodate me and Caramel Popcorn.

It was not a place I knew or wanted to know.

That day my little man showed for sure that he is getting under the weather and started looking more tired and coughing a more violent cough. He refused to sleep at all in the bed, so he was strapped on me for the whole night, while I tried to do laundry and eat. It was a rough night.

The next morning I decided to drive to our old neighborhood and just visit. Waste a day and get out of the sick house. As the car that I was so generously given was running on gas, something I have never used before, I asked the station assistant to fill it up for me, which she did graciously. Then we were on our way. Half way on the highway I notice that the fuel gauge has gone down one third. And it kept on going…and going…half way…Panic raises in me, I admit. I imagine myself stuck on the highway with a sick little one and empty car with who knows what issue, trying to figure it all out. Still going down..what the hell is going on…and the car is not mine…shit…STOP IT!..still going down…there are whimpers form the back seat, followed by a cry. I look back to reassure him and there is my baby, with tears in his eyes, boogers flowing down his mouth, sad puppy dog eyes and a bloody nose. Pull to the side and run around pick him up and look for anything to wipe him down. Thankfully I had taken a bib for some reason in my bag. He relaxes a bit and the blood subsides. I am looking for a scratch or anything to give me a convenient explanation for the incident. No, such luck. Just one of those things. I think about my predicament. My friend had told me something about after 200km to switch the tanks to petrol. So I did that and the fuel gauge stayed the same. Looked around and decided that the stupid thing doesnt work, so they probably calculate how many km they can do on a certain amount of gas and then switch if needed. I knew I put gas in, so I pushed on, hoping my thinking was right.

It was another cold day. Life here had changed as well. It has been just over 3 years and life has moved on so much. We walked around and grabbed a lunch and sat down. This was my area. It was a place I had spent a lot of time. It was where Mr.Blab and I met and smooched around the corner many a times. And yet, its like it never was. Stories are lost in this progressive world of development and change. The human aspect of the history of the place is non existent. There are no roots to speak of. Its because stories are carried by people. My story is carried by the people I know, those that have shared theirs with me and vice versa. The area is overrun by multinational outlets that are not concerned with me, or you, or that lovely person over there. The people that work in them change more often than any other business. Maria serves coffee today, Tom is on duty tomorrow and so on. No long term connection can be made. No story to be kept, to be saved and retold later.

I was watching this world around me and it all looked so cold, so empty, so…sad. So fake and wrong.

I was going to stop at the market to visit a shop that was run by a lovely family back than and see if I can reclaim some of my past, but my poor little bug fell asleep as we got in the car, so I just drove by. The shop was there, so maybe next time. If there is one.

The evening and night were hard. Popcorn was lumpy and clingy and my heart was breaking for him. There truly is nothing like having a sick child. The quiet whimpering, the content look of the little moist eyes, even though he has every right to be panicking and asking me for answers as to whats going on. So again, I ate my dinner on the floor of the kitchen, so he can be next to me while I scoffed the food and the carpet in the living room was a lovely light color that would not have appreciated my tomato sauce, I am sure. Sleep at night was not happening and we spent it up and down and down and up.

The day we were leaving was sunny. Not just sunny, but without a cloud, not even one, in the sky. Was that celebratory acknowledgment for our departure? It sure felt like it in my sleep deprived, exhausted brain. The rest is history – flight one with sick child and numerous boogers wiped on my black top, scarf used for the rest as my tissues were too out of reach, bought a coffee at Melbourne and a beautiful looking croissant, which turned out to be over microwaved and I choked on the powdered sugar, while Popcorn spilled my coffee on the airport floor. Then a flight to here, which took forever and I had to spend most of it on my feet, as the little one was not happy on the seat and the amount of boogers on my top had started to make some interesting patterns glistening under the dim lighting, coughing was horrendous and he was not eating much, not even breastfeeds, which just raised my worry level even higher. As a cherry on the top, the weather back home was yuck, so we had some good measure of turbulence and this really doesnt make me happy, as I am not the best of plane travelers. But dropping through hole after hole in the sky, sharp turns that whiz through dark gray clouds while holding an exhausted sad looking almost one year old is as fun as I can take before asking for a freakin break. I could have cried crocodile tears at this point, I was feeling so sorry for myself.

And then we landed and I saw the top of Mr.Blab’s head through the crowd and then the girls with huge grins on their faces and the happy moist eyes of Miss Fab and life was good again in an instant, no longer than that. And the rain didnt matter and the angry clouds could not cast a shadow on me. I was home, where I belonged. And it felt so good.

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Canberra Political Rally, Thoughts Post tags:

“Dear Prime Minister Rudd,
Last year my first grandson was born in Australia with the help of a midwife.  It was a sweet and poignant moment and all the more precious because it was a  private, safe affair at home. All families deserve the right to make the  choice for home birth. Why are you not all out in support for this freedom?  Make sure midwives are included in the insurance risk pool. No excuses  whatever!
Sincerely,
Mr.Blab’s Mom
Grandmother of an Australian baby boy happily born at home.”

.

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So, here are a few videos, which give a different view of the event, dimension that no picture can show.

The speech from Senator Rachel Siewert, who has been a great support for the cause and seems to get the issue, not just regurgitate the information to rile the masses. You should read the transcript form the Senate inquiry on the proposed laws. Too bad it didnt actually get us anywhere and it still recommended for them to be passed.

Singing at the end. Not my type of tune, but song does mesh people together, somehow.

Post rally chanting:

I havent been able to find much, but around Australia in the Capital cities were run some ‘sister’ rallies by women who could not make it to Canberra. Here is the Adelaide gathering, its in a few parts so if you want the rest, go to You Tube and enjoy:

We made the front page of the Canberra newspaper! I asked my friend to buy it for me yesterday, as I was bound in house with a crook little one. And, late last night (cause its already morning and I didnt finish the post yesterday, as someone was needing my attention) I watched the House of Representatives and they were talking about us, the women in the rally. “They came and stood in the rain..”, “Tiny minority, you thought, they wont make much of a problem for us? They proved that no matter how small, people have power” Or something of the sort. I will have to see if I can find the transcript.

I better post this before it takes 3 days to finish it.

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Canberra Political Rally, Random Blabs Post tags:

A cold, rainy, miserable day wakes us up. Caramel Popcorn is not quite ready to be up, but I scoop him up and we cuddle for a bit while I make the coffee and do a quick mental plan of what needs to happen so we are out in time to catch the bus. We have 3 buses to juggle, so free spirited movement is not going to cut it.

We make our way to the City Center, where one can see a suspicious amount of women with little children wondering around. Its not a nice day for a walk in the morning. I look around for some place to buy a bigger umbrella, as the one I have can just about cover the back of my hair and my by now sleeping child strapped to my back. No luck. My bus arrives and I jump in and sit close to the driver, for easy access to the doors.

And then they came. The women with babies and signs and t-shirts. I was watching the driver as his eyes kept on popping in bewilderment at all these people with kids. It was awhile before he could get the bus going – I believe he said we were 8 min late. He exclaimed “What a way to start the week!” as he wrangled the big wheel.

He was going to drop us right at Old Parliament House, but since there were so many of us, he didnt risk it. We were off and headed to the gathering at the Aboriginal Tent Embassy. The rain was wispy and I could feel the chill in my arms, for some reason.

The official rally starts in about 45 minutes, but a Welcome to Country ceremony is happening here with the aboriginal people. This involves them welcoming us on their land and blessing the event we are holding on it. I wouldnt have missed, as for we are fighting for rights, respecting others should be an integral part of our ideology.

Then as a gesture of good will (I missed the exact words, but it was about our striving for equality for all and things of that spirit. Dont judge, I was drunk with excitement at all these wet fired up people around me)
we threw a branch of eucalyptus in the Sacred Fire.

The smell was so spiritual like, drifting with the smoke around us.

Then we left, what was one of my favorite parts of the day.

We set off to the main event.

I dont know who this woman was, but she gave us our chant.
Lets see…

I cant remember it now…
Something something… My Body, My Choice.

Obviously I am a terrible chanter. Never mind.

Then we got a glimpse of Parliament house and I saw there was already a group of people there. A rather big one, from what I could see.

There was another protest happening to the left, not sure what, so dont ask. Our troops were to the right and spilling nicely along the lawn, which was way too long and I knew the wet socks were a sure thing.

I am pretty sure I heard a war cry from that other end when they saw us coming. I wonder if they thought its only them that braved the distance and the rain.

No, no, sisters and families, we are all here. The whole few thousand of us. It felt so good.

I grabbed a coffee, as I was cold and still a bit in a dreamy like state and tried to find a place where I could hear what was happening. It took them awhile to fix the sound, so I, well we, missed the beginning part. Then came the politicians to score their points. Call me cynical, but I highly doubt it they would be down with us, if it were their party in power. Still, it was nice to feel as though we have people in there, defending our rights, no matter what their reasons are.

The rain stopped and started intermittently, but it was nice to have a break here and there. But dont judge the photos too much, keep in mind that I was holding an umbrella, a coffee, a bag and a one year old on my bag while trying to take pictures with my pinky and balancing on one foot on top of a half eaten apple.

Lots of happy little children were all around. They sure did brighten up the mood. Women with children are a powerful sight and a mighty force to be messing with. If only we were men with money, then no one can stop us…

I am serious.
You may think that if you bring thousands of people from around the country to the parliament that is supposed to represent them, that it would make a difference. That it will make a wave that will splash on the shores of democracy. You would think that.

(I took Caramel Popcorn inside to change him and give him a bit of a stretch, as he had been strapped on me for about 3.4 hours now.)

But, once you passed our rally line and went inside our Parliament House, the one that was designed to be walked on by its people. Not even inside, as you came near it, the voices of the people were distant, so distant you can barely hear, and only if you want to. Only if you really try.

Look to the right of the street:

Peace and order. Pinnacle of Democracy.

Look to the other side of the street:

Unrest. People demanding they are heard. In the rain. With children.

Whats wrong with this picture.

But there were no “grumpy feminists”, cranky women, menopausal old hags. As a matter of fact I didnt see any hysteria around the place. Maybe a few hippies here and there, but who can be judgmental of them, come on.

The vibe was warm and supportive with a good measure of wet.

There were a lot of lovely signs and slogans. Here are my favorites:

The hippie bus filled with rainbow coloured pillows of love, I am guessing.

“Midwives Bill – Failure to Progress”
Muahahaha!
In reference to the most common bollocks reason given to mess with a pregnant woman’s birthing body.

And this one:

Which sums it up rather nicely. But my favorite part is that the sign is held up by a man.

And then it was over.

I have to give special mention to this man:

And that one:

And that one:

Take two:

Because he took it all in like a seasoned political activist. I had planned to let him crawl around the grass, but that was not a good idea on the day, so he spent the vast majority of time glued to me.

Respect!

Now, dont go thinking that seeing as this was such a massive effort someone gave a crap. We made a few ripples, enough to say we are around, but I am afraid democracy doesnt quite work like advertised. Keeping the bastards honest is hard enough, making them listen is about as hard and impossible, unless you are a dude with lots of money, but we have established that earlier.

Commercial news didnt think we were worth a mention, not when there are things like obscure radio hosts retiring from morning shows or a bride giggling too much on her wedding day. One wouldnt want to bother the community with such trivial things as women’s rights to their bodies.

Still, it was so worth it. If not for anything else, but seeing all these babies in slings was just good for the soul. I dont think I have seen that many baby carriers, ever.
Suddenly I was not a fringe extremist that likes her kids to be close to the dismay of the wider community, but one of the many women that came to this place, on a rainy crappy day to make her voice heard.

Whether anyone did is another question.

Signed,
Wet Feet Proud Heart

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Canberra Political Rally Post tags: canberra homebirth rally, homebirth

I hope they have mowed the grass there, cause there will be nothing worst than sitting there with wet feet.

.

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Good morning, Canberra.

Since we are running a few hours behind, we actually got up close to 11am, like the leisurely people we are. Then got ready for some time wasting and just exploring.
Well, I got ready. The little one performed some kind of magic and got dressed while he was playing with my mouse. I want that magic.

Then we were off to check out the life in the nation’s capital. Since this is not my end of town, I needed some mappege (map usage) to figure out where is the Woden Plaza, a good enough mall area to explore.

When we got there we caught the tail end of a market. So we had to have a quick look and poke our noses at a few things.

This place is in spring fever. There are trees blossoming all over the place. If one closes their eyes and then opens them, just…just enough to see the blooms, one could imagine one is in Japan amongst all those cherry blossoms. Maybe I should send Mr.Blab here with a face mask next time he complains that he doesn’t go anywhere. It sure is cheaper than going all the way to Japan.

Inside, the place is just your usual mall.

This got my attention though. Healthy life and there are only plastic containers to be seen.

That doesnt look very healthy to me. More like a pharmacy.

But I love those little Italian gourmet outlets. They always get me hungry

So we got some stuff.

Yes, on the left we have sashimi, aka raw fish chunks. Mmmm.. you must say that. No kidding. If you dont say Mmmm every time you see sashimi, a sumo dude pops out of the ground jumps around in his cloth jammed bum dance and then tackles you to the ground and sits on your forehead until you say it. So really, no point in playing with your luck, just say it and you will be safe. I mixed the little container of wasabi with some soy sauce and then dunked the babies in it and ate them. Mmmmm

The specimen on the right is a selection of three salads. Caramel popcorn enjoyed a few cucumbers, chick peas and some pumpkin. The rest went into my belleeeey.

We browsed around. I got a top and the little one scored a comfy suit. I also grabbed some paint for my sign making plans.

Then we went back to base.

While the man stretched his legs and played with his new suit and snacked on some cracker..

I unloaded the supplies.

Here, if you are curious, like me, and want to know what was in the bag.

Yes, wine. Yes, coffee, cause otherwise my head explodes and I need it for tomorrow. The greens on the right is rocket. The herbs – parsley.

Later on this turned magically into a salad with accompaniment.

But before that we went on a walk.

See! Blooming goodness.

Tralala…la…la

Yeah, well, that was it. Not a whole lot of excitement, but we did wake up halfway through the day.

And now that it is almost midnight, I am starting to think that my rally sign was just not meant to be. Popcorn didnt fall asleep until just recently and I had to strap him on my back.

Which is pretty much where he spent the rest of the day.

Signed off,

Me and Him

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After the very hot flight the chill felt so nice, but by now the trill has worn off and I want warmth. And lots of it.

The flight was ok. The whole day was a bit of a running around crazed one, so the Caramel Popcorn was a bit overtired when we set off, but he fell asleep nice and easy for a bit. Until the carts woke him up. Sleep was not coming to him and I gave up at one point. He did well though, just sitting on me for a few hours.

He learned by heart the safety procedures and all the escape routes.

And then Canberra. Good ole Canberra. It looks better on the pictures than it actually does. Its a small airport that is quite unexciting. More like a big bus interchange. It has been remodeled now for at least 4 years straight and there were still construction sites around. I dont know what they are waiting on. Hey, there was a new bridge!

At least they have stopped harassing people for picking up other people from the front of the terminals. When they made the changes years ago, you were not allowed to stop and do that, so you had to go park, pay your dues of course, and walk to the terminal. I refused though and was chased a few times by airport employees when I used to pick Mr.Blab from the airport. I would circle until I saw him and then we would do sort of a slow down, run up pick up, of a sort. Maybe that is why Mr.Blab has wonky scarred knees..

Anyway, they must have released the stronghold, as now people could do the pick up dance without being harassed.

And from this morning:

The fruit of my labor last night. A hat for my political activist boy.

Now I need to sort out some kind of a sign that I dont have to carry, hold…is there such a thing.

Off to fun under the covers and snuggle with my boy. Its freezing over here.

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