Sunni Dawson

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Benny

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I get so much inspiration from the people that live and work on this idyllic Isle. I feel fortunate to have gotten to know and spend time with some of them. This will be the first in a few blog posts about some of my favourite people here. This is a little of Benny’s story.

 

Benny is Burmese. He has joined many others escaping his country to work in Thailand. The money he earns here, he sends back home to his parents. His parents live in a crumbling shack, barely making enough to survive, let alone fix the walls in their wafer thin abode.
 
Benny, who is ‘about 20 years old’ (he doesn’t know when he was born) saved money over the past 3 years to help fix his parents’ home, but his sister got married and the money went for his sister’s wedding instead. A Burmese saying about bringing up girls, goes like this:
 
’One girl is harder to look after than a thousand cows.’
 
‘But not to worry, I save again now, in two more years I can make their home a bit better’.
 
Benny works exceptionally hard. He works six days a week, from 8am to about 8pm. He is almost always the sole server / waiter / coffee maker in the cafe. And it gets busy. Very busy. He rarely stops to break or eat (no-one is there to take over for him so he can eat). 
 
I asked him if he ever gets a holiday.
 
‘I get a holiday every Thursday. Some people here don’t even get that.’ That’s true, a lot of workers here work every single day.
 
In the quiet season, he leans up against one of the chairs, pouring over book after book. He eagerly devours English, Thai and reads literature. Studying is his favourite past time. 
 
Poetry is his second. He scribes in broken english, words and sentiments that light up many faces. Seeing the genuine gratitude and joy emanating from the customers’ faces when he gives them a penned poem is one of my favourite things to watch. This is a poem he wrote me when I first came back to the Island:
 

Believe everyone

Im adore freedom
 
For that
We need a lot of love
 
Please forget bygone
Lets do a lot of love then future
everyone will be love
 
I wish you luck
Life is a flower
We getting only 3 times
Thy don’t lose their
Bye dear
 
 
When he is not serving, ringing up the bills, making coffee art, 

 
he gives love to all the cafe customers. 
 

Sometimes he makes paper flowers, other times he writes poetry for his guests. Most of the time he just sits and listens and shares with people. He calls all men ‘brover’, and smiles shyly to all the pretty women that enter. He learns some words in other languages, so when he finds out where you’re from, he’ll whip out a few lines. I love hearing him speak german.

 
‘Wie gehts?… Ist das lecker?’

 
Its hard not to fall in love with Benny. 
 
 
When I screamed like a two year old boy seeing a brown snake in front of the entry way to the toilet, Benny kindly reminded me ‘You said you liked all animals, including snakes.’
 
Yes, yes I do Benny, just not the ones that could cause severe hurt around me.
 
The following is some delightful snippets and words of wisdom Benny often imparts my way.
Benny on me not eating cake for 2 weeks and other food related matters:
 
‘You look the same. That is okay. If you change your body that is okay, if you don’t, that is ok. What is important is the mind. Becoming more beautiful in the mind. 
 
The mind is what’s important. People may not see the change, but it changes everything. And you can create what you what.’
 
On me offering him some lunch: ‘When I see you full, I am full. Because we are brother and sister.’
 
When I explain some of my eating requirements: ‘What can you eat? Can you eat love?’
 
‘Yes, I can, yes I can!’
 
Benny on age and me: 
 
‘You’re 20 years old right?’
 
Laughing, ‘Yes, something like that!’  I love you Benny.
 
And today he told me: ‘If you stop smiling, the whole world would become dark!’
 
Benny on sport:
 
‘I not like thai boxing. I like reading, loving… smiling and emphatically moving his hands around the air… enjoying.’
 
Same here Benny. Same here.

Benny on money

‘Why do you need money when you don’t know when you are going to die?’

Benny on boys and girls:
 
‘I hope my friend has a baby girl. Girls are nice. Boys, they are noisy and messy and parents don’t get a break.’
Benny on love:
 
‘In my country, people worry if the other person has enough money to make a good life. I not worrying if someone has money. I want someone who loves me. If someone loves me, we can do anything together. Love is more important than money.’
 
‘What about you?’
 
‘Me? Yes, love is important. I also want someone with a good, kind heart and also a good mind. Both are important to me.’
 
‘Oh, that hard to get, both a good heart and a good mind. But if you have good Karma, you will get someone with a good heart and mind.’
 
A bit later… ‘I not looking for love right now. But later I want to meet the sun. We can live together in the sky and have stars.’
 
 
The world is so much better for having Benny in it.


 

The power and danger of a single story

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I recently watched a powerful Tedtalk by Chimamanda Ngozi Adichie entitled ‘The danger of a single story‘. Its inspired me to write this post. 

The concept that Adichie so beautifully and eloquently presents is that we as humans like to understand other humans by creating ‘single stories’ about them.

For example, when I was in primary school, my single story about Aboriginal and Torres Strait Islander peoples in Australia was that they were poor, not very smart and needed to be looked after. I had not had any real contact with Aboriginal and Torres Strait Islander peoples, did not learn much about their culture and believed what I was taught, which is that they are one homogeneous group that needs to be looked after.

 
I learnt much later that Aboriginal and Torres Strait Islander peoples are as diverse and multifaceted as white people, that they come from over 250 nations and language groups, that they have as many strengths and weaknesses as everyone else and certainly don’t need the archaic notions of ‘these people need our protection or our laws to survive’. Much more than just a single story I created in my childhood.
 
Recently I discovered I had a single story of Pakistan. I had no idea that there was a substantial christian population of 2.8 million (this only represents 1.6% of the population, but is nevertheless a large number of people). 
 

We create so many single stories about people, places and culture. Sometimes people create these single stories without having direct experience of a place or culture.

 
For example, I knew the Taj Mahal in India was acclaimed to be one of the most beautiful buildings in the world, that everyone should attempt to see at least once. I didn’t know that its not just a stunning building, but its a mausoleum, built out of grief for the Mughal emperor’s wife who died at childbirth. I did not know it was also an exquisite story of love and loss. It was not until I went there that I understood this, and the many other stories of this masterpiece. 
 
I began to wonder how many of these single stories I have created about people, places and culture that I need to reconsider.
 
In one workplace, I developed a single story about a woman I worked with, it was that she was a spoilt princess, brought up in Sydney with a silver spoon in her mouth. I didn’t see her as a young mother struggling to be accepted in a community that she was not from and that did not accept her.
 
We are all guilty of creating single stories about other people or groups. What single stories have we developed in our communities or countries? Have we developed as a nation a single story of foreigners? Of refugees? Of our employers? Of our government? 
 
What single stories do our politicians focus on?
 
What single stories does the media put out?

As a lawyer, I quickly understood that there is never just one story, or two. There are usually 6 different stories to each case. Especially in family law.
 
Yet my clients would focus on single stories. Their single stories of their ex-partner, of their children, of their time together. I used to wonder how these people ever got together or lived together for so long. 
 
But there was always so much more. Of love, and experiences that could never be encapsulated into a two page Affidavit.

Extending the concept further

I think that this concept of creating single stories of people, places, religions and culture can be extended further. To ourselves. What are the single stories I have created about my own life?
 
For example, the single story I developed about myself in my 20s was that I was a lawyer. It was the defining story of my life at the time. It was what I introduce myself as, it would define how I work, how I thought. I would have my lawyer filter goggles on in most interactions I had inside and outside of work. It is also how others viewed me.
 
A regular refrain from my friends at the time, ‘Such lawyer speak!’, and ‘Ok pick the lawyer in the room!’
 
I was a lawyer. Not a passionate cook, hobby photographer, friend, family member, yoga lover. I had so many other stories about me and my life that I pushed aside. 
 
We clutch onto single stories. I listen to people everyday that repeat the same stories about their lives.
 
‘I was never good at school. That’s why I can’t learn go back and study now.’
 
This single story affects many areas of a persons’ life including relationships, financial gain, satisfying work. This story is repeated, continuously. And then often adopted by those closest.
 
Defining oneself by a single story like this prevents other stories that could be more helpful becoming more prominent in a persons’ life. For example, there would have been something that a person ‘never good at school’ enjoyed or subjects that s/he were better at than others.
 
Introducing stories that are more than one dimensional offers a richer tale. It also shows a person that everything does not have to be defined by a single story.
 
For example, the person may have been better at history than maths. If they are better at something, then the story of ‘I was never good at school’ does not need to be the sole defining characteristic of a person, (or that particular story), thereby opening up possibilities for the future.
 
If I continued to solely focus on the story in my 20s that I was a lawyer, I would have prevented myself from having wonderfully diverse work opportunities and growth. I would have also prevented myself from taking life risks that I now feel very comfortable in taking.
 
I would have stayed in my single story. And boy am I happy I didn’t!
 
What are your single stories about you? About your loved ones?
 
Everyone’s lives are made up of so much more than just one story. What new stories would you like to discover or create about you or your loved ones?

 

 

Travellers I love…

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This blog is dedicated to the types of travellers I adore. They inspire warm fuzzy puffs of love to grow inside me. 

The tall European first timers


I met two mid 30s guys from North East Europe a couple of months ago. They were on their first trip to Thailand and to Asia generally. They had already been in Thailand for about 2 weeks when I met them. They were brimming with stories and excitement. 

‘One of the best moments in my trip so far was doing a 3 day walking trek in Northern Thailand. I took my sleeping bag outside the tent one night and slept under the stars. It was really beautiful and peaceful.

Another big highlight of the trek was talking with our local guide. Our guide on the 3 day trek earned only about 10 Euro per day for taking us on the hike. This was so shocking to us. 10 Euro. And with this he needs to feed himself, his immediate family and contribute to his extended family and community. He also has to take a 2 1/2 hour bus trip to get to where the trek starts each time he does the trek. Sometimes he stays overnight in the shop to sleep.’ 

Getting more excited, ‘I mean in the back of the shop to sleep! Without a mattress! And away from his family! And paid such little wages!’

Normally heavy chairs are strapped to elephants 

 ‘On the last day of the trek there was an elephant ride, which we were unsure about, but because it was all part of the 3 day trek, we went along with it. So we climbed up the ladder and sat on the chairs tied to the elephant. This made me uncomfortable to start with. We started up a path and the elephants had to parade one after the other, what is worse, is that the elephant trainers (is that what you call them?) were poking the elephants so harshly and yelling. It really was horrible to watch.


So I made an excuse and said I was feeling scared, and that I wanted to get off. Which is not true at all. I just could not be apart of how the elephants were being treated.’

The faces of these men were full of remorse in telling me this story. I felt so moved listening to them. In front of me were two fairly typical (and I mean this in a loving way) white European straight guys who eat meat, and yet were moved to do something to not be apart of the slavery and cruel practices of elephant tourism.

As I spent more time with these guys over the following days, they continued to pry me and locals with questions in order to truly experience the world in which they were visiting. They were curious about Buddhism, education, income levels and learning a bit of the Thai language.

I marvelled at their openness, curiosity and joy at learning this new world. The excitement of seeing and experiencing a country so different to their own. Not to get drunk continuously and forget their lives back home, but to experience life and travel from the delight of discovery. 


The middle aged semi-retired couple


A middle aged couple I met recently stayed in Hanoi for 10 days.

Hoan Kiem Lake, Hanoi

The first afternoon they were there, they went to Hanoi’s Hoan Kiem Lake which attracts locals and tourists alike. Locals fixing bikes sleeping, gathering and talking in quiet tones, despite the whirr of the motorcycles, cars, food trucks all racing their way past the outskirts of the lake. They decided to sit on one of the park benches to observe life around the lake.


Some children approached them.

‘Excuse me, do you mind if we ask you a few questions for our school work?’

‘No worries.’

The school children asked them a series of questions, where they were from, how long they were in Vietnam and their impressions of Vietnam. After they finished the questions, they would tell the couple about their families and life in Hanoi. 

Hoan Kiem Lake, Hanoi

The children asked if the couple would be back the next day. Word got around. The couple sat every afternoon in the same spot, patiently answering the same questions for 10 days with the young English scholars.



In their hotel, the couple asked the staff where the locals eat. They were told about the food stalls on the sides of roads. They dined at these stalls that only serve one dish, perched in amongst short locals, standing out like lighthouse sirens on a dark night. The couple glowed as they showed me photos of themselves with the hotel staff and told me stories about these locals’ lives. They continue to have contact with these new friends, through facebook.

Special herbal Vietnamese tea!



These are two very fine examples of rockin’ travellers. Travellers who seek to understand, not to judge. Travellers that open themselves up to experiences. Travellers that try local food. Travellers aware of the impact of their actions. Travellers that talk to locals and share cultures and commonalities. Travellers that don’t leave experiences behind, but take them with them. Travellers that give back.

Hoan Kiem Lake, Hanoi

Zero.

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Starting from zero. 


I had a conversation recently with a mid thirties man who had moved countries and was thinking of moving countries again. He expressed to me his sadness and concern about having to ‘start from zero’ again when he does this.


Zero meaning finding and fitting into new communities, finding employment, a home and then working towards owning something at a much later stage than he would like.

It’s an interesting concept zero. It implies nothingness. Having nothing from which to attempt to start something.

I’ve started from zero a few times this past year. Well, to be correct, it’s been more than a few times. I’ve moved cities, homes, jobs, countries, types of work, diets and friend circles. 

I could not have predicted all the changes that I would experience in 2014. Some were intensely challenging, some intensely draining, some intensely fun, some intensely motivating, inspiring and some intensely connecting.

I have learnt more about myself, my friends and family. I have learnt more about about my abilities to adapt to continual change (even continual dramatic change). I’ve had so much fun progressing my work skills in new and interesting ways. I’ve expanded ideas.

I’ve gambled and taken risks. A lot of them.

One of the biggest was packing up a life in a fabulous new city to live in a remote island in the Gulf of Thailand to write. I have no idea of the outcomes of this adventure. I haven’t had anything published before. I haven’t taken any writing courses. 

Yet a huge cheeky smile creeps onto my face when I think of what I’m doing here. I’m expanding my skills, having super amounts of fun and challenging myself in so many other ways.


When I really think about it, I am not, and have never started from zero at all. I have me and all my life experiences, education and laughter. 

Life experiences = at least 10 points. 
Education = at least 5 points. 
Laughter, well at least 2. 

And let us not forget the points for friends and family even if they are far away.

I am lucky. I have an education that many others around the world don’t have. I am fortunate to have been born in a lucky country. A very lucky country with mostly free health care, accessible education, fresh air, good housing options, generous amounts of food and nutrition. I have had some great work opportunities that have increased my confidence and skills. 

I understand that many around the world don’t have these same opportunities and may in fact feel like they are starting at minus 5 or minus 10 or 30. 

But most people have themselves and could give themselves a few points or more for a couple of things (whether it be family, friends, great cooking skills, business sense, capacity to learn or laugh). I understand why people may not give themselves any points.

I may have given myself minus zero points earlier on in my life. That is another story.


Why I love zero


But let me tell you why I love zero.



Starting from zero helps a person question their own expectations, societal and family expectations, privilege and allows so much potential for other life options and ideas to arise. For example, who told me that I should be doing a certain thing at a particular time in my life? Is it useful for me to follow the elusive, ever changing views of a particular person, group or society? 

And others, such as what skills do I currently have that I could use to go and do what I want to do? What old ideas, concepts or things can I now put behind me, so I can move forward more easily?


Zero is freeing. Completely freeing.

And zero is a circle. A big open circle that can be expanded, stretched and filled. 


I want to fill in my zeros this year with many more learnings, love, joy, friendship, tasty delights, planet shifting ideas and loads and loads of belly induced laughter.



Because there is nothing to fear in zero. Zero is just a place to start anew (but with the knowledge and learning you already have). 


What do you want to fill your zeros with this coming year?

Me, You, Creative ???

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A few people have wished me well with creativity on this venture of writing a book.

I always have always seen artists as different from me. A unique group of beings that are on par with the great avatars of history, able to create works that transport people to places yet unseen and lives yet unlived.

This elite group of beings have been gifted these magical powers to create pieces of work that are mesmerising, reflecting themselves and the world around them. Expressing life in unique forms.



I always thought creativity belonged to these celestial beings and I had no right to be apart of it. 





I have long been an avid supporter of art. All forms of art. Going to new cities and places, the first things I look for are the best street art haunts, walks to understand the architecture, galleries and museums. My admiration and thirst has never been satiated.

I never considered myself one of them. 



Even when I took up a strong interest in photography, and spending time, maybe a little too much time, annoying my friends and family with more and more requests for pictures. Usually of the same thing or person from different angles. As you can imagine, it can get pretty tedious for the subjects, ‘surely one shot is enough?’ and ‘that’s enough now Sunni’ was a regular refrain.





Me playing with dots!

Even when I designed strategic plans with tapestries of colours and designs for ease of comprehension and reference, plastered my office walls with colourful posters, mind maps and quotes, I did not see this as being creative. Or my home, with collections of art from around the world, I still considered myself an appreciator, not a creator.


Not an artist.

Even with the great care and reckless abandon I approached to cooking feasts for my friends and family. I rarely use a recipe and I like to be inspired by cuisines from around the globe, adding a diverse range of flavours to devise unique creations of love and happiness.

I still didn’t consider myself a ‘Creative’.

And this journey here, I considered myself to be writing a book. Not being creative. I’m just writing a book. I am not an artist. I am not one of those amazing beings.

But then a thought emerged this week: I am creating. I am. I am.

I have joined them. I have joined the realm of the artists! (squeals).


At last I’m one of them!



Then a new thought came: everyone can be in the realm of the artists. Everyone is everyday. Everyday people are creating something: a perfect cup of coffee, a memo to their boss, a home, a smile to a stranger, a great conversation, an argument, a more or less powerful body.

We are all creating all the time. Some creations are deemed more or less valuable, depending on the person’s point of view. 


Some people may deem that they are not creative. And not recognise they are creating anything. But everyday we are creating something: our lives. This may be a cliched statement, but every action we take we are creating something which becomes what we live.



I like the idea that we are creating things all the time. I also like the thought that they are artistic creations. That means I can be an artist everyday, in most actions I take. I can ask myself what wonderful artistic conversations shall I have today? What artful food shall enter my body? What artful writing shall I make? 


Maybe to be human is to be an artist. 


Or dancer. 🙂