2019
Dear You and I - Day 7
A Glorious Synchronisation
November 7
The TBL participants finally arrived at Willy Wonka’s Chocolate factory….Surfer’s Paradise. We were all chirping and excited that we were going to be sleeping in actual beds, after nearly a week without, and take long steamy showers.
This trip’s volunteering components had reached a culmination point, and we were all splitting off into allocated groups to get to know each other better and self-reflect on the trip, thus far. Our competitive attitudes peaked during the Amazing Race, but the flash mob was clearly the highlight of today.
Flash mobs are interesting exercises… often viewed as bizarre… they are usually challenging for both turtle-like introverts and lavish extrovert personalities. Dancing in the rhythmic unison in the centre of a hustling and bustling public location is sure to be nerve-wracking for first time performers like myself. However, surrounding me, were 79 university students who embodied a spectrum of first-timers to professional dancers. Having practised our routines at late nights over the last few days, we finally gathered at the heart of Surfers Paradise before that all too familiar song begun playing…
The overly catchy tune of ‘Just Got Paid’ still rings in the innermost depths of my mind, till this day. Oddly enough, the choreography is also quite memorable. It has become the indisputable song of nostalgia for the eighty of us. Tourists and the general public congregated at the sight of our first moves. Phones were out…smiles were wide and the energy was well and truly wild.
Step after step, we were frankly enjoying ourselves. Yes… there were minor imperfections and the occasional moments where some steps are forgotten in the momentum, but being part of this glorious synchronisation was nevertheless a beautiful mood booster. In a nutshell, we were all having fun and the public were beginning to join in. Collectively celebrating our efforts through the powerful mode of dance was a thrilling escape from the stresses that cloud and clog up life. It was a performative release of anxieties. Outbursts of ecstasy…
The glorious synchronisation was present in our attitudes and creativity when it came to the random acts of kindness activity. Within a modest budget of twenty dollars per group, we were challenged to meaningfully ‘pay it forward’ to the members of the public. Led by Gena Cao, our group struck a spontaneous deal with a local ice cream shop, to take off a dollar for the purchases of the next twenty customers. We’ve seen such kind of Youtube videos in the past but you’ll enjoy a ‘feel good’ reward at the end of such an activity.
Everything was glorious. The beach…people…attitudes…energy…crew leaders…
Today was quite the bonding experience between TBL participants. Memories will be cherished and friendships were consolidated.
by Vishal Venkatesh
‘Dear You and I’ Day 6
Good Green & Bad Green
October 4
Blackbutt.
It’s a town renowned for its avocados and fresh produce. The town’s Avocado festival is one of a kind, attracting thousands of spectators each year. Unfortunately, a different kind of green has made its mark on this growingly astray community with a surprisingly high homeless populous. The drug epidemic which is ruthlessly ripping through this part of Queensland does not cease to take lives and governmental solutions are having little to no impact. 15% of Blackbutt’s population find themselves trapped in ice addictions and a much larger percentage are hooked onto marijuana.
The secretary of the local RSL, John openly disclosed that marijuana can be quite openly found in the town of Blackbutt. It grows naturally in many of the empty and unoccupied farmlands, so the extensive accessibility is proving to be a grassroots issue. In terms of policing and regulation, this part of Queensland has clearly gone under the radar.
As the TBL participants were arduously cutting tree branches and clearing gardens, John mentioned that the RSL is giving away free Sunday roasts, in a hope to sustain the wellbeing of those using drugs through instilling a ‘community’ mindset.
The volunteering energy was at a sky-high level throughout the day. At this point in time, we were all used to the long hours and unideal weather conditions. Amid our brief conversations and amicable banter with the passing locals, I met a character whose story is one that goes beyond hardship and sufferance. It was quite striking, reminding me that the struggles we generally face are… incomparable to the magnitude of a pain he has experienced.
He is another RSL committee member, who goes by the name of Tom. Knowing that I am a journalism student, he embarked a tone of conversation to which I did not really know whether to take offence or not. Some of his comments were to the effect of media jobs being pointless. I did not argue or interrupt, because he had this certain sense of conviction in his tone and I really wanted to know where he was going. Two of his three children (who were both engineers) happened to have lost their jobs for various reasons, but the local media had fabricated information about them. A lot of this content was of a defamatory nature. Having an unwanted blackmark in their history, they overdosed resulting in deaths.
It has been a few years since his tremendous loss, and to pass his present days, he volunteers with the RSL and spends most of his time with his grandson. At the sight of TBL participants volunteering, his tone had watered down into one of gratefulness. Tom compassionately encouraged each and every one of us to head out to rural towns like Blackbutt when we find the time, to uplift the community spirits through not only physical aid, but also goodwill. He claims that the fact that someone external to the town ‘cares’ is enough to keep Tom pushing through each day in a vein of hope that the idea of ‘paying it forward’ is alive and active.
‘Paying it forward’.
It’s as simple as being a helping hand, but it means so much to such affected individuals and communities who will treasure and embrace your efforts, long after you leave.
by Vishal Venkatesh
‘Dear You And I’ Day 5
Dehydrated Souls
September 25
Karara.
This is easily the driest town that we visited on this road trip. Since we’ve been practising for a flash mob, played some soccer and were struggling to cope with the heat, the energy levels of the participants started off low in the morning. Fresh cups of cordial and the hospitality of Karara Public School’s staff cheered us up.
The local nine news team arrived and began covering our initiative to create a new garden for the school, but there was a quiet local who observing our efforts. I decided to approach her and spark a conversation. Sandy Frith was a parent of one of the few students at the school and a farmer who had just lost a considerable amount of cattle to the drought. It was heart-wrenching as she wept at the mention of the word ‘drought’. But what she said next deeply troubled me and the other participants who joined in on the conversation. Sandy explained that her children have become immune to death, as they witness the death of sheep, horses and cows in their day to day lifestyles. When reflecting upon the day with the participants, we discussed how devastating and traumatising the effects will be when these children reach the cusp of adulthood.
The local pub was practically the lifeblood of the town. It wasn’t just a recreational place for drinkers but it was a spot for community interaction and storytelling. TBL participant Kyle Webber comically described the pub as “cute” and compared to the one in the film “Red Dog”. State of Origin was the talk of the pubgoers, and soon enough the participants were able to identify that we had more in common with them rather than differences.
But, what are ‘similarities’ and ‘differences’? It’s all fiction in our head. Talking to people like Mrs Frith, you will soon forget the ‘us’ and ‘them’ relationship. It’s a kind of internal realisation that cannot be contained or described with mere words.
The principal, Lauren O’Malley opened up about her unconventional decision to depart from her former profession within the police department and enter the world of rural education. Career changes in towns with extremely limited opportunities are rather risky, but people like Lauren who prioritise job satisfaction over career growth and financial stability are the local, unsung heroes who make life-changing decisions for the love of community. They don’t expect awards or media recognition. They expect governmental recognition for the town’s issues and help from people like you and I, whose daily needs are much better satisfied.
This seems like a very reasonable expectation to me.
Do you agree?
by Vishal Venkatesh
‘Dear You and I’ Day 4
Advancing Australia Fair
September 10
NAIDOC week was in full swing. Moree’s atmosphere and mood was indulging in intricately designed artworks, pompous didgeridoo sounds and vibrant colours. As we headed over to a community service project, one of the participants, Laurence Cai noticed that there was an abundance of sporting grounds like tennis courts, swimming pools and stadiums. The locals credit a major part of Moree’s strong sporting record and culture to Darryl – the manager of the local youth centre.
Laurence pointed out the large number of needle syringes scattered throughout the footpaths, potentially alluding to a drug problem in the area…but these were just our preliminary observations for the time being. The participants got to work, but a discussion was born between Darryl and I. More than half of Moree’s population consists of Indigenous members, who are directly suffering the impacts of the Stolen Generation, segregation and intergenerational trauma among many other externally imposed hardships. Darryl explained that he has dedicated his life and career to developing sports in Moree, as he envisions that it deters the Indigenous youth from involving themselves with drugs, gangs and any other sort of crime, outside of school hours. Fortunately, it is effective and youth crime rates have severely declined over the last decade but the adult population feel disconnected with the sports on offer and feeling directionless in the daytime, they turn to activities that attract legal trouble.
NAIDOC week is a big deal for Moree. Beyond cultural celebration and festivity, it creates an opportunity for the dispersed community to reconnect and forge relationships. Studying Indigenous modules are staple learning outcomes during all stages of one’s education, but it’s not until you go and meet people like characters you’ve read about in the textbooks, that you truly feel something beyond sympathy for the community. You will feel a need to help empower the community. Among the prancing children, kicking around a football in the fields is an Adam Goods. Darryl has the visionary characteristics and attitude of Eddie Mabo.
More than ever before, the Indigenous are under-represented in public spheres like the media, law and politics. Have we ever had a High Court judge who is Indigenous? Why haven’t there been any Indigenous prime ministers in Australia? My eyes have been opened to the cold reality and I dedicate my thanks to The Big Lift, for teaching me that though Australia is marketed as a ‘multi-cultural nation’, the ancestors and rightful owners of the country are often under the radar and are only vaguely remembered in the acknowledgements to land and when the media discuss about whether or not to climb Uluru. The Big Lift has aided me in looking at the big picture with a great degree of clarity.
University students like myself are lucky to have a ‘fair go’ and through community service alongside Big Lift values like positivity, the hardworking participants have made an attempt to advance Australia ‘fair’.
And by ‘fair’, we mean equality.
by Vishal Venkatesh
‘Dear You and I’ Day 3
Grey Rain and Open Plains
August 28
The town of Baradine is branded as a timber hub. Apart from the misfitted IGA store, the area was filled from head to toe, of barren farmlands, overused tractors and glittery barbed wire.
As the participants began treading through the forest with fancy fence cutters in hand, a ute pulled up close to us. The golf course manager exited the vehicle and begun directing instructions, with utmost humbleness. Bob is a fifth-generation descendant of a farming family and sporting enthusiast who forces himself to remain in Baradine and take care of the golf course. Golf is the heart of this rural community. As the work was drawing to an end, I spontaneously asked him about how well he thinks the media covers the drought and whether the local politicians are effective in campaigning for the forefront issues. He pleasantly grins and guides me to the RSL club where he brought out a most recent government grant from the Department of Infrastructure. The sprinkling rain begun intensifying and his once pleasant grin was now widening with an added layer of joy. 14 mm of rain…This is most amount of rainfall that the town has received in over 3 years and coincidentally it was on the day that The Big Lift decided to visit. It was almost as though mother nature was sending us a message.
Though it was no easy feat to fence and navigate around mulch in the rain, the participants were truly investing every ounce of their energy and Bob’s final goodbyes indicated that the unexpected rain might be the reward of the community ‘paying it forward’ with praying and the participants ‘paying it forward’ with their labour and good intentions. We were all muddy…exhausted and ambitiously hallucinating for a hot bath. I was standing on the open ute back, dodging tree branches as the raindrops clouded my glasses. But every participant had a look in their eyes that said they didn’t want this liberalising ute trip with the wind chillingly brushing against their face to end. It was a shared inextricable feeling of self-satisfaction and a reinforced hope that good actions are the seeds to good results. A person just needs to realise that they have the power to plant that seed. It is this core realisation that the Big Lift participants treasure and take back into their daily grind.
The Country Women’s Association provided us with a hearty meal for lunch and spoke of how essential it was for the city and rural communities to connect and engage in mutually beneficial relationships. This organisation’s widespread influence has led them to have a seat in the United Nations. Though they feel that their efforts have been validated by such accomplishments, brain drain remains to be a tear-jerking notion with no solution in sight.
The participants were saying their goodbyes and boarding the bus. A participant, Milan Dave was intensely discussing about the strong community and amicable personalities we’ve been exposed to in the short time frame we’ve been there. He couldn’t understand why the youth who were raised here…wouldn’t retreat back to such a town of cultural and communal richness.
It was food for thought, but it had a bitter taste.
by Vishal Venkatesh
‘Dear You and I’ Day 3
The Cubbyhouse Tale
August 16
What is a cubbyhouse? Is it just condensed slabs of wood, forming shelter for children? Or is it something much more, than what it seems like on the first glance?
As the sunrise and rooster cries elegantly emerged, the forty of us engaged in a range of school maintenance tasks. Some were raking dried up leaves while others were enjoying a solid workout at the garage, lifting and clearing all kinds of boxes. I was scurrying around the midst of this vibrant atmosphere with paint cans, and placed them at the entrance of the cubbyhouse.
While repainting the cubbyhouse in a desperate attempt to help recreate its former glory, the shredded wood and dusty atmosphere taught me a rather symbolic lesson. The cubbyhouse is representative of the town of Lue. Small…tightknit…not much room for extravagance , but it was pleasant to be a part of. The outer layers were shambled in disproportionate degrees…redback spiders swinging between the cracks and dirt was piled up in every corner. But that was part of the problem. This community needed a little more regular manpower and attention, so that the cubbyhouse can continue to bask in its inevitable state of enlightenment. Generations of children would have peeked through the windows and chattered away, seated on those flowery chairs. For years it would have housed portals of lamb like innocence, and we hope that through our efforts it will continue to do so.
Enjoying a greasy sausage sandwich prepared by the Rotary Club, I sat down with Karen Tyrell – the principal of Lue Public School. A simpler, better version of life was what she preached and many of the Big Lift participants agreed. The school suffers from funding issues… limited resources (e.g. lack of mental health services and counselling for the students) and of course, the over looming drought (which affects the quality of life and home environment for students). But Karen wears a smile…one that is of determination and self-satisfaction. Accommodating the education of only 7 students from kindergarten through to year 6, it is quite clear from the outset that the school values communicate something more deep and intrinsic than good grades and paper value excellence. A sense of community. To put it bluntly, that is what the concrete jungles and demoralising infrastructure of Sydney is missing. Our lifestyle of work and education inherently enforces a necessity to move from Point A to Point B, giving rise to a ‘What’s next?’ attitude, which is fundamentally detrimental to our wellbeing. The folk of Lue have learnt to embrace the sunset, fresh waves of afternoon air and banter with strangers. Such activities of simplicity would bring laughter and a subsequent frown to people like us, who might not even know the name of our next door neighbour.
Talking with famers who’ve lived in Lue for generations, locals and the prancing children helped me to realise that while we may reside in skyscrapers, two storey houses or within fancy glassy paradoxical buildings, we are deficient of a social fulfilment that the even something as simple as a children’s cubbyhouse has to offer. What is the end outcome? Hollowness…
by Vishal Venkatesh
‘Dear You and I’ Day 1
Dancing and Prancing
August 1
Our mundane lives are often smothered with the flavours of stress, pressure, uncertainty and self-doubt. Beyond the self-imposed and metaphorical cages of time that we call lectures and assignments lays that gruelling voice at the back of our minds telling us not to procrastinate. We’re all consumed… To varying degrees, we’re all consumed by our own ambitions, interests, deadlines and development. This is in the underlying hope of mastering the categorisation game, that we call graduation and employment. We spend one-third of our lives sleeping… so when you think about it, your career… marks… relationships and the over-hyped ‘make or break’ factors of life are just phases to keep you occupied in your remaining two-thirds of life. Simply phases… and nothing else.
This year, eighty UTS students discovered the capacity to look beyond this depressive but factual philosophy. The theme of adventure was free-flowing in our veins. No boundaries or limits. No second thoughts or regrets. We felt like a harmonious unit of Che Guevaras, Sinbads and Pocahontas’. Like children, we danced and pranced with carefree vibes being exchanged, continually. As tiresome as the ‘Mingle Mingle’ game is, it is quite rejuvenating and as the White Bus like to put it, ‘wholesome’. Though we’re all strangers to each other today and acknowledged that awkwardness might make an appearance, our deep-rooted mindsets of ‘paying it forward’ were set on the nine-day road trip that was about to commence. Rural towns… tight-knit communities…new learning experiences…social service…newfound friendships. I disposed of these pre-trip expectations and anticipations and begun to loosen up in the ice-breaking activities. Well… I did not have a choice… and strangely enough, I quite enjoyed that.
Students like this, who take a moment to understand the life they’re living and decide to wield their limited resource of time selflessly, stand out. They stand out to me as socially aware souls of pulsing ambition for a better tomorrow. Among these smiling faces, are tomorrow’s engineers, nurses, lawyers and architects just to name a few.
Our lunch stop was Lithgow, which did not seem that rural as it was filled with bright yellow Maccas logos and parks that were peppered with rusty Coke cans. The White Bus tossed up a few globalisation puns, as we headed to our first community service town – Lue. Our energy had been lost in the dancing and prancing of the day and we were all now, drowsy. Very drowsy. The bus came to a rigid halt. As I was lethargically shifting through the mounds of luggage, a compact and cobwebbed cubbyhouse captured my attention in its entirety. It was very distinct, even in the dark.
by Vishal Venkatesh
