BAKEDMAGAZINE113

“Reflections�

I have always preferred the reflection of the life to life itself.

- Francois Truffaut

CONTENT Poetry 15.

A word – Yin Lin 18.

Poetry - Katrina Sparky Features 32.

Unveiling the Mask of Ignorance - Anusuya Krishnan 14.

Harvey Milk, LaChapelle & Legalisation of Gay Marriage - Gabriela Andrae Gorab 42.

The Exclusive Brethren - Lauren Kennard 48.

Witchcraft and Black Magic in PNG - Laura Bingham 41.

Research Project on a Poppy Farm in Tasmania - Thomas Haehl 4.

It’s only Natural - Emma Devlin 21.

The Other Side of the Fence - Maddison Cassidy 10.

The Rogue and the Rouge - Nicole Gibson Opinion 28.

An Appeal to Ignorance - James Machkechnie 13.

Have We Outgrown Evolution - Amelia Richardson 44.

Abandon Ship, Gillard - Courtney Wilkie 16.

Osama v Hitler - Stephanie Lagerstedt Stories 30.

Night Crusades - Milly Arsic 6.

Delay – Robert Millard 36.

Ice Cream - Yin Lin 38.

Never Again - Yin Lin Other 8.

Vox Pops 46.

Top Ten Ways to Change the World 22.

Social Pages 12.

For The Law Student - Robert Rooney 40.

Prepared like a Bride Interview - Peter Clayton

Journalism Students’ Association Executive Editor-in-Chief: Milly Arsic Sub Editor: Emma Devlin Creative Director: Christian Blumentritt Secretary: Linda Woelk Treasurer: Robert Rooney Sponsorship Director: Edward Fleetwood Promotions Director: Cassandra Switaj Baked contributors: Yin Lin, Katrina Sparky, Anusuya Krishnan, Gabriela Andrae

Gorab, Lauren Kennard, Laura Bingham, Thomas Haehl, Emma Devlin, Maddison Cassidy, Nicole Gibson, James MachKechnie, Amelia Richardson, Courtney Wilkie, Stephanie Lagerstedt, Milly Arsic, Robert Millard, Robert Rooney, Peter Clayton.

DISCLAIMER: The opinions expressed within this publication do not necessarily reflect the beliefs of the Journalism Students’ Association. The editorial team accepts no responsibility for the opinions expressed in any article, or for any omissions or errors. The editorial team reserves the right to edit any articles submitted for publication in Baked magazine.

Photography by Anusuya Krishnan

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Front cover photography by Christian Blumentritt

Editor’s

Note So here we are. Another issue of Baked and it’s jam-packed with all kinds of baked goodies. From tales of witchcraft in Papua New Guinea, we cut across oceans to hear from helping hands at a Nepalese HIV+ orphanage and insights into an Australian detention centre. It doesn’t end there though – there are poems, stories and photography to satisfy your visual and literary senses.

This semester, our stories focus on ‘Reflection’. We spend so much time idolising others that sometimes we forget to find inspiration from within. This issue is all about the celebration of the self and reflecting on personal achievement and growth. The diversity and collective experience that Bond students share still continues to astound and inspire me.

You may note some changes to Baked. It now sports a new logo, has a greater emphasis on photography and is 100% original student work.

Photography by Christian Blumentritt

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Our team at Baked has upped in size this semester and I’d like to personally welcome aboard our Secretary, Linda Woelk, Sponsorship Director, Ed Fleetwood and Baked Creative Director, Christian Blumentritt.

Alongside Treasurer, Robert Rooney and Promotions Director, Cassandra Switaj, you have all done an impressive five-star performance at getting the job done and your hard work is greatly appreciated.

Also, I would like to thank Varsity Printing (particularly Lisa), our advertisers, the Journalism Students’ Association, the Bond University Student Association, SCOPE photographers and of course, our amazing contributors. Remember – you don’t have to be a journalism student to put pen to paper. My inbox is always open if you have something to say.

Bon appetite Bondies.

Milly Arsic -Editor

IT’S ONLY NATURAL Emma Devlin

They were the two little words I did not want to hear: “Liver detox.”

A mouthful of ulcers, daily mini-migraines and a tummy that appeared to be accommodating a dozen Krispy Kremes first thing in the morning might just have been symptoms of too many late nights. Or so I told myself until a little birdie called common sense made noises about it being high time to scrap the self-diagnosis and call in the professionals. Somewhat sceptically, I consulted a naturopath with fingers tightly crossed that this natural medicine maestro would nod knowingly as I listed off my grievances before impressively whipping up a deliciously potent panacea of herbs and flower extracts. Off I would go, tummy placated, ulcers eradicated and migraines but a distant memory, ready to show my body who was boss with a greasy dinner and several beers. This, sadly, was not how my first naturopath date was to transpire. Seven years of the poor eating and drinking habits that accompany living independently had apparently wreaked havoc on my liver and gall bladder. The only way to fix it, according to this seemingly quite normal and informed man, was to take the rather drastic measure of a two-week dietary detox. On top of a twice-daily concoction of toxin-repellent supplement, I was to eradicate the following pleasures from my personal menu. No caffeine: do-able. I had recently cut back to one coffee a day anyway and this was a nice excuse to keep up the good work. No alcohol: trickier. Whitehouse was the coming Friday and I was due to spend a weekend with my mum the next week. Imagine her horror if we couldn’t share a bottle of red. Then there was a friend’s birthday party the following week and I would be crucified if I did not wear my drinking shoes … the detox had hit its first roadblock but, in good news, I now had three weeks to prepare. No dairy: ouch. I know that dairy is not my friend.

Sadly, this has never stopped me from eating ice-cream, chocolate and cheese on a daily basis – indulgences which I knew I would miss for 14 long days. No gluten: easy. Or so I thought, until I realised that my go-to breakfast, lunch and snacks all included cheeky helpings of wheat. Bugger. No sugar: alarm bells. Anyone who knows me will attest to the fact that I have a ravenous sweet tooth. I cannot actually eat a savoury meal without swiftly washing it down with something dessert-esque.

However, my cravings could be appeased with plenty of beautiful fruit. I would be fine. No fruit: shit.

It was with a false sense of bravado that I entered Mrs Flannery’s (a shop I had only ever patronised before for its selection of pick and mix chocolates) on Detox Eve. It was with a heavy heart and the threat of overwhelmed tears that I walked out half an hour later with only one loaf of gluten-free bread and a brown paper bag of rolled quinoa to show for my efforts and considerably lighter wallet. The Last Supper was important – this was to be the final opportunity to order a meal at a restaurant without sounding like a neurotic twat with borderline eating disorder tendencies for two whole weeks. I ate like a pig … no, better than a pig – if it had gluten, sugar or dairy in it, I ordered it. And, naturally, I attempted to drink two weeks’ worth of booze in the process. I won’t beat around the bush – the 14 days following were more painful than dropping a four-litre glass bottle of V8 juice on your big toe (I’ve done that, too) and felt more like three months. There were headaches on days one through three, dog-tiredness on days four and five, crankiness to rival a really bad case of PMS at the halfway mark, and – forgive me for this one – some pretty serious gas near the finish line. On two occasions, my willpower was put to the ultimate test as I faced work morning teas replete with crusty quiches, buttery scones and chocolatey treats, and attempted to appear nonchalant as I sipped on my organic dandelion tea in the corner. The sound of a colleague biting into a crunchy apple one afternoon sent me dizzy, and I physically drooled watching a friend slide their steak through glutenfilled mushroom sauce at dinner, but I remained solid for the simple reason that it wasn’t worth putting myself through the process unless I committed to it 100 per cent. It worked, too. I did actually start to feel better than I had for a long time by about day eight. I was more energetic, my skin was clear, my eyes bright and I felt smugly wholesome. I quickly came to realise that, with a sprinkling of herbs and a very large helping of preparation, eating everything-free could be delicious and fulfilling. Dining out was tricky and everyday groceries were a little more expensive but I actually came to love some of my culinary options and have even continued to eat them post-detox. All scepticism about my (yes, I refer to him as “mine” now) naturopath has vanished and I have since maintained a regular appointment with him every few weeks. With his help, I have made a conscious effort to choose fruit and vegies over fries and vino, and I even dabble in a little yoga to maintain inner health. This same guru has inspired me to make moves to cut out dairy and gluten on a more permanent basis and, boy, does he know how to crack a girl’s back. All compliments aside though, if said naturopath ever dares to utter those two little words again, it could be high time to find myself a new therapist. There is, after all, nothing really natural about going natural.

Breakfast: gluten-free seeded toast with peanut-only peanut butter or rolled quinoa made as porridge with Stevia (a herbal sugar replacement, which is in fact a very poor attempt at replacing sugar) Morning tea: handful of pepita and sunflower seeds Lunch: homemade tomato and lentil soup or gluten-free wrap with felafel and salad Afternoon tea: dandelion tea Dinner: stir-fried cabbage, broccoli, leek, capsicum and sprouts with lentils and lemon juice or steak/chicken/fish and vegetables Dessert: I freaking wish

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Nature

Photography by Christian Blumentritt

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Robert Millard

Delay

The cupboard in front of you will be the last “Happy Anniversary!” These were the words of your You sigh deeply, pushing the memory away. But place you look. You’ve already combed over the wife. She was always so beautiful – even with scraggly still you ask yourself ‘What’s wrong with me? entire house with no luck. You notice the dull bed hair and undeniably tired eyes. But you noticed Why you couldn’t cry.’ steel doorknob, loose on its fitting, revealing pale how blue they were and how radiant her smile always As you clench the lighter and lower your head, wood, making a sharp circle on the entire wooden was. Taking the package from her outstretched hand, I pass the room you are in. You are sitting on panelling. you reached over and returned the gesture with your the bed, hunched over, your white hair getting You remind yourself to get this fixed. own gift and a brief kiss. thinner each day.

You wrench the cupboard door open, revealing a Inside the package you found a lighter. You grabbed “What’s up Grandpa?” I ask. haphazardof boxes, clothing and plastic bags of your glasses from your small bedside table so you “Oh, I’m just remembering grandma,” you say junk, impressively coated in a layer of thin dust. A could read the engraving: ‘I love you, always and to me, your hand turning white with the pressarcastic thought races through your mind. This forever.’ And underneath the lighter were tickets to a sure of your grip. should be fun. show that night.

I sit on the bed next to you. I put a hand on Sighing deeply, you haul a heavy, musty brown “Thank you,” you voiced. You turned to her. Her eyes your shoulder. You release the tension in your box out of the cupboard. You cough as dust swirls were wide with glee as she pulled a golden necklace arms. I look to the blanket. Grandma had made in the air. The scratch of cardboard on cardboard from her package. You spent weeks trying to find that it by knitting coloured squares, and then knitreveals a selection of carefully wrapped china. You – the right one. But you were very pleased she liked it. ting them all together. lift an ornate custard jug to your eyes.

But unfortunately your joy did not last.

“Grandma was good at knitting,” I say, still starYou smile at the memory of Christmas with the You hopped into the car that night to go to the show. ing at the blanket. family and the plum pudding that your wife put Your wife did not drive. She was afraid. You had a “Yes, yes she was,” you say in response. “Can so much effort and love into – especially making terrible run of the traffic lights. Every single one you you please tell your father that I couldn’t find sure it was served with only the best homemade came across was red. Your car was first at one set of the books he wanted? And tell him to get a custard. You even chuckle, recalling finding the lights. The offensive red changed to a welcome green screwdriver. I need to fix that doorknob.” You secret 20 cent piece in the pudding that one time. and you pushed your foot upon the accelerator. point a shaking hand to the cupboard door.

The family wasn’t often together anymore. Your A car came over the crest of the hill to your left. It did You think I leave, but I stand behind the door. wife doesn’t cook. Your smile falters – you feel the not stop. It did not slow. It hit your car. Your car went I lean my face into an opening so I can see strain in your cheeks – enough of that. spinning. Your wife died on impact. You were knocked you. And that’s when your eyes well up. A light You continue to unload the box, discovering a unconscious. You had no idea that your 49th anniversheensparkles as you look into your hand. dining set and a gravy boat. But it’s the mugs that sary had been destroyed.

I’m glad you cry. I smile, and turn away. I’m really surprise you. There are a lot. A common, You woke up in hospital, unsure of what day it was. proud of you, Grandpa. thoughtless birthday present, no doubt. But They told you it was a Sunday. And they also told you the yellow one with the vine of purple flowers, that your wife had been killed. You gaped in disbelief delicately painted around the rim captures your – it was a sick joke, right? But the truth dawned on attention. you when your family visited. She really had gone to It makes a sound as you lift it. Not a scrape on the light. other china, but a metallic chink…from inside.

You did not cry. You should have cried.

You turn the mug completely upright with bated She was buried with her golden necklace. She still breath, and peer into it. And there, resting silently looked beautiful. But her eyes were closed and she did is a lighter. not smile. It was an ethereal beauty that would never It was old – without a shiny lustre, and plain with leave you. a tiny engraving. You struggle to make it out. Your After the funeral ended, you realised how alone you eyes are old. But you don’t need to make it out. You were. Your family travelled back to their homes, far remember exactly what it says: ‘I love you, always away, and you returned to an empty house – an empty, and forever.’ You’re in shock as you stare into the quiet house of memories. Your wife didn’t cook anymug. It suddenly felt heavy, as if it were pulling more. And still, you could not cry. your finger down by the handle.

You had forgotten about this.

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Photography by Anusuya Krishnan

JenayaKeatz 1.If you could be some one of the opposite sex, who would you be?

A: Yan Tierson, LudovicoEinudi (pianist), E. Cummings

Jeff Horricks 1.If you could be some one of the opposite sex, who would you be?

A: Maria Sharapova

2.What is your end of world theory?

A: Rapture 3.If you could rule a country which one would it be and why?

A: Make everyone appreciate all the little things in life that make life beautiful

Rosella William 1.If you could be some one of the opposite sex, who would you be?

A: Rap artist (Dumfoundead) 2.What is your end of world theory?

A: Massive Explosion and maybe that will be the end of it all

3.If you could rule a countrywhich one would it be and why?

A: Ethiopia because there is a famine so I would ship some food over.

3.If you could rule a country which one would it be and why?

A: Work towards eliminating poverty and implmenting democracy

Brandon Lee 1.If you could be some one of the opposite sex, who would you be?

A: Sofia Coppola 2.What is your end of world theory?

A: We will invent something crazy and then it will kill us all, someone presses the red button and we all die 3.If you could rule a country which one would it be and why?

A: Build millions of homes in India

VOX

2.What is your end of world theory?

A: combination of disease, famine and inhospitable planet

P P

Winnie Zhoya 1.If you could be some one of the opposite sex, who would you be?

A: Brad Pitt 2.What is your end of world theory?

A: We are all going to sleep 3.If you could rule a country which one would it be and why?

A: Empower all women, because I am a feminist

Sam Wiseman 1.If you could be some one of the opposite sex, who would you be?

A: Helena Carter (Harry Potter, Tim’s Burton’s wife)

Ed Fleedwood 1.If you could be some one of the opposite sex, who would you be?

A: The bigger Williams Sister

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2.What is your end of world theory?

A: Run out of resources, starve of death, sun will blow up etc.

Page Hudson

3.If you could rule a country which one would it be and why?

1.If you could be some one of the opposite sex, who A: Legalise marijuana, set everyone free/ let people feel would you be? liberated for countries where there is no democracy, A: Channing Tatum evoke equality, ban religion in Middle East etc.

2.What is your end of world theory?

A: Zombie hypocalypse caused by a bad hamburger

2.What is your end of world theory?

A: natural disasters,

3.If you could rule a country which one would it be and why?

A: Get rid of taxes or taxatious theft

3.If you could rule a country which one would it be and why?

A: Burma: heaps of issues with rights to address, fight for human rights

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Photography by Anusuya Krishnan

The Rogue & Rouge Foundation

Defying the body image of the fashion industry Nicole Gibson

Saving the world isn’t a goal that often generates a whole lot of support. If you want to change something, you need to break it down, piece by piece, into practical and achievable steps that allow you to see the difference that’s being made.

Since I can remember, I’ve tried to mind-map different ways that I can implement my ideas, collecting them into a project that just might change the world. It kept me awake night and day, turning me into the student in class that doodled in their notepad – neglecting to ever listen to my teachers. I was a dreamer and a misfit – but I loved who I was. At worst, my differences did get the better of me, and I fell victim to the eating disorder, anorexia nervosa. I knew, upon my difficult and confronting recovery – this was the way I was going to change the world. I decided to concentrate on developing a business model that could help one person at a time overcome similar illnesses, to teach them how to love themselves and combine it with my one true passion – design and fashion.

My story so far is a cliché when simplified – it’s the result of opportunities presenting themselves to me and, to be frank, grabbing them by the balls. With a lot of persistence, determination and passion I managed to win a national grant from Sunsuper Annuation, which financially made my project viable. They also provided me with media coverage and support from their various professional departments. After being given the opportunity to tell Australia on national television about my dream, the momentum didn’t stop – and what began as a dream to pursue a fashion label using healthy models, has become a non-profit organization that aspires to have its campaign practiced in schools across Queensland, Australia and hopefully some day, the world. This is proof that you can’t always be rigid with your ideas, sometimes the best things evolve unexpectedly.

My NGO is called The Rogue & Rouge Foundation – its proceeds go to support the sufferers of eating disorders and other mental illnesses, as well as their families. Slowly, I’m watching my dream turn into reality; what started as the scribbles in the back of a notebook, have become my life and my future. Each day, I wake up excited to keep working on the project. Proceeds made from my fashion label get put back into my foundation. It provides me with a great sense of achievement that I’ve been able to combine two foreign concepts together to create a unique business idea that will benefit those who deserve the best chance at fighting their inner demons and becoming incredible people that will go on to change the world. Regardless of what many have said to me in the past, I know I’m enough to make this happen – but support is always a necessary part of a project and I’d appreciate anything that you may be able to contribute.

To be a part of the Rogue & Rouge Foundation please go to www.rogueandrouge.com and help make my dream to change the world come true.

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Photography by Annie-Mei Forster

For the Law Student Robert Rooney Lawyers are renowned for being a serious bunch. We have serious looks; serious clothes and we study serious subjects. We abide by protocol and despite the modern day society slang of “yeah mate,” we still wear the formalities established in courts long ago.

All that fancy talk of “your Honours”, silks, gowns, deliberate passing of documents and formalisation all accompany a very serious workplace.

Yes. Lawyers are a serious bunch. We all like standing around conversing in posh accents, suited up whilst shuffling mounds of papers. God forbid you forget to address your mistaken colleague as your “learned friend.” So for the law students reading this article and anyone who has an understanding of just how serious the legal profession is, I think you will have a little chuckle at my recent experience.

May was a month of pleasure for many of us Bondies. Holidays, end of examinations and lots and lots of parties to be enjoyed.

For me, I was about to set off on my first ever legal internship. I was excited. A little disappointed that my holiday was to be but 3 weeks of coffee runs and scanning endless amounts of documents whilst I wiped the “bored out of my mind slave” drool off my face. Nevertheless, I was hopeful that I wouldn’t be stuck in front of the scanners all holidays.

I was surprised, therefore, when the firm had me drafting Notices of Contribution for personal litigation files (real files and real notices) and sitting in on settlement conferences for WorkCover. Needless to say, I was ecstatic. It was great - I was more involved in the firm than I thought would be possible and I was working on real cases.

It was the second week of my legal internship when one of the Partners asked me if I wanted to attend a Conference group that he attended every year for personal development which kept him updated on the latest legal developments. It sounded like a great idea to me, so I confirmed my attendance and asked what it was about. He gave me that lawyer look over the top of his glasses and said, “I think it’s on equity”. With that, I walked out of the room hoping for the love of God that Denis Ong wasn’t going to be there.

I was getting pretty into the presentations on the day of the conference, and learning quite a few things (having not yet studied Equity). My colleagues and I were just settling back when the event manager started his usual spiel, rambling on about the next speakers’ qualifications and his life story when he was a young lad who saw injustice in his home town and blah blahblah - all the usual. I wasn’t really paying attention as this was the last speech of the day and I had been listening pretty hard all day. About 15 minutes later, I was wondering why the speaker hadn’t arrived yet.

The speaker got up tothe front of the room and said, “Mr X is running late; he should be here…”

The solid wooden double doors at the back of the room crashed open very loudly and in ambled this short, tubby, bearded man. “Ow aare we alllltoodaaaaayyyyy” he managed to slur in what appeared to be either a pirate accent or a southern American cowboy accent.

The man, most likely in his mid 40’s strutted up the aisle. His thumbs were tucked in his suit pocket and as he drew closer, I could see the remnants of what appeared to be a minced gravy and mushy pea pie down the front of his shirt.

A few people were laughing nervously, not really sure what to make of this fellow. Was this a joke? Was this a particularly wellrehearsed and well-costumed speaker trying to get a point across? Whatever it was, no one was nodding off to sleep.

On he staggered up the aisle, reaching out with his gravy stained hand to grab the back of some ornate office chairs or the occasional Armani-suited shoulder. The big black bag clasped in his other arm swung around like a red-eyed, gaunt, demonic villain.

Papers dropped out the hole in the bottom and it was then that the wine bottle dropped and smashed on the floor.

Silence. The whole room stopped. No one breathed as the man stopped and rather blearily peered down the end of his nose at the bottle. He breathed heavily, rasping, “that was my last fucking bottle.” And on he continued up the aisle. The trail of paper and the red wine leaking all over the pristine tiles painted a dramatic picture and looked like a “who-dunnit-scene” from CSI. Mr X reached the podium and dropped his bag on the floor and crouched down to scramble through its depths. “Righteo” he yelled out. “Allow me to begin.” At this stage we were sitting there with gob-smacked expressions. This was unlike anything I had ever seen before. And he thought he hadn’t even started yet.

With that, he stood up clasping a plastic sword and shield in each hand. “Eqwwuuutaay is a sswoooord and nuuuuttt a shayeld,” he yelled out to the crowd gathered at the foot of the podium. Of course, we thought this was a bit simple. I hadn’t even studied Equity yet and I had heard this saying thousands of times.

The quasi-lawyer/pirate continued his spiel to the 50 tenured law practitioners and other gathered guests. “Eqwwuuutaay is a sswoooord and nuuuuttt a shayeld. We aaaaaaall knoooo this…. But I want to show you!” so he brandishes a sword and leaps across the room faster than we thought was possible and shoves it under one of the solicitors’ necks. “Eqwwuuutaay is a sswoooord and nuuuuttt a shayeld. SAYYYYY ITTTTT!!,” he roared at the man. The sword flopped in half. Everyone started laughing.

The man stumbled back up the front of the room and continued his repetitive monologue until, with an abrupt sway in the middle of his speech, he passed out and face-planted onto the floor.

So, if you are ever a little over the formalities and the seriousness that accompanies law, just think - you always have the option of smoking it up or drinking your way to the bottom of a bottle or five and rolling into the courthouse. Who knows? You might just enjoy it.

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Amelia Richardson

Have we outgrown evolution?

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We live in a world of just over 6.7 billion people, all striving to live longer and use more resources than ever before. Developments in medicine, science and agriculture are fuelling population explosions across every continent bar Europe. Household appliances, toys and even food come with warning labels aimed at prolonging the lives of people who, if we’re being honest, probably don’t deserve to be saved. So whatever happened to Darwin’s theory of natural selection? Over the past few million years we have evolved - uh, changed. The majority of us walk upright, have mastered the power of speech and - largely as a result of the Brazilian - are covered with substantially less hair than our apish forefathers. So why at a time that we desperately need some form of population control, have we seemingly stopped evolving and leaving the less adapted behind?

Although the obvious examples of Nate Myles (NFL corridorpooer) or Pauline Hanson (raging loon) undoubtedly illustrate my point, I shall begin here by referring to our collection of useless body parts. Let’s begin with the brain. Oh sure we use it, but according to legend/science only a meagre 10%. So why do we continue to lug around the extra 90%...surely some people’s heads are big enough already. And what about tonsils? I’m not an expert by any stretch, but I’m fairly certain all they do is get infected every other week and guarantee you an expedition of the surgical persuasion.

Of course there is a whole other category of body parts that used to be handy, but no longer suit our contemporary lifestyle. In the olden days (and by that I mean ‘era of the cave-man’), we needed a spare set of teeth that would pop through after we knocked out our existing set munching on rocks. Not so much now. We also used to give our appendix a good workout with all of the plantbased tucker we ingested but, unsurprisingly, the low-cellulose McDonalds diet rendered it a waste of space. So the appendectomy was born. Hands down however, the award for most useless/ ridiculous/just plain weird is, *drum roll* the male nipple. Think about it. What are nipples used for...ah, you’ve got it. So unless men intend to lactate anytime soon, it’s just plain pointless. Use it or lose it.

More to the point, use it, lose it or get left behind, Darwin-style.

But that’s the problem; we have developed an unmitigated aversion of leaving anyone behind. Forget useless body parts, let’s talk about the lazy, the bogans, the dole-bludgers, the druggies, the muggers and, worst of all, the self-righteous elderly. Instead of getting on with becoming a superior species, we insist on developing social security networks, throwing money at outreach programs and giving criminals colour TVs in the hope that they will - somehow - aid rehabilitation. We maniacally purchase the latest health and fitness fad products, stress about political correctness, pander to ‘high needs’ members of society and, if all else fails, we frantically write a prescription.

But why? Do we honestly believe that by carrying the less-adapted we are doing ourselves a favour? Perhaps it is some ingrained dogooder gene, but the same phenomenon that Darwin identified as natural selection is viewed as a threat to humanity. We know that as a species we need oxygen, food, water and suitable temperatures to survive. We also know that this survival is subsequently jeopardised by overpopulation and global warming. And yet we try to ‘play God’ by determining who survives and for how long.

So perhaps the reality is that we have outgrown evolution. We have bucked a trend that has beset specie-kind for millennia, and as a result we are putting our finite-resource-reliant survival on the line. But man do we feel clever. We can turn the barren into Octo-mums, cure diseases that have wiped out continents, clone sheep - hell - we can genetically design our own offspring! But although we are generally happy to bask in our own virtuosity, I’m sure we can all think of at least one person we wish had been left behind...

Photography by Anusuya Krishnan

Harvey Milk, LaChapelle & Legalisation of Gay Marriage Gabriela Andrade Gorab

It’s fun to stay at the YMCA, because you can make your dreams come true. That is what the Village People said and, for many, it came true. The Pet Shops Boys claimed that if you want to go where the skies are blue, where there is sun in wintertime, you should go west.

Today it is time for the east; it is the Big Apple’s turn to celebrate the legalisation of same sex marriage. What does that mean? It means that gay couples around the world can celebrate their wedding night while watching fireworks along the Hudson River. They can proudlywear their wedding rings as they indulge in Sabrett hotdogs, while strolling through Central Park.

New York, one of the most eminent cities in the world, with one of the greatest global commerce, art, fashion, technology and entertainment industries has made the big step of accepting everyone as equal through the legalisation of gay marriage.

It took failure, strength and determination for Harvey Milk to achieve gay rights and to become the first openly gay man to be elected to public office in California. Milk said, “All over the country, they’re reading about me, and the story doesn’t centre on me being gay.

It’s just about a gay person who is doing his job.” Milk showed courage by facing the nation as a whole and opening the gate for the international gay community, encouraging them to feel confident and hopeful. Sean Penn had some big shoes to fill, but executed an amazing performance of Harvey Milk in the 2002 film“Milk”, a must-see for all fans out there.

In 2009, I had the privilege to work with world-renowned and openly gay celebrity photographer David LaChapelle during his visit to Mexico City. LaChapelle’s artwork has been dubbed as surrealist, grotesque, shocking and ironic. My job allowed me to do everything from helping set up the museum where the exhibition was held, to organising a typical Mariachi band for LaChapelle’s farewell, to dancing with his muse Amanda Lepore, who was clad in nothing but a pair of maracas in her hand during private parties. This opportunity allowed me to experience a world which was totally unfamiliar to me, a world that not even in my most vivid dreams could I picture myself ever being a part of even if it was just for a short period. It was a world of transvestites, homosexuals, funky dresses, wigs, makeup, bling, sequins and, more importantly, openly sexual conversations. I met incredible people, gorgeous women, gorgeous men and even a mix of both!

Is homosexuality nature or nurture? Who cares, as long as there is love, peace and happiness in this world! That is what I learned. Okay, I may have to get down off my rainbow back into reality, but I do believe that what is relevant to reality is love and equal treatment of all human beings, regardless of their sexual orientation.

“It was a world of transvestites, homosexuals, funky dresses, wigs, makeup, bling, sequins and more importantly, openly sexual conversations.”

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A Word Yin Lin

W e a v e a s p e l l S p e l l a w o r d Even the poor should own a wor(l)d

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Osama vs Hitler Stephanie Lagerstedt

Throughout history there have been a handful of people who have made an everlasting impact on the world for their so called ‘evil’ ways. Adolf Hitler and Osama bin Laden definitely make that list. Those two tyrants are personally responsible for orchestrating the deaths of millions of people and instilling fear in the rest of the world. When their deaths were announced, people throughout the world rejoiced in the streets. However, did their tyranny really die with them or will there always be another despot who believes violence is the answer? On May 1,2011, U.S President Obama confirmed that a covert operation located and killed Osama bin Laden.

This news comes almost a decade after 9/11, which killed over 3,000 people. In an amazing coincidence exactly 66 years earlier to the day, on May 1, 1945, Germany announced that Adolf Hitler was dead. Hitler and his newly wedded wife committed suicide in an underground bunker 12 years after he took power. Germany surrendered 6 days later. It is interesting to note that following their deaths, both bodies were quickly disposed. Hitler had organised for his body to be burned right after his death so that it would not be subjected to humiliation, whereas bin Laden was buried at sea only hours after the Al-Qaeda leader’s death. Both leaders had taken to hiding after igniting their prospective wars. Hitler survived several assassination attempts and spent most of his time in secure bunkers. For almost 10 years, bin Laden was rumoured to be living in caves throughout the Middle East. However, he was eventually found and killed at a compound about an hour away from Islamabad, the capital of Pakistan.The U.S had spent at least a trillion dollars on a campaign that included a war in Afghanistan and another in Iraq, and a global war whose end is still impossible to predict.

September 11, 2001, will always be remembered as one of the most shocking days in American and world history. Armed terrorists hijacked four passenger jets and used them as weapons against the United States. The attacks destroyed the WorldTradeCenter, damaged the Pentagon, and killed over 3,000 people. Shocking as they may be, these atrocities almost pale into insignificance compared to the Nazi-led Holocaust between 1933 and 1945. This systematic, state-sponsored persecution led to the slaughter of approximately 6 million Jews — two thirds of the total European Jewish population, and two-fifths of the Jews in the entire world — but also millions of other victims. To signify the impact these two men have had on the world, but more importantly, to signify an end of an era, Time Magazine’s cover has featured a picture of the two, covered with a large red X after their subsequent deaths. This signifier of termination has only been used 5 times, the first time being Adolf Hitler, followed by Japan’s flag (after Hiroshima), Suddam Hussein, Abu Musab al-Zarqawi (bin Laden’s number 3) and now Osama bin Laden himself. Hitler and bin Laden have many similarities, such as “the use of propaganda and the emphasis that they placed on the poorer or lower classes to help spread their ideology,” quoted by Stephanie Brown, World History teacher at BondCollege. Hitler’s rise to power was based upon long-term factors; resentment in the German people, the weakness of the Weimar system – which he exploited through propaganda, the terror of his stormtroopers, and the brilliance of his speeches.

As early as 1919, in his first definite anti-Jewish writing, Hitler stated that “rational anti-semitism must lead to a systematic legal opposition and elimination of the special privileges which Jews hold... Its final objective must unswervingly be the removal of the Jews altogether.” Karl Ludecke, an early follower of Hitler said, “He was holding the masses, and me with them, under an hypnotic spell by the sheer force of his beliefs. His words were like a whip. When he spoke of the disgrace of Germany, I felt ready to attack any enemy.” World War II is essentially regarded as a conventional war between rival national entities competing over economic benefits and spheres of influence. It was triggered by Germany, under the leadership of Hitler, invading Poland in 1939. This war saw more deaths and destruction than previous wars, due to the advancements of technology and a greater element of ideological determination and ethnic cleansing, which made genocide a virtue. In contrast, the war that bin Laden was waging is known as Jihad and described as a ‘Holy War.’ Jihad, however, is not a conflict between rival states and nations as such. It is the expansion and defense of the Islamic State.

Bin Laden’s problem from the very beginning was that while polls showed a majority of Muslims around the world might have agreed with his campaign against U.S. delinquency in its dealings in the Middle East, only a tiny minority identified with terrorism as a response. Despite the hostile anti-American attitudes revealed in opinion surveys in parts of the Muslim world after 9/11, very few people were prepared to condone attacks on innocent civilians. Bin Laden had mistakenly assumed that simply demonstrating through violence that a hated enemy was not invulnerable would automatically rouse the masses to rebellion. It has been reported that Muslim youths have come to reject bin Laden’s ignorant fanaticism. They prefer to utilise the more effective and peaceful ‘march of millions’ to bring about change.

The Toronto Star quoted Abdullah Anas, bin Laden’s former mentor, saying “The (Al-Qaeda) philosophy in general is failing now. With the exception of the crazy young, the call to global arms has run its course. Al-Qaeda will inevitably appoint a successor, but the convergence of charisma and history unique to bin Laden means no one can be his equal.” On June 17, 2011, bin Laden’s successor was named. Ayman al Zawahri, is now officially the leader of Al-Qaeda and as a clear indication that the war on terror is not over, Washington has already posted a reward of $25 million for information leading to his capture or death. Earlier this month, al Zawahri issued the first public Al-Qaeda response to the killing of bin Laden.“The Sheikh has departed – may God have mercy on him – to his God as a martyr. We must continue on his path of jihad to expel the invaders from the land of Muslims and purify it from injustice,” he stated in a video message, as reported by Michael Jansen for the Irish Times.

The question for today’s society is whether the death of bin Laden will have the same effect on terrorism as Hitler’s death had on Nazism and Fascism.

“Osama bin Laden will be studied by future generations for his ability as an ace administrator.” Philip Bobbit, a senior American military strategist quoted to the Advertiser. He warned that “21st century terrorists would increasingly use the benefits of globalism to plan and carry out atrocities.” Very few names instill as much fear and loathing as Adolf Hitler and Osama bin Laden. Fuelled by their visions of grandeur, these cunning manipulators both used their charisma and powers of persuasion to inspire their followers to commit unspeakable acts. However, Hitler’s “Thousand-Year Reich” lasted only 12 years and three months and while bin Laden evaded capture for almost ten years, his power and influence diminished, restricting him from carrying out any further major attacks. Unfortunately, there will always be evil in the world. However, as the relentless hunt and killing of bin Laden proves, the world does not tolerate the indiscriminate killing of innocents in the name of ideologies, race or religion. Therefore, someone like Hitler, should he or she manage to emerge in today’s society, would hopefully never be allowed to cause so much violence and suffering.

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OUR WORLD

17 Photography by Anusuya Krishnan

Katrina Parkes

Poetry

Parallel to reality

Into the humble chambers of a dark reality run solely on imagination, where the physical being loses all of its barriers it has created.

Could the ‘mtheory’ be as clear as when we lay down unconciously, “for every action there is an opposite reaction” I’d say Newton would agree.

For now in this reality if I accept these theories there should be no “we.”

Feathers of a bird

He will never show me his true colours, For he will never let me get close.

Why, every night against my own will he follow me into my dreams, I don’t want you because in our reality you’re a ghost.

The ghost that is there but never really, ...The ghost that cares but never really, The ghost that wants to tell me but never really, The ghost couldn’t possibly feel or love...never really.

Where the mermaids live

The fantasy of a reality of numbness has swept you away into an ocean of plentiful fish, To be unable to see from a perspective longer than three seconds you will never see the mermaids.

Is the realisation of the way she moves and touches you enough to make you feel and break the downward spiral of the water or will you continue to swim away?

The whirlwind of clocks

Our feelings are unquestionably denied and passed off, Our minds are connected by something that is unexplainable, Our hearts are unlocked by something that is not yet born, Our souls found a glimpse in time to meet again.

To deny access, to disconnect, to lock away is to destroy for eternity.

The unconscious reality Where distance knows no bounds, and time has no clock that continues to wait.

Open your eyes look what you have found, Immerse your whole heart and chase your fate.

Eternity dawns

The juxtaposition of love in all of its beauty, when the streets around you are rioting, you lay her down on the ground, slowly you grab her, you kiss her, you hold her body and hand and nothing else.

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Photography by Anusuya Krishnan

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The other side of the f e n c e Maddison Cassidy

Every Australian is bound to have an opinion on the ‘immigration problem’ which clouds our nightly news and daily morning papers. Whether you think the treatment of refugees and asylum seekers in Australia are a violation of human rights or not, I would like to share my insights formed after copious amounts of reading, analysing media releases and visiting the detention centre in Darwin, in the Northern Territory.

Darwin’s detention centre currently holds up to 554 men, women and children. The Federal Government recently announced the expansion to house a further 400 people in order to reduce the pressure of the overcrowded facilities on Christmas Island. When my parents moved up to Darwin, my initial excitement wasn’t to see the detention centre, but rather, to meet Indigenous Australians and see the natural beauty of the landscape. I had no interest in my father’s work, aeronautical engineering. I am beyond horrible at math and it is pretty much opposite to my study of International Relations. To my surprise, my father’s work was right opposite the detention centre. My intrigue was wild; I was hammering him with questions and asking for details. He told me he often used to stop his car outside to throw the soccer ball back over the fence as most people would ignore them and drive past. I was so excited to visit. I would be exposed to a more culturally rich environment and stronger presence of Indigenous Australians. I also finally had access to the detention centre.Immigration had always been a strong interest of mine, and I am still counting down the days till my 21st birthday when I finally qualify to volunteer on Christmas Island. I was in no position to really appreciate what exactly the centre was like. Photographs are so different from reality.The facilities were second-hand transportable buildings; the majority of them came from an engineering camp in Western Australia. They were an off-white colour, crammed and incredibly dull looking.

Surrounding the buildings was a fence. The top was covered in barbed wire and it reminded me of a tamer version of the penitentiary facility I used to pass when I would travel to Brisbane, full of murderers, sex offenders and high profile thieves. Yet these people behind these walls did not commit such crimes but had a similar home. Outside, there was a small enclosed outdoor area which was used for breaks. The grass was dead; only dirt remained. There were no chairs or entertainment activities besides the odd soccer ball, if it hadn’t already been thrown over the fence.

I grew up on a large property, so I really appreciated space. The dogs I had as childhood pets had more space and freedom than these people did - people who were fleeing persecution, poverty and injustice, only to receive the same treatment in Australia. There had been recent protests with signs stating “Please help us get out of cage” and “Tell Human Rights we are here like animals.” Some detainees in Darwin’s facility have been found to be genuine refugees, but the slow security clearance process is being delayed by the Australian government. Because of this, some refugees are subjected to detention for up to 18 months.

This place had a devastating vibe. I felt so free looking from the outside in. I felt as though these people were zoo animals as I stood there with my camera in my hand. I was hesitant to take photographs, but with all the media attention, something told me these people were used to being gawked at. Men lied out on balconies in the heat, looking lifeless and suffering severe boredom. Children tried to create their own fun and pregnant women roamed in confined areas surrounding the crammed housing. I heard men speaking, what I believed to be Arabic, and wondered what kind of education their children would be receiving. My mother, who had no prior opinion on the issue of asylum seekers and refugees, was shocked to hear how these people lived. A woman who had no interest in immigration policy and politics found the morality and compassion in her heart to feel that this was wrong. People didnot deserve to live in this way. I felt so overwhelmed with sadness that our policy makers and the people of Australia did not feel the same way I did.

Many people are unaware of the 1958 Australian Migration Act which clearly states it is not illegal to seek asylum in Australia, so why are they detained like criminals? As long as these people are detained, I will continue to ask myself this question.

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Photography by Maddison Cassidy

RUNNING

CLUB

PYJAMA PARTY

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UNI LAN

BOND SPORTS LAUNCH

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PALAVER

CANDYLAND

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WHITE HOUSE

Illegally Bond

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Pub Crawl

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CLUB SIGN ON DAY

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An Appeal to Ignorance James Mackechnie

‘Where ignorance is our master, there is no possibility of real peace.’

Dalai Lama, 1935

During the 21st century, the world will continue to face an endless array of universal problems. Poverty, war and teenage suicide are just a few of these seemingly irreversible issues. Sadly, it is not necessarily the nature of these tragedies that is most concerning but rather the way in which we approach them. One of mankind’s greatest challenges is to overcome the tendency to blissfully embrace ignorance. It is time to throw aside our incessant myopia and put an end to the injustice being suffered by billions of innocent people worldwide.

I personally believe that ignorance is far outdated whilst compassion and understanding remain to be extremely undervalued. Thus we must begin to look beyond our egocentricity and become aware of the issues that affect the lives of those less fortunate. The need for mankind to change its mentalities will be emphasised by discussing both international and local tribulations. For as the Dalai Lama anticipated, there can be no real peace if we remain enslaved by ignorance. We must appeal its reign.

When confronted with the sheer enormity of poverty, people immediately assume nothing can be done to fix the problem. As long as third world countries have no access to capital, the gap between the rich and the poor will continue to escalate. Do we just wait for the day when this division is so prominent that Westerners will be forced to take a stand? No, we must take action now. According toWorld Vision, a child dies as a result of starvation every seven seconds. It would be startling to calculate the loss of life that has hypothetically occurred whilst reading this article.

An appalling 40 percent of the world’s population lives on less than one US dollar a day, reports World Vision President, Richard Steam. He alsosaid that a lack of clean water causes millions of unnecessary deaths per year.The cost of providing this resource for a child is as little as one dollar annually. Knowing this, how can any individual reasonably argue they are not wealthy enough to make a difference?

This hypocrisy is also prevalent within governments when considering the estimated amount of money spent on military expenditure around the world in 2009 to be $1.5 trillion US dollars. This copious figure has only been made possible by taxpayers who are likely unaware of just how much is spent on national defence. The world has become so tragically consumed by power and fear that authorities will not even consider using a small percentage of this amount to assist homeless citizens or famished children. Obviously it would be unethical for a country to entirely abandon their military plans to abolish poverty but if numerous nations attributed to the cause, undeveloped areas would have the opportunity to become sustainable once and for all.

It is sad that we instead choose to spend these grand amounts of money on waging war upon one another. Warfare is a poignant example of the result of ignorance taking control of mankind. Many dictators and leaders have become blinded by believing they are always correct. As a result, at least 70,044,400 people were killed during World Wars I and II. Occasions like these make ignorance seem inescapable and remind us that we must immediately alter our state of mind.

However, this cannot be done whilst the media continues to promote short-sightedness. Strangely there is limited coverage for the numerous soldiers who have lost their lives fighting on behalf of their country in the current Afghanistan war. Instead, Justin Bieber makes headlines for getting a new haircut and Charlie Sheen is celebrated for being a reckless drug addict.

Shifting to a more local focus, something else dark and terrifying lurks hidden within our midst. Teenage suicide is a dilemma that is continually forgotten, leaving the youth of today with little choice but to suffer in silence. What is to blame for the rising number of self-inflicted deaths - an individual’s free will or society’s ignorance? Often, victims of suicide give no sign of their interminable anguish. In many cases, they may have been popular, academic or sporty. It is traits like these that make discussing depression much more difficult as teenagers instinctively adopt a charade to fit in with their peers rather than discuss their inner emotions.

Earlier this year, The Weekend Australian Magazine documented statistics that showed that the number of teenagers who killed themselves in the past year was greater than those who died in car accidents. After launching legislation and advertising campaigns to protect young people on the road, it is absurd that the government refrains from doing the same to prevent self harm. The issue has traditionally been considered taboo in many religions. In a country where atheism is the fastest growing denomination however, will the 21st century induce a paradigm shift and help save countless lives?

Ironically, this article in itself may reek of ignorance. In any case, it is a call to action. I hope every individual will strive to pry open the reluctant eyes of those around them. We can all make a difference but if people still believe we should not be concerned, I fear greatly for the progression of human existence. In the words of Martin Luther King,“our lives begin to end the day we become silent about things that matter”.

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29 Photography by Anusuya Krishnan

Night Crusades Milly Arsic

Count each step you take…

Out here, I am no one. I stumble in the dark, cutting across a ghost town, damp with dreariness. There are no stars, only memories of long ago blinking billions of life years away. I have no past and no place left to go. All I have is now, giftwrapped in a brown paper bag.

Blurry-eyed and dazed, I convince myself daylight will soon appear. The day will be born again and so will I. The Mona Lisa of the sky, the sun, will smile down at me andI will chase her until I reach the other side of the world.

Maybe I am lost...

I swallow my hunger, bringing my hands closer to my chest, inwards, as if I am falling into myself. I feel like a poem. Hunger prevails. I feel like eating a poem.

I am a street artist, coming out when the world sleeps. Sometimes I forget I even exist. I like to think I am a ghost, unseen, unheard, a hunchback of Notre Dame chasing the shadows.

I walk alone. Sirens start to blare in the background, a kind of lullaby. A man walks past. He slumps like a sack of coals, shoulders rolling over one another. I catch a glimpse of his hands, rolled into fists, ready to play. The man has ‘Life’ written on his fingers, one letter for each knuckle.He looks at me and smirks, but does not stop.

I want to go home…How far have I come?

Slurred thoughts. I wish I knew my name. Maybe I am someone famous.

Maybe I am not even a man. I could be Marilyn Monroe. A gust of wind pushes past me. I look down. No dress as white as snow flies up. My pants from yesterday hug me tight.

I look up to see it.

Love is a cheap bottle of perfume splashed outside a joint with flashing neon lights and girls called Sugar and Honey. I’ve seen her a few times here before, staring out the window. I saw her crying once. She sits up there in her ivory tower with her wicked godmother, the drag queen. Behind those beautiful blue eyes lies a very sad story. She has surrendered. I think about her sometimes, the girl behind the mask of make-up and creamy skin. I think about her being someone she is not, smiling at men she has never known, using frivolity as a front. She will only know love by the dollar. If I could, I would kiss her rosy lips with dreams and paint her a new story. A story where her smile doesn’t crack.

Maybe it is all an illusion, but the girl looks down at me. I feel like she is staring right into my soul.

“What’s your name?” she says from inside the window.

“I…I don’t know,” I say.

She laughs. A sweet strawberry kind of laugh.

“I’ve seen you here before. Too afraid to come in?”

“No,” I say quickly, “but…why are you afraid of coming out?”

A glimpse of fear flashes in her eyes. A still moment. A tear slowly finds its way to her lips.

“Let me help you…Let me know you.”

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She hesitates. One second seems too long when dreams already lie shattered on the ground.Slowly she nods, like a fragile flower leaning its head towards the sunrise. She has nothing to lose and she knows it.

I smile up at her. “They won’t find you where I live. I’ve got the best seat in the house. Sparkling crystal waterfront views and a warm bedside fire.”

She hangs her feet outside the window, her silhouette dipping in and out between glass. “Why are you being so nice to me?”

I frown. “Do you hear that?”

“Hear what?” she asks.

“Nothing. I thought a busker was playing an accordion, but it’s nothing.

Hey, what’s your name?”

She steps up from the window pane, leans forward and jumps. My arms are out to catch her fall. She lands roughly, but looks at me, smiling.

“Starlight.”

I grab her hand and we are off, weaving through the back streets under a blanket of clouds. Sometimes just when you think you may be trapped forever, you get saved. Sometimes playing Russian roulette with your life is the final resort.

I’m chasing life with an angel.

My head is spinning. My heart is pounding. Starlight looks incandescent.

The best dream I have ever had.

“How far away are we?” she asks.

“Not far at all; just keep running straight.”

We run and run. Suddenly, a loud sound is heard. I feel something hit my right leg. Sharp. Unrelenting pain. The street light flickers for just a moment for me to realise I am bleeding. Broken. Starlight screams, her eyes bulging as wide as the moon. Somehow I have cracked my fragile skull and am dying from the inside out.

We’ve made it.

“Where are your keys, where are your keys, where are your keys?” she shouts, desperate to lock herself from the monsters who have found us.

“There are no keys.”

I let go of her hand. My leg muscles are contracting and twisting like a contortionist. I fall.

I point to the bridge. To the small pile of wood burning brightly in a heap.

To the dirty, rotten mattress underneath the bridge. To the pile of sleeping bodies craving warmth.

She says nothing. She finally sees me for what I am. She finally understands why my pants are torn, why I haven’t shaved for weeks, why my stomach growls for food. I am not a hero. I am a street ghost. I lie on the ground and bleed. Starlight’s head is bowed down in defeat. She whimpers and wraps her arms around me. I am the first man she has ever touched without cringing. And I will be the last. They come and go. They take her away.

A dog walks past and still I bleed.

A policeman walks past and still I bleed.

I close my eyes and wait to become a star in the night sky.

Photography by Christian Schussler

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Unveiling the Mask of Ignorance Anusuya Krishnan

Too young to know what has plagued her Too young to understand its implications Masked by her innocence, she lives life in oblivion.

Priyanka Chand, like many of the other children at the Manisha Singh Punarjeevan Niwash (MSPN) centre for children who are HIV positive,lives her life in what seems like a fairytale. Unaware of the circumstances of HIV infection, these children live life oblivious to their surroundings. Brought up in a society where abstinence is heavily rooted in cultural values, a child who is infected with a disease transmitted through unprotected sexual intercourse is frowned upon. So the question arises, are these innocent children who play and live life at ease subjected to a future of turmoil and resentment? Despite her infectious laugh and ever-smiling mentality, there lies a family history disheartening to say the least. Priyanka Chand, a five year old girlfriendly and loving in nature was admitted to MSPN on the 20th of July 2010. Born in Kanchanpur, her family moved to New Delhi, due to financial strain. Her father is an alcoholic and her mother passed away one month before admission to MSPN. Unlike most of the other five year olds, Priyanka has proved herself to be very bright and has excelled since the time of her admission at MSPN. Currently, MSPN is in search of a sponsor to help provide her with an education other than the informal education being received at MSPN. An article published in Republica newspaper on November 3rd 2010, stated that children with HIV could not be admitted to the elite schools of Kathmandu. However, some public schools under very strict guidelines accept students with hesitation. Today I asked the children what they wanted to be when they grew up. A frenzy of smiles and broken teeth looked back at me with hopeful eyes and replied, “Doctor, teacher, vet!” Why should these children be precluded from living up to their aspirations merely due to social stigma? In Nepal, approximately 16, 262 people suffer from HIV/ AIDS, therefore awareness is key in helping reduce stigma. I first met Priyanka Chand at MSPN.Established in 2006 under the management of Friends of Needy Children (FNC),the NGO focuses on the welfare of women and children (aged 10 years and below) by providing a transitional home for up to 18 children, as well as food, medication, psychological counseling and an informal education. The children and mothers are first admitted to hospital and are later referred to the centre to receive treatment for an average of 3 months. The non- profit organization also promotes HIV awareness to families who live in rural Nepal and are unaware of the disease.

Solely depending on voluntary funds, the centre works to prevent negative perceptions towards people who are infected with HIV and also strives to improve their quality of life when they leave. In the time spent volunteering at MSPN, I’ve come to realize that HIV should not be anything to be discriminated against. Walking to work every day with the mindset of reaching out to the children and mothers on a deeper level brings me satisfaction that I never would have gained elsewhere. As I walk through the door I am greeted by a whirl of smiling faces tugging my shirt and hugging my leg calling out “Dhidhi, Dhidhi!” Innocence such as theirs cannot be undermined. Innocence such as theirs is nothing but justified. I came to Nepal not knowing what to expect, however being with the children and mothers these past two months has not only allowed me to reap the benefits of fulfillment but has also opened my eyes a little wider. Although two months can seem like two days, being at MSPN has made me feel like I’ve made a difference; perhaps only miniscule but all it takes is a “tiny ripple of hope” to eventually build a future that will make their dreams a reality.

“ Each time a person stands up for an ideal, or acts to improve the lot of others, or strikes out against injustice, he sends forth a tiny ripple of hope, and crossing each other from a million different centers of energy and daring, these ripples build a current that can sweep down the mightiest walls of oppression and resistance.”

- Robert F. Kennedy

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Photography by Anusuya Krishnan

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Photography by Anusuya Krishnan

35 Photography by Anusuya Krishnan

He’d been watching them for a while now. Two girls, walking side by side. He liked them, liked seeing their pear-shaped bodies swaying in unison. One was taller with her hair down, and the other had hers up in a bun.

The night liberated him. And sweat he was used to. At work, he was constantly slicked in it. But this … this strain, this stealth. It was all too familiar, like the first try at his job years ago. Now the same symptoms clutched at him; trembling limbs, feeling torn between fleeing and securing goods.

They strode in the light while he stuck to the shadows.

Which one?

Please, please, please turn around! What harm could it be? He’d just ask one of them out, and then the other, and then that would be that.

The glass felt hard and cool against his nose.

They turned around with one vanilla sundae between them.

You like sundaes? I’ll give you sundaes, one each! His right hand strayed to his back pocket where a slim wallet lived. A pitiful sum – he deserved more.

The taller one flashed a glance over her shoulder. He lurched back, bumping into the bonnet of a car. He scanned his surroundings, searching methodically for the suspicious head-turning of anyone who was spying on him.

Ice Cream Yin Lin

He wrangled around as shops blurred by. They were already onto the next street but now, for him, the pedestrian light gleamed red. A small group of people began accumulating at the crossing but his concentration locked on the girls safely on the other side.

Who do I want most?

The light turned green again and he snuck forwards, ignoring side glances from boys who’d slicked their hair with gel.

Parked cars filed against the curb in the next street, and the two girls loitered on.

His fingers slid across the cars’ shiny covers as he weaved between the stationary vehicles. He forgot that, just yesterday, he’d been here. Today, the hubcaps, the tires, the badges, the sparkplugs and the aerials of the cars shouted of money to him.

Not right now though – now he was upgrading his skill. You have to think of the future, Ma had said, life consists of more than money.

Lovely black hair. He imagined running his fingers through the girls’ locks, caressing something soft and alive for a change. His own hand passed over his scalp. It came away greasy with sweat, grime and dust from the day before yesterday. It repulsed him, chilling him in more sweat, and he shook himself. What was he thinking about?

Nice hips. His eyes strayed down to where denim shorts showed off most of their thighs so that he didn’t notice the dairy on the corner until they’d entered it. He stilled a few feet before the entrance. The automatic doors slid open and airconditioning blasted out. He welcomed the few seconds’ relief from the humidity of the night once the doors closed again.

Heat swamped him. He squeezed between two parked cars and watched the stagecraft inside the shop. It glowed of an artificial brightness that hurt his eyes and made his head ache. Such naivity! Cocooned in neon lights, they were lulled in a false sense of security. Not like him.

He neared the window, not seen but all seeing. And he liked what he was seeing.

His mind spoke of many things. Of the novelty of warmth melting at his side. A softer thing, a thing warmer than metal. It spoke of dimmed lights and flickering flesh.

No! He shook himself and squeezed his eyes shut against these fantasies. But… O-oh. His fingers twitched against the glass as he watched them lean over the counter, the hems of their shorts hitching higher and higher. Oh! He wanted to rub his fingers against that pearl-white skin.

36

Light from streetlamps reflected off passing traffic, puppeteering shadows across looming stores.

No one’s about.

A wall of chilled air announced the girls’ sudden departure of the shop. He bowed his face towards the car, faked fiddling with car keys. Then, their giggles came from a long way off.

His head snapped up. Shit! Almost out of sight.

Panic kicked his guts. Sweat crusted his back. He hounded them like shadows. Tailgating, he called it.

Under the streetlights, he pretended not to notice their arms encircling the other’s waist. That, and their almost-too-often glances like they shared a secret.

Girls like to hold each others’ hands, don’t they? he reassured himself, trying to remember the sparse images of women in his childhood.

They stopped.

Frick. He scuttled back into the safety of darkness. The tall girl offered the ice cream to the other girl. She licked it and her eyes narrowed to slits, the same expression as a kitten he’d had whilst testing a saucer of cream.

“This is so good,” she said. His legs went oozy and his palm slapped against a car bonnet for support. It felt real, hard, and dead.

“I know.” A deep purr accentuated the taller girl’s voice. The other nodded, cheeks flushing at the ice.

Before understanding dawned on him, before his legs found strength, a breeze rose teasing strands of hair from the taller one’s face. She said something he didn’t catch. He watched as the other tucked flying wisps behind the tall girl’s ear. In return, her lips formed a soft smile and she wiped ice cream from a corner of the small girl’s mouth.

His hunger for flesh dissipated. He backed away. Taken... Stuffing his fists deep into his pockets, he stole into the night. ~ They looked back. A shadow was all that was left of him.

“Do you reckon we should call the police? That strange dude was following us,” murmured the taller girl.

“Aw, we nailed him. We had fun!” The other grinned. When no response was given, she squeezed the former’s hand impatiently and demanded, “C’mon, admit it sis, you did have fun.”

37 Photography by Milena Arsic

Never Again

Yin Lin

8:30 Nathan Tucker: don’t txt someone at 2 am, then txt again saying sorry. It’s TOO LATE. I laugh at Nathan’s Facebook status.

Tut, tut, tut Nathan, I almost hear Jo say, that’s not good enough. I can see her inspecting her pink fingernails. Flatting with someone for a couple of years, you get to know her pretty well.

And when I click to see everyone else’s comments, sure enough there’s Jo: 2 bad, Tucky!

8:45 Right, time to leave.Bag, cell phone, wallet, keys. Check, check, check. Keys?

Keyhole! Jo shouted, her feet slung up on the armrest of the sofa. Have fun with boring Science, Kelly-girl.

Boy do I miss her maddening taunts. Poor new flat mate:first-year law student. But to be honest, it’s a pleasant guiltiness that her voice isn’t nagging me anymore.

But the house is so quiet.

Study studystudy. That all you do Kells? Come on, have some fun! And a pillow inevitably followed, crushed against the back of my head.

I slammed my pen down and pretended to be angry. Just because you don’t want to study, doesn’t mean other people don’t, Jo. Come on, don’t be such a spoilsport. It’s a perfectly good day, a perfectly wondrous weekend, and you’ve spent the entire morning at your desk already!

If you haven’t noticed, we have exams in a month.

Oh, shock, horror. Le gasp! She rolled her eyes at the ceiling. Lowering her legs to the ground, she bounded to me, her hands seizing my shoulder.

Now what!

Let’s go play badminton. Come on.

Damn her. She always knew how to pull my strings. In fact, she always knew how to pull everyone’s strings.

No. I waved my hand at the calendar stuck on my wall. Exams?

Pleeeease? She wheeled me around in my ergonomic computer chair and turned on imploring mode on full beam. I’ll be quiet for a whole morning, tomorrow!

No eraser bits flying at my ears. No paper planes flying over my desk. Nothing.

Really? I asked, as suspicious as hell.

I swear on it. She was all earnest now.

Alright.

Key in bag, I check the air conditioning, and set off.

8:55 “Morning, Kelly.”

“Oh you’re here already!” I give Nathan a hug.

Together, we stroll down the streets to uni.

“So, I saw your Facebook status this morning,” I grin.

He grimaces. “Really, really annoying.”

“That’s why I turn off my mobile every night. You should do that, too.” I step in behind him to let a group of tattooed boys with Mohawks pass.

He turns to check on me.

As if she’d be snatched by random people on the road, Jo sniffed. But behind Nathan’s back, she told me that he was a sweet guy and not to let him out of my clutches.

Don’t have clutches, I informed her. Got hands.I waved them at her.

Her eyes narrowed at me, fists on her hips.

“I always get paranoid that what if someone needs to get hold of me and I’m not there.”

Nathan shakes his head.

We stop at an intersection. I check my watch.

“Miss Time paranoia.” Nathan quotes from Jo. “On time – and no one’ll want me that urgent!”

“Well, you never know.” The lights turn green and the crowd claims the street. “Two weeks of Auckland’s doing Jo good. Last thing I heard she’s applying for a scholarship.”

“Free-“ “-money,” “Why not?” we end together.Again, one of Jo’s phrases.

Nathan chuckles. “Those were the days.”

“She got a boyfriend yet?”

None of your business, I could hear her. Her eyebrows would shoot up and her index finger wag.

“Lots of guys like her. But she’s got her sights on Brendon. Medicine.”

“Expensive taste she’s got.”

“Alrighty,” I say, catching sight of university buildings. “Survive the lectures.”

38

20:10 I check my alarm on my mobile and turnit off. Outside, rain falls.

Yeah, raining at night’s good. Just don’t rain during the day when I’ve got m’ makeup on, Jo said.

Shut up. I want to sleep.

You know, you waste a third of your life sleeping.

I glared at her. You waste my time!

00:30 The rain pours, bouncing against my windows. I wake, stare into the darkness, and try to block the noise.

Rain rain go away. Jo’s the only singer in our group. I can’t sing to save my life and Nathan, well, let’s just say he’s an uncut gem.

The rain hits harder. Man, is it hailing?

Wait.

It sounds like someone’s banging on my door, my windows. Fear clutches me. Who on earth…?

I get up slowly, hoping the person’s going to give up.

No. Sounds like they’re kicking my door now.

I grab my jacket and drape it over my pyjamas. Switch on the light; open the door.

Nathan stumbles into the room. His clothes drip rain on my carpet. A stain spreads where he stands.

“What?”

“Turn your phone on.”

Without the foggiest, my fingers close over my mobile. While it starts up, I peer at Nathan.“Are you alright?”

He shakes his head and collapses in my chair.

I sit on my bed. By this time, the phone’s receiving messages. It vibrates and vibrates.

I lift my gaze but Nathan still says nothing.

“Fifteen texts.You. Brendon. Mannie.Serina.You again.You. You…” The last one is an automatic text, informing me of five missed calls. All the texts are the same: call me.“If this is a joke, it’s not funny. What’s going on?”

Nathan keeps his eyes on the floor.

“Nathan!” I stand.

His eyes snap up. I frown – he’s been crying. “Sit down.”

I sit.

“Brain aneurysm with complications. The hospital…th-they couldn’t do anything” He pushes his wet hair out of his face.

I stare at the water spraying across my calendar. Dripping down the wall. It had to be raining, hadn’t it? I swallow, wet my lips, and ask, “Who?” “Jo.”

39 Photography by Anusuya Krishnan

Prepared Like a Bride - Revelation 21:2

As I sit down to interview this fine quintet, I am astonished at the welcome that I receive. I am greeted with a set of earplugs and drum sticks. I immediately knew that I was going to enjoy myself. What a brilliant way to start the day!

The purpose of this interview is to try and dispel some of the rumours that plague this genre of music. Metal music is associated with Satanists and writ-slitting; just as all rappers allegedly shoot people and pop stars are coked-up divorcees. PLAB is making significant waves in the genre, and showing the greater listening public that sounds, as well as looks, can be deceiving. This is a band with kind-hearted and dedicated souls.

They are young, wise, heavy hitting and softly spoken. Essentially, this is a band that you’d take home to your parents.

Peter Clayton

Convincement: How do you convince people that metal isn’t actually a satanic genre?

Ryan: I don’t think you need to convince younger people. It’d be obvious to see anyone on stage worship the Devil.

Rummond: Read the lyrics, and talk to people in band.

Connor: Actually go see a band, see the people in the band - you’ll see they aren’t mental for yourself.

Rumond: It’s good wholesome fun for the whole family.

Their inspirations: PLAB: The Devil Wears Prada - They’re young, same morals and beliefs. The way they treat their fans, it’s admirable.

The band: Baked: What is it you like about this band?

Ryan: These are some of the best friends I have. I reckon I could live with these dudes, Inspirational words for another band: and have fun with them all the time.

Baked: What words of inspiration would you have for another band?

Pete: Play music because you love it, and have an actual passion for it. Don’t do it just Their message: to play shows.

Ryan: Our general message is love, and that comes from our love for Christ.

Rumond: Try and be original, don’t just copy other bands. I know there is a fine line between copying a band and taking inspiration; I don’t condone plagiarism.

Religion: Ryan: We hate religion, but we love the relationship with God. For example, we’re Being young: trying to show people a different kind of Christianity. It’s not what you have to do; Baked: Mikey, you’re 14. Has that posed any difficulties? it’s nothing about us doing anything. It’s a relationship with God. It’s about Christ Mikey: People always come up to me and say how young I am. They usually say 12. I accepting us for who we are, and us trying to become more like him. It’s not what we don’t get upset by the age thing; it doesn’t bother me that I’m the youngest. can do; it’s what Christ did for us.

PLAB: He doesn’t have to lift heavy gear, but he cooks to make up for it. Thankfully, he’s a good cook.

The journey between EP and EP: PLAB: In our first EP, the general theme was not one of accord; there were multiple Future plans: messages. Salvation, forgiveness, grace and mercy. Significantly, there was a message PLAB: We’ve got an international tour coming up, but we can’t disclose too much of ‘forgiveness and grace’, and also a message of ‘conviction’. It was a bit disjointed, but yet. We’re really looking forward to it, and announcing it. We’re about to announce a we were a fresh band then. Ryan: Everyone knows when they do something wrong. national tour, with QLD, NSW, VIC and SA.Our new record is hopefully coming out God wrote the law into our hearts. You know you are doing wrong. That is what in October. We’re recording in August, with Josh McRae. He’s recorded us on all our conviction is:without being told that you are doing wrong, you know it. Our new EP previous releases. Listen to Bulls on Parade for his later recordings. He’s one of the theme comes out of a place as, us as a band having been wrong, being the same as you upcoming producers. He’s learning as we learn, but at a phenomenal rate. Big things are, and as a result, we can take the journey of life together. Life: it’s tough for a lot of are coming up for him. people. Hopefully our lyrics show we’re all in this together.

Rumond: With the new EP, we’re after a more mature sound: more technical, groovy Final note: and more atmospheric. We’re trying to define our sound more. We’re trying our best PLAB: Music is our passion. We love it, and wouldn’t have it any other way. We do this to have a unique sound. for our love of Christ. To sum it up, we do this all for His glory. We hope that you give our music a shot, dig it and spread it.

Criticisms: Baked: That fact that you’re a Christian band, has that prompted any criticisms?

I wish that I could have transcribed the entire interview. It contained some very inPLAB: We’ve been criticised for using the church as our advertisement. spirational messages, and had quite a lot of soul as well. In writing this interview, I Pete: “The Church funded our EP” is the biggest one; which is untrue, as we funded found that I couldn’t include the tone, the passion and conviction that the words were it entirely ourselves. stated in. This is a band that hates ‘religion’ as a concept, but loves the relationship Rumond: Lots of rumours about funding everything. with God. To any reader, this may seem like a paradox. Trust me, it’s not. All I can say Ryan: It doesn’t faze us, but we try and make things right. about this band is that they are certainly going places. You may not find them on cereal boxes or winning Nobel peace prizes; but without a doubt, if you meet this band Rumours: (which I hope you do), you will agree that there is no band more deserving of praise Baked: What is the biggest rumour that you’ve heard about Metal that is just wrong? and publicity. PLAB have influenced the younger generations of Christians, and there Ryan: It’s all the devil. You can look at when drums were introduced to Church;they are many more to come. thought that drums were of the devil.

I’d like to thank PLAB for their time. Get their original EP free on their FB page.

On the road: PLAB: We have a tradition of mooning a pie shop. It came out that another band (Creations) was eating there, so we decided to moon them as we were driving past.

Now, we start honking the horn about 100 metres away, and have all the patrons watch us moon them as they are eating their shepherd’s pie.

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Research Project on a Poppy Farm in Tassie Making a difference by thinking green!

Mission: Research Project at a multi-functional Agro-Biofuel business Location: Cressy, Tasmania Time: One week in June 2011 Researchers: Environmental Management Students of the Faculty of Sustainable Development and Architecture ever thought about how to make a business greener and more profitable at the same time? How can a sustainable business combat climate change by making money? Three environmental management students have been trying to answer these questions for a multi-functional Agro-Biofuel business located in Tassie that is bigger than 331 soccer fields. The task is to undertake a Life Cycle Assessment (LCA) of the business and its entire supply chain. The environmental impacts of the business must be assessed, as well as the environmental burden of the business’s inputs during the production stage. Put simply, imagine you go to a supermarket and buy a carrot. What is the environmental burden of this purchase? You drive to the supermarket (fuel use), cool it (energy use), clean it (water use) and cook it (energy use). However, this is only the environmental burden of the use of the carrot. The carrot also has to be produced, transported, distributed and packaged to bring it to the store. This new concept is called Life Cycle thinking. It analyses all environmental impacts connected to a certain good.

Thomas Haehl

Businesses use it for numerous reasons: improving overall resource efficiency, assessing environmental hotspots and making use of Eco-labelling are only a few examples. In this case, the students act as a consultancy team and focus on the carbon footprint of the business. This means that all greenhouse gas emissions are calculated and analysed with respect to their Global Warming Potential. The major task is to switch the business’s fuel consumption from conventional fossil fuels to on-site produced biofuel that is retrieved from poppy seeds. Biofuel, however, uses a lot of other inputs that have many environmental implications: land use change, fertilisers, chemicals and water usage only to name a few. So what solution is the greener and more profitable one in the end?This is only one out of several challenges that will be answered in the team’s final report. By conducting this LCA, the business manager will see how to decrease his Carbon Footprint,improve his resource efficiency and find out what inputs are economically and environmentally superior.

In my view, in a time of increasing prices for all resources, new challenges due to climate change and an introduction of carbon taxation and emission trading schemes, there is definitively a need for a new way of thinking. Sustainability is not only a senseless concept, but an opportunity for both environment and businesses.

Photography by Thomas Haehl

41 COC0000481 - A4 Bond Uni Mag Ad PR.indd 1

12/11/10 11:31:10 AM

The [Exclusive] Brethren

Lauren Kennard

I am going to start with a little bit of a disclaimer (or two), a somewhat unusual practice for me.

1

.As the title suggests, I speak of the exclusive Brethren. Some of you may be a part of their church. Understand that I have nothing against the Brethren. To those who do not belong to the Brethren, let it be noted that they are incredibly different, however, nothing that I say is a reflection on them.

2

.If you want more information, go onto www.peebs.net. This is probably one of the most comprehensive sources on the Exclusive Brethren’s history and practices. If you end up on the actual Exclusive Brethren website, please have the discretion to take what they say with a huge grain of salt.

Hi, my name is Lauren Kennard, and half of my family belongs to a cult. This cult isn’t an overtly doomsday one that winds up in the news for filling train stations up with sarin gas, and they don’t have too many armed encounters with the authorities, so I don’t blame you if you have never heard of them. Chances are that you probably have never heard of them unless you have lived in an area where they have tried to build a church (which is something the average person wouldn’t want in their neighbourhood, trust me). There are no congregations on the Gold Coast, so locals probably wouldn’t know one if they fell over them. You might be wondering why I am not in a cult despite the majority of one side of my family being members. Actually, my dad committed a cardinal sin in his 20s. He questioned the cult and left. As a consequence, although he got to live in the ‘real world’, he has barely gotten to speak to his family. I have never met them. Well, to be fair, that isn’t entirely true. To epitomise how incredibly weird family ties are, let me go back to the ‘family reunion’ I went to in 2007. I had just started a new school about 60km away from where I lived. Sounds like a bit of a hike, but pretty normal in the country. I caught the bus to and from the school. My dad had warned me that they were going to be on the bus, and that it was probably best to keep my identity a secret in case they tried to convert me. I took heed of his advice, and sagely decided against wearing a novelty sized name tag on the bus. I even wore sunglasses. I got on the bus after school and concealed my name tag. Suddenly, there was a huge stir among the maroon-wearing group on the bus. The Brethren. Oh dear, I could see where this was going. “Oi, are you Lauren Kennard?” asked one of the more articulate Brethren members. Huh? That was quick. With less than 10 minutes away from school, there was no point denying it. “Yep”. I looked down. At the hat. In my hands.With my name emblazoned in thick black marker. Smooth Lauren, really smooth. I could make a top secret agent one day. One of my cousins introduced herself,then proceeded to introduce another 25 or so people who also had different claims of relation. To be honest, I lost track.

We small chatted for a while and they also wanted to know about my dad. I said he was just superb, and we conversed quite merrily for the next 50km. When it was their turn to get off the bus, one of them had the kindness to point out an old lady to me. “See her?” they said, “She’s your grandmother.” My dad’s mother. This was the first time I had seen her outside of a photo. I can’t say she looked much different, despite the photo being 20 years old. I am sure they had many interesting stories to tell her that day. I knew I would never get to introduce myself as her long-lost grandchild, or meet any aunts and uncles. This bus exchange was probably about as close as I would get to my family.

Now, to tie this all in with the cult, I am going to talk about the Exclusive Brethren’s strong separation doctrine. The idea is that Brethren people are not allowed to talk or associate with anyone except for other Brethren members. This means that if you leave, you cannot see your family or friends ever again. This was something that the grand poobah prescribed many years ago, brainwashing followers into compliance. The doctrine is incredibly oppressive and has led to many family breakups. Some people have left while their kids remained in the cult, and have never gotten to see them again. For some, this is all too much to bear, and they feel suicide is the only option. This is because custody of the children is an option that is easier said than done. Most of those who leave the Brethren only have the clothes on their back whilst those in the Brethren in the administrative ranks have lots of money. This means they can afford very expensive lawyers, leaving the outsiders, who don’t even know how the legal system works, to fend for themselves. Imagine turning your back on your family, knowing you may never speak to them again. You would not be invited to their funerals and often, would not even know if they had passed away. It would be enough to mess with anyone’s mind. This is the biggest problem I have with the Exclusive Brethren, but I will briefly talk about some other features that are interesting to say the least.They have their own schools, where they receive the education that the state sanctions (although with many amendments to suit their own extremist Christian doctrine). None go to university, however they are now allowing some to do law and medicine so that they do not need to associate with nonBrethren professionals. They are smart people, and I dare say that a lot of my cousins are actually much smarter than I am in many ways, but they will probably never receive an education. They go to church once a day, and four times a day on Sundays. This can be quite an exhausting lifestyle and I have often felt pretty sorry for my cousins for having to sit through a long day at school, do a fair bit of travel, then go straight to homework, and then church. Women are basically given an incredibly menial role in the church.

They do such tasks as baking bread for the men, and making lots and lots of babies. Unmarried women may work, however most Brethren are married off by the time they are 20, meaning that most basically serve the role of housewives whether they like it or not. In contrast, men work in Brethren-owned businesses, undertaking trade activities.

One of the biggest causes and dangers of leaving the Brethren is people thinking too much and challenging their ridiculous doctrine.To avoid overstimulation, televisions, and newspapers are also banned. I remember my cousins being very excited when I used to let them use my iPod and watch the Chasers’ War on Everything, or listen to pop music. I like to think I was corrupting them. They drive Taragos. Badly. The reason they drive such versatile people-movers is because there are a lot of people to move. Most of my cousins had at least 5 or 6 brothers or sisters, but I know some who have about 9 or 10. This is because they don’t believe in contraception. And this is why I have such an incredible amount of cousins. To finish off, I am going to talk about a couple of ways that my Brethren family has affected me. When we lived in Bathurst, every weekend or second weekend, a Tarago would drive slowly and ominously past our house. At first I used to be worried for our safety, but I was reassured that everything was ok. They were simply stalking us. They like to keep tabs on ex members apparently, even 20 years after they have left. It seemed weird at first, but I am now used to stalkers. Finally, I am going to show a perfect manifestation of close mindedness. In 2006, I befriended a teacher’s child at school. I wasn’t the best influence, but I was far from the worst as well. One day she came up to me sheepishly and told me that she wasn’t meant to talk to me in front of her mother (who worked at the school) but informed me she was not going to listen to her mother. I gave her kudos for doing that, but then asked why it was that she wasn’t allowed to associate with me. Turns out she had worked at the Brethren school in Orange, where there were many kids with the last name of Kennard. She had come to the conclusion (rightfully so) that they were a bit weird, but also concluded that all Kennards outside of the Brethren must be weird. I tried telling her that I wasn’t like my cousins but like most people, when confronted after bitching about someone behind their back, she sharply told me that she had no idea what I was talking about. Although I was never in the cult, it has greatly affected me. Seeing the mob mentality they have, I commend my father for having the audacity to leave them. To put it simply, that takes guts. I have about a million and one stories about this group, but there is probably some sort of word limit that I should adhere to. I am going to let you make up your own minds about the Brethren, but thought I should share some information and experiences about them. If there is one moral to take away from this, never take for granted the freedom to use your own mind and think for yourself because it is a freedom that a lot of people even in Australia do not have.

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Spaces are limited So book now at Student Flights Bond Uni

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44 Photography by Annie-Mei Forster

Top 10 ways

to

MillyArsic

change the

world

Let’s face it: warm and fuzzies are pretty awesome. This spring, we thought it fitting to soak up the sun and spread some smiles. Excuse the stereotypical hippie talk, but we think it’s nice to make a difference every now and then. So please find our top ten fave good deeds for the day in no particular order:

10: Volunteer Volunteering is a great way to get in touch with the community while trying something new. Even if you only dedicate an hour or two each week, you will help make a major difference in someone’s life. Whether it’s spending time at an animal shelter, giving free legal advice or connecting with homeless people, volunteering can be a very rewarding experience. Check out Volunteering Queensland for more information at www.volunteeringqld.org.au 8: Shop consciously Slave labour, child labour and vivisection are not pleasant things we like to think exist in today’s world. We also tend to turn a blind eye to big labels and brands who exploit the weak and vulnerable. Although the products may be more costly, think of it as a worldly investment in advancing humanity. From free-range eggs to boycotting badly behaving companies, you are doing the world a favour. Yeah, yeah, you’re probably thinking how not purchasing the latest (insert evil no-gooder brand here) product will make the mighty fall. Seriously, consumer activism is powerful if one by one people stand up and don’t take no for an answer.

6: Live Green Throw it in the yellow bin. Paper, glass, cartridges and phones are all items that should be recycled. You can check out the specifics on the Planet Ark website. A lot of people also love op-shopping or visiting second-hand bookstores for picking up the weird and wonderful. There’s even a cool site called SwapAce.com which works on the saying, “one man’s trash is another man’s treasure.” The site encourages people to trade in things they don’t want instead of dumping them. Kind of like eBay, only who can say no to freebies? (I was seconds away from adopting a puppy…yes, they even have puppies). Also, think before you print to spare a few trees, switch off unused lights andconsider helping out during Clean Up Australia Day, Earth Hour and Plant a Tree Day. 4: Write a message or compliment someone It’s great to randomly stumble upon a sweet message, get an amazing text or have some nice words spoken about you. What’s best is when you least expect it. So hide a nice note for someone you love, write a poem and save it on someone’s desktop or just remind people how much they mean to you every now and then. Life is short so make the moments count. It’s also a good idea to write a message in a bottle and send it sailing, maybe addressing it to future generations or someone on the other side of the world. I’ve also found messages ‘to future readers’ of certain library books, advising them not to waste their time reading a particular book, as well as a hidden romantic note to a girl written by her boyfriend. There are lots of ideas so just play around with it.

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9: Talk to someone you’ve never met before If you find yourself waiting for a bus, try talking to people you don’t know.

Who knows just who you might meet. I’ve met a 97 year old woman still going strong who still inspires me to this day to make the most out of life.

I’ve had a great DNM with a rock guitarist during a bus trip and met an English woman who has offered me accommodation when I head to London. Honestly, just try it. You might get some valuable life advice or get motivated to try something new. As they say, friends are strangers you’ve never met yet.

7: Donate There are lots of ways you can get involved and not all of them involve money. You most definitely can choose to donate money such as for charities or causes like The Hunger Project. However, you may also donate blood – currently the Red Cross estimates only 1 in 30 people give blood.

Also, what about becoming an organ donor? And here’s an easy way to help just by sitting at home: the United Nations World Food Programme runs a fantastic online quiz called FreeRice. For every answer you get right, they will donate 10 grains of rice to help end world hunger.

5: Be someone’s role model It’s always nice to have someone look up to you. You never know what kind of impact you have on someone so it’s good to make it count. Whether you start coaching a school team, try peer mentoring or just babysit your younger siblings, always think how much of a mark you are leaving behind.

Through education, giving advice or just listening, you are sure to make someone feel appreciated and inspired to step up.

3: Time capsule This oldie’s a goodie. It may be kind of strange thinking about future generations analysing our period of time, but why not make the job easier for them by preserving a part of our history? I made myself a personal time capsule years ago and only recently discovered it by accident. I couldn’t believe the things I found, remnants of a childhood so long ago. It’s nice to look back and reflect on the past.

2: Travel the world What better way to learn and change the world than to live amongst it?

Being lost in the unknown, getting in touch with your wild side, immersing yourself in other cultures and learning a new language are just some ways to drive big change. Listen to the locals for everyone has a story to tell. Once you can put a human face to a major problem, desire for change will come quickly.

1: Pay it forward The movie may be good but the real life story’s even better. So when someone does something nice for you, pay it forward by doing something nice for three other people...or more. Bake a cake, give a compliment, smile at a stranger, ring up an old friend, help an old woman cross the road, make someone laugh…the possibilities are endless. They say karma can be cruel but hey, you never know when you’ll be blessed with luck coming your way.

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Photography by Anusuya Krishnan

Witchcraft and Black Magic in PNG Laura Bingham

The Real-life Horror Film Playing Out Right on Our Door Step Witchcraft, sorcery, black magic and evil curses. Throw it all together and what do you get? A Hollywood horror film set in eighteenth-century Europe?

If only…

After struggling for what seemed like hours, he succumbed – lured into a shallow sleep. Usually swept away by the promise of a deep slumber, this night he suffered a tiresome struggle, emerging in and out of consciousness. He rolled from one position to another - unsettled, restless, yet never content with remaining still.Despite the unfamiliarity of the bed in which he lay and the place which he was visiting for work, something much more strange and sinister was lingering on his mind. Something he had never felt before.Something that not even his extensive education and life experience could help him to comprehend.A pressing uncertainty was plaguing his thoughts and obscuring his dreams… Earlier that day while at a local market in Alotau, the capital of Milne Bay Province in Papua New Guinea, Micheal Malabag, the President of the PNG Trade Union Congress, had joked with an elderly lady. He was later informed she was believed by many to be a witch. Thinking nothing of it, he continued his day of work. Yet, reminiscing on the sleepless night that followed, he now believes that encounter was one of his first experiences of witchcraft.

“That night I could not sleep,” he explains. “I kept tossing and turning in bed like an insect was crawling around in my body. It was only when I fell down from the bed with a bang that I realised I had sweat all over my body. I did not go to sleep again that night. I left the light on all night and in the morning caught the next flight back to Moresby.”

This incident is not an isolated phenomenon. In fact, I was being sensitive to your sensibilities by not beginning with a more salacious recount bursting with gore, murder and revenge killings.I considered starting with an even more gruesome tale of how one man devoured his newborn son in what the media deemed to be a ‘sorcery initiation ceremony.’ You probably wouldn’t have believed me if I had. But the sinister truth is, just 150km over the Torres Strait from the Australian Cape York Peninsula, our Papua New Guinean neighbours are struggling with a resurgence of the dark arts that would rival any Hollywood horror film.Except, unfortunately for the Papua New Guinean population, when it gets all too scary, they can’t just flick the TV off or leave the cinema.Here, belief in witchcraft and black magic is apart of everyday life,“engrained into PNG psyche from time immemorial”, as former Post-Courier Chief of Staff Noel Pascoe put it. And while you may be of the opinion that belief in ‘evil spirits’ and all that hocus pocus jazz is a load of rubbish,in PNGit is the actual belief and fear of black magic, not the magic itself, that is having the most destructive effect. In PNG, countless innocent people have been kidnapped and murdered, allin the name of witchcraft. According to a 2011 Amnesty International report, the traditional belief in ‘puri puri’ (magic and sorcery) has, and continues to be used, as “a pretext for brutal acts of violence and murders.” Traditional tribesmen in rural parts of PNG are increasingly pointing the finger of blame on sorcery when someone suddenly or inexplicably dies. Those whom they believe to be sangumas, or witches, are often hunted down, tortured and killed. Mr. Malabag says it had been well documented that such suspicions have resulted in many deaths and much violence.“Any little suspicion of deaths related to sorcery can cause untold damage,” he says.

A simple Googlesearch of ‘Witchcraft in PNG’ is indicative of the extent of such ‘damage’ referred to by Mr. Malabag. The result? Headlines such as: “Women burned at stake after being accused of witchcraft” and “PNG man eats son in witchcraft ceremony.”Police reports shed further light on the issue. As written in the aforementioned Amnesty International report: “of the murders reported to police, victims have been buried alive, beheaded, choked to death, thrown over a cliff or into rivers or caves, starved, axed, electrocuted, suffocated with smoke, forced to drink petrol, stoned or shot.”

While the traditional belief in sorcery is widespread throughout PNG, it is more prominent in rural areas. As Mr. Malabag explains,“PNG, with its rich cultural heritage and over 800 dialects is a mecca for such practices … it is normally carried out in villages, clans or nearby areas of electorates or provinces. It is more prominent in coastal areas but now the pace has picked up in the highlands especially the Chimbu Province.” Although there are no official Government statistics of how many people have been murdered in these areas, Amnesty International estimates that 200 people were killed in 2009 in the Chimbu province alone.“Women are [also] six times more likely to be accused of sorcery than men.”Speaking with the New Zealand Herald, German Lutheran pastor and member of the Melanesian Institute of cultural studies in Goroka, Herman Spiger said,”We’re seeing a big rise in witchcraft cases. We hear of a killing almost every week.” However, as Mr. Malabag notes, while murders are happening regularly, many such incidents go unreported because of lack of communication linked to PNG’s topography and many feeling too scared to come forward and report. Further complicating the issue is the high prevalence of AIDS in PNG. This, mixed with a fractured healthcare system has equaled a recipe for disaster. PNG’s increasing AIDS problem, hinging on an epidemic, has been linked to the current resurgence of witchcraft, especially in the highlands. “People have died of AIDS and other diseases, however others blame it on sorcery,” Mr Malabag said.

This becomes problematic when traditional tribesmen seek out revenge for such unexplained deaths, often leading to destructive witch-hunts.

So is there a way forward? Or will PNG be stagnating in the Dark Ages waiting for their own age of enlightenment for many more years to come? Efforts havebeen and continue to be taken to counteract the negative impact of witchcraft on PNG culture. Such efforts have in the past included the enactment of the Sorcery Act as part of the Criminal Code of PNG. More recently, in 2009, a Government response to the rise in sorcery-related murders saw the establishment of a Committee under the Constitutional Review and Law Reform Commission aimed at reviewing laws regarding sorcery. And yet, violence persists and murders continue. Papua New Guinea remains to be a land stuck between tradition and modernisation. A melting pot of diversity – where age old belief in witchcraft and traditional ways of life continue to rub up against newer values and beliefs brought with white man’s occupancy.

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23 June 2011

Abandon Ship, Gillard

An investigation into the ‘Malaysia Solution‘ and the effect it could have on Australia’s previously acrimonious relationship with Malaysia.

By Courtney Wilkie Earlier this year The Australian described Malaysia and Australia as friends. A welcome comment given the political history of past decades. And it’s true relationships between countries do evolve but I don’t think these two countries are quite the ‘friends’ they say they are. The new found ‘friendship’ seems more like the one you have with a long-time family friend who you can call if you need a favor but only really stay in touch with incase you score some free footy tickets. In the wake of public outcry about the growing number of asylum seekers arriving in Australia, Ms Gillard called on a ‘friend’ in Malaysia to help, but only after she’d exhausted her closer allies of East Timor and Papua New Guinea.

Unfortunately, Malaysia called her bluff and now Australia is set for a collusion course of policy with the United Nations High Commissioner for Refugees (UNHCR) keeping close watch and growing public concern about Malaysia’s human rights issues. This hotch-potch political scheme could go down as just another blunder in Malaysia and Australia’s checkered past.

Fickle Friends Australia has had a strained relationship with Malaysia over the course of history, primarily during Dr Mahathir’s service as Prime Minister of Malaysia.

But it wasn’t always this way. As far back at the 19th century Malaysians were known to operate in Australia’s northern waters for pearling activities.

Australia and Malaysians fought alongside each other in numerous wars, including World War II in the Malayan Campaign, the war against the Malayan Communist insurgency in the 1950s and the conflict between Indonesia in the 1960s. However, political and cultural differences have created constant tension in diplomatic relations. One of which was when Dr Mahathir effectively kept Australia from joining the Asia-Pacific Economic Cooperation (APEC) in the 1980s. Australia became an APEC member in 1989 48

[1]

but is still not an official member of the Association of Southeast Asian Nations (ASEAN), it acts as a parter to the administration. Also, during the 1980s under a Mahathir government two Australians were hung for drug trafficking offences which caused Australian Prime Minister at the time, Bob Hawke to tell main stream media that “whatever view they had about the guilt of these two young men, it was barbaric to take their lives.” Soon after that, in 1993 a now infamous comment was made by Labor Prime Minister Paul Keating. Keating called Dr Mahathir a ‘recalcitrant’ for refusing to turn up to an APEC leaders’ summit. The war of words continued as recently as 2002 concerning Australia’s involvement in the Iraq war. Syed Hamid, Dr Mahathir’s right hand man, told Australia it was "a get-together of people who want to destroy a country, destroy a people".

Wary of Australia’s Western allies but proven to be more diplomatic is Malaysia's current Prime Minister Mr Najib Tun Razak. Razak’s more considered approach is helping to strengthen ties with Australia as he told The Age “that we can have differences of view on certain specific issues, but that doesn't mean we cannot improve ties with all countries." Australia and Malaysia’s free-trade-agreement continues as a priority for Malaysia but more pressing issues of regional processing of Australian asylum seekers are afoot.

23 June 2011

"It's incumbent on both parties to the agreement to make sure those children and women and vulnerable torture victims are taken care of appropriately" Richard Towle, UNHCR

The Deal Last month the Australian Government announced the ‘Malaysia Solution’, details of the deal only came to light after ABC TV revealed them on Lateline. The draft arrangement would see 800 of Australia’s asylum seekers taken to Malaysia whilst 4000 already processed genuine Malaysian refugees would be resettled in Australia. During her televised press conference Ms Gillard told Australians: "The truth is, if you spend your money, you get on a boat, you risk your life - you don't get to stay. You go to Malaysia and you go to the back of the queue.” But, not if human rights activists have anything to say. Malaysia is not party to the United Nations Refugee Convention and do not acknowledge refugee status so those would-be refugees are considered illegal immigrants. Political columnist for Malaysian newspaper The Star, Dennis Ignatius says “[refugees are] routinely arrested, detained and whipped as illegal migrants.” Seventeen Australian non-government organizations prepared a joint statement released this month, condemning Australia’s arrangement with Malaysia. Spokesperson for the Refugee Council of Australia, Sophie Peer, said: “We are opposed to the deal as it stands today...nobody can actually tell us how the treatment of the 800 refugees will be monitored.” Actually, nobody seems to be telling much, neither Julia Gillard or Mr Razak can give specific details of the plan they hatched themselves. Discussing the arrangement Mr Razak told The Sydney Morning Herald: “How do we apportion responsibility financially and all that - these are big questions that we have to address.” There has been little coverage of the proposed refugee arrangement in Malaysian media and Ignatius said “very little about the deal has been made public.” Adding to concerns about refugee welfare is the legality of the proposal at all. As a signatory of the 1951 United Nations Refugee Convention that states “countries may not forcibly return refugees to a territory where they face danger.”

Australia is in danger of breaching this vow.

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Sight but No Vision Gillard’s ‘Malaysia Solution’ could be a prime example of a theory academics call the ‘CNN’ effect. The government is seemingly pressured by media coverage of an issue surrounded by public outcry, to make foreign policy decisions without due consideration.

But, you don’t need a PhD to see that the ‘Malaysia Solution’ wasn’t months in the making. Tony Abbot called attention to this style of impromptu politics when he told The Australian: “Today we’ve seen a panicked announcement from a government.” The lack of well crafted policy in Ms Gillard’s proposed arrangement is attracting head shakes the world over.

Malaysian citizen and former financial correspondent for Bloomberg, Mr Gupta Singh*, said: The thought that has been put into this is fairly minimal.” So, why would Malaysia lend their full co-operation to a halfbaked deal that only adds to the already 100,000 refugees in Kuala Lumpur? It’s no secret. Mr Najib told The Sydney Morning Herald “certainly payment is a major factor.” Malaysia stands to receive $A292million as Australia has agreed to fully fund the deal. Mr Singh adds “the (thinking) public is of the opinion that this entire program is driven by money and an effort to bolster the Malaysia/Australia trade relationship.” Money is a reasonable concern for Malaysia given their national debt and goal to be a developed country by 2020. For Australia, the issue is multi-faceted and paying Malaysia now does not solve long-term processing issues for people seeking asylum in Australia.

So, a panicked Australian government with no place to send asylum seekers, strikes a deal with a country that doesn't recognise refugee status and hasn’t signed the United Nations Refugee Convention. The selfinterested motives of our Malaysian ‘friends’ aside, this charade must stop before we are forced to renege on a deal with Malaysia and add more damage to our previously strained relations. It seems Australia and Malaysia are magnets for political calamities, but one thing we have learnt from the past is how to stick our head in the stand. As Mr Singh said: “It would be a black spot in the history of our great nation but this again will be brushed under the carpet like many other failed attempts.”

[2] *source name changed to protect privacy.

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