Tuesday, October 6 2009 (diary, nature, evolution)

While doing my regular exercise walk around the Mango farm this morning I notice several tiny light purple flowers which have sprung up overnight. The same thing happened at the same time last year (when I took this photo). It has not rained, so it must be the humidity in the air during this "build up" period (a period of increasing clouds, humidity but no rain preceding the true "wet season") which has prompted their awakening.
The mango trees too, Gordon and I believe, appear to react to the increased humidity in the build up. Although there was initially a lot of difference between the various stages of bloom and fruit development amongst different trees, all trees seem to have waited for the build up before the fruit really ripens.

Nature is wonderful. Unlike people like Gordon and Doug (back at ThreePonds) who are acutely aware of all the details and changes in nature (plants, trees, birds, etc.), I experience nature (as a true introvert) in an emotional rather than concrete way, where details are blurred, blending together, like voices in a choir, in an all compassing harmony.

When the legendary Jazz singer Tony Bennett (also known as an artist painter under his real name Anthony Dominick Benedetto) was asked in an TV interview (I watched recently) wether he believed in a God, he replied : "I believe in nature."

I too believe in nature (as I have probably stated several times before in this Blog) and have done so all my life since I was a little boy (no doubt inspired and reinforced by the forest surrounding our home Martinshof).

Now into my 70s, at the sharp and serious end of life where any day can be your last (most of my family have died with no warning whatsoever, a rather fortuitous way to go) my believe, or rather trust in nature is rock solid. Nature that is, in the greater sense of natural evolution of life, a process of constant renewal based on the cycles of birth, growth, propagation, decay and death.

Any "recycling" of souls or spirits, I am convinced, does not fit into such a cycle. It would be meaningless from evolution's point of view and only can be sustained by a naive and most presumptuous overestimation of the importance of our human species. Yes we are at the cutting edge of evolution, and yes we have achieved quite incredible and most wonderful things, but in the overall aspect of evolution of the earth, solar system and universe, we are but a (probably brief) link in the chain of development.
I am, like most scientists (working for many years in fields of a larger perspective in terms of space and time), quite content with this finite (rather than infinite) role. If anything it makes life to me even more precious.

Wednesday, October 7 2009 (diary, Howards End)

I have just finished reading E M Forster's novel Howards End. A quite remarkable book, especially considering it was published in 1910 when Forster was only 31 years old. There are many interesting views and observations in this book I may come back to in the future. The main underlying plot of the novel however brings to mind a rather unpleasant episode in my own family's past. I have been considering whether I should bring this up here, but in the end decided "what the heck". Here firstly the novel's plot.

When the kindly Ruth Wilcox, wife of a prominent British industrialist, dies she bequeaths Howards End (her prized childhood country home) to Margaret Schlegel, a young woman she only recently had met and felt a strong affinity to. Her wish however is not recorded in her earlier made will, but handwritten by her on an unsigned note found amongst her papers.
Although none of the remaining Wilcox family likes the house or has any wish to live there, they are in uproar about this and decide to destroy the note, ignore the deceased wishes and keep the house for themselves.

Margaret (who is kept unaware of Ruth's wishes) and Ruth Wilcox's widower gradually befriend each other, then marry, and after various dramatic events end up living in Howards End. Not until the last page Margaret finds out (from her husband, who now finally has properly bequeathed Howards End to Margaret in his will) about the Wilcoxes deplorable deception.

Now here is the story from my own family.
Immediately after the war (WW2), while my parents both were serving time in Dutch concentration camps, my Grandmother lived with us at Martinshof and looked after us children for a couple of years. This (plus any additional financial assistance my father may have had afterwards), my father's eldest sister Tante Bep considered was an gift from my Grandmother's estate, my four cousins had not been compensated for. Tante Bep therefore specified in her own will that my sister, brother and myself, should receive only half the proportion the other recipients of her will (including my cousins) would get. Although we were of course ignorant of her decision at the time, in retrospect this seemed to me fair enough in principle.

At a later stage in her life (and after writing her will) Tante Bep inherited a large sum of money (around one million guilders) from an uncle. This money, she correctly decided, was not part of the Furstner estate and should therefore be divided evenly amongst all of us, and not be subject to the specification in her earlier will. Unfortunately, like Ruth Wilcox, Tante Bep did not write a new will, but wrote her wish on a piece of paper found together with her documents.

At the time of Tante Bep's death (in Holland), I lived on the other side of the world (in Papua New Guinea) and heard (with considerable distaste) only snippets of what happened. At the solicitor's disclosure of the will, only my father and my sister where present from our side of the family. The critical note was discussed but strong objection to it was raised predominantly by Tante Bep's late husband side of the family, and my aunt's written instruction was duly ignored. My cousins (I understand) sat by, unable or unwilling to say a word against this, and my aunt's entire estate was divided as prescribed in her original will.

Worse than the financial consequence of this, I felt and still feel, was the slap in the face to my father, a family reminder that he (30 years earlier) had been "fout" (wrong) during the war. Worse (I am sure) for my father was, that this time the "punishment" was not affecting himself, but his children.

Complacency (not to say selfish material greed) can easily and (to the outside world) respectably hide behind the wall of technical legality and ignore the moral responsibility of honouring the wishes of the dead.
One could extend Forster's proposition I referred to a few days ago to :

You may think me a hypocrite when I say this, although those who know me will realise the following is true.
If the roles had been reversed and I had been in that situation I would have considered it a marvelous opportunity to act generously, honourably and with a strong moral purpose. Even if the original will had been forced through it would have been so easy to agree with my brother, sister and cousins to pool all our portions and redivide them equally amongst our four cousins and ourselves.

And as I contemplate more about this grubby episode now 35 years ago, I especially feel gratitude to my father. Because it has been through his genes and example that his strong sense of honour and generosity were passed on to me, my sister, and now further down the line to both of my children.

Do these moralistic comments of me perhaps sound a bit "holier than Moses" to you (as they almost sound like that to me) ? But if so, could that be because just about everything in life these days is judged from the self interest and materialistic ("bottom line") view point, so that anything of a moralistic or ethical notion sounds unreal, over the top and out off place ? br>

Thursday, October 8 2009 (diary)

We have had a few days with clear blue skies here. This means at the Mango farm higher day temperatures (38°C), but also cooler nights (18°C) which is lovely. In contrast these temperatures at coastal Darwin (30 km away from me) are respectively 35°C by day and 23°C at night.

A recent world survey on housing affordability has just been released this week. The least affordable house prices in the world today are (would you believe) at our Sunshine Coast in SE Queensland. The average house price there is now 9.1 times the average annual income ! Of the 10 least affordable places in the world 7 are in Australia. Why ? Because only half the number of houses are being build compared to the number of families migrating to Australia each year.
Local councils are slow in releasing new land, the Federal Labour Government is squandering money on largely unnessecary school extensions and additions instead of building affordable housing for the 100,000 homeless, and hands out buckets full of money to first home buyers. All of these actions are keeping house prices inflated at very unhealthy (and I believe unsustainable) levels. Will things ever return to normal ?

On a more positive note Australia was the first country in the world to lift interest rates this week, a clear sign that the financial crisis and downturn have turned the corner. The whole world took notice, with stock markets rising around the globe. The Aussie Dollar is also rising strongly, now above 61 Euro cents (up from 49 cents 12 months ago) and only 10 cents away from parity with the US Dollar. My trip to Europe next year is becoming more and more affordable by the day.

Friday & Saturday, October 9 & 10 2009 (diary)

The mango trees are loaded with fruit, it is a good crop this year. The lower branches of a few trees are so loaded with mangos they touch the ground. Birds, literally hundreds of them, are everywhere, feasting, but mostly from mangos fallen onto the ground.

Friday afternoon it is off to the Palmerston markets again. I watch the erecting of stands from the Library Bistro terrace, then buy the cheap bananas from the Banana stand and try out some spring rolls.

The spring rolls are really great here in Darwin and I am developing a strong craving for them (what else is new ? food !!). In Australia the common spring rolls are small, finger size in diameter and length, quite nice really but nothing like the delicious and huge loempias you get in the Indonesian- Chinese restaurants in Holland.

A loempia is about 15 cm (6 inches) long and 6 cm (2.5 inches) wide. On the markets here besides the finger size spring rolls on offer there is also a larger type, about two thirds the size of a loempia. They are great, they also make me quite nostaligic about my home country. I usually eat one or two at the market and take some home to eat late at night after returning from bridge.

Friday evening I play bridge with Lisa Hambour who fills in for Freda, while Saturday evening I fill in for Freda's bridge partner Terry who has a wedding to go to. There is a special competition on this day.
Saturday before the evening session I meet Lisa, Mairead and some other bridge players in a nearby (pseudo) Irish Pub for dinner, quite enjoyable. But the bridge session afterwards is rather long and I am quite tired when I finally get home.