Things you see on a bus trip

We recently went to Krakow and that meant – at least for us – we had to go to Auschwitz.

At this point, I am going to tell you that I am not going to write about what I saw and felt there, because I cannot ever match you watching a newsreel from the time, hearing real life accounts, reading a Primo Levi book ……going yourself.

So I am just going to tell you about the bus trip to Auschwitz.

We didn’t do one of the many organised tours and decided to get there and back under our own steam as it were.

We had been advised (via the internet) to get there early to avoid the arrival of massed crowds of people on coaches.

So, we went to the bus station by 7am and got a seat on a minibus – de-regulation of buses has really got going in Poland.

The ‘bus’ took just over an hour to get there and looking out of the windows I noticed, particularly, a couple of things – the houses, and the number of learner drivers.

The houses were larger and more had more space than ever would be the case in Britain unless you were looking at the richer part of an area – and maybe we were.

(Given that we were heading to Auschwitz, I rather hope that the outskirts have not become a des-res area…)

They were mainly detached and large – I mean I looked at them and thought ‘five bedrooms, maybe six even..’

And the Poles ( at least in this area) are not gardeners.

Their gardens were grass (at best) with a boundary demarcated by – and brace yourselves – all too often by leylandii.

Occasionally you would get a bit of topiary…. but where were the kitchen gardens, the fruit, the veg, the stuff that would feed the (I am guessing, given the size of the houses) three generations of the family?

In other (yes, I admit) Mediterranean countries, you could not go anywhere without seeing stuff even in February poking their veggie shoots through the soil – but not in this part of Poland.

And I have no proof, but I am guessing that these gardens did not have flowers in spring and summer – there certainly didn’t have evident flower beds.

Now perhaps if I went back in the summer, there would be an abundance of produce but I have to say I doubt it – no evidence of raised beds, tilled soil, in fact any interest in the outside at all.

The first learner driver I noticed, with mild interest, had an L plate up on the top of the car – signalling for all to see that here was someone who needed to be treated with road care.

And then there was another one, and then another, and by the time we had gone there and back, I had counted more than a dozen learners out and about on the roads between Krakow and Auschwitz.

Is this a learner driver specialist area? Are there a lot more learner drivers in this part of Poland than anywhere else? Is this a particularly good place to learn to drive?

Why don’t the Poles interest themselves in vegetables and flowers in their gardens?

Who knows?

Despite the fact that our driver had spent 13 years living in Bath, I didn’t get the chance to interrogate him – in his very good English – as to why there was a surprising preponderance of learner drivers and no vegetable and flower gardening.

When we got to Auschwitz we were indeed just ahead of the coach arrivals, and had the place more or less to ourselves, but as we were leaving, they were arriving.

As we headed to the bus stop go back, we saw coach arrival after arrival.

One group were Israeli schoolchildren, and all their coats had bright green stickers on them.

Of course it was to make sure they din’t get lost or mixed up with another group but the irony of ‘labelling’ Jews with identifying stickers on their way into Auschwitz stuck with me.

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A view from the shop floor

Haiti is a long way from Petersfield.

Indeed the connection between the day-to-day running of our Oxfam bookshop and the people working on the frontline of famine, war and disaster has always been a very long, and sometimes invisible, thread.

Many of our volunteers – including me – volunteer in the bookshop for our own reasons and they often don’t much include daily thoughts about crisis in Yemen, the Syrian nightmare, the disaster of an earthquake or Tsunami.

But every book we sell is a small piece in a gigantic jigsaw that helps Oxfam to help people – and Oxfam is a good thing.

Oxfam is a big bureaucracy and it gets things organisationally wrong – we see domestic bits of that in the shop.

Every big organisation does too. The lines of communication, feedback mechanisms, the transparency of decisions, the view from the top and the differing views from the sharp end – it doesn’t matter if you are IBM or Oxfam, these are always issues.

Someone perceptively said on the radio this week that when you set up a charity on day one your focus is the ‘client’ – by day two it is protecting the reputation of the charity to keep the money coming in.

And I am sure that protecting Oxfam’s reputation played a part in how the organisation handled what happened in Haiti – and no doubt, other bad stuff elsewhere.

I was in the pub last night and was talking to someone who said his wife had worked for another charity and had seen frontline workers coming back from some war torn nightmare or another and their behaviour showed their strings were very taught –  and sometimes snapped.

They had people repatriated for wrong doing – there won’t be an international charity out there of any significant size that has a not faced very wrong behaviour by some of its staff.

Someone also said to me that if the Ministry of Defence was asked to account for the behaviour of every British serviceman who was serving abroad or on peace keeping duties, there would be a very long list of sexual misdemeanours.

This is not to excuse what happened in Haiti but it is to say that charities, like Oxfam, have people who go places the rest of us won’t, to help in ways that we hope make life better for people who have little.

And, yes, yes of course no one in the position should exploit those people or their colleagues – in any shape of form and of course too, the vast majority of charity workers on the frontline, don’t.

And, yes of course, Oxfam should have acted better at the time – Oxfam has apologised, profusely, and if any charity will get its safeguarding act together now you can bet it will be Oxfam.

And, I expect every other charity in the sector is racing around trying to make sure that they stay out of media sight and get their house in order too.

Meanwhile, using Oxfam as a stick to beat the aid budget, is just plain wrong.

Penny Mordaunt, the relevant minister who, as a colleague said last week, ‘ sees a bandwagon a mile off and races to get on it,’ should of course demand more action and transparency – but what good does it do to reduce Oxfam’s funding?

Back in Petersfield, I was in town the other day doing errands and was stopped three times by regular customers saying they felt that Oxfam, though not coming up smelling of roses, was being unfairly hit.

I had not been in the shop for a few days so called in briefly this morning, and was gratified to see that donations had kept coming in, there were customers in the shop and that Oxfam’s trading director was due to come in to talk to people about what was happening.

I am very much hoping that our customers – many of whom probably see us as a good second hand bookshop first and foremost – stay with us and think, as they usually do, that buying from or donating books to Oxfam, is a good deed as well as a pleasure.

 

Hand Me The Flustertute

The planning for our annual village festivities has begun.

Regular readers, and there are a few, will recall the fractious relationship I had with the church, its wardens and vicar last year, over the siting of the bookstall – this year I decided to leave that to someone ( anyone ) else.

But I did agree to take over the booking and organising of the other stalls – we apparently have quite a lot.

These stalls go along the village street, which is closed for the event and have to be cajoled, slotted, moved about a bit, fitted in and generally made to happen.

Here is my venue:

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And this was like many other things I agree to – seemed like such a good idea far in advance of having to do anything and much less of a good idea when I have to get into action.

( See also waves of visitors over Christmas and New Year.)

The previous stall manager has moved, and though he is on the end of the phone and email, and endlessly helpful, it is not quite the same as having him down the road doing it – and me able to tug on his coat-tails asking how this and that was sorted out.

I have this awful image of the event this year with me running around trying to squish a gazebo in here, move a potter over there – and badly needing everyone to stand up straight, keep quiet and listen to instructions. (See below for what I need.)

And like all village stuff, there is a lot of history about who has what pitch and why, the village flower stall having a fight with a newcomer etc etc etc …..

Today I am trying to set up a database of potential (and hopefully, real,) stallholders and sort out pricing and location and what I need to send them and whether they need a link to the website.

Well, I did some of it and….

Always one to make displacement activity into an art form, I found myself going through my desk drawer and found a note of a few German words – you know the ones where they put a whole phrase into one word.

We have German friends and the words come from meeting up with them – well the first two do – I am not at all sure why I got  the third one…

So, just before I go downstairs to make supper, polish some shoes, write from scratch a legal contract for my upcoming ( rare) piece of work – anything but sort out the stalls, here are those words:

Flugbegleiterrufknopf – flight attendant button

Flustertute – megaphone – isn’t that great? Hand me a Fluster Tute at the festivities I say.

Insolvenzverschleppung – now, am pretty sure you are not going to get that one.

No?

Well, I’ll tell you – delayed filing of insolvency.

‘Damn,’ you are thinking, ‘of course!’