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 This is my book. I self published it in 2007. It tells of the years we lived in Kyrgyzstan. I am proud of it, proud because I managed to create it, but I’m sure if I read it through right now I would cringe – I’ve learnt how to edit in the last couple of years!
Husband Matthew has returned from Kyrgyzstan today. He is working on a new water project in the mountains of Talas. While there he learnt that apparently I am now famous in Kyrgyzstan. It was headline news that a foreigner had written a book about the country and it was discussed in the parliament – the debate about whether I should be made “persona non grata” for bringing the country into disrepute.
I feel a bit sad about this. Yes, there is negativity in the book – especially at first when newly pregnant I am trying to find ante-natal care in Soviet hospitals. But I really did learn to love Kyrgyzstan and its people and hope that this comes across in the book. We will always feel attached to the country where Tom spent his first two years and one day we hope to go back with the children and ride into the mountains to stay in a yurt.
Some have emailed me to say how much they love the book. Others have really taken against it – in particular one expat who had also lived in Bishkek. It’s always hard when your work is disliked, but that is part of the challenge of publishing it.
But I never thought I would become the subject of a parliamentary debate!
 Today we went Geocaching. Geocaching, as described on the website, is “a real-world, outdoor treasure hunting game using GPS-enabled devices. Participants navigate to a specific set of GPS coordinates and then attempt to find the geocache (container) hidden at that location”.
It might sound geeky, but it’s good fun, for all ages.
We were introduced to Geocaching by Murky Bucket (her Geocaching name) and she kindly took us and another family out today to show us what to do. It’s easy when you know how. You can either load coordinates of the cache you wish to find onto a GPS device, or use an iphone or ipad to download info from the geocaching website and follow a map. The cache is marked and your position is marked and you follow the map to the spot, then search for the cache.
The beauty of using iphones was that the children were able to hold them and navigate where we should go. This for us was the attraction of geocaching – it combines a walk outside (which the grown-ups are keen on) with playing with gadgets (which the children are keen on), so helps find a balance between real-life experiences and screen time (which can be difficult – I will be writing about this in the summer issue of JUNO).
 It was great to see the children so engaged. They really took to it and were carefully following the maps and discussing which path we should take to get there. When we arrived at the position they used the coordinates to get closer and closer then all looked around for the hidden container. Three year old J found the first cache! Murky Bucket was impressed, and we discussed how maybe geocaching is suited to children because of the different way they think and their enthusiasm for getting down on the ground and dirty or sticking their hands into holes in trees!
We were out all afternoon (and what a beautiful afternoon it was) and writing this my cheeks have that wonderful flush and glow from spending time outside.
Murky Bucket says geocaching can be harder in the summer as if trees are overgrown you lose signal. You have to “triangulate” – step back to where you have signal and take markings to try and locate the cache. But there are not just caches in woodlands, they are all around the country, and indeed the world. This is more of the fun; wherever you travel you can look up and see if there are any caches to find.
My children are already hooked. We’ve registered on www.geocaching.com (it’s free) where we can log our finds. In each cache is a notebook where you jot your name and date you found it. You can swap little pieces of treasure or leave your “avatar” sticker. My 8 year old is now desperate to know who The Awesemoes are, who had found all the caches before us. Geocaching can become an interactive social event, where you recognise other seekers or go to find caches they may have laid. There is kudos to be the first to find a new cache!
I’m not sure we’ll be hiding caches for a while, but I’m just happy we’ve found a new game to play outside. The children are already asking when we can go again.
Chris Lloyd is author of the Wallbooks – amazing concertina A3 sized books that open out to reveal timelines of history and natural history.
Chris is a fantastic historian who brings the past to life by making links and helping us understand the context. He writes a blog linking something happening in our present day to moments in history, to help us understand the why. this week it was viruses, and I was so intrigued I thought I would share his post with you. To find out more please visit www.whatonearthbooks.com.
Viruses – the causes of a common cold – are bizarrely discriminated against when it comes to interpreting the past. Their story hardly, if ever, features in history books. Biology books aren’t much better either. One of the most surprising (and rewarding) themes to emerge when I was researching the study of 100 species that changed the world (see What on Earth Evolved?, Bloomsbury 2009) was discovering the extraordinary influence viruses have had on the evolution of life on earth. Their hallmarks can be found on everything from the cohabitation of humans and domestic cats to our penchant for a glass of fresh orange juice each morning and from the relative ease with which seventeenth century European conquistadors took over the Americas to that woman over there on the far side of the train carriage I am travelling in, the one who is brushing her face with blusher. All of them can be explained through the story of the virus.
Viruses are endlessly fascinating – invisible, microscopic, rogue strings of genetic code that are able to transform the most powerful animal to a mad, gibbering wreck. A rabid dog is driven bonkers by biting so that the virus it carries can be spread from one living thing to another through the animal’s saliva. Cholera so liquefies our bowels that its spread is all but guarantied anywhere with less than impeccable hygiene. Everything viral - from my very own sneezes and coughs to the oozing puss of a pox – is ingeniously designed to alter the beahvour of other living things in a bid to maximise the chances that these invisible menaces will successfully hop from host to host.
The most extraordinary family of all are the retroviruses – like HIV AIDS. So pernicious are these beasties that they actually splice themselves inside our genes – taking permanent residence in our DNA – so they can be passed automatically, like stowaways, from one generation to the next, achieving that most elusive objective – so often sought by human tyrants – of biological immortality. A vast proportion of the human genome – much of what is called JUNK DNA – is now known to be the relics of ancient retroviral infections that have accumulated over hundreds of millions of years.
The mind boggles.
That means that inside every one of our cells is a ‘doomsday’ book-like-document – our DNA – that can potentially reveal the incredible history of how tiny viruses have disrupted the trajectory of evolution for billions of years. Retrorviral infection is now thought to explain how human ancestors lost their sense of smell – resorting instead to having to make mating judgements based on visual symmetry rather than a sniffing pheromones (hence the lady’s blusher) – and why humans, unlike other mammals, are unable to synthesise their own vitamin C (hence the need for drinking citrus juice as a vitamin supplement in the mornings). Cats are obligate carnivores – apparently having lost their sense of sweetness owing to an ancient viral infection – making them the perfect companions for early farmers – protecting grain supplies (of no interest as food for a cat) from vermin (which love the grain to bits).
Smallpox – the most devastating viral infection in human history – is not a retrovirus, but its power to decimate populations was once so enormous that when the disease spread to the Americas approximately 20 million natives died within 100 years of Columbus’ arrival…. The lack of an effective indigenous opposition explains why it was relatively easy for Europeans to make the New World their new home. But what was to be done about finding labourers to work in the mines and on the plantations when most of the locals had died? The African slave trade – and all that flowed from it – also has its causal roots in viral infection.
Remember those smoke particles in the Brownian Motion experiment most of us did in Chemistry at school? I am not sure if it still done these days…. If not in chemistry then it should be made compulsory in history classes since I know of no more powerful metaphor for understanding the past. We think, because the consequences of our many of our actions are so often visible, that we are in control – zipping about in our industrious ways here and there, like the particles of smoke in the chamber. But no – the reality is that we are being pushed about by invisible forces – chaotic, irrational, unpredictable, far from predetermined.
And the closer you look, the more viral such forces tend to be – not much different from that thread of mutant genetic code that caused my cold…
Best Wishes,
Chris
To see an archive of Wallbook Weekly postings please visit www.whatonearthbooks.com
How can a few minutes make such a difference?
With apologies to those I was late to meet over half term, with a “back to school” deadline today I have just discovered that all my clocks are running behind time. So we were the family running up the road to school this morning, with everyone else walking the other way giving us knowing “oh dear, overslept on the first day” smiles.
No, we didn’t oversleep, the boys were up and dressed by 7.01. At least I thought it was 7.01. On kitchen-clock time we were doing well with plenty of time to arrive at school in a calm, collected manner. When I got in the car and looked at the clock I realised that we were going to have an inelegant dash.
I got them there without the indignity of having to sign the Late Book. But we were bedraggled and chaotic and annoyed.
A few minutes really does make such a difference.
 This week is half term for us. It did not start well. The children came home from school on Friday in horrid moods – fighting, bickering, antagonistic. I feared the worst. But on Saturday morning they woke up and started playing. With toys they’ve not played with for ages. They played together and quietly. They were content and calm. It was wonderful.
I’ve noticed this before; that the start of a school holiday can be torrid, as if they need to expel all the pressures of school from their minds and bodies. Once this phase has passed they find a happy playing equilibrium. I’m not saying every moment is perfect – with three children there are always moments of strife, but it is evident how we are all different without the obligations and timetables of school. School holidays for us have become about lack of deadlines. We still do things, but try and keep it simple. Not having to rush to school each morning is a joy!
Have you noticed similar behaviour from your children? Do you like the chance to potter about or are you all keen to get back to the structure of school days?
Yesterday morning I went for a run. I’ve been feeling sluggish all week, mentally and physically, and realised it’s time to throw off the cloak of winter hibernation. Getting out again to run in the early morning is one of the ways I’m recognising Imbolc, the celebration of Earth’s energy reawakening.
 I read in my Earth Pathways Diary “I am restless with my winter retreat; it is time to leave my fireside and be outside.” This is exactly how I feel. The birds are singing, snowdrops and crocuses flowering and I need to burn off the layer of insulating fat I’ve put down in the deepest winter months.
I set off in grey gloom, my pounding feet taking me down a remote country lane where the air is spicy with manure. The sun started to come up, tingeing trees, grass and hedgerows pink. Lambs ran in the fields with their mothers. A blackbird jumped between the bare branches of a hawthorn tree. I noticed cards strung across a farmhouse kitchen window and my wandering mind wondered what they were for. The answer was provided high above me; a metal sign of a stork carrying a baby in white cloth was clamped to the pole, a triumphant symbol of new life in that home.
What a fantastic way to announce a new baby I thought as I pounded on along the lane.
I am reading a really interesting book at the moment – distressing and happy in it’s own way… The Winter of our Disconnect by Susan Maushart.
Maushart, a mother of three teenagers, bans screen technology from the house for six months to help them all discover “real life”. I’m reading it as part of a feature I’m writing for JUNO about technology and I recommend it as an easy-to-read reflection on how screen technology has sculpted a family’s life, and what happens when you switch it all off.
Do you read books that you know will distress you?
Our latest book club choice was Sarah’s Key by Tatiana de Rosnay, but I didn’t read it. I didn’t even open it. Because one of the mums started reading it before me and told me it was so distressing it had kept her awake at night. I decided I could do without that extra level of anxiety, from something that was supposed to be pleasurable, so chose not to read it.
But should I?
The book is about Jews in wartime France, a mother separated from her children. You know this is not going to be pleasant. But am I wrong to wimp out of reading their stories, of thinking and empathising and learning from the past? Or is it okay not to want to think about being dragged apart from my children in that context?
One member of book club asked if we could find a “happy book” for our next choice. Can anyone recommend anything that is happy without being trite?
Lucy Pearce is a mummy, writer and blogger. We have “met” through her role as contributing editor of JUNO. Lucy lives in Ireland so we’ve never actually met, or even spoken on the telephone. Our relationship has developed over the last year by email and blog. It’s got to the stage when I’d now almost be nervous to meet or speak to her, because it wouldn’t match the Lucy in my mind. We know lots of quirky details about each other and our families. Lucy is brave in sharing aspects of herself through her writing.
She was interviewed recently on Artisantopia. It’s a fascinating piece about motherhood and creativity. I particulary enjoyed:
How has becoming a mum hindered or changed your creativity?
“As the kids arrived into my life in quick succession (I am only 31, my kids are 6, 3 and 1). This has been a learning curve in itself. Whilst all my friends were building careers, developing their creativity, I have been mothering. And so I have had to shift my timetable and expectations of myself – both as a creative and a mother. And have felt freer to improvise a life which combines both. My children provide so much learning for me and if it were not for them I would not have either the time, lifestyle, creative inspiration, or be the person I am, to be able to write my stuff. So I keep reminding myself that they will not be young forever and not to waste these precious years. But I need my head-space and physical space and I find the constant being needed of three little kids very challenging. My writing keeps me sane. I write because I have to!
Having kids forces you to become more balanced, not to burn yourself out too often, and it ensures that you keep coming back to the present moment. I won’t pretend that I don’t find it deeply frustrating when my head is in a writing project, the ideas are flowing, and a child comes whinging and hassling me for a milk shake or a story. But I really try to keep my impatience to a minimum – because if it wasn’t for them I wouldn’t have had this time to gestate my creative self. I wouldn’t have so much joy, beauty and fun in my life, I wouldn’t have all the writing inspiration they provide. Without their arrival I wouldn’t be the “me” I am today. And though I explain to them about my work, they don’t really understand, or care. In their minds, Daddy is the one who works because he goes to meetings. Mummy just ignores them by being on her computer. And I feel bad about that sometimes. But I know deep in my heart, that (perhaps ironically) in order to be really present, really loving and fun with them, I need to do my work – my personal and professional work.
So we keep a mutual respect there for each other and our needs. They can see I am nicer and more patient when I have done my work. And I feel less guilty because I am there in body, if not always in mind. They have their mother physically here. And in a moment I am with them too if they need me. In the past, mothers didn’t spend every moment of every day entertaining their children – the kids would be helping in the house, or playing outside. So I get myself off some guilt that way! And I know that in all I learn through my work, I get resources both inner and outer which enrich our lives together infinitely – craft books, knowledge about the role of oxytocin, child brain development, local food, dealing with sleep and eating issues, gentle behaviour techniques. All this and more which I would not be as immersed in if I were not doing my creative thing.”
I also loved this quote, which I can very much relate to: “My life is woven of multiple strands, on multiple levels, and each is a crucial part of the whole tapestry. If I leave one part untouched for too long a hole emerges in the fabric of my life. I find it mostly manageable because it is inner directed and home based.”
Lucy is fascinating in her honesty with what she shares. I admire how she combines all the strands of her life – doing lots of amazing creative activities with her children at the same time as writing some inspiration articles, all on very little sleep.
You can read the whole interview here, find out more about Lucy on her blog Dreaming Aloud and read her column each issue in JUNO.
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This is my book. I self published it in 2007. It tells of the years we lived in Kyrgyzstan. I am proud of it, proud because I managed to create it, but I’m sure if I read it through right now I would cringe – I’ve learnt how to edit in the last couple of years!
