A short while ago, I received a message from my brother David. He told us an Uncle or ours, someone known to many as ‘”Ah Seng”, has passed away. He was the husband of Ber-Ee, my mum’s youngest sister. Their son, Long and his wife Michelle, have a lovely little girl, Giselle. Mum looked after Long when he as a little boy. He was a spunky little boy, and has in recent years, taken over his dad’s mechanic and car detailing business. They’re a decent, hardworking family and in recent years, have come to know our Lord. Uncle was only recently baptised. I last met him when I was back for mum’s 80th birthday.
I will miss him, as well as my Tua-Ee. I hope the family copes well with 2 departures in such a short period of time.
Over the weekend, the big event in Australia was the referendum to amend the Constitution. The amendment was to create a “Voice” that will make representations to the Parliament, on matters relating to Aboriginal and Torres Strait Islander peoples. The voting was held on 14th October.
Tress and I slept a touch in that morning, then took the little fellow out for a walk before we went to look at property out in Croydon. We then went for lunch, came back, let the boys out to the yard and played a little with them, before we took the little guy out again. This time we walked to the Burwood Height primary school on Hawthorn Road, to vote for the amendment.
That night, we learned the country has returned a resounding “No” to the amendments. Most agreed our indigenous countrymen and women need a lot of support to put them in a better place compared to other Aussies, but thought the amendments, as drafted, didn’t provide enough to carve a way forward. There were too many vague and unknown outcomes from the amendments and in any event (and perhaps more importantly in my mind), our indigenous fellow Aussie need support in other ways. There were already myriads of governmental vehicles and pathways that are available that have proven less than satisfactory and an enshrined Constitutional provision in the same space wasn’t a convincing solution to many, yours truly included. Additionally, a constitutionally enshrined protection for a specific group of people that isn’t available to all other Australians, just felt, fundamentally, out of place.
My foot (ankle particularly) played up again on Sunday morning. I can’t work out what caused it. The symptoms are gout-like, but I had done nothing that are the usual triggers for a gout episode. So when I trudged through the day with that ailment plaguing me, I got frustrated but am reminded to be grateful for what were working for me. I thought about the Palestinians and the Israelis in and around Gaza, and the spectre of homelessness, displacements, injuries, shortages of food and water and other basic essentials. I continued to be dismayed. I had picked up a book titled “My Life as a Jew” that is written by Michael Gawenda, a retired ex-editor of The Age newspaper, a major main daily in Melbourne. The Weekend Australian book review section, which read frequently, had said this was a good read. It was published on 4 Oct, and the Gaza invasion happened on 7 Oct. I thought a Melburnian Jew’s stories about his life as a Jew, presumably set a lot in Melbourne, would provide me with an interesting dimension of what’s going on in that part of the world (Gaza/Palestine). I started reading it on Saturday and so took leave from Tolkien’s LOTR, which I had been reading in recent days, following up on Tim Keller’s numerous references to it in this his podcast messages that I listen to regularly.
The Voice. Hamas and Gaza Invasion. These two events in history would leave equally indelible marks alongside the passing of an uncle.
Ante 