The violent art of campaigning
My mum, brother and I are sitting at my sister's garden table. It's in Johannesburg so it's a pretty beautiful day, and we are craning to hear the voice coming out of the mobile phone which lies between us. We are talking to Kate. I think someone else is there, maybe one of my sister's famous colleagues, maybe two of them, maybe some unknown journalists or another family member, I'm not quite clear, but I remember that we are all very keen to hear what Kate has to say, I certainly feel suspended in space, as if I really am hanging on her every word.
It is some days after the murder of my sister, Kate, and this woman, also Kate, is the nurse who was with her when she died. She is very far away, in Mogadishu, and she sounds it. She is answering our factual questions in a factual way. This is the voice of the person who was with Kate when she didn't recover consciousness and she died. She was not alone. She was with Kate.
The struggle to save my sister's life was impressive and, ultimately, she died for want of blood. So, you know, give blood if you can. And realise we are lucky to have a blood bank in the UK. In Somalia, if you might need blood, your family go to the hospital to donate. And when news spread that Kate had been shot, Somalis turned up to give blood knowing that a Western woman was unlikely to have local family.
People just came. People accustomed to conflict on their doorsteps came and gave what they had to my sister. People are amazing and mostly they want the best for others. But these folks know far better than I that maintaining life and the good things in it is a struggle. We all have to defend what we have or it will be taken from us.
And yet how lucky we are, in the UK, that we have the NHS. I know it's trite but it really is the envy of the world. I remember my American friend Miriam, when she was my lodger in London, kind of not being able to understand that it was as glorious and free-at-the-point-of-use as it is. She has been back in the US for a while now and paying for her health insurance is a priority which has sometimes kept her in jobs for fear of being without it.
And Dad's death? Emergency services and blue lights and a transfer from one hospital to another and yet another, equipment, medical staff, administration staff, cleaning staff, support staff. In summary, resources, work and emotional work by many people to save one chap. For us. To save my father for me. Just one guy for those he loved and whom he loved back.
As I have mentioned, they failed. But there was no question that they tried and would try again for anyone. The dedication of the vast majority of NHS workers (and those who work for others but are contracted to the NHS) is something to behold, as is the dedication of the people of Mogadishu and their attempt to save my sister. And while there were also medical staff involved for my sister, including trauma surgeons well versed in their art due to the level of gunshot wounds, Kate the nurse, and other people (lost to me forever, always unknown) they stood far less of a chance of saving my sister than the folks in the UK.
My dad had massive injuries to his major organs, including injuries to his heart and lungs. He was a horrible mess. My sister? One bullet in the back and nearly through to the front, missing her lungs, missing her heart. She died of bloodloss, and although if there had been enough blood for her she might have gone on to die of something else, as are the vagaries of Death Bingo, she was not in nearly as bad a state as my poor Dad.
I am maelstrom of strong feelings, always have been. Maybe you are too - I don't think I'm alone. And one of the things I have been maelstromming about for a while now is the selling off of the juciest parts of the NHS to organisations who make profit out of our healthcare system. I have no general objection to profits - I have some savings myself, you know? Profiteering grinds my gears, but profit? I'm mostly down with that. But to take taxpayers money out of the NHS system and let shareholders have it or directors or their wives in the form of dividends, will be the death of a unique healthcare system, free at the point of delivery. NHS workers are at breaking point and this puts us all in danger if we're unlucky enough to need the NHS - say, an ambulance - or lucky enough to need the NHS - say, be in the vast majority of those born in the UK.
My father chose an ironic death. He was involved in a campaign to have a bypass built so that the A14 (formerly known as the A45) would not longer thunder past our house, shaking the windows, just metres from our beds. There was a specific corner in the village which was deemed particularly dangerous by the campaign.
Are you there yet? You're ahead of me, right?
Yep. The accident which led to my father's demise occurred on that corner and Dad's death almost certainly hastened the decision to build the bypass. It's all about tactics.
My sister? Oh, she was a blinking hard news journalist and, therefore, dedicated to changing the world one truth at a time.
Now, we don't all need to be Jesus, for Christ's sake: not everyone has to die for a cause. Seriously. Some people need to do the washing up or tree surgery or make harmonicas. And my family actually need to stop it, in my opinion. There are other things we can do to change the world, you know? It doesn't all have to be flamboyant death.
So I am singing in a campaigning choir to save the NHS for your kids (if you're in the UK. Sorry everyone else). My dad and my sister both had fabulous singing voices, and I always felt inadequate, even once they were dead.... but more of that another time. To be able to sing in order to campaign is extremely moving and NHSingers have welcomed me, despite most of them being hard-pressed medical professionals and me being an actor who trains medical professionals in communication skills. I am not vital, they are, and they run this choir, I just try to contribute.
I don't have kids, the world can burn once I'm gone for all I care, but for your kids I'll sing. For their bringing into the world and their leukeamia and their broken legs and their Lupus and their maternity care and their vascular dementia and and and: for that, I'll sing and campaign and try to raise awareness with our song, Won't Let Go
Yes, new ideas and ways of funding the NHS need to be found, but healthcare is not cheap and maybe we need to spend more money, and mabye, just maybe, it's The Most Important Thing for us all. Tell you what, it doesn't necessarily feel like it's The Most Important Thing until it's up in your face trying to save what matters to you, all that matters to you, and then it is vital and obvious that we must not sell it off for profit, that we must not lie down and let people who benefit in the private sector from that profit decide what happens; that we must not let ideologues take a coach and horses through the whole thing and let it bleed out while we stand by, unwilling to throw ourselves into the work of saving it. When it is the envy of people from Somalia to the USA we have to campaign and save it.
Last Wednesday I worked with a young woman who seemed so defeated. She is angry and, well, I am angry too, but I believe that the government is actually put there by the people: we can take power from them and make other decisions. She felt that government is entirely owned by corporate entities who cannot be persuaded by anything but profit. This young woman was formed by the Anti-War Protests; I was created by the Poll Tax Riots. The Anti-Poll Taxers brought the end of Thatcher's golden run as Prime Minister and the Conservatives had to back down and reverse government policy. We, the people, have power and I suspect that we are unaware or too afraid to wield it. But wield it we must, or lose the NHS forever.
The NHS failed to save my dad, it might have saved my sister, and as a cesarean baby I'd not be here without it, and nor would my siblings have brightened the life of my orphaned father, giving him the family he always yearned for. Life is mostly not fun or easy - ask any mother in Mogadishu or any uninsured dad in the US if it's mostly fun and easy - but it can be worthwhile and we can change the world one truth at a time. And, the truth this time, is that UK government policy needs to change or your (UK) kids will be too busy trying to not get ill, worrying about getting ill, or paying insurance money to campaign and protest that which is left to them of civil society.... which is what those who would control us want: they want us unhappy so we buy stuff to suppress our feelings, and they want an acquiescent population who let them extract as much profit as they can.
We acquiesce at our peril. Me? I #WontLetGo
It is some days after the murder of my sister, Kate, and this woman, also Kate, is the nurse who was with her when she died. She is very far away, in Mogadishu, and she sounds it. She is answering our factual questions in a factual way. This is the voice of the person who was with Kate when she didn't recover consciousness and she died. She was not alone. She was with Kate.
The struggle to save my sister's life was impressive and, ultimately, she died for want of blood. So, you know, give blood if you can. And realise we are lucky to have a blood bank in the UK. In Somalia, if you might need blood, your family go to the hospital to donate. And when news spread that Kate had been shot, Somalis turned up to give blood knowing that a Western woman was unlikely to have local family.
People just came. People accustomed to conflict on their doorsteps came and gave what they had to my sister. People are amazing and mostly they want the best for others. But these folks know far better than I that maintaining life and the good things in it is a struggle. We all have to defend what we have or it will be taken from us.
And yet how lucky we are, in the UK, that we have the NHS. I know it's trite but it really is the envy of the world. I remember my American friend Miriam, when she was my lodger in London, kind of not being able to understand that it was as glorious and free-at-the-point-of-use as it is. She has been back in the US for a while now and paying for her health insurance is a priority which has sometimes kept her in jobs for fear of being without it.
And Dad's death? Emergency services and blue lights and a transfer from one hospital to another and yet another, equipment, medical staff, administration staff, cleaning staff, support staff. In summary, resources, work and emotional work by many people to save one chap. For us. To save my father for me. Just one guy for those he loved and whom he loved back.
As I have mentioned, they failed. But there was no question that they tried and would try again for anyone. The dedication of the vast majority of NHS workers (and those who work for others but are contracted to the NHS) is something to behold, as is the dedication of the people of Mogadishu and their attempt to save my sister. And while there were also medical staff involved for my sister, including trauma surgeons well versed in their art due to the level of gunshot wounds, Kate the nurse, and other people (lost to me forever, always unknown) they stood far less of a chance of saving my sister than the folks in the UK.
My dad had massive injuries to his major organs, including injuries to his heart and lungs. He was a horrible mess. My sister? One bullet in the back and nearly through to the front, missing her lungs, missing her heart. She died of bloodloss, and although if there had been enough blood for her she might have gone on to die of something else, as are the vagaries of Death Bingo, she was not in nearly as bad a state as my poor Dad.
I am maelstrom of strong feelings, always have been. Maybe you are too - I don't think I'm alone. And one of the things I have been maelstromming about for a while now is the selling off of the juciest parts of the NHS to organisations who make profit out of our healthcare system. I have no general objection to profits - I have some savings myself, you know? Profiteering grinds my gears, but profit? I'm mostly down with that. But to take taxpayers money out of the NHS system and let shareholders have it or directors or their wives in the form of dividends, will be the death of a unique healthcare system, free at the point of delivery. NHS workers are at breaking point and this puts us all in danger if we're unlucky enough to need the NHS - say, an ambulance - or lucky enough to need the NHS - say, be in the vast majority of those born in the UK.
My father chose an ironic death. He was involved in a campaign to have a bypass built so that the A14 (formerly known as the A45) would not longer thunder past our house, shaking the windows, just metres from our beds. There was a specific corner in the village which was deemed particularly dangerous by the campaign.
Are you there yet? You're ahead of me, right?
Yep. The accident which led to my father's demise occurred on that corner and Dad's death almost certainly hastened the decision to build the bypass. It's all about tactics.
My sister? Oh, she was a blinking hard news journalist and, therefore, dedicated to changing the world one truth at a time.
Now, we don't all need to be Jesus, for Christ's sake: not everyone has to die for a cause. Seriously. Some people need to do the washing up or tree surgery or make harmonicas. And my family actually need to stop it, in my opinion. There are other things we can do to change the world, you know? It doesn't all have to be flamboyant death.
So I am singing in a campaigning choir to save the NHS for your kids (if you're in the UK. Sorry everyone else). My dad and my sister both had fabulous singing voices, and I always felt inadequate, even once they were dead.... but more of that another time. To be able to sing in order to campaign is extremely moving and NHSingers have welcomed me, despite most of them being hard-pressed medical professionals and me being an actor who trains medical professionals in communication skills. I am not vital, they are, and they run this choir, I just try to contribute.
I don't have kids, the world can burn once I'm gone for all I care, but for your kids I'll sing. For their bringing into the world and their leukeamia and their broken legs and their Lupus and their maternity care and their vascular dementia and and and: for that, I'll sing and campaign and try to raise awareness with our song, Won't Let Go
Yes, new ideas and ways of funding the NHS need to be found, but healthcare is not cheap and maybe we need to spend more money, and mabye, just maybe, it's The Most Important Thing for us all. Tell you what, it doesn't necessarily feel like it's The Most Important Thing until it's up in your face trying to save what matters to you, all that matters to you, and then it is vital and obvious that we must not sell it off for profit, that we must not lie down and let people who benefit in the private sector from that profit decide what happens; that we must not let ideologues take a coach and horses through the whole thing and let it bleed out while we stand by, unwilling to throw ourselves into the work of saving it. When it is the envy of people from Somalia to the USA we have to campaign and save it.
Last Wednesday I worked with a young woman who seemed so defeated. She is angry and, well, I am angry too, but I believe that the government is actually put there by the people: we can take power from them and make other decisions. She felt that government is entirely owned by corporate entities who cannot be persuaded by anything but profit. This young woman was formed by the Anti-War Protests; I was created by the Poll Tax Riots. The Anti-Poll Taxers brought the end of Thatcher's golden run as Prime Minister and the Conservatives had to back down and reverse government policy. We, the people, have power and I suspect that we are unaware or too afraid to wield it. But wield it we must, or lose the NHS forever.
The NHS failed to save my dad, it might have saved my sister, and as a cesarean baby I'd not be here without it, and nor would my siblings have brightened the life of my orphaned father, giving him the family he always yearned for. Life is mostly not fun or easy - ask any mother in Mogadishu or any uninsured dad in the US if it's mostly fun and easy - but it can be worthwhile and we can change the world one truth at a time. And, the truth this time, is that UK government policy needs to change or your (UK) kids will be too busy trying to not get ill, worrying about getting ill, or paying insurance money to campaign and protest that which is left to them of civil society.... which is what those who would control us want: they want us unhappy so we buy stuff to suppress our feelings, and they want an acquiescent population who let them extract as much profit as they can.
We acquiesce at our peril. Me? I #WontLetGo
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