Tag: Joy

A child of the Commonwealth

I was born high up on the Jos plateau in Nigeria, raised in Ghana until I was 19 years of age, schooled in Scotland, the land of my father, and occasionally holidayed in London, from where my English mother hailed. As an adult I have worked both sides of the Border and also taught for nine years in India – and thus have five Commonwealth countries close to my heart. (And this doesn’t account for visits to Canada, Malta, Gibraltar, Cyprus, Sri Lanka, Bangladesh, South Africa…)

Trackside at the Games

As a volunteer at the 2022 Games in Birmingham, I was part of the Photo Team, a component of the media group. This gave me privileged access at both the marathon and the athletics (in the Alexander Stadium) not only to ‘trackside’ views, but also to the photographers and other journalists. It was a joy talking with people from around the Commonwealth, most of whom seemed delighted to have someone to talk with about their work and their countries.

Three encounters

Three encounters among many stick with me. There was the young lady photographer from Nigeria who was anxious about reaching the right spot to photograph a medal ceremony. I chatted to her and mentioned that I was born in Jos. Her eyes widened as she said, ‘Jos? But, you’re…’ – and I finished off the sentence for her: ‘Yes, I’m white!’ There was no racial undertone in any of this but simple, almost childlike, incredulity which then gave way to warmth and excitement. Next was the conversation with the single media representative from Gibraltar. ‘What are your medal hopes?’ I asked. He laughed. ‘No medal hopes but lots of opportunities for personal bests. For us in Gibraltar, this is the pinnacle of sport as we won’t otherwise be singularly represented in a global event. We simply enjoy the taking part’. And then thirdly, there was the chit-chat with the photographer from Botswana who was positioned at the ‘head on platform’ overlooking the finish line. As the men’s 4 x 400 metre relay final unwound, he became more and more excited. The Botswanan athletes moved up into the lead at one point before having to settle for silver. His excitement was such that I expect all his photos of the finish were actually a blur!

The Friendly Games

I could go on to tell of the Australian gentleman who bounced up to me as I made my way down to trackside with a photographer to say, ‘That’s my son in the decathlon high jump’ – he just had to tell someone! (His son won bronze overall.) And then there was the visitor in the queue for the shuttle bus who spoke with me and another volunteer to ask how we were feeling about the Games and to thank us both profusely. I know it’s almost trite to say that these are The Friendly Games, but I have found them to be so. It has been a privilege to witness genuine, childlike, joy over the past ten days and to acknowledge that for the vast majority of the athletes from the Commonwealth nations this has been their one moment in the spotlight – and they have revelled in it whilst embracing everything and everyone around them. As a ‘child of the Commonwealth’, it has brought to me a lot of satisfaction, too, and just a few pin badges!

A journey justified

As the Omicron virus variant begins to bite, again the question lurks in our minds in this merry month of December: ‘Will journeys be curtailed to keep Christmas alive?’ As travel cancellations escalate and holidays are again delayed, there’s a growing fear that visiting relations and friends may be reduced to avoid the ‘Déjà voodoo’ of a hapless lockdown.

Journeys, however, feature strongly in that first Christmas story, and risks were taken – well beyond the realm of the sensible, sanitised, modern mind-set of the West. Firstly, through the demands of a Roman census, a heavily pregnant mother was forced to travel seventy miles by donkey through the dangerous Samarian countryside which would have taken four days at its smoothest – not quite the 1 hour 50 minutes that it takes today by car from Nazareth to Bethlehem. Joseph, who would naturally have wanted to protect his wife, might therefore have opted for a safer route, but this could have extended the journey to a week, despite knowing that she was ‘great with child.’

Then there was the epic journey of the Parthian magi from the borders of Afghanistan and Syria guided not by sat-nav but by the stars, or rather, one in particular. It had been their conviction after much soul and sky searching that a regal birth had been ushered in, and a sense of mystery and divine curiosity goaded them on to cover the 500 miles, taking them eighteen months or more.

For the shepherds out on the Judean hills, the journey was not nearly so long – but they were ‘under the influence’ of angels and bright lights, and this caused them irrationally to abandon their flocks, potentially to the ravages of wild animals.

For all the central figures that first Christmas journey was fraught with risk and danger, but they were put aside for greater purposes: the celebration of a new-born king who would ‘reign on David’s throne and over his kingdom, establishing and upholding it with justice and righteousness from that time on and for ever,’ as the prophet, Isaiah puts it.

It is a similar sense of daring and abandonment that the Christian message calls us all to make: to go with haste and inquire into what this story could mean for us in our hearts. Of course, it might mean disposing some of the excess baggage that we’re so tempted to carry at this festive time – an over-emphasis on self-indulgence, a preoccupation with consumerism and ‘stuff,’ and a scant regard for how the poor and marginalised might be coping as they languish in Yuletide shadows. Our travelling to meet the Saviour face to face, like the crib figures, is down to will power and a heart-felt conviction. Do we want to make that journey? For those who are making it now and have done for centuries it needs no justification. As Ralph Washington Sockman once said: ‘The hinge of history is on the door of a Bethlehem stable.’ History was changed by that journey, and ‘his-story’ for each one of us can begin there too… and transform us.

May each of us consider making that personal journey this year and keep Christmas alive– a very happy and joy-filled season to you all!

(With thanks to Revd Alex Aldous, chaplain of Prestfelde Prep School, Shrewsbury)