Gladiators

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Channel 4 have been running a superb advertisement for the 2012 London Paralympics which start tomorrow. The advertisement is based upon the fact that the British Paralympic athletes are superhuman. Think about it; just for a few seconds please stop reading and think about it;

These people have a struggle to do things many take for granted, things such as; getting dressed, traveling to and from work, even mundane things like having a bath or going to the loo and that is before they start training. Each of them has adapted to, and overcome their personal difficulties and then gone further and learnt to compete at the very top of their chosen sports. This takes guts, determination and a singular focus on their goals.

These people are truly inspirational. In my eyes, the eyes of someone who finds just getting to tomorrow a struggle, they are magnificent, and yes they are in every sense of the word, Superhuman. My poem is dedicated to all of the Paralympians representing Great Britain, Go Team GB.

Gladiators

They stand proud.
Clothed in national colours
they form one body,
and that body exudes confidence.
The smiles on their faces betray them!
For these are smiles that know;
‘I can – I will’ and ‘I have’.

This knowledge;
born of unfathomable hardship
underpins all.
True - carbon fibre, plastics and alloys,
support bone, flesh and blood
but all are useless
without the knowledge.

So believe, British Gladiators,
believe and be proud.
And I will stand behind you
with a Nation that believes in -
and is proud of - you.

John Carré Buchanan
28 August 2012

Early Memories – UK I

  Image from; open.salon.com

Having returned to England our family moved to Croydon. The area was not the most salubrious of locations but was ideally located near a school, nursery and a Hospital where my Mother worked as a nurse.

Following the Second World War, Britain had experienced a period of high immigration as people from the Commonwealth, and particularly from the West Indies, had been encouraged by the British Government to come and work in the UK.

Many of these people endured extreme prejudice and intolerance from sectors of the indigenous British society and early African-Caribbean immigrants found private employment and housing denied to them on the basis of race. It was so bad that even the Trade unions would often refuse to help African-Caribbean workers.

Throughout the 1950’s there had been a number of Riots and racially motivated violence was common place right into the early 60’s.

It is against this background and the fact that my parents were returning from overseas tours where they had been part of the British expatriate community that in the late 60's I became best friends with a young West Indian lad called Steven.

This poem, based on memory and discussions with my mother, describes how two kids from different racial backgrounds became best friends and remained completely oblivious to the racial tension which our parents must have been so conscious of. I just wish that such friendships would replace intolerance and racism all over the world.

I hope you like this poem;

Early Memories – UK I

Mum had said Steven could come and play
but only if his mother said OK.
So when I saw them in a shop
I dragged my mum toward them.
‘This is Steven and his mum’ I said.

I didn’t see our mums’ surprise
as I looked at them with pleading eyes;
for whilst Steven was West Indian
he’d lived his life in England,
but a product of the Empire I was expat born and bred.

Our parents were of an age
Where race and colour like a cage
trapped them with convention
which today it’s taboo to mention.

Our mothers shone that day
As they pushed the barriers away
and let their boys play together;
Two best friends who saw each other
as if we each had gained a brother.

John Carré Buchanan
27 January 2012

The Race

Sorry to my regular readers for my last post. It was posted in a particularly bad bout of pain related depression and as such is at odds with several of my other blogs. I have decided to leave it up as it shows a side of me that I do not normally blog about and as such might offer some comfort or even balance to readers who suffer from chronic pain. I guess the message to take away is we all have times when our emotions and our ailments get on top of us.

I made the mistake of overdoing things yesterday and as a result I ended up in a world of pain and didn't get to sleep, somewhere in the midst of that I allowed self-pity to dominate my feelings.

Today, having spent several hours using the mental skills I have mentioned in previous blogs (‘The Pebble' and ‘Truths’) I am back in control of my feelings. As a penance I am going to post a poem called ‘The Race’, which was written to remind me that I should not allow myself to become the victim.

When I wrote the poem I was thinking of two people who I admire a great deal, Oscar Pistorius the South African sprinter known as the Blade Runner and Chris Moon an old Army colleague who now speaks as a motivational speaker. Both of these gentlemen have excelled in their lives in spite of their disabilities. To me they are the epitome of strength of character and courage, both of them stressed the importance of getting on with life in spite of difficulties and avoiding becoming the victim.

The Race

“Take – Your – Marks”
The figures bend and kneel,
search out the line and all is still.

Fingers
“Set”
Knees rise, fingers and arms take the strain,
Power checked.

The gun rises,
Eyes fixed, ears pricked, all is still;
Save one finger….

Crack.
Legs drive into the blocks,
Bodies hurl forward heads still down.

With each step the pace increases,
Heads come up to see the goal.
And now focus….

Measured Strides…..
The race is on,
Feet and heart pound in time

The tape draws near
Concentrate ….. and….. dip
Arms flung back the chest broaches the line.

The long drawn breath,
The look to see who won,
and the joy to feel a race well run.

John Carré Buchanan
03 May 2010