Sunflowers

One of the main problems with whistleblowing is a growing obsession for some kind of justice. Justice is a word invented by those who have ideas about making the world a perfect place. When you step on the yellow brick road to whistleblowing, there isn't a Wizard of Oz at the end of it who solves all your problems. Part of survival is to take yourself off the yellow brick road temporarily to develop your patience and to rediscover life. Whistleblowing is often much like time standing still. Walking off the yellow brick road for a short time is often about restarting time.

To develop my patience, I normally migrate to the garden. This year, I have decided to patiently grow sunflowers. Gardening teaches many of us to tend to our plants to develop the art of patience for many things. For me, it is part of what Steve Bolsin calls "Whistleblower Rehabilitation". A lot of patience is required after you whistleblow, waiting for paperwork, waiting for answers, waiting for responses and finally waiting for justice. Plants teach us that without attention to detail, there isn't progress.

I have been interested in vegetation since I was a hobbit. Unlike many people in the UK, I was brought up in deepest darkest Africa. Every Friday, as part of our school curriculum, we would be sent to dig the fields to plant maize and sunflowers all day. I did this with the local convicts.  We took our hoes and prepared the soil from dawn to dusk. We sang the Zambian ballads, worked side by side with criminals and learned about respecting one another no matter what our past.

During those times as a child, I often wondered why I had to do this. My father persistently told the world that I wasn't going to be like every other asian child, pampered. I was going to learn about hard work and patience. So he was into equality. I was reluctant at first as I didn't understand why I had to face the blisters on my feet, the sun on my head and the sweat pouring down my face. 

Over time, I managed to last all day without water as well. I learned to work hard, I learned about friendship. During the journey back home we should sing African songs.  We had roasted casava, mangoes and fried caterpillars. Anything tasted nice when hunger took over your mind. My father had insisted, I would have no lunch box and that I had to survive on my own. I was 9 years old at the time and these lessons stayed with me.

After each journey, the harvest season was the most beautiful. There were fields and fields of yellow and green and we had done it all by ourselves. There was a sense of achievement. It was something we had created. So in those years, I learned many things. I learned about survival and I learned about patience. 

Gardening is less taxing these days. I don't have to carry the water from the lakes on my back as I had to when I was 9. We have hosepipes! Nevertheless, growing sunflowers reminds me of the lessons taught in the past - survival is all about taking one day at a time. With every day, there is progress no matter how small.After many days, there is an achievement - no matter how small.

My sunflowers are going to be wonderful this year. With my bed of lettuce leaves, jalpeno peppers, legions of swirling bean trees, flowering tomato trees, and bursts of multicoloured roses, the sunflowers will be the most beautiful flowers in this whistleblower's garden.When they are tall, strong and beautiful, I will have passed my test of patience for this year.

Anyhow, for those who like William Blake, this is a beautiful little poem for a summers day.

Ah! Sunflower

Ah! sunflower, weary of time,

Who countest the steps of the sun,

Seeking after that sweet golden clime

Where the traveller’s journey is done;

Where the youth pined away with desire,

And the pale virgin shrouded in snow,

Arise from their graves and aspire;

Where my sunflower wishes to go.

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