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Who’s That Pretty Girl In White?
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Poem Who’s That Pretty Girl In White?  and Image Copyright  To Anne Frandi-Coory

– All Rights Reserved 26 May 2013

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A photo floated from nowhere

on it as fresh as a daisy

such a sweet young girl

the memory of a time hazy

Is that really me?

She questioned all who saw.

surely not that lovely

memories still so raw.

For wouldn’t they have loved

one so sweet and true

eyes shining, smile bright?

No. How could love ensue

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Read the rest of my poem  *Who’s That Pretty Girl In White?

here in DRAGONS DESERTS and DREAMS

2nd edition published 2020

Now Available

 here at AMAZON in Kindle e book or paperback 

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The Chosen One

At the horizon I see the clear sky melting
into an azure mirror of the ancient sea
I take a smooth rock, carefully selected
break the silence by throwing it away.

An exercise in torpid deliberation,
I ask of the chosen stone to make me proud
and so it does, skipping, walking on water,
my own personal Jesus.

Wandering along the beaches of yesterday
I reflect on the past and pray in isolation
that the worries of the world will dissipate
like the ebbing of the tide.

Ghostly fingertips of salty coolness
caress my face and entice me to turn.
But when I look back, all I see
are my lonely footprints in the sands of fate

At that moment I realise the stone and I
have a situation in parallel
Both of us falling in an ocean of sorts
Each of us worn down by the elements of our existence

Once I skipped and danced the waves,
The breakers a force to ride to shore.
But now I fear my momentum has ebbed
And I’m sinking, drowning in self doubt

Submerged in my depths I find peace,
no longer at the mercy of ethereal forces.
Still. Tranquil. Undisturbed.
I whisper a silent prayer.
That I will soon rise again.

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Collaborative poem by:
*brudberg *MyVogonPoetry *vivchook *jdubqca *troublegummer *Permabloom *afcoory

Painting by Anne Frandi-Coory

*****A short story *Immigration And The Promise*  Copyright To Anne Frandi-Coory – All Rights Reserved 17 January 2013*****

*****This page is copyright to author Anne Frandi-Coory. No text or photographs can be copied or downloaded from this page without the written permission of Anne Frandi-Coory.*****

jacob eva blog

Anne Frandi-Coory’s paternal Lebanese grandparents,        Jacob & Eva Coory (Fahkrey) soon after they arrived in Melbourne c. 1897

…..But you should also be proud that your mothers and fathers came from a land upon which God laid his gracious hand and raised his messengers.From a speech by Khalil Gibran  I believe in you (1926)

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Immigration And The Promise – “I love this moving piece on immigration by Anne Frandi-Coory … This is quality story-telling”

-Mark Swain UK. More here about books by Mark Swain: https://www.amazon.com/Mark-Swain/e/B008DRKT2G%3Fref=dbs_a_mng_rwt_scns_share

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More reviews about Anne Frandi-Coory’s poems and short stories here in:

DRAGONS, DESERTS and DREAMS

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The first two paragraphs of a short story Immigration and The Promise by Anne Frandi-Coory…

Jacob’s new business venture was all contained in the leather suitcase the Chinaman in Little Bourke Street had made for him. He said goodbye to Eva and set off down the stairs and out into a chilly winter morning. He planned to begin selling his wares to domestic households in and around the suburb of Fitzroy. All he had to say to customers in English was ‘Buy something lady?’ and ‘Thank you lady.’  All was going well until a policeman demanded to see his hawker’s licence. ‘Well, you must get a licence! A licence! No more knocking until you get a licence! Do you understand?’  Jacob just nodded and handed him the piece of paper Mr Kahlil had given him with his address on it and a rough map of city streets. Unbeknown to Jacob, the ‘White Australia Policy’ dictated that all non-Europeans were required to carry ‘Certificates of Exemption’ which enabled them to work temporarily as assistants to local merchants. In any event, Jacob continued with his door to door trade as the policeman walked away in the opposite direction. At dusk he decided to head back home, with his case almost half empty and a reasonable day’s earnings in his pockets. He then realised with alarm that he had given the street map to the policeman. He was so tired he lay down on a street sheltered by a building and took a little nap, resting his head on the suitcase. People had assured him, ‘There are no murderers or robbers here.’

Close to midnight Jacob became aware of a man approaching. He jumped up and opened his case for the stranger to see the display of shirts, socks, hats, silks, towels and small items of haberdashery. He felt no fear when the man looked him up and down and intimated with words and gestures, ‘Hang on, I’ll get my friend, he might buy something as well.’ Jacob waited with a leather belt around his neck attached to the open suitcase ready for the two men to view upon their return. However, four men came back, one with a knife who deftly cut the belt from around Jacob’s neck and after the other three kicked and punched him, all ran off. Jacob called out for police but when he did find one, neither could understand each other. At 1am all the street lights went out and the moonless night smothered any possibility of Jacob navigating his way home. When he found suitable shelter in a doorway, he once again made his aching body as comfortable as he could. For the first time since he had departed his home country, Jacob had plenty of time to reflect on how immensely his and Eva’s lives had changed in only two months…

…This was just the beginning of Jacob’s and Eva’s journey into the 20th Century….read the rest of this short story here in Dragons, Deserts and Dreams.

Buy  DRAGONS, DESERTS and DREAMS

2nd edition (2020) Now available in Kindle e book and paperback

Here at AMAZON

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Read more about Anne Frandi-Coory’s paternal Lebanese grandparents in

Whatever Happened To Ishtar? – A Passionate Quest To Find Answers For Generations of Defeated Mothers

LINK HERE

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Jacob’s Bridge Across Time

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Painting and Poem Jacob’s Bridge Across Time Copyright To Anne Frandi-Coory –

All rights reserved  27 March 2013  –

Painting acrylic on canvas 60cm x 91cm

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The poem Jacob’s Bridge Across Time was published in: The Australia Times Poetry Magazine, Volume 4, Issue 24.

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Granddad, oh how could you leave
before I had time to question?
A child I was too young to grieve;
where have you been, what have you done?

Oh yes, your diary I have read
how you travelled and how you learned.
But there’s so very much left unsaid
from your own lips I long to hear

Along countless streets you have walked
in this fair country and in that.
To many people you have talked
alas, not to the woman I’ve become.

Across vast oceans you have sailed
such a brave soul to take on such.
Through hardships and illness you’ve prevailed
and gave me life through your son

So many if onlys I have in mind
of what we could have discussed.
I’m so sure, granddad, we’re of a kind
kindred spirits still in touch


A bright future you handed down to us
leaving Lebanon’s snowy mountains
where cedars hug like green cumulus
your little village nestled safely within.

Fat grapes clinging to their vine
olive trees abundantly grow there.
For that fertile crescent did you pine
and the family you left behind.

I see you walking across the bridge of time
and I imagine we’re holding hands
what a journey that would have been
sharing together, life’s shifting sands

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Hi, happy to discover your blog. Just read your poem, ‘Jacob’s Bridge Across Time’…a wonderful tribute it is.   Greetings from India… 🙂  Maniparna Sengupta Marjumder 

Dedicated to my Lebanese grandfather, Jacob Habib El Khouri Eleishah Fahkrey (Coory) as I remember him:

jacob-coory-fb-2

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Also published in DRAGONS, DESERTS and DREAMS  in 2017 : Read reviews Here

Available here at AMAZON in Kindle e book or paperback  

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A Remarkable Book In More Ways Than One

A Remarkable Book In More Ways Than One

>< It’s true – Terroni is a pejorative word as explained by Pino Aprile. However, this is the word Northern Italians use when referring to Southern Italians. The author has written about an Italy that I never knew existed. But then history is usually written by conquerors and oppressors. When I wrote my Italian family history, Whatever Happened To Ishtar?   I had no idea of the massacres, rapes and sackings which took place in the South in the name of RISORGIMENTO (Unification). My mother’s paternal grandfather, Aristodemo Giovanni Frandi from Pisa, (Born in Pistoia, 1833) fought with Garibaldi and before that, as a conscripted soldier with the Austrian army, in the north of Italy.  I know that he followed the Garibaldini to Southern Italy because he and others wanted to rid Italy of foreign armies fighting battles for supremacy in Italy. There was never any mention, as far as I am aware, of the North backing the Risorgimento for the sole purpose of oppressing the South. But then Garibaldi died a broken man, betrayed by politicians he trusted. Perhaps he was gullible too. Aristodemo emigrated with his wife and three children to New Zealand when known Garibaldi supporters were harassed and vilified following the Unification. ><

Aristodemo Frandi blog

Anne Frandi-Coory’s maternal great grandfather Aristodemo Giovanni Frandi

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One thing Aristodemo did speak of, was the betrayal of Garibaldi and his followers, by priests and nuns, as they looked for shelter and food on their way to the South “to convince Southerners to support the Risorgimento”.

My Greco (Grego) ancestors lost their lands in southern Italy and moved up the peninsula as did many of their compatriots. They eventually emigrated to the UK.

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Emmie's wedding 2

Anne Frandi-Coory’s maternal great grandparents Raffeala (nee Mansi) and Filippo  Greco 

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Terroni is full of the horrors of civil war, and today the oppression of the South by the North continues. Aprile even discusses the possibility that the ‘elitist’ North is doing everything in its power to divide Italy in half and jettison the South.  The author believes that the people of Southern Italy are set to fight back. Thirteen to twenty million Southerners fled the south during and after the Unification and their descendants now realise what has been taken from them.  Unlike in the past, Southern Italians and their descendants are proud to talk of their history in a pre-united Italy.

This book is a must-read for all Italians, inside and outside Italy, and for anyone who has a passion for Italy.

Thank you Pino Aprile for the courage you have shown in writing this book and for bringing us the ‘other side’ of the Risorgimento.

-Anne Frandi-Coory 23 January 2013

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Reach For The Stars, Little Girl Reach for the stars, little girl Don’t ever settle for anything less Chubby face ‘neath a cheeky curl Saucer eyes everywhere glancing Sweet Amber, you have a beauty so rare Like a jewel that warms and delights As well with a squeal, a smile or a tear You bring happiness wherever you go From a plump little infant you will grow Into a svelte teen, so pretty, so sassy Out of pinks, frills, ribbon and bow To worldly wise; a rose set to bloom Like a refreshing breath of cool sea air On a blue sky’d hot summer’s day You’ll blow away stuffiness lurking there In any winter heart or mind downcast Smiling dimples astride cherub bow lips Oh how they’ll tease, tempt with a pout Many a suitor; he’ll enthral with his quips Romantic and clever to steal your heart A goddess armed with feminine guile Should never be underestimated tho’; You’ll whisper soft words to calm, inspire But within those veins fiery passion flows A beautiful mindset, determination not to lose No mere glass ceiling could ever impede Your climb to the top of whatever you choose So go ahead and reach for the stars, little girl © To Anne Frandi-Coory 2 Jan 2013 - All Rights Reserved

Reach For The Stars, Little Girl

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Painting and Poem Reach For The Stars, Little Girl  Copyright To Anne Frandi-Coory 

-All Rights Reserved 2 Jan 2013 

Painting by afcoory: acrylic on board

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Read my poem  *Reach For The Stars, Little Girl

Dedicated to Amber Cathro

here in DRAGONS DESERTS and DREAMS

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2nd edition (2020) now available in Kindle e book and paperback 

HERE at AMAZON

HOWQUA SUNSET

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Poem and Artwork Howqua Sunset © Copyright To Anne Frandi-Coory

-All Rights Reserved 19 September 2012

Artwork by afcoory – Pastels on canvas

(This painting has been sold)

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2nd edition pub. 2020

Dragons, Deserts and Dreams 

Short Stories and Poems

Now available in Kindle e book and paperback 

HERE at AMAZON BOOKS

Read more about my poem *Howqua Sunset

here in DRAGONS DESERTS and DREAMS

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One of three winning poems entered into Rhyme Competition by Anne Frandi-Coory  and published in the The Australian Writer  December 2012.

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Painting and Poem  Two Little Boys   Copyright To Anne Frandi-Coory  

-All Rights Reserved 1 July 2012

Painting by afcoory – Acrylic on canvas 40cm x 31cm

(This painting has been sold)

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Read my poem *Two Little Boys * 

Dedicated to Jude and Gabe 

here in DRAGONS DESERTS and DREAMS

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2nd edition (2020) now available in Kindle e book and paperback 

HERE at AMAZON

If Jason’s father Ateo (Arthur) Frandi had been reported and convicted for sexually abusing his sister and his step children,  (and possibly others) would Dagmar Pytlickova have been murdered?

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Source for article below: The Christchurch Press 31 May 2012 & Herald Sun 30 May 2012

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Jason Frandi

>< Waimate police were looking for Jason Frandi the day before his body and that of a Czech hitchhiker tourist were found. Frandi had earlier been informed by a member of the public that a sexual allegation had been made against him and police were worried about what action he might take. The bodies of Frandi, 43, and Dagmar Pytlickova, a 31-year-old woman from the Czech Republic, were found in a rugged forest area near Waimate, on New Zealand’s South Island last  Sunday. It’s alleged that Frandi raped Pylickova before cutting her throat. It’s also alleged that Frandi had admitted 12 years earlier that he planned to rape a young woman and then kill himself. This is a pretty chilling scenario considering what happened at the weekend. Frandi was jailed for three and a half years in 2000 for abducting a 19-year-old Oamaru woman, with the intent of having sex with her.  Media reports at the time said the woman was pushing her bicycle down the street when Frandi forced her into his vehicle. Police praised a bystander who heard her screams and tried to intervene, grabbing the door handle then taking the registration number of the car as it sped off.  Despite his previous convictions, police weren’t keeping a specific eye on Frandi.  Pytlickova, also known as Dasha, arrived in New Zealand in January and had been working at a Cromwell-area vineyard until recently, police said yesterday.  They said she left Cromwell on Saturday and was hitchhiking to the Timaru area when she was picked up by Frandi somewhere between Omarama and Kurow. His car was found parked among some trees near Waimate yesterday, and the hitchhiker’s back pack was found inside the car. ><

Czech Republic tourist, Dagmar Pytlickova

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Police believe the pair walked from the car to the spot where their bodies were found by charity event riders, about 3km away. Empty alcoholic drink bottles were scattered around the scene.  Pytlickova’s mobile was turned off at 6.40pm.  Autopsies were conducted yesterday in Christchurch.

Frandi was known around the community as a man with a troubled past.  “I know he could be violent when he was drinking,” resident Annette Dungey, who had known him for many years, said.  “I know that because he told me himself.”

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See my essay   My Right To Write My Memoir is it right to expose inter-family abuse?

 

I found the above news item particularly disturbing in view of that fact that Jason Frandi  was a member  of my maternal extended family. I wrote a book  Whatever Happened To Ishtar?; A Passionate Quest To Find Answers For Generations Of Defeated Mothers’  (published 2010 and 2014) after interviewing descendants from the Lebanese and Italian branches of  my family tree, and perusing myriad documents.  In this post about Jason Frandi’s background, I am concentrating on the Italian branch.  During research for Ishtar? I discovered an Italian family history of abandonment, and sexual and physical abuse.

There were many reasons why I wrote ‘Ishtar?’ and although I started writing to exorcise past demons, among them to understand why my own mother, Doreen Frandi, abandoned me when I was an infant, it quickly developed into a far-reaching saga.  See  Letters to Anne Frandi-Coory

Jason Frandi  (43) was the son of Ateo (Arthur) Frandi, b. Wellington, 8 April 1934.  When I interviewed Arthur’s immediate family for my book, they told me that Arthur sexually assaulted his younger  sister in their family home when he was a  teenager.  The only reason the abuse stopped was because Arthur was caught abusing his sister by another brother. Consequently, no other family members knew of the abuse, and it was never reported to police. Following the failure of Arthur’s first marriage to Jason’s mother, Arthur married a woman who had four children from a previous relationship. The marriage broke up when his wife discovered he was a paedophile who had been molesting her children.  I have carefully contemplated this section of the Frandi family history and I wonder whether the rape and  murder of an innocent tourist, Dagmar Pytlickova, by Jason Frandi in May 2012 could have been prevented if his father had been brought to justice many years ago. It appears that Arthur was an abuser from a young age, and there is the possibility that there are many more of his victims out there who are yet to come forward.   It is also possible that Arthur sexually abused his own children, including Jason.

The Frandi family history seems to have taken a wrong turn when Jason’s ancestors, my great grandparents, Annunziata and Aristodemo Frandi fled Italy in 1875 and settled in the barren and wind-swept Okuru Settlement on the West Coast of the South Island of New Zealand.  I can’t know for absolute certainty, but according to the Frandi family, their life in Italy was privileged until  the aftermath of the Garibaldi uprising and Risorgimento (Unification). The environment  at Okuru was harsh with no medical facilities, no schools and a lack of food supplies. After persevering at a subsistence level for almost four years the family was moved to Wellington in the North Island, at the cost of the NZ government.  The three children Annunziata and Aristodemo brought with them from Italy were the stalwarts of the family, but later born siblings seemed to have been hewn from a different mould. During my research, I uncovered another paedophile within the family’s ranks, and I write about that extensively in my book.

My grandfather Alfredo Frandi was the youngest son of Annunziata and Aristodemo, and Arthur’s grandfather Francesco was their oldest son.   Francesco had three sons including William who was Arthur’s father.  I interviewed William’s middle son extensively, (Arthur was his oldest son) as well as his wife who told me that her husband had a violent ‘Frandi’ temper which terrified her and her children at times. He also had a severe speech impediment which he himself put down to very poor communication and his deep fear of speaking when he was a child.

This is a small window into the extended family my mother was born into; she witnessed horrendous violence toward her own mother at the hands of her father, Alfredo.  The question is, how much family violence is due to environment and how much is genetic? William Frandi  was abandoned by his mother when he was a toddler and he never really overcame his deprived childhood . She ran off with another man and later moved to Tasmania, and he never saw her again. He had a large extended family who did what they could for William, his two brothers and sister, but the damage was done. All four adult siblings were considered either ‘strange’ or ‘intellectually slow’. All had very troubled and unsettled early lives. According to William’s family, he was a man of very few words and barely spoke to his sons at all. He moved to Waimate soon after his marriage to escape the gossip about his mother.  William was too timid to approach a girl in person so he put an advertisement in the local paper, and eventually married a woman from England.

After writing Ishtar? I came to the conclusion that perhaps one of the best things that ever happened to me was that I was placed in an orphanage at ten months old, as traumatic as that turned out to be.  In my case, I hope it is nurture over nature.

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Jason Frandi – He Was My Friend

Updated 2 May 2019 …

I felt I had to write about this remarkable Australian doctor who has devoted her life’s work to treating women suffering from obstetric fistula, in Ethiopia.

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Dr Catherine Hamlin

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Dr Catherine HamlinAC, MBBS, FRCS, FRANZCOG, FRCOG, is an Australian obstetrician and gynaecologist who, with her late husband Dr Reg Hamlin, co-founded the Addis Ababa Fistula Hospital, the world’s only medical centre dedicated exclusively to providing free obstetric fistula repair surgery.

Dr Hamlin has been recognised by the United Nations agency UNFPA as a pioneer in fistula surgery, for which she developed specialist techniques and procedures. She, her husband, (a New Zealander) and the hospital’s medical staff, have treated more than 34,000 women.

Read my review of Dr Catherine Hamlin’s book about her remarkable work here: The Hospital By The River    

The Hospital By The River

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Dr Hamlin, now in her late eighties, heads the Addis Ababa Fistula Hospital in Ethiopia. The surgical technique developed by the Dr Hamlin has a 93% cure rate for obstetric fistula cases. The Addis Ababa Fistula Hospital has established a purpose-built village called Desta Mender (Village of Joy) to provide long-term care for women whose condition is caused by giving birth at a very young age, and some sexual practises. The hospital is dedicated to improving health, reducing infant mortality and empowering women.

The Hamlin College of Midwives, set up by Dr Catherine Hamlin and Dr Reg Hamlin, trains young women as midwives to work in the Ethiopian countryside where there is presently no access to medical assistance during pregnancy and labour. The College’s mission is to have a midwife in every Ethiopian village.

The Hamlins’ long association with the College of Midwives began in 1958 when they answered an advertisement in the Lancet Medical Journal for an obstetrician and gynaecologist to establish a Midwifery School at the Princess Tsehay Hospital in Addis Ababa. They arrived in 1959 on a three-year contract with the Ethiopian Government but only about 10 midwives had been trained when the Government closed the midwifery school. The Hamlins went on to establish the College and fifteen years later they founded Addis Ababa Fistula Hospital.

Catherine Hamlin lives in her cottage on the grounds of the Addis Ababa Fistula Hospital as she has done for over thirty-five years. She is still very active in the work of the Hospital and operates every Thursday morning as well as running a clinic. Her son, Richard Hamlin is involved in the activities of the Hospital and sits on its Board of Trustees.

There is currently a dispute between three members of the Board of Trustees including the chair, and Dr Catherine Hamlin, regarding the direction the hospital is taking. Dr Hamlin has withdrawn support for her Australian fundraising trust over the religious dispute that threatens her charitable medical work in Ethiopia.  The board had moved to take a hardline Christian approach. As a result of the dispute, the board has halted all fund-raising in Australia.  Dr Hamlin believes the board was attempting to take control of the management of the hospital against her will.

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Bernadette Lack

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Bernadette Lack is a young Australian midwife who is running the Great Ocean Road marathon from Lorne to Apollo Bay; a gruelling 45km.  She is raising funds for the Hamlin College of Midwives, an organisation she is passionate about.  The College and Hospital rely heavily on funding from overseas.  When Ms Lack was informed that Hamlin Fistula Australia wouldn’t  accept her donation because the board was in disarray, she contacted Lucy Perry, official spokesperson for Dr Hamlin in Australia. Ms Lack has been assured by Ms Perry that the funds she raises in the marathon will be sent directly to Ethiopia.

Both Dr Hamlin and her hospital are the recipients of numerous awards. Dr Hamlin, known for her dedication and humility, says of the plaudits she has received ‘I’m doing what I love doing and it’s not a hardship for me to be working in Ethiopia with these women’.

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