The End Is Nigh

 

If you are a regular reader of this blog you will know how much we love Jonny and the Baptists.  Oh how we love their silly songs, their serious issues songs, their satirical look at the world songs, their trying to make the world a better place songs, their chemistry together with Paddy's brilliant guitar playing and Jonny's soulful voice.

They *are* comedy blues.

You can also imagine how we felt when we moved to Wales. There might be no more Jonny and the Baptists for us. We used to see them quite regularly when we went to Distraction Club in London on the first Tuesday of the month. They are fantastic musicians and because we have chatted a few times at these gigs and had some email correspondence  I can honestly say they are also all-round nice blokes as well.

Most things in Wales are brilliant, but there was a giant Jonny and the Baptists shaped hole in our lives.

But no more!

Yesterday we took the train to Cardiff which is two hours for us and then walked about 30 minutes in the rain (this is Wales after all) to get to the Chapter Arts Centre. We were all jiggly with excitement because we were gonna see us some Jonny and Paddy!!!!!!
We got there early and brought a bag load of food as we knew we were going be back later. Really late. Spectacularly late. Next day late. But we were wet and weirdly steamy (plastic waterproof coats and hot weather are not a good mix) and so we perused the menu at the Chapter Arts Centre and it was AMAZING. There was a vegan menu. There was a gluten free menu. With a bit of cross referencing on our parts to find stuff v/gf we managed to order a large plate of homemade kidney bean vegan sausages over mash with brown gravy and falafels with hummus. Plus they had that posh rose lemonade I love by Fentimans.


Soon we were dry and well fed and it was time for the fun to start.

There were about 90 people there and we were a very appreciative audience. We even laughed at the duck butler joke.

Jonny had grown a beard and Paddy occasionally let down his golden hair like Rapunzel. The show was called The End is Nigh and was all about Jonny and Paddy trying to stop climate change after Jonny frightened his favourite four year old niece Isabella by telling her the world was going to end because we were not doing enough to stop climate change.

He made her cry and this tour is out  to rectify that.

It was a mixture of serious and silly with lots of facts about climate change and saving the environment (there was a song about weeing in the shower because of how much water is used when you flush the loo) but also a striking indictment of those who walk the walk as opposed to those who talk the talk.


When the show was first written it featured a man named Mathew Hancock who was at that time the Minister of State for Energy which was a strange appointment as he was a bit of a climate change denier and was seen as slightly controversial after hiring a private jet to take him home from a climate conference. A climate conference!!!!

What a dick.

Which is where the next part of the show went. There was a toe tapping number called Willies about...well drawing willies on things. Spiderman spent a decade working at an all boys school. He is an expert on this. If there is a blank, available space--a boy will draw a willy on it. FACT. The song lamented a simpler time when all you had to do was draw willies on stuff (like when studying WW1 about the Germans and French you'd draw a little willy poking out of the trench) but now we need to take action and solve climate change and it is not as easy (or as much fun) as drawing willies on stuff.

Oh, and they also dressed a member of the audience up as Mathew Hancock and then drew a willy on him.


The show ended all too soon with a rousing chorus of the song We're All Going To Die and that had us giggling and singing it all the way back to the station (once again in the rain). We kept mouthing it to each other on the train--fearful of singing it too loud lest someone get the wrong idea. The happy vibe from the concert and all the humming and laughing made the two hour train journey back to Carmarthen pass quickly.

Before we left, we stopped to say hello to them and as always they are just genuinely lovely human beings. They used to sell CDs but now after looking at the environmental aspect of them have decided to go to the download version only. We spent a fiver for a photo of them on recycled paper which had the download code for getting the music online. They signed it with--what else--a drawing of a willy.


If anyone out there would like to hear more about them (and you totally should) go to http://jonnyandthebaptists.co.uk/ where you can download their music for a reasonable rate and watch their videos.


We love you guys! Thank you for coming to Wales!

Beware the Terrier Men...

On New Year's day the Carmarthenshire hunt rides through town like a parade resplendent in their posh outfits, on their horses, with their hounds and make a show of themselves before going off to slaughter innocent creatures.

Did I mention there is alcohol involved? Yeah....pubs give away free drinks to riders (shouldn't that be illegal? You can't drive a car intoxicated, but apparently you can ride a horse) and they strut about like toffs and every year we are there with signs to register our protest.

I went last year on my own and found the whole experience unsettling. You can read about it here if you need to refresh your memory or if you need more factual information about the laws governing hunting in the UK:

http://spidergrrlvstheworld.blogspot.co.uk/2015/01/be-change-you-wish-to-see-in-world.html

Last year it seemed so frightening. There seemed so few of us compared to the riders and the dogs were running everywhere and it was chaos. Someone serving drinks dropped the tray and broken glass went everywhere and there was lots of tension.

But this year was different.

Now that the Carmarthen Vegans have a page on facebook we gets lots more people turning up to things. Ah....the power of social media. we advertised and lo and behold! 15 vegan came out to the demo (I was the only one last year) from as far away as Pembrokeshire.  Just the vegans this year was nearly the total of protesters last year. There were others there from the League Against Cruel Sports and West Wales Animal Aid.  In total were we nearly 40.

Which may be how the troubles began.

Last year as there were few  of us we stayed on the steps of the courthouse and the riders took up most of the space up front. This year as our numbers were greater we moved into the big space and forced the riders to move to a less prominent position. The terrier men (in charge of the hounds during a hunt--strangely often really looked down on by the riders as lower class, uneducated buffoons only as good as the dogs they work with) were allowed to stand right in front of us between us and the horses.

This was definitely how the troubles began.

There *was* a police presence, but they were weak in handling several (but not all) things.

The terrier men kept jabbing their elbows sharply back as they backed into the protesters standing behind them. It knocked a couple of our people off balance.  They were spoiling for a fight. One punched our friend Peter in the face. Luckily, it was a glancing blow (Peter later said, "my granny could hit harder than that") Unluckily, the police did not see it. They were dealing with other aggressive terrier men at the time.

This is where I feel the police failed. They just said as they didn't see it, there could be nothing done, but gave a half-hearted warning to to the terrier men. Something like, "careful now. Mind how you go." which was not helpful at all.

It may have  actually made things worse as the terrier men were feeling powerful like they could get away with things so they then were pushing the horses backwards and the riders were spurring them to make them kick in our direction.

All the while we were chanting Shame on you! Shame on you!  and Keep the ban! Keep the ban! (currently the worst of blood sports is illegal, but there are hundreds of ways to get round it and still kill for sport.) Our current government has been very vocal about  lifting the ban and allowing full blood sports to resume.

Then one of the bystanders in support of the hunt hit our friend Elizabeth upside the head with her handbag. The blow was quite hard (we suspect her bag was weighted) and Elizabeth had to go to A&E and was diagnosed with concussion. The police *did* deal with this better. Took statements from several people both protester (our friend Arwen) and bystanders. A police and medical report will be filed but i do not know what will happen.

Most likely nothing. Which saddens me and angers Spiderman. He said, "how are the police allowed to get away with that?" You wouldn't say "we didn't see it so we can't do anything about it" about a murder or a burglary. They would investigate it. it is dereliction of duty to not pursue it (or pursue it in a half-ass manner) but as it was back in the good ole boy culture of Louisiana--your law enforcement are often part of the very problem you are fighting against.

can you see the nativity scene over our heads?

Strangely, despite the escalation in violence from last year i felt we were a better voice and presence than last year. Last year, we seemed small and outnumbered by the hunters that I felt our cries were weak and ineffectual. This year, we were powerful. We were strong. We were vocal but focused on the cause not personally insulting each other like last year. We took up their space and made them be scrunched up not the other way round.

I think they felt it too. This may be why the terrier men were so aggressive. They could feel we were powerful.

 The only real deep sadness I felt was that there were so many more young children riders on ponies this year. Many off no doubt to their first hunt where they will be blooded (the animal's blood marked on the forehead as a sign of their first kill) and that is where I feel powerless. How can reach the natural compassion of these children before they are trained to shut their eyes to the violence they do?

Afterwards we all went out of a coffee (it was freezing and raining--which was good. Rain will spoil the hunt) and talked about what has happened. Peter used to be a hunt sab (someone who puts their life in peril laying false trails and protecting animals during the hunt) so he said that a punch in the jaw was nothing compared to how it used to be before the ban where people got their teeth knocked out or legs trampled by horses while police literally turned away saying,, "I didn't see nothing"

We talked about ways to try to get the crowds to see what they were supporting. Did i mention the crowds? Hundreds of people lining the streets with their children to watch the spectacle of horses and fancy dress. But if they really thought about it--where they were going afterwards--how they would laugh and rejoice as their dogs tore terrified animals limb from limb--they might see the parade differently.

I had a very vivid dream about a symbolic drama that was choreographed to seem like a fox torn apart by hounds with red ribbons whipping through the air to represent blood. We are seriously considered doing it as a bit of street theatre next year while the crowds wait impatiently for the riders to arrive.

I was scared, but i felt brave.

I was there, speaking up for the voiceless.

I was there doing my best.

Do not sit and do nothing because you cannot do everything. Do something. Do anything. But do it.

Edited to add: all photos from the Carmarthen Journal.

Be the change you wish to see in the world

Gandhi said that. It is a good quote. It is no use sitting around grumbling about the state of things if you don’t do something to change them.

 

But how do you do that?

 

Start where you are. Use what you have. Do what you can.--Arthur Ashe.

 

I like to spend New Year’s Day doing a little of all the things I hope to do in the year. Usually this involves some creative stuff (Yesterday I did some sewing and card making) and some music (I practiced three Welsh tunes on Tallulah the ukulele which prompted Spiderman to casually remark how good it was sounding which just made my heart bloom with joy).  I  cooked delicious food (we had roasted parsnips and carrots for lunch!) and we had black eyed peas with cornbread and kale in the evening for good luck and prosperity in the new year.  We read some books and watched some comedy in the evening as well.

 

Those where all things I did for myself, but what could I do for others?

 

How wonderful it is that nobody need wait a single moment before starting to improve the world.--Anne Frank.

 

I heard on New Year’s Eve about an annual event that made my blood run cold. Every year on New Year’s Day the Carmarthenshire Hunt MFHA (Masters of Foxhounds Association) ride their horses and hounds into town for a parade before going out to hunt. While the Hunting Act was introduced in 2004 which banned the hunting of wild mammals such as foxes, deer, hares and mink using dogs in England and Wales, it does not  cover the use of dogs in the process of flushing out wild mammals nor does not affect trail hunting where hounds are trained to follow an artificial scent (usually fox urine).  There is always a worry that the ban will be lifted. Our current Prime Minister David Cameron has said that if the conservatives get into power in the next election that the Hunting Act will be repealed.

 

Basically, there are many ways that they can still participate in blood sports while skirting within the boundaries of the law. Last year a pack of hounds chased a terrified fox onto a main road and tore the fox apart in front of a busload full of horrified commuters; the Carmarthenshire MFHA  deny any knowledge. There is some discussion that it is suspected that some fox hunters are breeding foxes and then releasing them, but there is no overt proof.

 

Even if the Carmarthenshire MFHA do not hunt foxes outright, they do still trail hunt with fox urine, rabbit hunt, rat hunt, hunt hares that have been shot and use dogs to flush birds of prey. While they are all legal, I do not consider them to be moral. They say on their website that they do the trail running to “keep the traditions and practices alive” which to that I say tradition does not make it right. Traditionally we have had slaves and women did not have the right to vote. These were traditions and practices we used to believe were good, but no longer do. Cruelty is NOT a sport.

 

When I heard on New Year’s Eve that this parade of cruelty was going to take place in my town and that the League Against Cruel Sports and West Wales Animal Aid would be there in protest I knew I had to go. God was calling to my heart and telling me this was what He was asking of me.

 

So I designed a poster and laminated it (for fear of Welsh rain) and prayed that it would be peaceful and that I could make a difference.

 

On New Year’s Day I went out to meet the other protestors. I had no idea what to expect. Mostly I listened. I heard all about ways that the hunt is declining and needs to hire hunters from other counties to boost their numbers for these parades. I learned to look for violations that we could report to the police. There was a man from the RSPCA there who observed the horses and hounds for signs of abuse or neglect ( a few years ago several of the hounds were seen to be mange-y looking and scabby and rib thin.).

 

Here is a link from the local paper to a photo gallery from the day showing both the hunters and the protesters. You can see me clearly in several shots due to my bright pink coat and grey hat. I am standing on the far left. http://www.carmarthenjournal.co.uk/pictures/PICTURES-View-photo-gallery-Carmarthenshire-Hunt/pictures-25793608-detail/pictures.html

 

The order of the day was that the horse riders would ride in on their horses wearing their red jackets after stopping off at local pubs for a drink. They arrive in Guildhall Square to cheering crowds before going out for a hunt. They arrived to great fanfare as we protestors who numbered around twenty stood on the steps. The horses and riders all crowded in front of us  and the hounds ran feely through the crowd and between the protestors. The horses were nervous and some riders could not control them and they skittered into each other. The dogs running between their legs did not help. Our worries that the riders had been drinking too much to safely “manage their vehicle” (if a horse counts as a vehicle) were confirmed when a woman bearing a tray of wine glasses was weaving in and out of the horses to offer the riders a tipple when a horse reared and knocked her over and the glasses all shattered on the pavement. We were upset as there was broken glass that could easily cut the tender feet of dogs or nearby children.  Can a horse get glass lodged in a hoof? I didn’t want to find out.  A policeman came and quickly swept the glass up. We shouted at them for using real glass around animals--a health and safety issue. They shouted at us saying “ You think we MEANT for that to happen?”

 

There was lots of shouting. We shouted BOOOOO when crowds were cheering. I did not want to hurl abuse, the Quaker in me would not let me. But I did shout SHAME! and CRUELTY IS NOT A SPORT! because I firmly believe that blood sports are wrong. Someone shouted “There are two arseholes on a horse, one on the horse and the other sitting  on top of the horse!” which made me laugh, but I did not want to name call. I wanted to pray for everyone.

 

The hunting of innocent animals for sport is cruel. The desire to harm another living being for fun is not fun for anyone. I think the saddest thing for me was that there were several really young children riders who were probably on their first hunt. Later in the day, when they made a kill, the blood of the innocent animal would be rubbed on their faces as initiation. Because it is tradition.

 

The riders trotted off and the protesters discussed ways they were going to report them for violations that we had photographed them doing (we also tried to film them doing something that we know to be illegal but we were continually blocked by their men who kept stepping in front of our cameras) and then wearily said, “See you next year.”

 

I don’t know if being there helped. I don’t know what impact it may have. But I know I needed to be there, to make a stand for something I feel is truly wrong. I know I will now actively pray for them, to soften their hearts, but also to keep my heart from hatred as well. Because hatred is a hot coal that burns you as you prepare to hurl it at someone else.

 

Do you want to know who you are? Don’t ask. Act! Action will delineate and define you.--Thomas Jefferson.       

 

So this year in 2015, I hope to act more to change the world for good. What will you do?

A Kenning

Have you ever heard of a type of poem called a kenning? No, neither had I until recently. If you want to read more about them and see some examples go here: http://www.youngwriters.co.uk/kenning.php

 Yesterday we were writing them in year 4 about Boudicca and the Romans and it seemed like great fun so I decided to write one about myself.

 

I am…

An avid recycler

An open drawer leaver

A theatre goer

A book reader

A train traveller

An Oz collector

An animal protector

A green bean hater

A joke teller

A Doctor Who watcher

A spider nurturer

A jewellery maker

A library user

A mind changer

A kale devourer

A badger protester

A ukulele player

A razor refuser

An art buyer

A letter writer

A tradition keeper

 

Why don’t you have a go at writing one about yourself?

Clash

I love finding a bargain. We have so many charity shops in our town as well as a market, you never know what you might find. On Tuesday and Saturday the market is mostly fruit and vegetables (and is the cheapest place to get your 5-a-day) but Fridays are given over to antiques and flea market junk. It is fun to potter around and see what’s out there. I have a friend who sometimes has a stall on the Friday Market so I went out to see if I could find Peter, but instead I found a bargain.

I had a nosy around the CD stall and I found something I hadn’t thought of in years. The Clash--Combat Rock on CD for £3. I have a long history with the Clash. In 1982 for my thirteenth birthday Brad K bought me the 45 single record of Rock the Casbah.  Does anyone these days even know what I mean when I say vinyl record album and turntable?

 

I adored the song--the catchy chorus, the slightly unintelligible lyrics, the video (remember this was the early days of MTV back when they actually showed music videos) where an Arab and an Hasidic Jew bonded over rock music whist being inexplicably followed by an armadillo. I loved the way it pushed my Mum’s buttons--she believed that any band that said the word Rock in that tone of voice was probably saying F*ck. Good times.

 

Later that year I saved up my pocket money and bought Combat Rock on the latest musical innovation--the cassette tape. Man those were great--they were portable--you could record on them and play them back! You could put your tape player next to the radio and wait until they played the song you had requested (in my case Luka by Suzanne Vega) and then press play and get a badly recorded version of poor sound quality with a DJ talking over the music. But you had a copy and were sticking it to the man--you didn’t have to buy the music! Good times. My boyfriend Tim and I used to record music to share (this is how I was introduced to Pink Floyd) on one side of the cassette and then talk on the other in some rambling monologue about things like undying love and Elf Quest. This was before SKYPE people, you did what you had to.  

 

I recall really being moved by the lyrics of the first song Know Your Rights. I had grown up with social- conscience-political lyrics from the 1960’s but these were the first social-conscience-political lyrics of my generation that I had ever heard. Probably the second one I recall being moved politically by was Beds Are Burning by Midnight Oil. Maybe these song were the beginning of activism for me.

 

Upon re-listening, I was moved all over again by the lyrics and shocked by how contemporary they still are. Particularly with the recent press coverage about the police cover up during the Hillsborough Distaster. Read about it here:  http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Hillsborough_disaster Plus with all the cutback on benefits and welfare the amount of people having to rely on food banks has risen by something like 2000%. There are suddenly a huge number of people being made homeless and going hungry whist our bankers lives in luxury with £1,000,000,000 bonuses-- the rich get richer, the poor get poorer. Our Meeting house has worked with other churches to set up a food bank in our town as previously they would have had to travel to Letchworth because  who can afford bus fare or petrol if you can’t buy food?

 

Here are the lyrics--do you agree that they still feel relevant today?

This is a public service announcement
With guitar
Know your rights all three of them

Number 1
You have the right not to be killed
Murder is a CRIME!
Unless it was done by a
Policeman or aristocrat
Know your rights

And Number 2
You have the right to food money
Providing of course you
Don't mind a little
Investigation, humiliation
And if you cross your fingers
Rehabilitation

Know your rights
These are your rights
Wang

Know these rights

Number 3
You have the right to free
Speech as long as you're not
Dumb enough to actually try it.

Know your rights
These are your rights
All three of 'em
It has been suggested
In some quarters that this is not enough!
Well..............................
Get off the streets
Get off the streets
Run
You don't have a home to go to
Smush

Finally then I will read you your rights

You have the right to remain silent
You are warned that anything you say
Can and will be taken down
And used as evidence against you

Listen to this
Run
So maybe the message of the Clash is a good one.

 

Clash with authority if they lack compassion.

Clash with the system if there is injustice.

Speak up for those who cannot speak.

Speak your truth.

Make some noise.

The crazy dried fruit lady

This is apparently my new secret identity. OK, maybe not so secret as I’ve just told you.

 

As you may recall, oh best beloved, I had an issue with finding some raisins that were not glazed in the evil known as  palm oil. I searched high and low and complained loudly and bitterly to everyone I knew that they didn’t make raisins like they used to--that is just being dried fruit not coated in some unhealthy substance. Somehow talking about dried fruit makes me go all eccentric and start really oversharing my concerns about the state of the dried fruit economy. This happened again today in Sainsburys.

from all-creatures.org

 

I went to buy some medjool dates. Not those little horrible runty ones that are all artificially shiny that sat on the shelf next to the ones I wanted. The good ones. The medjool ones. But alas and alack! I could not find them. I looked high and low. I walked around the entire produce section. I furrowed my brow and tutted under my breath. I steamrolled my trolley to other sections looking for them. They were gone. All the medjool dates. The organic ones and the taste the difference ones. They sell two kinds of medjool dates, but none were on the shelves. I didn’t care which ones I bought as they were the same price, but I did  not want those freaky, shiny little ones. So then I spotted a young man who were worked there and my inner identity reared its ugly head and I marched straight over to him. He looked about 16 and was probably working there after school. This is what occurred.

 

Me: Excuse me young man. I can see that you work in produce as you are wearing gloves because this section is inexplicably like Antarctica. (it was freezing over in produce)

Him: (looking a bit worried) Yes ma’am. Can I help?

Me: I am trying to locate the dates. They seemed to have moved house without telling me.

Him: The dates?

Me: Come here, young man and have a look. Do you see these dates here?

Him: I thought you were looking for dates.

  Me: yes but not these dates. When a person eats dates it is because they want a healthy snack. These dates on the shelf here are glazed in glucose syrup which causes them to be so artificially shiny.

Him: Why would you do that to dates?

Me: Precisely my point. But next door to these dates lived a superior date called the medjool. It was not glazed in sugar syrup or palm oil like the horrible raisins you sell on aisle 3.

Him: (frankly looking a bit terrified) Um…Ok.

Me: Now last year the dates all lived over on aisle 3 with the other dried fruit like raisins and then inexplicably they moved house and wound up in produce. They have been here ever since in this precise spot . They have, however, fluctuated in price. They were both less than £2 (the best value anywhere) and then the organic ones went up by 15p and so I always bought the taste the difference ones, but then the taste the difference ones followed suit and now they both cost £2.15. This is still a better deal than Waitrose where they cost upwards of £2.50.

 

Spiderman interrupted my retelling at this point and said :

SM: Please tell me you did not go on and on about the history of the dates at Sainsburys to this poor lad.

Me: I’m afraid I did. Once I got on a roll I just couldn’t stop myself.

SM: Oh great now you’ll be known as the crazy dried fruit lady. Every time you walk into the shop they’ll all be huddled in produce and pointing at you saying, “there’s that crazy dried fruit lady.” I won’t even be able to go shopping with you now as they’ll say, “there’s that considerably older looking guy who is with the crazy dried fruit lady.”

 

I continued my tale.

Him: Did you try looking on aisle 3?

Me: Yes I did, young man but there were none to be found. Only your hideous raisins glazed in the tears of orang-utans.

Him: (taking a step backwards) Um…would you like me to go the back and see if there are any there?

Me: Yes please, that would be most kind.

 

He went to the back storage room (no doubt to tell his mates there was a crazy lady going on about dried fruit out there) and returned to say we were shit out of luck. NOTE: not the actual expression he used, but that was what his tone implied.

 

Him: I’m so sorry, but there isn’t any back there and as there is no shelf label anymore I have to presume that we aren’t stocking them anymore. This sometimes happens with food that very few people buy.

 

This is when, I’m sorry to say, I went all Lady Bracknell from the Importance of Being Earnest and instead of shouting out in my comically indignant voice, “A handbag!” I shouted out in my comically indignant voice,

Me: Not stocking them? Why that’s ridiculous. Every time I come there are only a few left on the shelf! Someone besides my good self must be buying them, it stands to reason!

 

I quickly regained my composure and hopefully my dignity and said:

Me: of course it is not your fault. You were very kind and tried to help. Is there a manager I could speak to, to commend you for your services?

 

He led me to a manager, who did appear to be trying not to laugh. I tried very hard, but did not succeed, to just give him an outline of the tale, but found I wanted to tell the whole story of my indignation about the state of dried fruit today. I did say that the young man had been most helpful (if unsuccessful) and then turned to leave.

 

As this story played itself out to its inevitable conclusion, I could feel my growing older until suddenly I had become my grandmother.  I was struck with an overwhelming urge to tip the young man 20p, just as funny old ladies had tipped me a quarter when I worked at Baskin Robbins. This I felt was going a step too far and if I wanted to get out of the shop without cementing my status as a mad old bat I needed to quit whilst I was ahead.    

 

But I am still shit out of luck when it comes to medjool dates. Damn.

Nestle is Nasty

Folks, Nestle is at it again. For many years we have boycotted Nestle products due to the baby milk action protest.  You can read more about the campaign here: http://babymilkaction.org/nestlefree

 

The original boycott began in 1977. Basically, despite advice from the World Health Organisation (WHO) Nestle was aggressively marketing their baby formula in developing countries. They would have women dressed in a white coat to make them look like medical staff visit women who had just given birth and give them free samples of their formula and tell them how healthy it was. The problem is that these new mothers believed it, their breast milk dried up and they were forced to rely on buying ludicrously expensive formula ( it can cost up to a quarter of the household's income to buy formula) which meant they often used less formula than necessary to save money so the babies weren’t get proper nutrition. Also sanitation and access to clean water are a problem in developing countries so baby formula was often mixed with unclean water.

This makes babies die.

UNICEF estimates that a formula-fed child living in disease-ridden and unhygienic conditions is between 6 and 25 times more likely to die of diarrhea and four times more likely to die of pneumonia than a breastfed child.

 Despite pressure from the WHO and charities such as Save the Children they still did not stop, which is why I will not buy their products.

But now they have done it again, only worse. Spiderman was reading the twitter feed of Stephen Fry and he came across a link that told us of their current misdeeds.

From : http://action.sumofus.org/a/nestle-nigella-sativa/15/2/?akid=2049.1596590.Nyhnx0&rd=1&sub=fwd&t=1

 Nigella sativa -- more commonly known as fennel flower -- has been used as a cure-all remedy for over a thousand years. It treats everything from vomiting to fevers to skin diseases, and has been widely available in impoverished communities across the Middle East and Asia.

But now Nestlé is claiming to own it, and filing patent claims around the world to try and take control over the natural cure of the fennel flower and turn it into a costly private drug.

Tell Nestlé: Stop trying to patent a natural cure.

In a paper published last year, Nestlé scientists claimed to “discover” what much of the world has known for millennia: that nigella sativa extract could be used for “nutritional interventions in humans with food allergy”.

But instead of creating an artificial substitute, or fighting to make sure the remedy was widely available, Nestlé is attempting to create a nigella sativa monopoly and gain the ability to sue anyone using it without Nestlé’s permission. Nestlé has filed patent applications -- which are currently pending -- around the world.

Prior to Nestlé's outlandish patent claim, researchers in developing nations such as Egypt and Pakistan had already published studies on the same curative powers Nestlé is claiming as its own. And Nestlé has done this before -- in 2011, it tried to claim credit for using cow’s milk as a laxative, despite the fact that such knowledge had been in Indian medical texts for a thousand years.

Don’t let Nestlé turn a traditional cure into a corporate cash cow.

We know Nestlé doesn’t care about ethics. After all, this is the corporation that poisoned its milk with melamine, purchases cocoa from plantations that use child slave labor, and launched a breast milk substitute campaign in the 1970s that contributed to the suffering and deaths of thousands of babies from poor communities.

But we also know that Nestlé is sensitive to public outcry, and that it's been beaten at the patent game before. If we act fast, we can put enough pressure on Nestlé to get it to drop its patent plans before they harm anyone -- but if we want any chance at affecting Nestlé's decision, we have to speak out now!

I urge you to go the above  link and sign the petition and then make the compassionate choice and stop buying their products because they don’t care about human lives, they care about profit. Then make sure you contact the company and tell them exactly why you will not buy their products. Kick them where it hurts.

 PS here is a link that shows just what products Nestle owns so you can stop buying: http://info.babymilkaction.org/nestleboycottlist