History of the Hands Across Borders Society

To describe the history of the evolution of HABS is to describe the consequences of choices and the implications of synchronicities as influencing factors on the nature of those choices. Our story is unique to us but it is certain that similar events have unfolded for countless others on the planet.

My name is Alastair Pirie and my wife is Patricia Elias. I hold a Doctorate in Chiropractic, from the Canadian Memorial Chiropractic College in Toronto, Ontario, Canada and my wife is a teacher with a degree in Economics and History from McGill University in Montreal, Quebec.

It was around 1995 when Pat and I, after almost 20 years of continual work decided to organize our lives so that we could take a one year sabbatical in order to travel around the world. This, of course, turned out to be no ordinary task as we soon discovered that our tendrils of attachment to our responsibilities and commitments in Canada were numerous and well entrenched. However, over the next two years, we slowly but surely managed to put in place all that was necessary for us to set ourselves free from life as we had known it. In late July, 1997 we lifted off, so to speak, and headed out on what was to become a most remarkable adventure.

Both Pat and I had a wish list of countries we wanted to visit, but for practical reasons we had to narrow down our choices considerably. I wanted to spend time in Turkey and Sri Lanka and Pat was definite about Africa and in particular Kenya. Pat was born in Sri Lanka, however her family moved from there when she was a little over three years old. Her father was a Tea Superintendent and was instrumental in establishing and running several tea plantations in Sri Lanka. He later went on to work for the World Bank as a Tea Consultant in Indonesia and Africa.

I was eager to see and experience Pat's roots in Sri Lanka even though there was an ongoing civil war in process. Pat on the other hand was more interested in giving me the "tour" of Kenya, a country she had visited on several occasions when her father worked in Uganda and later in Rwanda. They would spend their school holidays at Mombassa on the coast and she had many fond memories from those days. So after making our way through the UK, France and Turkey, we finally arrived in Nairobi, eager to retrace some of Pat's earlier history.

As we made our way in from the airport I immediately began to question the wisdom of this choice as the scenes we saw were not that inviting and the atmosphere seemed tense and uncomfortable. We soon found out that it was pre-election time and our need for constant vigilance on the streets of Nairobi made it very difficult to relax and feel at ease. After only a few days in Nairobi we decided to head for the beaches of Mombasa and the coast, assuring ourselves that things would be much safer and more laid back there. We did have a great overnight train trip to Mombasa, however, it quickly became apparent that things were not that much better there.

One morning as I prepared to set out for a morning run from the bungalow where we were staying at Twiga Beach, the owner suggested that I think twice before running up the road. I felt that with only a pair of shorts and shoes on that I would not be a target of choice for thieves. The owner convinced me that indeed the shorts and shoes would not only be prized items but that I might not return at all. It was time for a change of plans.

History
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