Hardening the hands and strengthening the mind with an honest day's work

 @wwaycorrigan

[Listen to an audio version of this blog entry here.]

'A hen can sit still and earn a living, a man can't.' Thus ran one of the "jokey" signs that hung in our family kitchen back in the day.

Wrong Way Corrigan trasteos: From truck to tabletop, more or less.

It fitted, indeed fits, well with the traditional model where the man goes out to work — to do "real" work with his hands, that is. 

For the likes of my father, born in early 1940s rural Ireland, such thinking ran deep. Physical labour outside the home was where it was at (let's conveniently skip over the fact that many housework chores require plenty of elbow grease, too).  

Soft hands

However, as has long been the case but even more so these days, it's the man or woman sitting relatively still, staring into a screen, who invariably makes a better living than those engaged in employment that is more physical in nature.  

For the majority of my working life, I've very much been in the former camp: the soft-hands brigade (minus any significant payment).

Nonetheless, I don't shy away from donkey work when the opportunity presents itself. 

In fact, with the adage 'a change is as good as a rest' in mind, I largely relish the chance to get my hands dirty these days. (No doubt it's also a case of 'what's seldom is wonderful' — not-so-fond memories of long, tiring days shovelling concrete during summer holidays from university help to keep things in their proper perspective.)

So it was with an amount of enthusiasm that I agreed to lend my modest lifting force for two recent substantial house moves, or trasteos as they call them in Colombia. 

Over a year of pandemic-induced monotony also has to be factored in. Anything that breaks the routine right now is largely welcome.  

While it might be a stretch to say these were wholly invigorating experiences, they certainly gave me a boost.

'I've always struggled to understand those who drive or take public transport to go relatively short distances and then pay for gym membership to run on a treadmill that goes nowhere.'

This is not to say I've been living a largely sedentary existence of late. The Google Maps record of my monthly movements, which isn't the whole story, shows I cover a minimum of eight kilometres per day on foot, plus another few kilometres by bicycle from time to time (I prefer power walking to cycling, especially considering the chunky bike I inherited isn't really made for speed).

The reason the house-moving work made me feel particularly good was, I figure, due to the novelty of it together with the need to use physical force to meet a clear, specific end. I felt I was doing something useful — and appreciated by others — with an immediate goal in sight.

Running to stand still

Digging more deeply into this, it ties in with my tendency to think in the short term. It's why, I guess, I've never been a big fan of going for runs or hitting the gym 'just because'. 

I generally like to see an immediate return when engaging in an activity. 'What's the benefit, the point of this, in the here and now?' It also explains why I prefer to play a game of football or whatever rather than just practise for it.

Of course, a slight change of mindset is all that's needed for me to view the likes of regular running in the same light. Rather than seeing it as mere 'running for running's sake' I could take a different approach, where I tell myself I'm achieving something tangible at the moment of action.

In fairness, this is what I do with my walking. If I have an engagement that's inside a 10-kilometre radius of where I am, I'll usually go on foot, should time allow, of course.

It's why I've always struggled to understand those who drive or take public transport to go relatively short distances and then pay for gym membership to run on a treadmill that goes nowhere. Why not just walk or cycle to the places you have to go to when going about your daily business?

That aside, all this just underscores why the 8-6 monotonous office job is not for me. Even though I see the benefit of routine, I enjoy having variety in what I do, variety that includes an amount of regular movement.

Old school this might be, but earning a living sitting still for the most part just doesn't sit well with me.
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Listen to Wrong Way's Colombia Cast podcast here.

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Swimming against the Big Tech tide

@wwaycorrigan
[Listen to an audio version of this blog entry here.]
I recently wrote about how Big Nanny State has facilitated a tendency amongst some in society to forego growing up and taking responsibility. 'Leave everything up to me, little ones. Simply submit, follow the rules, however arbitrary many may seem, and off with you to enjoy your highly regulated lives.'

The QR-code revolution: Wrong Way is not a fan.

Virtual reality

Cosily tucked up with Big Nanny State in her warm global bed is Big Tech, monitoring everything from our sleeping patterns and what we eat for breakfast to our favourite pastimes and guilty pleasures. While this might appear a rather clandestine undertaking, the reality is, it isn't.

The virtual world that practically all in higher-income countries plus the middle classes elsewhere have signed up to with countless usernames and passwords means we have voluntarily — or at least it was voluntarily initially — invited Big Tech and its associates into our lives. And while some folk seem fairly blasé about this, there does appear to be pushback fomenting in other quarters.

The question is, shy of a system overthrow or a complete retreat from society, how does one go about living in the 21st Century whilst endorsing minimalist technological use?

Unless you're already a "made" man, woman or whatever you wish to call yourself these days, not having the likes of WhatsApp and/or an email account together with being connected to the internet 24/7, leaves you at a distinct disadvantage. And even if you are comfortably settled on Easy Street, this doesn't mean you can effortlessly free yourself from Big Tech's dominance.

Many services, from the world of finance to dining and everything else in between, now expect the user to be equipped with a smartphone — a device that tends to sap any modicum of intelligence from said user.

'In the pandemic pandemonium where each fellow human being is seen as a Grim Reaper, QR-code menus take away one potential area of contagion.'

All of this is supposedly being done in the name of convenience. Fair enough, if you can do everything from the comfort of your own home or wherever, there's something to be said for that. However, when it's done to the detriment of being able to actually sit down and talk to somebody face to face should the need arise, while I'm all against it.

A mine of information

Just one manifestation of this — something that, thankfully, rarely affects me in my modest existence in Colombia — is the switch to QR-code menus and suchlike in restaurants. Some people think this is a wonderful development.

For one, in the pandemic pandemonium where each fellow human being is seen as a Grim Reaper, it takes away one potential area of contagion: the handling of reused menus. It also cuts down on paper by reducing the need for said menus, therefore, so it goes, it's good for the environment.

Both of those "plus points" are true, but one's smartphone doesn't exactly run on fresh air, does it? Plus, outside of its component parts — including those lithium batteries, mined in ethically questionable ways, to say the least — it has to be recharged regularly.

Speaking of mining, in places where you actually order electronically, how much personal information is hammered out of us in the process? Another aspect to Big Tech's perpetual profiling.

In the realm of finance, so far my bank in Colombia, Banco Caja Social, hasn't forced me to go fully mobile. Indeed, in some regards, this particular institution is too archaic and overly bureaucratic. Nonetheless, when it comes to money, you can't be too careful all the same.

In contrast, the only bank I currently do business with in Ireland, Bank of Ireland UK in Belfast, more or less forced me recently to download its app in order to continue having access to my account. Come on guys, there are only so many apps a bog-standard smartphone can hold!

The net result of this 'move to mobile' is that it leaves us at the mercy of a faceless Big Tech. Technology is the master. To borrow, in a way, from Winston Churchill, 'Never has so much power been in the hands of so few, controlling so many.'

Call me, if you will, a contrarian conservative fearful of what amounts to nothing more than innocent and innovative change.

However, in a world where we are ceding more and more of whatever independence we had to faceless forces, I will do what I can to resist, at least for a little while longer. It will, most likely, be a futile exercise.
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Listen to Wrong Way's Colombia Cast podcast here.

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The price of independence

@wwaycorrigan

[Listen to an audio version of this blog entry here.]

'Would you tell me, please, which way I ought to go from here?
'That depends a good deal on where you want to get to,' said the Cat.
'I don't much care where—' said Alice.
'Then it doesn't matter which way you go,' said the Cat.
'—so long as I get SOMEWHERE,' Alice added as an explanation.
'Oh, you're sure to do that,' said the Cat, 'if you only walk long enough.'

As most of you will probably know, that exchange is from Lewis Carroll's classic Alice's Adventures in Wonderland, often summarised as 'If you don't know where you're going, any road will take you there.'

A rocky road, but is it leading you to where you want to go?

Independent living

While it appears that today's modern society has many "lost souls" not knowing where they're going or where they want to get to, when it comes to that never-ending search for fulfilment, from a work perspective, I'm fairly sure where I don't want to go. It's a start, I guess.

That is, allowing for the fact that we're in a highly interconnected world where being fully independent is nigh on impossible, I don't want to work for people but rather work with them.

In a predominantly wage economy with an increasingly interfering state, this freelance/self-employed as-independent-as-can-be option is more difficult to achieve, particularly in higher-income countries it could be argued.

So, if for survival reasons I had to become a company employee again, I'd need to be as close to the top as possible. Just making up the numbers has never satisfied me. I don't tend to be a great follower.

Thus, knowing that much, one needs to frame one's life accordingly. In many ways, a 14-month company-employee stint aside, I've been able to maintain a fair amount of employment independence in the more than nine years I've been based in Colombia. The flip side is that it hasn't exactly resulted in putting me on a firm financial footing.

'Worrying about potential future problems to the extent one doesn't tackle current pressing matters is rather silly.'

Therein lies the crux of the matter. For if I was to focus more so on money I would stop writing this blog, stop making podcasts (speaking of which, I hope you've checked out Get Inglés!), stop co-presenting Bogotá Nights and, to stay independent in this country, use the additional time such moves would free up to look for more students to whom I could teach English — English teaching being about the easiest and most profitable independent activity a native speaker can do in these parts.

End of the road

I would more than likely feel less fulfilled overall doing that but I would probably have more pesos in my pocket. (I hasten to add, lest the two students I currently have think badly of me, that it's not exactly that I dislike teaching English, it's more a case that I don't want it to be a full-time gig.)

For sure, life is not all about money. Yet, to state the obvious, when it's in scarce supply living becomes much more complicated.

At this moment in time, one significant area where my independence is compromised is in having to house share — my misanthropic tendencies have increased to some extent during the pandemic.

In fairness, however, in an officially stratified country such as Colombia, renting a room in a leafier suburb rather than renting one's own place in a humbler barrio may be a false economy. 

In my own case, going it alone would probably also do wonders for my general mood, even if it were to cost more, at least at that initial making-a-house-a-home stage.

Bringing it back to a broader level, we must also remember that at some point the road ends for each one of us. And we're never fully certain when that will be. 

With that in mind, worrying about potential future problems to the extent one doesn't tackle current pressing matters is rather silly.

So while some of us are not sure where we're going, I think it's fair to say the majority of us know where we don't want to go. We would do well to follow and act upon those impulses.
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Listen to Wrong Way's Colombia Cast podcast here.

Facebook: Wrong Way Corrigan — The Blog & IQuiz "The Bogotá Pub Quiz".

 

Growing up and taking responsibility

@wwaycorrigan

[Listen to an audio version of this blog entry here.]

'Until 30 or 40 years ago what I did was totally normal. People are radical in their youth and then they stop. That was the pattern of life until the 1960s. Then it changed. In the 1960s people stopped growing up when they reached their 20s and continued to be teenagers all their lives ... Why should they grow up? ... The world was revolutionised in the 1960s to suit them ... Everything was made fantastically easy ... I preferred to grow up ... I felt it was time.'

The abridged version of words from the at times divisive English journalist, Peter Hitchens, expressed in an interview with me in January this year.

With rights come responsibilities. (Photo by Nicole Shelby.)

Forever young?

At the time of recording, those exact comments didn't really resonate with me. Erroneously, perhaps, I was more focused on moving the conversation to our common position of being coronavirus-lockdown sceptics. Things that go viral do tend to dominate the discourse after all, for better or for worse.

Shortly afterwards, however, I began to reflect more deeply on that particular Hitchens observation.

In some respects, as a 36-year-old single, childless, relatively free man who reaped some benefits from Celtic Tiger Ireland, it could be argued that, on the surface anyway, I'm ripe to be in that not-growing-up brigade.

Compared to my parents and with a lot of thanks owed to them — although I didn't think it at the time — everything was made fairly 'fantastically easy', at least until my mid-20s.

I went from secondary school straight to university. While not exactly stress-free, it was far from a chastening experience either.

After obtaining a BA degree followed by a higher diploma, I only had a few months' wait before landing a full-time broadcast journalist job. For sure, working in a busy newsroom comes with many pressures, but I couldn't say that I was learning life the hard way. It is, of course, all relative, that much is true.

Whatever the case, my decision to go travelling solo around the world after a switch of radio stations didn't go the way I thought it would, led to, arguably, the first time I really had to be fully responsible for myself. I was 23.

'People have become comfortable with Big Nanny State controlling practically every aspect of their lives.'

Brendan versus the big bad world. And first up it was the big bad world of South America. A baptism of fire you might say.

I certainly learnt much from that experience. It's open to debate whether I became more responsible but I think it's fair to say I became more streetwise. Either that or I was downright lucky on umpteen occasions.

An 18-month working interlude back in the relative comfort of Ireland followed that nine-month global adventure. After that, in 2011, came the return to South America.

Adolescents in adults' bodies

Fast forward ten years later and with Hitchens' opening salvo in mind, can I define myself as responsible and grown-up?

It depends on how one views it, really.

Money-wise, I'm independent, living within rather restricted means as I must. There's no Nanny State to speak of in Colombia to help those in need, in any case.

Even if there was, it would be rather impertinent of me to be looking for help considering I come from a higher-income country. Any foreigner from a First World economy based here who's looking for government handouts, well that surely is a sign that one lacks responsibility.

In some ways, Colombia is a capitalist country in its rawest form. It's every man, woman and child for him/herself. OK, there are those few in the upper classes who have had everything pretty much handed to them. You'll find such types the world over.

I like to think I have a fair appreciation of the balance between my rights and responsibilities. As a traditional conservative, I believe this is what Hitchens was getting at in terms of people not growing up, although he didn't explicitly say this in our interview.

In a UK and Republic of Ireland context, it comes back to the Nanny State. People have become comfortable with it controlling practically every aspect of their lives. As needy and selfish "grandchildren", they cry and throw the toys out of the pram each time they feel wronged. Rather than becoming more independent, more responsible, they confer upon Big Nanny State ever-greater powers of control.

For some, this is blissful. It means virtually nothing is ever their fault anymore. Everything is in the hands of Big Nanny State. And as long as she hands out the occasional sweet treat, all is fine.

For others, the realisation that their own lives have practically been outsourced to 'those who know best' in return for an 'easy existence' is slowly dawning. However, what was easily surrendered is proving much more difficult to take back.

What it requires is the radical spirit of the immature, irresponsible youth, but one not anchored to the extremes. The centre ground must find its bite before it's too late.

The responsible, grown-up adults in the room need to start behaving as such. The question is, have we enough of such types around to do this?
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Listen to Wrong Way's Colombia Cast podcast here.

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Dealing with a sexed-up society

@wwaycorrigan

[Listen to an audio version of this blog entry here.]

In a country with an alarmingly high official femicide rate, that the fair treatment of women is never too far off Colombia's news agenda isn't surprising.

Sexual objects ...

Catholic virtues

Of course, there's one thing having grand debates about it in media and politics, quite another effecting meaningful change on the ground. This is particularly so in a region where misogyny appears commonplace.

The UK, on the other hand, superficially at least, appears worlds apart from most of Latin America when it comes to women's rights. Every now and again, however, a high-profile and/or disturbing case sees the issue become headline news, as has happened recently after the abduction and killing of 32-year-old Sarah Everard.

With that particular ongoing case as the backdrop, the broader subject was discussed on a BBC Radio 4 programme by a panel of politicians and experts.

One of the guests was former UK Supreme Court judge, Lord Sumption — a man whose stance on lockdowns I very much support. He commented that in European Catholic countries — he specifically mentioned Poland, Spain, Italy and the Republic of Ireland — incidences of abuse against women are lower compared to others.

I'm not sure where he's getting his figures from on this one, but speaking from an Irish perspective, to say that our strong Catholic heritage has contributed to our supposed "better" treatment of women is absurd, to say the least. On what is a long list of arguments against that, I'll just mention mother and baby homes for one. Abuses simply going unreported must also be taken into account.

That aside, where Lord Sumption may have a point is in terms of our traditional attitudes towards sex, generalising as I am and something that certainly doesn't appear to apply to the newer generations.

What I'm referring to here, with my own Irish Catholic-influenced upbringing in mind, is the way sex was not really something to be discussed openly. Sexy wasn't cool.

'It's this sexual-object idea that in many ways is the thin end of the wedge.'

If a girl or a woman dressed, let's say rather liberally, she was not a good sort. 'Leave that type of thing to the promiscuous English.' (Contrast this with Colombia, another traditionally Catholic country but one that in many ways has been more open about matters of sex, something I addressed in a previous post.)

Linked to this — and I agree that this is probably more a reflection of me rather than Irishmen in general — the idea of wolf-whistling or shouting sexual "obscenities" at women was something I never even considered. After almost ten years living in Colombia, it still unsettles me the way many men here are very forward with women. I'm more in the 'blessed are the meek' camp in this regard.

Objects of desire

So while Catholic Ireland's — not just the church but the state, too — historic treatment of women leaves an awful lot to be desired, viewing them as mere sexual objects hasn't been chief among its sins.

And it's this sexual-object idea that in many ways is the thin end of the wedge. It's also very complex.

From the male perspective, when one is bombarded with very suggestive images/videos of women on a regular basis, well how is one to view them?

OK, you might say just simply don't seek out such material. The thing is, I for one don't. But we have various social media, particularly Instagram from my experiences, that promote what I regard as at least mild porn. (A female friend of mine, one who isn't averse to uploading what could be viewed as suggestive content, agreed with me on this.)

What's more, many of these posts aren't by paid models or virtual sex workers, they are from everyday women voluntarily uploading sexed-up content to public forums.

For sure, if this stays in the virtual world, you could say it's harmless. That is to ignore multifaceted and potentially damaging cyber abuse, though.

You might also argue that women have the right to post whatever they want on social media — free expression and all that. It's not their fault if some men view them in a perverted way. Fair enough.

Nonetheless, men are generally physically stronger and sexually more aggressive than women. Thus, that some cross what can be at times a thin line between acceptable and unacceptable behaviour towards women isn't altogether shocking, especially if they feel they have been "enticed" to do so (just to be clear, there's no thin part of the line when it comes to murdering an innocent victim).

So when trying to combat a serious problem, such publicly available content has the potential to set, nay perpetuate, a narrative in the real world.

On balance, we could do well to actively promote a more sexed-down society, difficult as that may now be.
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Listen to Wrong Way's Colombia Cast podcast here.

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Home is where the barrio is

@wwaycorrigan

[Listen to an audio version of this blog entry here.]

Before my adult days, I remember being rather puzzled about my father's strong desire to get back to his local haunt(s) whenever we'd be out and about.

Calm after the storm: The at times action-packed Barrio Santandercito.

In fact, even when I started my own beer-accompanied socialising and on the rare occasions I'd be with my Dad in an unfamiliar setting, this itchy-feet tendency to return to his stomping ground bemused me.

Where everybody knows your name

'Just relax and enjoy the new surroundings', I'd think to myself. 'What's the panic?'

Now, however, and perhaps with the pandemic serving as a catalyst, I better understand this fondness for "home" comforts. Similar to my father, this isn't an eagerness to be back where I sleep — I've never been able to truly call home any place I've rented. It's a case of being in the environment where I socialise the most, with my Bogotá buddies.

This is at odds with many an adage. Take your pick from, to name but three, variety is the spice of life, familiarity breeds contempt, a change is as good as a rest. I'm sure there are more.

Yet, forced for months on end to not really being allowed to venture outside my part of Bogotá, now that one can officially travel unrestrictedly around Colombia, my enthusiasm to do so is somewhat lacking.

'Thrifty tendencies do also have their mental rewards.'

In fact, it's at a stage where visiting the first barrio popular that I called "home", La Perseverancia, 18 kilometres south of my current abode, now seems like a holiday. I haven't brought the overnight bag there yet, but it might be an option next time after the hassle I had trying to get home on the previous occasion I visited. One can never rely on public transport in Bogotá.

Break free

What's more, the few times that I haven't been able to call into my panadería "office" throughout this pandemic, I've been left a little ill at ease. The panadería owners, acting in good faith, of course, play their part in this, chastising me for my sporadic absences, accusing me of being a traitor. 'If Brendan's not here this morning, where the heck is he?'

What all this basically amounts to is that I've become comfortable in my routine. Comfortable in mediocrity, in the unspectacular one could say.

Linked to this is a feeling, to a certain extent, that I'm undeserving of a holiday because I haven't had steady work — or at least work that puts pesos in my pocket — throughout the pandemic. You know, one shouldn't be spending money recklessly when one isn't sure from where the next meaningful payday is going to come.

That whole live-each-day-like-it's-your-last mentality is wonderful in theory. However, if I were to let the handbrake off and truly live as I wish, well then I'd want to be in my last few days on this planet — it would be financially unsustainable as things stand at present. Thrifty tendencies do also have their mental rewards.

Nonetheless, a break from the Bogotá barrio is coming. It must.

Experience lets me know that I can find as much joy — if not more, for a time at least — in a more tranquil setting. Every town has its panaderías, tiendas and streets to wander after all. Same, same but different.
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Listen to Wrong Way's Colombia Cast podcast here.

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Remembering Des: Trying to comprehend the incomprehensible

@wwaycorrigan

It has been said that we know more about the intricacies of our vast planet than we do about the human mind.

Tiny as it may be compared to the size of our world, it is very complex in composition. We may know it physically, superficially, but its inner workings remain largely a mystery.

Des relaxes before our interview at Colombia's football federation HQ in Bogotá, January 2020.

Misunderstood

While great advancements have been made in recent decades in dealing with deadly physical diseases, treating psychological problems still relies on, to a large extent, a trial-and-error approach. Generalisations on behaviour can be made and on many occasions are accurate, but the very essence of one's uniqueness emanates from his or her own brain.

We never truly know what another person is thinking, how he or she is feeling. It is, perhaps, medical science's greatest challenge: to find an effective, lasting way to treat those suffering from mental illness.

I used to have quite an unsympathetic view of people who were going through depression. My thinking was, 'Stop feeling sorry for yourself. Snap out of it.'

Time and closer dealings with depressed individuals have seen me change this stance. When one is in such a state of mind, nothing is seen in a positive light. Both the inward and outward filters are at best a dark shade of grey, at worst a bleak, hopeless black.

Nothing that one says or does seems capable of altering this. What's more, the feelings are generally irrational. One can highlight to the sufferer all the reasons why he or she should feel grateful for life but it's usually a pointless exercise. Yes, the darkness can pass, but it's normally just a brief respite.

'While I still see suicide as a horrible act, I've come to understand a little better the complete hopelessness that one feels in order to take that final, dreadful step.'

At most we know it's a chemical imbalance in the mind and with the right mix of medication, some people can learn to cope. Finding that balance is the tricky part, however.

For those who don't get that help, the ultimate solution becomes the only option to escape the constant doom.

Similar to how I used to think about depression, I used to also view very negatively that irreversible "cure" chosen by some sufferers. I saw suicide as an utterly selfish act. The depressed ends his or her suffering but leaves behind loved ones who have to try to come to terms with the fateful decision.

Again, though, my perception has changed with experience. While I still see suicide as a horrible act, I've come to understand a little better the complete hopelessness that one feels in order to take that final, dreadful step.

Demons return

Just over a year ago, I interviewed Des McAleenan, the Irish goalkeeping coach who landed what he described as a dream job with Colombia's men's football team. In that interview, he spoke candidly about the 'demons' that had taken over his mind in the past.

He was, however, in a much happier place in January 2020. There was much to look forward to — World Cup qualifiers against some of the best nations on the planet, a Copa América in front of a home Colombian crowd. Des's present and future looked bright.

Then, along came covid. The World Cup qualifiers and Copa América were postponed. With his job paused, Des left Colombia and returned to Ireland.

Initially, though, everything was fine. He even found, so he told me, more fulfilment in life by training some children in his native Dublin in the Irish summer. Facebook posts showed him enjoying daily runs along the north Dublin coast.

It was what seemed from afar a fairly innocuous ankle injury that plunged him into darkness again. He began to worry about his career. In his early 50s, if he couldn't carry out training properly, would he be let go?

In any case, he was involved with the Colombian set-up for the World Cup qualifiers in October. A straightforward home win over Venezuela and a very credible draw away to Chile did nothing to improve his state of mind.

He was ruled out for the November round of qualifiers after he contracted covid. As Colombia slumped to heavy defeats at home to Uruguay and away to Ecuador, Des was in quarantine in Bogotá's five-star Grand Hyatt Hotel.

We had a telephone call at the time and he told me how it just didn't make sense that he felt so depressed. Financially he was fine and while manager Carlos Queiroz's position was on the line after the damaging losses, Des was rather sanguine about the prospect of losing his job.

'The darkness just got darker. The demons wouldn't go away. To get rid of them, he had to get rid of himself.'

He joked, true as it was, that he hadn't actually lost a game with Colombia. Also, listening to my visa travails, lack of a steady job and general uncertainty, he said I should be the one depressed, not him. Of course, it doesn't work that way.  

Queiroz's tenure — and by extension Des's — was indeed ended shortly afterwards.  'A shit time all round' was how Des put it to me in a WhatsApp message.

Nonetheless, he told me there was a potential coaching job with a club in the US, in Salt Lake City. That prospect made him feel a lot better, so he told me. The ankle, which seemed like a physical manifestation of the mental problems he was battling, was still annoying him, however.

He went back to Ireland again in December.

The last message I received from him was on 30 December. It read: 'Back in Dublin Brendan, it's a fuckin' nightmare. Having a very difficult time coming to terms w[ith] the problem w[ith] my ankle. How are you? Still in Colombia?'

Less than two months later Des took his own life.

I only knew him for just over a year but during that time we had some long and deep conversations. Different as we were, I felt a connection with him.

I don't know what to make of his decision to kill himself. It doesn't make sense.

I tried to offer words of encouragement, tried to make him see the positive side of things. But the darkness just got darker. The demons wouldn't go away. To get rid of them, he had to get rid of himself.

Adiós, Des. Adiós.

*****
For those in Colombia troubled by what's written in this article, Bogotá has the phone line 106, ‘El poder de ser escuchado’, which offers support in times of crisis including cases of sexual violence, suicide and substance abuse. The 24-hour service is also available via WhatsApp on 300 7548933.

The city also operates the Línea Psicoactiva on 01800 0112439 (Mon-Sun from 7.30 am-10.30 pm) Facebook and Skype at Psicoactiva and WhatsApp on 301 2761197.

In Ireland, you can contact the following:

Samaritans 116 123 or email jo@samaritans.org;

Aware 1890 303 302 (depression, anxiety);

Pieta House 01 601 0000 or email mary@pieta.ie (suicide, self-harm).
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Listen to Wrong Way's Colombia Cast podcast here.

Facebook: Wrong Way Corrigan — The Blog & IQuiz "The Bogotá Pub Quiz".