Sure, I’m missing the vibrant City-of-Richshaws, and my ActionAid (AA) amigos. But glad to be home, with my beloved, family and friends. And I’m relishing the chilly days. Besides, we left Dhaka on a high – Brazil and Argentina were still contenders in the 2010 World Cup.

Now they’re out, and Bangladeshis will be crying their gulabs out. Without doubt they’re the planet’s most loyal football fans, especially to the Samba Kings and Maradona’s boys. Warning to the South American coaches: if you value your life, don’t travel to Bangladesh – they’re a forgiving people, but not that forgiving…

Memories are fading fast, and our Bengali adventure now seems like a sugary condensed-milk coated dream. It’s as if all that Dhaka dust clogged up my synapses. Even so, there are certain images that remain seared into my psyche.

Colours defined Dhaka and our experience: bright saris, jazzed-up rickshaws, kids paintings, and of course the Brazilian and Argentine flags, which are surely no longer part of the skyline.

And of course there was the poverty. At bottle-necked intersections, it was hard to ignore the street kids and crippled oldies who swamped your car, trying to squeeze trapped passengers for a few taka. Never got use to that. But street kids still goofed off as any other kid would, even while simultaneously ducking oncoming traffic and selling roses.

Made friends for life, and I’m still in contact with the AA Bangladesh team, including Hasan, Amir, Towfic; possibly the most switched-on group I’ve ever worked with. Wonder if Hasan’s sampled the Vegemite yet, thus overcoming his biggest fear.

On a professional note…

Tracking AA’s slick new blog, and watching as it develops into an eye-catching and expansive marketing and educational tool.

Not a religious guy, but if it wasn’t a mini-epiphany I had in Bangladesh, it must have been acute heart burn.

During a recent radio interview, when asked about the power of social media, I waxed lyrical about how networking platforms like Facebook and Twitter can attract global attention in literally hours. Before Project TOTO, there’s no way I’d have been so Gung-ho. But as I stared blank-faced as Sharna conjured up Facebook profiles and Twitter accounts, social media’s vast potential started sinking in.

From Dhaka to Denmark, scores began adding AA Bangladesh to their profiles – more than ten for every fried pakora we gobbled down, and that day we popped a-plenty. Loads of comments too.

And a portal to the outer world opened, big time.

Swedes, Aussies and Brits encouraged Puspo to not give up and pursue her dreams. Not-so-long-ago-PM Kevin Rudd started following AA Bangladesh on Twitter . Has Julia Gillard picked up the baton, I wonder?

From Dhaka to Denmark tweeters and facebook-heads were discovering AA Bangladesh and their amazing projects, like Happy Homes and the Community Journalist’s Group (CJG). Massive exposure in real time, and it was epic.

But exposure’s not enough. These incredible initiatives, like Happy Homes which gets kids off the streets and into homes where they can play, learn and develop skills in a safe, caring and creative environment, or the CJG, which teaches teenagers invaluable skills that ensure them the brightest futures, need funding to stay afloat. Although it’s got loads of hits, I’m not sure if AA Bangla’s blog has led to increased sponsorship or funding pledges.

This is the real endgame. Dialogue is great, but if the projects don’t exist, there’s nothing to talk about. Social media’s power lies in the special link sponsored kids can form with their US and European benefactors. Instead of biannual reports, they can chat in real-time about their lives and challenges, so sponsors can track their charges progress. It’s more transparent, sociable, educational, and in the end more rewarding. It’s also a great marketing pitch to get new sponsors.

So I guess that’s where we’re heading – for Project TOTO Bangladesh, and on a larger scale. I’ve little doubt our work with the AA Bangladesh bears fruit as ripe and tasty as the mangoes Hasan served up on the last day.

Since food metaphors have peppered my posts, I’ll wrap up with that one and, of course, the very highest of hopes…

Learn more about ActionAid and Project TOTO:

• ActionAid Australia website
• ActionAid Australia on Twitter
• ActionAid Bangladesh Blog
• ActionAid Bangladesh on Twitter
• Joel Katz profile
• Sharna Bremner profile

But before I get misty-eyed and start bidding all a sad farewell, I’ll recap today’s activities. It was our last trip to the field, and lots of fun.

Hasan and Amir join us, and our van nudges its way to Madartek in Dhaka’s east. We’re visiting Development Area (DA) 14. Shouting above the honking traffic, Hasan tells us about the DAs, and that they usually have a life of ten years.

As we creep along, street kids shove fresh roses through the car windows, and we hand them some taka in return.

Hasan continues that as DAs mature, along with the kids, the money can be better spent elsewhere. Sadly there are limited funds, so if the teenagers are in school or skills-trained, AA Bangladesh sees that they’re relatively self-sufficient. That’s the endgame. Partners, like other community groups, do stay on though to ensure that programs have some support.

Again we’re meeting with sponsored kids and CJG teenagers. We’ve already talked about these initiatives in previous blogs. And as usual we’re greeted with passive faces and down-turned eyes. Kids are furiously working away on crayon drawings. With bright saris, and sketches of country scenes and, of course, Brazilian and Argentine flags, the room is awash with colour.

The kids are preparing drawings for their Italian sponsor’s biannual reports, so there’s plenty of Azzurri flags too.

Next we meet up with the CJG guys. Same as always. Formal intros all round. Q&A session. Faces deadpan. Then cameras come out. Make a few goofy attempts at Bengali, and the giggling starts. Ah – they’re kids after all.

CJG teenagers write stories about their life ambitions, to post on their new blog. These kids are aiming high. They want to be doctors, journalists, artists and singers. See them at work, and you don’t doubt their potential for a moment. Their drive and energy is staggering.

At their age I just thought about surfing, my mates and girls.

In their stories, one thing is constant. First line is always about how important education is. And CJG, Happy Homes and other AA Bangladesh programs are all about giving disadvantaged kids the opportunity to learn, grow and be creative. They suck up this knowledge like their lives depended on it. And they do.

Posts go up. Drawings are completed. Paparazzi goes nuts and shutters click like ten thousand snapping turtles. Like other DAs we’re bowled over by kids’ sheer talent.

Lunch break and Hasan has us in fits of laughter as he impersonates himself as a 110 year old. Amir explains to me that a digital watch in a Shakespeare play is an anachronism, not an oxymoron.

Take out the oxy, and that’s how I feel.

Head back into main room and the kids have organised a little performance for us. Sure Australia’s Got Talent – but Bangladesh has its fair share too.

It’s mini-Bollywood come alive. Girls bust out some awesome dance moves. Feet slap out the rhythm on the floor as they swirl around the room. It’s hypnotic.

That is until they ask me to join. Captain Klutz declines politely, but before I know it I’m up shaking my booty to Bengali beats. Everything these graceful girls are, I’m not – but doesn’t matter. I’m having a ball.

We covered lots of ground on this trip, Sharna and I. In two short weeks we experienced so much, soaking up a vibrant culture as spicy as the hottest Bengali curry. Saw immense poverty and heard stories of hardship, heartbreak and hope. Set up a great blog with the AA Bangladesh guys – some of the finest people I’ve ever met. Got to work with inspiring kids and young adults. Kids who have very little, but radiate with self-confidence unlike anything I’ve seen. Switched-on kids. Happy kids. Desperate for knowledge and to improve their lives and the lives of their families.

Like Massum. Squeezed into a prison-sized concrete bunker, he and the other four family members sleep on one tiny bed. But it’s clean and safe and much better than when they lived in the slums. Yet his smile could melt an ice cap, and he looks like the world is his for the taking.

That’s why AA Bangladesh’s work is so important and why these kind of programs must go on. Project TOTO has helped to bring these stories to the world in the hope that more people will get involved – let’s see how we go.

Big thanks to Hasan and his AA Bangladesh sponsorship team, the fantastic CJG guys, Mark Chenery, Emily Mulligan and the rest of the AA Australia team for all their amazing support and Project TOTO itself, and of course, Sharna, who was an absolute dream to work with and who has managed to make every little girl in the country go gaga for her.

Postscript: Isn’t it nice falling asleep to the soft patter of rain? It is, unless rain’s inside your room. Up at 3am, and there’s a leak in the bathroom flooding the floor. Perched on bed now in darkness with water lapping below. Hope internet connection doesn’t fry me. Entire hotel staff is here, arguing loudly on how to fix the problem. Same guys who work all day. Must be on 24 hour shifts. Tough gig, man.

Don’t seem to notice me at all.

So tired, and falling asleep even though a short old guy with long white beard is on his tippy-toes on a chair on my bed. He still can’t reach leaking pipes. Everywhere in Bangladesh it’s flooding, but not in Dhaka. Only in my room.

Doubtful I’ll get any zees tonight…

Yesterday, literally. Today – more concrete jungle, than lush cane fields. Oh rural Bangladesh, how I miss thee.

But I digress. Mind’s drifting back to the serenity. Oh the serenity…

Today we hop in van with Hasan, Amir and Towfic – los tres amigos Bangladeshi, and take off for Mohammadpur, in the city’s west. We were here last week for the dusty but thrilling 1Goal soccer match.

We arrive at the office and, as usual, a very formal setting awaits – like King Arthur’s round table, but kids instead of knights. We’re meeting with the Community Journalist’s Group (CJG). Sharna talked about CJGs yesterday, and it’s an awesome initiative.

Professional journalists, some from Bangladesh’s biggest papers, lend their time to work with teenagers, parents, teachers and other community workers. Mostly their job is to collect stories for biannual updates to send back to the kids’ sponsors over in UK, Sweden and other European countries.

But now – lucky guys – their role’s expanded, thanks partially to Project TOTO. Sorry guys. With the new blog portal we’ve just set up with AA Bangladesh, mentors will also be posting stories, images and video right in the development areas. Already talked about the huge scope of this project – not only to create stronger ties with existing sponsors, but to cultivate new ones, potentially even in Australia.

So it’s a sober start as normal. We notice the teenagers from the 1Goal match last week, but everyone’s being very demur. Then the maestro, Hasan, waves his baton, and all have joined the chorus. Amir is there snapping away like crazy, capturing the moments like only he can. And cool-headed Towfic translates from Bengali with such subtle touches it’s like he’s channeling William Blake, who is his favourite poet. Who’s William Blake?

I feel stupid.

The CJG members start reading stories about their lives. These are to be posted on the blog for a global audience, and can be about whatever they like. We go around the table and a dozen teenagers and one adult read out loud, and these tales ain’t short. They recount their stories boldly, and the AA guys translate as we go along.

Fourteen year old Masum tells us that his mother had complications during pregnancy with his sister. His dad couldn’t afford to pay for the hospital bills and got into serious debt. This meant that Masum could no longer go to school. He explains that community support programs and AA means now he can go back and get a good education. He smiles brightly.

Pushpo, also 14 years old, and a plucky girl talks of her love of sport. In Bangladesh girls are often discouraged from playing sport. If you’d seen this future Brazilian World Cup striker play last week, you’d know this girl is a true athlete. She explains that the 1Goal match gives her hope that she can one day become a professional sportswoman.

Then one of the CJG guys, who’s maybe in his 20s, starts his story. It’s in Bengali, so until it’s translated, we have no idea. Then he stops short. Room’s silent. A very long pause and his eyes well up with tears. He can’t finish his story, so one of the community leaders does.

We discover that this fresh-faced guy almost died from cancer. A cyst developed after a cricket accident, and he was sure that was it. Thank god the treatment worked. Just shows that to these stories, everyone, no matter from where, can relate.

After lunch we head to computer and show the CJG guys how the blogs work. There’s real excitement as we post the first blog for DA2. Claps and smiles all round.

Next it’s off to an AA-sponsored women’s community support group nearby. It’s really poor here, and the surrounding slums are swimming in a pool of sewage. Again we’re met by a circle of passive faces and vibrant saris. Once Sharna and I mention that we have partners, we all become steadfast friends. A photo of my girlfriend’s passed around and there’s applause.

He got her? Now that’s clap-worthy.

With beaming faces, the women are gorgeous. They talk about the small loans that have changed their lives. One lady invested in a catering company, another in two cows. They’re now reaping the benefits, and although their monthly incomes are still tiny, they’re much more than ever before. You can see the pride in their faces as they talk. They have drive and ambition, a new lease on life, and respect in their community.

We finish the day snacking on plates heaped with assorted mango chunks at Hasan’s pad, with his lovely wife, daughter and Amir. Been another exhausting but amazing day.

Squeezed into a baby taxi, a steel cage on wheels. Three girls in back, and me up front, sitting on driver’s lap. If we crash, it’ll be death by a thousand cuts as we’re sieved through the steel grates. Hold on tight guys – we’re off to Old Dhaka’s bustling bazaars.

It’s Saturday – Bangladeshi Sunday – but traffic’s still full on. Old Dhaka, in the city’s south, is a maze of narrow alleyways. Streets are so packed. Like we’re in the video game Tetris, but with jazzed-up rickshaws and tricycles, not L-shaped blocks.

First stop is the old Armenian church, built back in the late 1700s. Armenians had a big presence here back then as merchants, and there’s still a small community, we’re told. Highlight is the friendly church Labrador that is instantly attracted to Sharna’s toes. Dogs are a rare sight here.

Then it’s off to the Pink Palace near Burigana River, the muddy artery that runs through the city. Museum’s full of history and also down a tasty mango flavoured drink.

Down by the riverside kids back-flip off boats into the shimmering liquid-chocolate chaos.

Last stop of the day is the bazaar. Except for rickshaws, all vehicles are banned here. Could be in an Ottoman marketplace, but for the Brazilian and Argentine World Cup flags that flutter above and just about everywhere else.

We pop some gulabs and buy some knick-knacks, then back to hotel.

Knackered after ride home in motorised chicken coup. Even though we’ll need physio treatment to untwist our spines, it’s been an eye-opening day.

On a much more serious note.

Couldn’t get into the part of Old Dhaka where so many lives were tragically lost during the fires just last week. If we got there, this piece would have been very, very different.

Two things to add. My amazing girlfriend skyped me last night and said – that story about giving street kids money, why’d you post such an upbeat photo. Those were beggars, but a strange thing happens when cameras come out here – smiles break out across everyone’s face, even if they’re desperately poor. Guess, when you live in so much misery, little things like a photo being snapped is momentary release. Guaranteed there are no Emos here.

Also. Might be wondering, is Project TOTO just about us blogging about our experience in Dhaka, and the poverty we see? Actually that’s just what we do at night. Day’s are jam-packed with training, toiling away with AA Bangladesh team on their swanky new blog, and working with community groups towards getting the kids in the development areas (DAs) savvy with all this social media technology.

That’s really the main focus. And getting their blog looking swish enough to attract more sponsors, potentially in Australia, but also in the European countries where there are existing sponsorship relationships, so AA Bangladesh’s projects can keep going. We’ll talk more about this.

Starting from tomorrow we’ll be in the DAs teaching marginalised kids social media and making tons of friends.

Now off to dinner – once I get that herniated disc sorted out. Damn you baby taxis!

One of the Canadian t-shirt wearing hotel brigade just knocked on my door with my clothes in vacuum-sealed bags, cardboard inserts and even little plastic clips. That’s awesome – thought they were still balled up in my backpack.

Today we were lucky to catch a 1Goal event hosted by ActionAid Bangladesh in one of the poorer districts in Dhaka’s east. AA’s dynamic duo, Hasan and Amir, set up a soccer match for some of the boys and girls from the one of Dhaka’s poorer suburbs as part of the 1Goal Campaign.

Tying in nicely with the 2010 World Cup, 1Goal raises awareness about education and aims at getting kids back into school.

Soccer pitch is in a muddy field, surrounded by apartments and shacks – Brazilian and Argentine flags flying proudly from windows. Here, every local is die-hard fan of either country during the World Cup – pretty sure Bangladesh doesn’t have a national team.

Looking at the skyline it’s like we’re in some odd city that straddles the border of the two Latin American football giants.

But as the game begins, it’s clear we’re not. Sharna’s more popular here than Justin Beiber ever will be, and scores of local girls swamp her trying to catch a glimpse of her blue eyes.

Two matches are played. One’s boys, the other girls. They have loads of fun as they scramble after the ball and get muddy. Local kids go crazy as we snap photos, and Sharna’s getting a little uncomfortable with her ever-growing legend status.

Cows moo at the far end of the field.

Really great thing about this initiative is Bangladesh can be a conservative country where girls aren’t given the same chances as boys. It’s unusual for girls to even play sports, but today, as the dust and mud soak our 1Goal t-shirts and line my mucous membranes, the girls get the biggest cheers by far – apart from Sharna, of course.

Upper class locals sit around and talk shop, squishing curry into balls and popping them into their mouths. A giant plastic capsicum dangles above our heads with total indifference.

It’s a picture of dignified serenity.

Then we step outside and chaos descends.

Sharna talked about it last night in her post, but it’s something I’m not sure I’ll ever get used to so I’ll describe the scene. Night lights reflect off an endless sea of traffic – an insane kaleidoscope of shimmering colour.

Quickly, a group of street mums and their kids surround us. Wind whips up huge dust clouds, and their filthy wine-red shawls and saris flap behind them like the war banners of some lost Mogul Empire.

“Boss” they croon. “Money, boss.” Palms held up desperately.

Sheepishly we hand over a doggy-bag of food from the restaurant. One of the mums snatches it from me.

I feel terrible. Kids are young and mums hold ruddy-faced toddlers. I know. I know. Give them money, and I’m just perpetuating their dependence. Besides, is it even going to them, or some guy who’s exploiting them?

Still, I reach into my pocket. But Sharna knows it’ll cause a stampede, and shakes her head. Okay. She’s right.  It’s Slumdog Millionaire – but for real.

Some girls take chase as our rickshaw pulls away. All trail off accept for one, and it’s almost like she’s running for her very life. I fumble for taka and drop it into her palm as she runs alongside.

Rich locals now order rice pudding and cha in the fancy eatery. The little girl peels off down an alleyway  shouting “Thhhhhhhaaaaannnnnkkk you, boss!” to what kind of future, no one can say.

Is the money going to help her? Who knows? Maybe she’ll get a decent meal, or maybe it’ll end up in the hands of someone she’s not even related to. But for one short moment I feel slightly less guilty for getting all the breaks in life, and her getting none. Until we’re sprung on by another gang of street kids, crooning “Bossss, bossssssss.”

………………………….

So today we started our blogging training with the awesome ActionAid Bangladesh sponsorship team. Mahbub Hasan is their top guy. He could be a Bengali superhero. Full of energy and verve. So much passion, and he’d have them rolling in the aisles in NY’s best comedy clubs, guaranteed.

A total buzz. With Sharna and the team we nutted out what kind of blog ActionAid Bangladesh needed to get full exposure. Raise the profile of their amazing programs. Sharna mentioned Happy Homes in her great blog yesterday. We all agreed that their blog should be packed full of images and video and punchy stories on how programs like Happy Homes were literally – and I’m not exaggerating here – saving kids from a life on the street like the one I just experienced above.

ActionAid Bangladesh’s HQ is incredible. So much talent packed into the multi-levelled building, I’m not sure how it holds it all. Not to mention warmth that might just melt a polar ice sheet – and nothing to do with the 39 degree temp outside.

We also talked about how it was crucial to link their blog to all the key stake-holders, from the 31 development areas or slum districts where ActionAid sponsors kids, to national policy makers and existing and potential overseas sponsors.

ActionAid Bangladesh already has child sponsorship programs with several EU countries, but not with Australia. It’s something that AA Australia’s looking into now.

We’ve got to act to make sure that programs like Happy Homes don’t phase out due to lack of funding, and make sure these children get all the training they can, including computer and social media skills, so they don’t end up like that kid tonight chasing down the rickshaw until she almost collapsed.

With a quick layover in Singapore’s heavenly airport, I duck into the men’s, and what’s this – has the turbulence-heavy, sleep-deprived trip over given me visions? The word ‘TOTO’ magically appears before me, in gold lettering across the top of the toilet.

This has got to be karma. After finishing up, I snap a photo, and excitedly tell Sharna about my apparition. But even though I’m sure the spectre was for her – given her dream of clean toilets for all – she digs in her heels as I drag her towards the restroom. Her loss.

Land in Dhaka, and through customs in record time. Please, please bags be on luggage carousel. There’s one… and two – Bingo! In a taste of what’s to come, our super-friendly pick-up guy is waiting for us, holding the sign ‘Welcome Ms Sharna; Mr Joel!’.

In our hotel lobby, and appears that entire staff are outfitted by the Canadian Winter Olympics ski team. All proudly don maple leaf adorned t-shirts, and I thank them kindly for the shout-out to the home of my forefathers, or one at least.

Been here a day, and one thing’s clear – the locals really are the friendliest folk imaginable. Lonely Planet got that right, but its review of local eateries, not even close.

Hitting the muddy streets and markets we snap some incredible photos and video. In my last blogs I talked about Bangladesh coming to life – and it hasn’t let us down!

Colours, sounds, smell and humanity whip us into the eye of its storm, and so begins our adventure in thrilling and energy-sucking Dhaka. Fruit stacks high in the teeming markets, as the rain buckets down outside. A knotted mess of overhead wires collapses on cars and rickshaws, but locals casually untangle them, without fear of the potentially electrifying results.

Quickly we look for refuge, but can’t find any eating spots or cafes.

Joel, a street kid we befriend – or who befriends us – leads us on a wild goose chase to find a place for lunch. Finally we end up in, gasp, KFC. Sure we feel like total dorks, but there’s aircon, and the few eateries we saw look a little dodgy. Colonel Sanders, Bangladeshi-style, turns out to be a facsimile of Australia – except a KFC staffer scorns us when we clear our trays ourselves.

But this day of rollicking adventures ends on a very sad note, that reminds us how cursed this delta nation is.

On the way to my room I notice horrible footage on the hotel TV. Turns out there’s another disaster that just happened a few suburbs away – a massive fire swept through Old Dhaka a few days ago, with hundreds of casualties. It brings things into perspective. It’s not all friendly locals, frying balls of tastiness or the explosion of colours that assaults the senses.

It’s about the devastating poverty. Poverty forcing people to live in unimaginable situations, piled up on each other in environments just asking for trouble. Hopefully with access to social media, locals living these dangerous realities can show us first-hand. Maybe then the first steps can be taken to avert crises like these through poverty alleviation initiatives and community action.

Let’s see where the next few weeks take us, and I’ll be bracing myself for more chicanery.

Hmm… food for thought, and really does help us through these dreary winter days.

But wait. Suddenly it hits me with the force of a rapidly descending mini-grand piano landing on my head that Sharna and I will be in face-meltingly hot Dhaka in a matter of days.  Our realities will be up-ended, like a flipped Chapati frying in a Bangladeshi street stall.

Colour and humanity will replace grey skies and empty streets. Vibrant salwar kameez instead of grey hoodies and beanies.

Probably won’t really sink in until our taxi driver’s weaving through the infamous Dhaka traffic towards our hotel – the sights, sounds and smells frizzling our synapses.

But as our departure flight gets close, I’m starting to get a real feel for Project TOTO Bangladesh, and what we’re working towards. We’ve got some friendly emails from Actionaid Bangladesh, and it’s all very exciting.

With Sharna south of the border in Adelaide, and me in Sydney, huddling over my toasty-warm computer, we’ve been busy finessing the training guide so we’re ready to go when we kick-off the training sessions next week.

Here’s a snapshot of what we’re doing.

Our itinerary’s jam-packed, but thankfully our first day’s free. So me and Sharna are going to dive head-first in Dhaka’s bustling markets and snap up some light cotton outfits to combat the heat. I’m sure Sharna will wax lyrical about these bazaar adventures, so I won’t harp on. Sure – I adore the market ambience, but I’m really indecisive when buying stuff. Drives my girlfriend batty!

So, Sharna, get ready for some serious whinging and whining – Is this the right colour? It’s too baggy, right? What about the blue one at that stall? Wait, didn’t we see a stripy one about an hour ago, in that direction (hands wave around randomly in air)?

Our training starts on the Monday. Initially we’ll help the Actionaid Bangladesh staff polish-up their skills on writing and maintaining blogs, and uploading images and video. First off, they’ll be posting for an Aussie audience so they can tell us about their amazing projects, their successes and challenges, and future plans.

The second week we’ll be heading into the DAs or development areas – some of Dhaka’s poorest districts. Here we’ll work with Actionaid Bangladesh and their partners’ to train-up locals on using social media, to share their stories with the world.

Also we’ll talk about how blogs and other digital tools can connect them with a global audience. This way they can set-up online workshops brainstorming the best approaches and programs that engage their community, leading to real change and an improved quality of life.

Follow our adventures through our daily blogs, as we weave through Dhaka’s teeming streets, make great friends, experience the rough-and-tumble slums, learn about skills-building  community programs being run by Actionaid Bangladesh, and introduce locals to the digital tools that hopefully will give them a better chance for the future.

You can also find out how you can help out with these amazing projects.

And as far as the Bangladeshi MasterChef –it doesn’t exist. But there is a Bangladesh Pop Idol, and rumour has it that the big moustachioed host often sports candy-cane pants and a matching cravat.

Image from http://randomhouseaustralia.wordpress.com/2009/12/09/some-thoughts-for-thursday-by-matt-preston/

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Called the ‘Fairly Local’, it’s a socially-responsible app that helps you track down Fairtrade products in local cafes and stores in your area.

With its database of Fairtrade suppliers compiled by neighborhood residents, it’s essentially a mobile companion for the popular Fairly Local website. One chuffed techie explained that, “… content being driven and submitted by users means this app will grow and evolve into a powerful tool for boycotting slavery and choosing human rights (and) dignity.”

So next time you ache for some mouthwatering chocolate or a zippy espresso shot, slide out your iPhone and make sure it’s Fairtrade-friendly.