I don’t want to wait anymore.

I don’t want to wait for them to be on our side.

I don’t want to wait for the change to happen.

I don’t want to wait for more people to die.

I don’t want to wait for it to get better.

How much blood must flow while I wait?

How much blood before it gets better?

How much blood before it stops?

It doesn’t get better when people die.

It doesn’t get better when it’s blow after blow.

Just make it stop.


I see little hands.

They played over the water. Once.

I see little hands. Little hands holding. Holding on. Tight. So tight.

Those little hands clinging. To a dress. A shirt. Any piece of clothing will do.

I see little hands grasping. For mom. For dad. For anything. Anyone.

Those little hands.

Little hands reaching. Up. Higher. Pushing harder. For something. For air. Just a little bit will do for little lungs.

Little hands splashing. Slapping water. Fighting water. So much water for such little hands.

Those little hands. I see those little hands.

Little hands searching. For me. For you. For us.

Those little hands.

Those cold little hands. So cold. Blue.


Even just my little finger would do. They are so little. Just a little bit would help. They will hold on forever if they could. Hold on to me. My little finger for those those little hands. That will do.

I see little hands.


So still.

Just quiet little hands.

I see little hands. I see little hands do nothing.

Just little hands. Still. Not moving. Ever again.

Those little immigrant hands. Those illegal little hands. Those fleeing little hands.

I hope it gets a warm hug somewhere.

We see the signs everywhere. On Facebook. On Tweets. Profile pictures. Snapchats with friends. Retweets with strangers. Everywhere we see the Charlies.

Je suis Charlie because madmen murdered in the name of a silly god. Cowards hiding and murdering behind masks because they were to weak to face the mighty pencils of Charlie, Charb and all those brave cynical cartoonists who made us giggle with shock and awe.

Je suis Charlie.

Je suis Charlie because we feel the world shifting. We feel powerless in the face of cowards. But we feel powerful because we need to stand up to them. Them…

Je suis Charlie?

Who are they? This them? Who are these people we need to stand up against?

Is it the madmen killing in the name of a silly god?

Is it the crazies denying the rights of people to love in the name of their own version of the silly god?

Is it the money eaters who kill economies in the name of profits?

Is it the greed grabbers 1% who always want, want, want more even though they have it all while those who serve them live hand to mouth?

Is it the soulless who refuse to change except to make the permanent climate change the one that will kill us all?

Is it… Is it?

Women’s rights. Poverty. Diseases. Hunger. People getting killed for being black. Cops being executed for being cops. Pedophiles. Lying politicians. Deniers of rights. Racists. Bigots. Creationists. Name them. Them.

Who are they? These them? It is all of them. Those killing, hating, discriminating, stealing, greeding, profiting in the name of their silly gods – whether it is a god they see when they look up at the sky or a god they see when they stare at the wallets.

That is the enemy we have to fight. All of them.

Je suis Charlie?

Je suis Charlie.

Tell me Charlie. What you doing to stop these people? Are you carrying a sign each time they come after us? Whether in the streets of Ferguson or Wall Street. Whether at Charlie Hebdo or church pews. Whether the blue eyes they give women through their violence or the blue sky they choke with their burning of old trees dug from the earth. Whether it is the hunger they refuse to fill or the future of the kids that are nil.

Tell me Charlie. When do we say enough is enough. When do you earn the right to say “Je suis Charlie”.

Je suis Charlie?

And what about the others, Charlie?

Every kid going hungry. Every worker denied a right. Every cent under-earned by women. Every African dying of a preventable disease. Every African American killed in the streets. Every school teacher throwing themselves in the path of the bullets being sprayed at another school. Every cop being shot when dealing with the dregs of our society. Every farmer struggling because the corporate machine squeezes another drop of profit. Every tree felled for a bit more palm oil. Every specie dying because we choke the earth with our fossil fuels. Every student getting raped. Every person denied a vote. Every women forced to cover herself. Every gay marriage not allowed. Every immigrant exploited. Every injustice committed. Every freedom denied. All that and so much more. Every. Single. Thing.

Those are our people Charlie.

We can’t deny it. We can’t unsee it. We can’t refute it. We can’t unfeel it.

Je suis Charlie?

Je suis Charlie.

Hi there! A reminder that I now write over on the Huffington Post and Triple Pundit. Here are two new blogs I wrote over there:

Snake Oil Selling is about how business have lost its social mission and need to go back to their roots.

The Consumer Becoming the Consumed asks whether all this data mining of our information is turning us into being the consumed and that we will only be okay with it once we klnow as much about them as they mine about us.

Let me know what you think of them!


The changes experienced in sustainability over the last ten years or so have been nothing but phenomenal. More and more companies have embraced the need to act more responsibly and manage their impacts. What started as ‘doing less harm’ has turned into bottom line benefits as companies have found new ways to match managing the triple bottom line with shaving costs off the business bottom line. But you don’t cut yourself into growth and growth is the bread and butter of companies. And it’s the holy grail of sustainability – growing the business top line. That’s why we need consumers to come and join the party – they already do, just look at TOMS, Patagonia, Method, Seventh Generation, Dove and many more. What is missing isn’t the consumer but a better grip on what makes them tick – a sustainable brand they can trust, buy and advocate. In my new book I cut through the myths and noise to create a sustainable brand model, a fusion of product and branding. It’s when these two dance that we create consumer breakthrough and the magic happens. But let’s not get ahead of ourselves. Let’s simply create more sustainable brands – and this is the ‘how to’ guide that will help you get there.

Use the code Campher15 in the voucher section to get 15% discount!

Link to the book here – Creating a Sustainable Brand: A Guide to Growing the Sustainability Top Line

Nelson Mandela

For to be free is not merely to cast off one’s chains, but to live in a way that respects and enhances the freedom of others


To the world his death is the loss of a leader. Someone that remembered and lived for the people. Someone who fought for the rights of everyone no matter who or what they were. Someone who stood for peace first but with an iron fist and voice when needed. Someone who knew that to lead was to take a journey no one else was brave enough to take.

To the world his death is the loss of a friend. Someone who loved all people big and small, rich and poor. Someone who cared for everyone no matter who or what they were. Someone who knew that his love came with both a warm embrace and a stern word when we lost our direction. Someone who led from the front and guided us on the journeys we had to take but were too scared to take.

To the world his death is the loss of an inspiration. Someone who showed us how to love every single person in this world even those who don’t deserve it. Someone who taught us how to care for every single soul whether they needed it or not. Someone who inspired us to fight for peace when love couldn’t get us there. Someone who made us brave enough to take those journeys we were too afraid to face on our own.

To the world his death is the loss of an idea. Someone  that stood for everything that is good in this world. Someone that stood up for those who couldn’t stand up for themselves. Someone who refused to be quiet when he saw a wrong.  Someone who knew to be a man was to stand for something good. Someone who stood up and protected us against the nightmares of this world. Someone who made us want to be better than what we really were. Someone who comforted us even when his own pain was too much.

To the world his death is the loss of Mandela. Bigger than anything else that walked this earth. A giant amongst men. A giant amongst all people. The giant who carried us on his back when the road was too tough. The mother who carried us in his arms when we needed just a little comfort and love. Mandela. King of kings. God amongst gods. Nelson Mandela.

To the world he is all Mandela.

To us South Africans he is Madiba. Our father. Our soul. Our Ubuntu. We are because he was. No, because he is. Our daily inspiration. Our voice of conscious. Our everything. Our South Africa. We walk in his shadow. We strive to be the people and nation he saw. We try to love the way he loved all of us. We try to be a little bit of him.

To me he is Tata. Father. Dad. Papa. Respect, honor, love, duty, responsibility and everything I have been taught about being me. The man I want to be is a reflection of him. Who I am to become. He is me and I am him. Because of Tata I am.

Goodbye Tata. Stay warm, Tata. Stay with us just a little longer. Just a little longer until we are brave enough. I love you. I miss you. My Tata.

Rest, my Tata. Sleep well, Tata. Tomorrow is coming. We will make you proud. I will make you proud.

Viva Mandela, Viva. Amandla Madiba, Amandla. Long Live Tata, Long Live.

I don’t know how to express how I feel about what happened at the Boston Marathon. I have a hollow empty feeling in my stomach. It is not only because it was the first place we lived in when we got to the US. It’s not only because I see Boston as my US hometown. It’s not only because I am part of Red Sox Nation. It’s not only because I have so many friends who live there and watch the race each year. It is not only because I was worried sick about them all. It’s not only because the 2nd bomb went off 25 yards from my old office. It’s not only because I started running to one day do “The Boston”. It’s not only because I am angry and sad because of the death and injury to all of those out on a beautiful Patriots Day. It’s also because I am a runner…

My first marathon in 3:59:32

My first marathon in 3:59:32

I am a runner…

I am a runner. I run because we have no politics. We runners represent the world. We don’t represent any organization or country. We run as runners. We run and we are equal. We just run. No hidden agenda. Nothing but us and the road. We run because we can. We run as equals whether we are at the front or the back – we all run the same path. We are comrades battling ourselves and not each other. We are ordinary people doing an extraordinary thing for a few hours of running. And cheering each other on. We run for many reasons but in a single spirit. I am a runner free.

I am a runner. I run and I smell. I hear my wife and kids complaining and moaning about how I stink when I get back from my run. But I do it for the smile and kiss I get when I’ve done a race. I run for my kids to say how cool the medals are even though everyone got one. I run because my wife makes a little shrine of my running stuff. I run for them.

I am a runner. I run when I travel. I used to stay in my hotel room and just do nothing. Now I run. I see the cities and places that used to just flash by while I sit in a cab on my way to my meeting. Now I run and find the beauty in places so unexpected. I am a runner for beauty.

I am a runner. I run with my mates and sometimes we talk and sometimes we just run. When the world and all our problems feels a little bit too heavy – we run. All we need is the road and our running shoes to make it a little bit lighter. I am a runner for friendship.

I am a runner. I can run in silence or listen to the music of the world flash by. It can be on the road and cars roaring past or on a treadmill listening to my latest playlist or the trails and nothing but wind through the leaves and grass.  I am a runner for music.

I am a runner. We don’t run to write long stories because we know that we can never really tell you how we feel while running. Runners know. We just know. It’s freedom. Just you and the road. And sometimes a few mates.  I am a runner in silence.

I am a runner. I run and think of the funniest most politically incorrect jokes I will never tell the world. I think of the funny runners I have met on the road – the guy with the long socks or the girl with the fairy wings. I am a runner for jokes.

I am a runner. I imagine I am as graceful as a gazelle running free. I see myself gliding over hills and mountains. I know none of that is true. But I run sweating and struggling, and I run free. I am a runner running free.

I am a runner. I think I run alone but I never do. I hear the voices of my friends telling me to push a little harder. I hear the voices of strangers encouraging me to do one more mile. I am a runner with others.

I am a runner. I know I am no Haile Gebrselassie and won’t even win my age group in a local race. I won’t even get close. But I run because I can. I am a runner for me.

I am a runner. I run to be free of the worries of the world – even though it is just for a few miles. To clear my head and recharge. I am a runner for tomorrow.

I am a runner. It isn’t complicated. It’s a very simple thing. It’s just you and the road. We put our shoes on and we run. I am a runner because I can.

I am a runner. For every mile we fight pain and ourselves. Never others. We push and pull each other to do 26.2. I am a runner for marathons.

I am a runner. For the people cheering us on. Feeling our pain and giving us strength. I am a runner for them.

I am a runner. For every mile that will never be the same. I will never run alone again. I am a runner.

I am a runner. For every mile. For them.

I am a runner. For every mile.

I am a runner.

I am.

Running in my Red Sox cap

Running in my Red Sox cap