Thank you Martin Satchell

News reached me on Christmas Day that my friend Martin Satchell had died in Australia.

Without going too much into detail, it was the end of a very fast descent as a result of cancer.  We lost him more quickly than we could ever have imagined.  He was in his early fifties.

Since hearing the news I have received a number of emails from friends who have shared their memories of him and shared how shocked they are that he is no longer with us.

For those people who have followed this blog for some time you should know that, almost without exception, the great days that I have told you about in Hanoi – Martin was with me.

Most of those were with KOTO.  Wonderful field trips, events and Christmas.  But there were others too like the day Hoa Phat won the cup and great nights out.  I recall a wondrous start to the lunar new year in Hoi An as Martin and I looked on opened mouthed as flaming lanterns disappeared into the night sky.

In many ways the difference between my incredible volunteering experience in Vietnam and the hardship of Cameroon was that in Hanoi I had a friend like Martin.

Because we had tough times at KOTO too.  There were times when it nearly closed down due to the financial pressures.  On occasions one of us would lose it or would feel like chucking in the towel.  Not Martin, he just kept his head down and just kept working.

While I was backed by a volunteer organisation, Martin was pretty much self-supporting.  He did consultancy work in his spare time in order to continue to assist at KOTO.  He started a week or two after me and finished a couple of years later. Martin always worked.  Not out of some Victorian work ethic, and not just because he needed the money, he worked because he enjoyed it.

At KOTO he taught hundreds of former street kids to cook to a professional level.  His training helped them complete a journey from the streets to professional kitchens.  He was far and away the best person to teach them – he had used the very same skills to see the world.  From Coventry he worked across Europe and onto an extended stay in Australia before he was to fall in love with Vietnam.

I never heard him complain and yet he’d sit and listen to my own rantings without judgment.  Then, when I’d got it all out of my system, he’d get another beer in and we’d start talking about football or music instead.  I was constantly uploading tunes for him – it was part of Martin’s charm that he always struggled with technology.

I can remember him discovering mobile phones.  Texting was a revelation to him.

It strikes me that such was Martin’s love of life that I am sure that I am not the only person who enjoyed the best time of my life in his company.  He brought out the best in people and his ability to absolutely enjoy his surroundings was infectious.

His knack of going with the flow was a master class in how to survive the madness of Hanoi.

When I was out with him he’d constantly greet people with warm hellos.  Mostly it was directed at one of his wide circle of friends.  On other occasions he’d admit he’d never met them before in his life.

He just liked meeting new people.

At the same time, however, a lot of his life remained private.  By the time I returned to Hanoi he had set up a new business. I tried to help him promote it with media coverage but, on the whole, he hated having his picture in the paper.

His business The Cart survives him and will be carried on using Martin’s recipes. It will provide an income to his Vietnamese business partner and staff.

The truth is I would never have returned to Hanoi if Martin hadn’t been there.  The lure of good friends, after a period of loneliness for me, was as important as seeing Hanoi again. (Check out Martin’s cameo on the video of my first few days back).

He used to tell a tale of how he’d first heard about KOTO from a friend who had sent a postcard from the old restaurant.  Good food for a great cause.  It was a sign and he couldn’t resist it.

When he first arrived we shared an office for a while.  To outsiders we must have seemed like loons. We were bouncing off the walls both of us.  Neither of us could believe our luck that life was so good. Far and away the best days of my life. I have never laughed nor smiled so much.

When he last left Hanoi we thought he was on the mend and it would only be a matter of time before he’d be back with us.  He’d just survived brain surgery and he said it felt like a second chance.

He talked animatedly of wanting to help people again.  He asked me to be involved.  What could we do between us?  What could we set up?  Who could we help?

At that point he was still in a wheelchair and I just wanted him to get better.  In the end the full extent of his illness revealed itself in Australia and, very very quickly, he was gone.

He touched people’s lives so gently.  He wasn’t loud.  There was no ego.  Just a sense of humour and adventure and a desire to live life to the full.  He enjoyed teasing and being teased.  Everyone who knew him has a great Martin tale.

Personally, I have so much to be grateful for. My life would have been immeasurably poorer if we had never met.  He will be missed by so many people. So much of what is good in my life seem to have come directly from knowing Martin.

In his  “beloved Hanoi”, as he called it, he will be remembered by Vietnamese and expat a like.

A life cut short, maybe, but still a great life.  I am so so grateful to have known him.

Thanks Martin.

Pic below is me and Martin at the KOTO talent show.  More Martin pics here.