I am Daniel Vasku, a Dutch citizen, trained in media and image technology, with a lifelong love for techn…

I am Daniel Vasku, a Dutch citizen, trained in media and image technology, with a lifelong love for technology. After moving to New Zealand I helped organise festivals and events, doing everything from my smartphone, with me 24-7. While setting up wireless networks and video systems for these festivals, I built a mesh network at a rural venue out of consumer Linksys routers. One day, after hours configuring a stack of four active routers, I felt a strange spastic tingling in my right arm, the one nearest the stack. Over the following summer I developed persistent nose congestion, brain fog, painful joints and fatigue. I assumed it was hay fever, but it made no sense that the symptoms lasted for months while we travelled to completely different places. The turning point came in Golden Bay NZ, at the home of a friend who had deliberately restricted his Wi-Fi. While he explained this, I realised that every time I switched my phone on, I felt a brief stabbing pain in my brain. Minutes later the sting returned, and my girlfriend had just powered her phone on. That confirmation made me take the possibility seriously. For the next two or three years I stayed skeptical, but the pattern held: whenever my phone and Wi-Fi were off and I avoided close exposure, I felt much better. In a shared home where Wi-Fi was kept off except when needed, I repeatedly told housemates it was on when they were sure it wasn't, and I was always right. I learned to trust the specific head pressure that came with wireless signals. A few years ago I visited family in Europe, and my condition worsened dramatically: relentless headaches, growing joint pain, visible decline. Eventually I could no longer function, and a friend urged me back to New Zealand. In a small, reception-free valley in Auckland I recovered almost immediately. So I bought my first meter, a Cornet. In a room where everything was powered down, it revealed a pulsing signal coming from my Apple Pencil, whose Bluetooth pulses around the clock. After boxing it up outside the room, I slept that night, for the first time in ages, without the head pressure that so often became a full migraine. With renewed energy I started a sauerkraut business at a Sunday market. It went well, but every market day was followed by a migraine, and recovery grew from one day to two, three, then a full week of pain. When the owner of a new venue told me a cell tower was going on the roof with strong indoor repeaters, I realised I had to quit. When savings ran out, I moved to a rural community in the Coromandel. There, with almost no cell reception, my health picked up tremendously. But my sensitivity kept increasing. One or two hours in town cost me severe headaches the next day. I tried shielding: first a silver-coated veil, which helped, then a full radiation suit from China made of stainless steel and cotton, which let me shop without next-day migraines, at the cost of looking odd, overheating badly in sunlight, and sensitivity to AC electric fields. Even that was not enough. People using a phone in a neighbouring room triggered headaches before I even saw the device, and I was always right. I began carrying my meter constantly as an alarm system, because by the time I felt pain it was already too late. About five years ago my condition worsened again despite shielding. My meter showed levels higher than before, and the timing coincided with the switch-on of 5G in the town. I found a new community in Golden Bay in the South Island, verified it with more sensitive equipment like the Safe & Sound ProII, which registers the far lower levels at which I now react, and moved there. Today I can function outdoors with a clear head and no pain. But I can visit town only briefly once a week, still paying one or two days of migraine even with the suit, and I live in near-total social isolation, a hard adjustment for a social person. And with all pervasive wireless radiation, it's difficult to access healthcare. I am de facto an EMF refugee. An example: a friend came for tea and swore he had left his phone in the car. Within minutes I became nauseous and started stuttering. My meter found active AirPods in his pocket emitting about 16,000 microwatts per square metre. In ten minutes, from two metres away, they cost me my train of thought. I am desperately looking for an EMF sanctuary where I can function as a human being among people who keep wireless off. In the meantime I have helped many others with similar symptoms, using calibrated meters to find and eliminate sources, and it is clear that this problem is growing. I am deeply troubled by what this means for children, and for humans, animals, plants and insects. We are gambling with the future of humanity in what may be the most irresponsible open-air experiment ever undertaken. The more people learn about Electromagnetic Radiation Syndrome, the more will recognise their own unexplained suffering in it.