Hello, folks
I’m a local Whangarei -ian, are you?Are you as proud of our local heritage, history, city, scenery, and sights as I am?
Recently, with overseas guests expected soon, I drove up Memorial Drive for a test run. Cyclone Gabrielle had brought down big slips, and car access to Parihaka summit look-out was still blocked by a heavy padlocked gate. You had to park at this gate, then walk up quite a steep kilometre. But no problem - I had Council permission to drive our guests to the top; they handed over this huge key, for me to do a trial. So here I was.
However farming know-how and ten minutes grappling failed to budge the complicated lock. Bother! No solution...... so just go home, mission impossible.
Just then, an oldish black car roared up, exhaust smoking a bit, and parked close beside me. Three large chaps in logo-patched t-shirts and baggy pants climbed out.
I said ‘Hello .... hey maybe you can help me? I can’t open this padlock’. “Sure thing Whaea, we can do it for you, easy”. We swapped names. Steve, Sam, and Raffaele were from Taupo, Raratonga, and Kaitaia, all new to Whangarei, and attending a training course.
They liked the name Gwendolyn, hadn’t heard it before, and asked what I did. I explained about the blocked road, and that I had visitors soon, and liked meeting new people, and talking to strangers, especially younger ones, as young folk are the future of our world, and our world needs better men and women to build a better society, starting with parents raising children to be good citizens, in loving homes....whew!
So we drove our cars to the top park area, and I did my “this is our lovely Whangarei City and history lookout and War Memorial”. They were wowed. “Gee, what a great view....and we never knew any of this stuff at all!”. They escorted me up and down the flights of steps, with kind care.
They told me “We are all recovering addicts, from bad lives. We are at a special training course at Takahiwai Marae. We are learning heaps. And we love to talk to people like you. We haven’t been taught how to live good lives. We now know we need teaching! Older people have so much wisdom. We need to meet and mix with older folk. We need olders to teach us.”
Me – “Yes, right, and olders need youngers. We all belong together. It’s called community – it surely takes a whole village to raise a child.”
We hugged goodbye.
Our life’s story depends a lot on an accident of birth, either into a loving home with two parents ready to care for a new baby, or into a stressed situation, not enough money, time, patience, security, or home comforts, and not baby’s fault in any way.
I was born lucky, in the backblocks of Kaitaia, no silver spoons, last place in New Zealand to get the power on, winding metal roads, cows to milk, horses to ride, sheep to shear, walked a mile up a steep hill to catch the bus.
But we had breakfast at breakfast time, lunch at lunchtime, dinner at dinner time. There was routine, respect, manners, expectations, kindness, stories, prayers. We knew our parents treasured us and believed in the God of love; we totally trusted them.
I attended Kaitaia Primary School and College, Primer 1 to Form 6. A place of roots, learning and belonging, beside the historic Anglican Mission Church of St. Saviour’s. My forbears, the Holder’s, early farming pioneers, church and community activists, lie buried peacefully there. The three huge Norfolk pines, and a row of oaks were planted by my grandfather and father.
The Treaty of Waitangi was signed on this spot on 28 April, 1840, by large numbers of Chiefs, Panakareao being the go-between of Maori and Pakeha. Solid memorials record these important details. This April, 2015, Kaitaia Primary School celebrates 150 years. I will be there. And cheering for all young people, especially remembering Steve, Sam, and Raffaele, keen learners, vital for our better New Zealand future.