Three years on the Barrier In mid-March 2015 we set off from our Golden Bay home of 16 years to an island that a few months before had been no more than a vague notion of somewhere remote and primitive, where back-to-the-landers found kindred spirits. That notion lay dormant in the recesses of my brain from the time of our first stay in New Zealand, 1989-90, through our permanent crossing of the Pacific ten years later. It was slightly modified by Dennis Sage when he suggested the Barrier as a possible new home for us, but we still had little idea of what to expect. Our house, grapes, kiwifruit, fig tree and dahlias in Golden Bay Tryphena Harbour – arriving into the unknown When we drove off the ferry, the island was still a big, mysterious question mark that we knew only by its shape and a few place names on a map. I soon discovered that my mental image may have been partly valid in 1990, but it needed major revision. We’d have loved it back then, I’m sure (we sometimes wonder … what if we’d come here first?!), and now I’m filled daily with lovely feelings of gratitude that – wow!– we live here! It’s a very special place! Te Reo dreams come true Naturally I was very sorry to leave behind some parts of my Golden Bay life. At the top of the list was my five years of study of the Maori language, much of it just across the road at Onetahua Marae, and my kaiako tino pai rawa (wonderful teachers), Chrssy and Glynn. I’d heard a class might be starting here, and what bliss! what joy! when I saw the announcement on the Barrier Chitchat facebook page. When I walked in on the first day and saw cuisenaire rods on the table, tears welled up in my eyes. I knew it was Te Ataarangi, the unique way of teaching and learning a foreign language I’d loved in Golden Bay. Seeing the rods brought back the countless hours staring intently at them in a huge range of configurations, each representing a concept or sentence structure. I found extraordinary the imaginative and effective ways teachers have found to use them. Here, Te Rongopai, one of two kaiako coming to the island monthly for an evening and a day class, has laid out rod by rod (rakau by rakau), the Maori worldview of the origin of language. Its source is in the distant past, with the first god, Io (EE-o), who has at least ten other names. “Io is the word, the word is Io.” He released the language to his grandchildren, who spread it through the world. Other gods are guardians of aspects of the language: Tangaroa, whose language is that of the sea; Tawhirimātea, whose language is the wind, and Tane Mahuta, of the forest, whose children and grandchildren, the birds, sing through the day and the night. The language of Rūaumoko, the god of earthquakes and volcanoes, is the language of anger, and that of Tūmatauenga is health. Rongomātane’s language is of peace, and Whiro’s is that which is hidden within ourselves. All of this complexity and beauty was expressed through the rods as Te Rongopai told the story in Maori. And then, of course, followed a song, a waiata, “Where does my language come from?", that summarised the foundation of the Maori language. You can see that Te Ataarangi is not only about listening, speaking, reading and writing, but all of that is integrated with learning about Maori philosophy, as well as tikanga, the values and practices of daily life. Each person’s learning evolves only in his or her own mind. At immersion time, as the learners take turns speaking around the table or in small groups, the teachers don’t correct or prompt us, and we don’t correct or prompt one another. It’s fine, even expected, to get it wrong, and eventually you’ll work it out for yourself, and then you’ll really have it! The day of the big wave Ro picked me up from Te Reo on the world’s most perfect day and we went to Medlands for a picnic and a swim, if the sea was calm enough. The photo is by Twin Pines. Obviously swimming here wasn’t possible, but from the overlook further down the beach we thought the south end looked much calmer, and it seemed OK enough when we were walking in, but whoa! Partway through our frolic the biggest wave I was ever in rolled in like a massive sheet of water. Luckily we were far enough out that it lifted us up harmlessly. If I’d encountered it on my way out, it would have eaten me alive! We did fine getting out (luck always plays a part), except for a very strong outward pull whose grip I had trouble getting out of! Not only was the tide receding energetically, but I’d moved closer to the corner, where the waves are usually smaller, and I realised I was in the path of the stream entering the sea, so it was carrying me out as well! All streams flow to the sea because it is lower than they are. Humility gives it its power. —the Tao te Ching Year-round swimmers Two fun surprises arrived at our Easter market stall, where we had another go at re-homing our shrinking range of unneeded items. Conversations often lead to swimming, and what do you know! Charlie’s brother’s sister-in-law Shirley, who has to be older than me, also swims every day! If it’s too rough where she lives at Palmer’s Beach (just across Kaitoke Stream from Kaitoke Beach), which it often is, she goes in the river mouth when the tide is right, and doesn’t matter when that is – in she goes! Good on her! Off season, I’m more a warmest-time-of-the-day sort of swimmer. Palmer’s beach at high tide. Shirley and her husband are two of just a few people live above it, and access for anyone else is only on foot from the south end at low tide. Then along came Linda. She too goes every day, weather notwithstanding! She raised a family here, and her daughter is raising a family here, but she lives north of Auckland, where she swims on east coast beaches. I’d heard of a year-rounder out west in Golden Bay and someone who’d splashed in first thing every morning for decades at Tata Beach, and a former daily morning-dipper here, at Tryphena, but it was my first encounter with others who share my addiction! We meet our 400th person! It’s Tess, whose partner, Grant, cleaned up some of those rats and mice I mentioned a few months ago. Here they are enjoying the Easter market. Thanks largely to markets and Te Reo, we’ve now met 424 people. If 800 live on the island, we’re into the home stretch now! Just like “peak bagging” in our tramping days, it’s about much more than numbers. The hardest part of leaving Golden Bay was leaving my friends and others I loved, to come to a place where we knew literally NO ONE!! Now it feels good to know people and be known, to feel like we belong, though I have yet to develop beautiful full-on friendships like those I treasured in Golden Bay, and still maintain and cherish from a distance. The soft overcomes the hard … The hard and stiff will be broken. The soft and supple will prevail. —The Tao te Ching Through two days and nights of wind severe enough to shake the house continuously, we were powerless and heartbroken to observe leaves on our luscious new greens and lettuces, and other plants, getting wind burnt and starting to rot. The effects seemed apocalyptic, but when calm again prevailed, I cleaned up the worst of it and a few days later it was hard to tell how bad they’d looked. I imagine them standing up boldly and speaking to the wind. “Look! You can blow as much as you like, we’re stronger than you think!” Where Do You Draw the Line? Despite powerful community opposition to the upcoming aerial drop of brodifacoum on Rakitu Island, three kilometres off the North Barrier, DOC plans to go ahead, but residents aren’t taking DOC’s refusal to consult with the community lying down. A public lecture by esteemed scientist, lawyer and activist Sue Grey, based in Nelson, saw seats packed and verified what Aotea Poison Free suspected all along – we have been shafted by DOC in this process. There’s been not one second of what would pass in the courts for consultation with the local community. A major topic of Sue’s talk was the changes Nick Smith made last year to the Resource Management Act, exempting DOC from needing a resource consent to drop 1080 and rotenone anywhere in New Zealand, or brodifacoum in fenced sanctuaries or on any island except the North and South Islands. They don’t even need to notify anyone! Sue is currently challenging the legality of the exemption in the High Court on the basis that it’s unlawful, unconstitutional and/or unreasonable. If necessary she’ll take it all the way to the Supreme Court. She worked with the community in the Brook Valley, near Nelson, to prevent last year’s brodifacoum drop in a reserve adjacent to a neighbourhood and part of a water catchment, but the drop went ahead despite the opposition. She thought her argument in Environment Court was incontrovertible: A section of the RMA prohibits discharge of substances into the bed of a river. You may not believe that the judge ruled that the regulation applies to harmless substances, not harmful ones. Stop the world, I want to get off. Brook Valley warning Precedent in law over the breaching of fundamental rights, in this case, the right not to be poisoned, goes back 800 years to the Magna Carta. There are other approaches as well, in Sue’s “pieces of the jigsaw” technique of crafting a many-sided argument. Locals left feeling strength in numbers and inspired and motivated to keep up the fight. Sue is a New Zealand treasure who has also represented community groups and individuals seeking sanity in issues including the medicinal use of marijuana and the proliferation of electromagnetic radiation. While waiting for the outcome of her appeal, which will affect the outcome for Rakitu and elsewhere, the Barrier community are exploring their options for a court injunction against the drop. 28 local artists contributed work to Where Do You Draw the Line? A conversation about poisoning for conservation’s sake at the Aotea Art Gallery in Claris. A wide range of perspectives make up the exhibition, whose dark and powerful mood draws attention to the role of humans in the big picture of conservation. It challenges the reduction of the argument to birds and predators. It says that we have fight and perspective in us. It challenges DOC and the government and says this is supposed to be a democracy. All photos used by permission. When I asked potter Sarah Harrison if I could photograph her “Potluck” piece, she said, “You’re welcome to shoot rats!” Cathy Scott Elise Bishop: “Listen,” depicting DOC's very broken listening Cait Devey Tony Storey Manuka Davenport’s weka Rural Practice of the Year: “We don’t serve the community, we participate in it.” Having lived in Golden Bay and on Great Barrier Island, I’ve noticed that small communities seem to distinguish themselves. In April, the New Zealand Doctor newspaper reported that the Barrier’s medical centre, Aotea Health, won the patient-nominated Rural General Practice Team of the Year Award. Two of the practice’s founders are Adele Robertson and Leone Howie, the authors of Island Nurses: Stories of birth, life and death on remote Great Barrier Island. Ro and I both read their fascinating book, which was even more moving and meaningful because we know both of the nurses as well as some of the people whose stories they told. As we read, our respect for Adele and Leone continued to expand and deepen. They both began their professional lives here as young women at a time when all the roads were unsealed, with numerous farm gates along the way, phones were few and far between, and calls made through an at-home operator who wasn’t always on duty, and most technology taken for granted today was non-existent or certainly not available here. The assistance they gave people with serious injuries or acute illnessess or going through difficult home births, in sometimes wild conditions at all hours of the day and night, and at sea or other hard-to-access places, and with inadequate equipment, was truly astounding. Their skill, dedication and love shines through every story they told. We made sure to let them know how we feel! Adele and Leone at the awards dinner When you arrive somewhere new, you see everything as it is. You can’t divine what came before and it’s probably unusual to even think about it. Here there’s a medical centre with receptionists, doctors and all the rest of it. Adele was on her own on the island, with little support, and on call 24/7 for several years before Leone arrived. She often had patients sleeping in her house! Unless someone tells us how things used to be, we’d have no way of knowing. We’ve had numerous eye-openers about the past in different corners of the island and for different people. Accepting the award at the event, Leone said she’d been entwined with the small community since moving here to live in a garage (at the end of Oceanview Road) with her GP husband Ivan over 30 years ago and working out of a caravan. She’s now treated four generations of families. That close involvement has engendered a richer, deeper level of care. Adele described the personal-professional boundary in rural areas like Great Barrier as “tidal like the sea… a transitional space”. The Red Terror Lives On We spotted our wee 1989 van in a used car lot when we arrived in Auckland in early winter 1999. Our friend Madge took one look and named it The Red Terror. It took us on our explorations north and south in search of a home, and finally to Golden Bay in the spring, where we renamed it L’il Red. After many years, we passed it on to Malcolm, who passed it on to Erwin, whom we bought it back from, and then it went to Rose, and now to Bill W, who gave it its current name. Long live the Little Red Ladybug! Time and distance align Annette at her vege stall at the Crossroads This woman knows how to garden!! It’s much of her life. Gerald and Caity sure can grow carrots! Note how they dwarf Ro’s sunglasses. They really are that big! Gifts of glorious cornucopian bounty From Sunbeam Sanctuary on Blind Bay, home of our generous, caring, skilful, and all-around simply beautiful young friend Jordan. A megasquash at the Community Gardens A rampicante we bought at the market What to do if the Chinese space station crashes into your house this weekend Checking the net with increasing frequency in late March and early April to discover if our days and hours were numbered, or whose were, I noticed the absurd title of a helpful how-to video someone had created! Jordan and Mike install our underfloor insulation Sunset over Pitokaka, from our deck
Winnie and Charlie’s house is tucked in its ancient embrace.
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