A Little Woman in a Red Cardi

I was so angry last night. 

I couldn't sleep, and so I picked up my phone which was charging on the table beside my bed. I opened Facebook and then I came across a clip filmed from someone's phone. It showed a sordid scene. Beside a roadside was a little, round, inoffensive-seeming woman wearing a bright red cardigan. She was standing next to a low concrete wall, and seemed to be pleading with one of the several people standing over her. It was impossible to hear her words, the audio was all music and a man singing a prayer maybe in Arabic or some other Eastern language maybe, I don't know. There was dirty, scuffed snow, and pavement, and rather scruffy-looking men, all bigger and stronger and taller than her; they were standing around holding up their phones and filming her in her distress. 

She slumps down to a sitting position, her back still leaning against the wall. The men are waiting to film her death, they are recording it so they can upload it to social media. I thought, surely not, this is a joke this is not going to happen, but I couldn't stop watching, 

I wanted to see it not happen. I wanted to find out that she would be rescued, like in a novel or a movie, when a saviour might come, and while I am thinking these things, without any fanfare, without any warning at all, a man stepped forward from beside her on the footpath, and quite casually, he shot her in the side of her head, and she rolled sideways from the pavement onto the road, this ordinary little woman, entirely dead in her bright red cardigan.

I was so shocked. I was so angry at the banality of her death, at the way she was treated like a nothing, not even deserving of a bit of ceremony. I hated this world right then, and I hated those men, all men right then, and I hated everything in this world that allowed, nay, ensured, that this is our world, the world of patriarchy and murder, of viciousness and brutality, of violence.

Someone whose name I cannot read wrote a comment which said, "behind this roundabout there is a small building and an old landed (Arabic) house, my childhood is buried there, we were departed from there, the FSA departed our family along with a few hundreds more families (now most of them are besieged in Fua and Kefafaria), and hang their green flag on our building ... later FSA was kicked by Annusra who killed this lady (I don't know what is the actual reason) she just asked them to see her sons before she dies ... they didn't wait."

She just asked them to see her sons before she dies...

She was a mother of sons like me. Just an ordinary little woman in a red cardi.

Norman Kirk

Frost Over New Zealand: The Leaders

This 1973 programme (linked to, above) is in two parts. It is longish, so it does pay to set aside some time to watch it. The first part is the interview with Mr Kirk. The second part is with the then Leader of the National Party Opposition, Mr Marshall (a nonentity) who was later rolled by Robert Muldoon. I didn't bother watching the second part.

I am sharing this because Norman Kirk was a truly aspirational Prime Minister. He comes as a breath of fresh air unlike the so-called leaders of today, addicted to selfies and photo-opportunities. He was a true leader for the working people of this country, Aotearoa/New Zealand. He died, in office, at age 51, August, 1974. I still remember that time. I remember crying.

This programme was filmed previous to our Nuclear-Free Policy of the '80s, previous to the violence of the Springbok Tour of 1981 but those issues were clearly alive at the time of this interview with Mr Kirk. We were still previous to the Muldoon era, pre-Neoliberalism, pre-MMP, and around the time of Britain joining what was then known as the European Economic Community (EEC). You will note that we still had black and white television in Aotearoa.

The gentleness, the kindness, the intelligence, the humour of Norm Kirk shines through in this interview. His was the government which brought in the Domestic Purpose Benefit for women who had been abandoned by their husbands and partners, a benefit that for the first time enabled women to leave violent and abusive husbands, giving them an income good enough to allow them to still keep their children with them. His was the government which also brought in the Accident Compensation Comission so that workers who were injured at their work or in the weekend would still receive 80% of their income. Pensioners were given a Xmas bonus of an extra weeks pay, Home Building was stepped up.

Meeting Nicky

I want to thank Nicky Brankin, my newly discovered distant relative for a fantastic afternoon yesterday. People who have known me a very long time on the internet, will know that I once blogged, on Yahoo 360 and then on the Multiply site, stories of my NZ settler great great great grandparents Hannah and James Wright, and then their daughter, Sarah Ann Wright, and her husband John Glynan. Sarah and John Glynan had many children, one daughter was Mary Ann whom I am descended from, and Susannah, her elder sister, whom Nicky descends from.

Anyhow, unbeknownst to me, Nicky, who was nursing over in Aussie back then, was reading the Hannah and James Wright story on Multiply, and of course realised I was writing about her several times great grandparents also. She printed the story from the site and last week she rang me and let me know she was coming down to Christchurch and we arranged to meet.

But in between, and just before she was about to leave, Aotearoa/NZ clearly feeling a little uncomfortable, decided to have a big stretch and a 7.8 earthquake, felt over a huge part of New Zealand, happened at 2 minutes past midnight, 14/11/2016. 

And NZ is once more thrown into turmoil.

For Nicky, her first problem was, would the interisland ferry run, with docks broken. In the end the ferry did run, and she crossed over Cook Strait, and then stayed the night in Blenheim. And then she had to find her way to Christchurch now that the normal route through Kaikoura was completely destroyed.

Her only choice was state highway 63 which leads into the mountains via the Wairau Valley (where my brother and sister in law now live, unbeknownst to Nicky), deeper in past St Anaud, Murchison and finally to Springs Junction (I hope I have that right). Until Murchison Nicky thought she might have to travel all the way to Westport and down the West Coast to Arthur's Pass. But in Murchison, a couple of friendly bikies told her the Lewis Pass was now open again and so down she drove to Christchurch to the home of her Christchurch friends.

All that would have added at least another 3 hours to her trip which is going to be the reality now for everyone travelling to Picton from Christchurch until that Kaikoura link is restored and that may take months if not years.

I always use far too many words to tell a simple thing and it just goes to show how you can make a long story out of a simple thing if you are motivated enough. The real point here is to say thank you to Nicky for being so kind about my stories, for taking the trouble to make contact, for the lovely lunch and great conversation yesterday, and I hope we become friends.

Thank you.

Cup of Tea, Anyone?

Succulents in teacup, milk jug and teapot. I like to have a bit of fun in the garden.

I was having a discussion with Neil Hook (UK) this morning (NZ time) on whether some trees in his garden were Cabbage Trees (Māori name, Tī Kouka) (Botanical name, Cordyline Australis) because I said on his post something about, I like your cabbage trees, to which he replied, we call them yuccas. Hmmm, I thought. So I went out to take photos of my cabbage trees; I seem to be blessed with quite a few of them, and while I was out there, I thought I might as well take some other pictures as well. So I did. This is a bit of a random selection.

By the way, I cannot stand tea, only herbal teas at least.

My Pallet Garden which I built, now adorned with frogs

Newly planted in red oak lettuces, gold beetroot, pak choi, some Tumbling Tom tomatoes over on the far side, and self sown nasturtium, silver beet, and some spuds even

Lavender, fennel in behind

NZ Hebe

NZ Flax (phornium) flower stem, about to open

Granny Bonnets

Cabbage tree spring flower buds, just about to open. Could smell the very subtle scent.

Tī Kouka aka Cordyline Australis aka Cabbage Tree.

Our Cabbage Trees are endemic to Aotearoa/ New Zealand. They are not actually really trees, rather they are huge Lily plants, the biggest Lily plants in the world. They are very popular in the UK, I believe, I often see them on English TV Programmes. 

The Red Zone, September 2016

Flora (my bicycle) and I went for a ride through red zone today, down New Brighton Road and Locksley Ave. It is so quiet and peaceful, like riding through country roads, but in all these pictures there were once houses and whole suburbs, so somewhat sad too. All of this land had heaps of liquefaction, sinkholes and the land on this side of the river sank significantly, so now prone to serious flooding.Most of this area is blocked off from vehicles but you are able to walk or bike through. Although some people had snuck their vehicles in and were whitebaiting from the river, which is not really a good idea because these rivers are now badly polluted since the earthquakes.

Flora

This used to be Wattle Drive, a nice street.

Someone once had a house right here.

Nothing is straight except the horizon.

This used to be someone's garden.

'All by myself, don't wanna be, all by myself, anymore

Over the other side - cone party!

I hope you can see the cone on the other side. I had a bit of a giggle, we have a famous song Pokarekare Ana, which is the story of a maiden swimming across the lake to her beloved. These two cones staring across the river at each other out the tune in my head :)

National Game or National Shame

Jo Mathers, Quitting Rugby and its Dark Underbelly

I stopped following rugby years ago because I dislike the whole culture of hard men, booze, and aggression. As an aside, I was also pissed off when the game was no longer shown on free-to-air TV, or very rarely anyhow. A manipulation, I think, to force us all further into consumerism, or to head to a bar and consume alcohol while watching. More consumerism, more booze in the system, more family violence when the hard men lose.

I refuse to be so manipulated.

At this point the only thing I like about it now is the haka. The All Blacks perform that well.

Back in the day, rugby always seemed to me to be as much about the after game drinking as the game itself. And it got worse after an advertising review (in the nineties?) when it was decided that cigarettes would no longer be advertised on game hoardings or anywhere else, but medicines and alcohol (previously not allowed to be advertised in print, tv, or hoardings) would be advertising material. And so often the advertising is around hard men and rugby. The culture has got worse not better since then.

It is hard not to believe that some rugby & booze, executive lobbyists had a lot to do with that. In fact it is impossible. And nothing changes because that lobby has got stronger and anyway the current government seems to think its all cool. After all, market rules, eh boys.

So now we have scandal after scandal as Jo Mathers outlines in her article.

"Scarlette started it. The stripper hired for the Chiefs' "Mad Monday" celebration claimed to have had gravel thrown at her, to have been the object of obscene language and acts of lewdness." (Jo Mathers)

That night unfolded over a couple of days. First came a news item where some LGBT guys were angry about ignorant drunken abuse they copped from one of those Chiefs players in the bar they were all drinking at. All sorts of comments were flung around media, some not particularly nice, and so a young woman who works as a stripper stepped up in support of those LGBT people. She said yes it is true, and this is what happened to me; she was booked by the Chiefs players to strip at the bar, but when she got there they were all very drunk. The performance was taken outside to some kind of garden area, players, 3 or 4 other people and Scarlette (not her real name). Lets be clear. A stripper is not a prostitute. But these hard men seemed to think she was. Scarlette was very intimidated, wound up allowing things that were not within her job description, and was then jeered at, mocked and underpaid. Nasty, nasty stuff, and any apologies and remorse very slow in coming, none to Scarlette. In fact her agency took her off their books.

More from Jo Mathers, "This week, there's the issue of Losi Filipo, the Wellington Lions player who bashed up four young people - two men, two women - late one night last October. The 18-year-old punched one woman in the face, leaving her in a crumpled and bloody heap. He beat one man so badly it ended his rugby playing days and left him incapacitated and unable to work full-time. A second woman was punched in the throat. Filipo took turns with his brother to hold and beat up the other man in the group. But the judge discharged Filipo without conviction."

Why not a jail term? If they were just some gang of young brown guys using violence to steal ciggies etc from a dairy or a service station we all know damn well the sentences would be way stiffer, especially thanks to the so called Sensible Sentencing Trust. But being a rugby player appears to be literally a get out of jail free card, brown or white.

Raised Bed, Spring 2016

the raised bed

When I came here last year, I was able to forage 4 good strong pallets, the kind that they use to carry concrete blocks. One advantage to living in a city in the midst of a rebuild is the marvellous scope for foraging. These pallets are quite big  and I had thought of sawing them down to a smaller size but when I stood them up I realised that gardening at this height is very comfortable, no bending required. So I dug a trench to stand them in, roughly nailed them together (carpentry is totally not my thing) and although everything seemed very stable, I did tie them together as well. Just to make sure, you know.

Then it was time to fill. I can't remember what I started out with but I think I threw in a lot of tree prunings, very rough uncomposted compost, (basically anything I could find really, and topped it off with bought compost from The Warehouse or Bunnings or somewhere.

So that was last year, and a complete experiment, and I grew peppers, lettuces (several times over) prostrate cherry tomatoes falling from the top, leeks, silver beet, spinach, and also ordinary sized tomatoes growing up the side. The curly parsley I planted beside the tomatoes has continued to grow as you can see. Sweet Pea and Nasturtium also tumbled down the side and there is also thyme still growing, prostate rosemary, and a flowering succulent I thought would look pretty. All these things grew really well and the cherry tomatoes actually kept producing heaps of tomatoes right into June!! (winter in NZ).

I found kale did not like the raised bed at all; it just sat in the soil refusing to grow. As soon as I moved the kale into my down-on-the-ground vegetable garden, the kale took off!

I have let the raised rest since last summer. Now it is spring and my own first "cooked" compost is looking awesomely rich (dare I say beautiful even). Ingredients, tree prunings, leftover kitchen scraps, grass clippings, comfrey, seaweed (so cool living next to the beach), coffee grinds, tea bags even, basically anything organic that will break down).

'cooked' compost in raised bed