There was an earthquake on Thursday night. Well really it was Friday morning at 2.27am to be precise. And I know that because when the house stopped shaking and the doors stopped banging and the lights stopped swinging I looked on my iPad to see what was going on. There had been a magnitude 7.3 earthquake off the coast of Gisborne not too far from where I was staying in Hawkes Bay and certainly close enough for the house to shake etc.

This was the first earthquake I’ve experienced since I was a child and I didn’t like it at all. I know it was nothing in comparison to what many New Zealanders have experienced in recent years. After this earthquake there were two more quakes near the Kermadec Islands to the North of New Zealand. They were later and were followed by tsunami warnings. People on the coast were evacuated to high ground.

I found it difficult to get back to sleep and, for the rest of the night and much of the day, I followed what was happening on the iPad and on the television news. There seemed to have been little damage to property. More than anything else I noticed how good humoured everyone who was shown on television appeared to be. They had been woken up by sirens warning of a possible tsunami. They were required to move out. A lot of people were interviewed and most seemed calm and rather philosophical. Some were nervous and a bit fearful. Most were smiling and relaxed. When the all clear was sounded they simply went home to continue whatever they’d been doing. Everyone seemed positive and understanding of the disruption to their lives.

On reflection I wonder as much about the television presentation as the events themselves. The television presentation on this occasion was very positive and calming. I’ve always known that when people are interviewed on the spot during an event like this there are far more people interviewed than the few we see and hear on the television. Some people are more articulate than others. Some pull funny faces or don’t get the drift of the questions. Selection is necessary and the selection of who we see and what we hear is made by the reporter or by the editor. There is the key to it all.

And I remember when I was a Cadet Reporter on the Christchurch Star newspaper, my first job on leaving school. I was sent to cover a meeting. Thank goodness I can’t remember what it was. It can’t have been too important or someone more senior would have been given the job. Another reporter was there from the Christchurch Press, the morning paper. The woman who was chairing the meeting made it quite clear to us that she did not like reporters, (in those days we were called reporters not journalists), and that we were there on sufferance.

In the course of the meeting she made seven or eight very sensible and quotable comments and one that made her appear rather stupid. After the meeting I went back to the office to write up the story – quite a short piece – and left it in the sub editors’ tray. For my shame I had included the woman’s one stupid comment and none of the sensible ones. Well, it was accurate reporting. She had said it. The Christchurch Press came out first. Their reporter had included the stupid comment in his account of the meeting as well. Not that that justified anything.

Last Saturday evening in Christchurch my mobile phone suddenly buzzed loudly. It wasn’t any of its usual ring sounds just a rather insistent buzz. When I looked at the phone I saw a Covid Alert message. It stated that Auckland was to be in Covid Level 3 from 6.00am the following morning and the rest of the country at Level 2. Level 3 basically means that everyone must stay at home. From what I could work out Level 2 means that there are some general restrictions such as gatherings of more than 100 people not allowed and restrictions on businesses, restaurants and bars. However I could fly to Hawkes Bay as planned.

During the week more details have been revealed both of the cause of the change in Levels and the results. It seems to me that the New Zealand government’s policy from the beginning of the Covid outbreak was to have one serious and strictly enforced general lockdown, which happened for six weeks last March, so that there would be no need for a ‘Stop, Start’ approach to dealing with the pandemic. Also that there would be different Levels of Lockdown enforced as and when needed. The comparative freedom that I am enjoying today is because of this approach. I am in Hawkes Bay, Level 2.

Not so for the people of Auckland nor for any of those who had organised or were taking part in events involving more than one hundred people. The Auckland Theatre Company has had to abandon its tour of ‘Two Ladies’, not to mention the America’s Cup postponed, a ‘Round the Bays’ run involving thousands cancelled, along with hundreds of events, a ‘Lantern Festival’ especially for the Chinese community in Auckland, a ‘Holi Festival’ for the Indian community and others in Christchurch, and so many other sports events, charity events, community celebrations throughout the country, all cancelled.

The ‘Horse of the Year 2021’, a major event involving not just months but years of planning has been cancelled. The event, due to take place in Hawkes Bay from March 9th to 14th, attracts over 45,000 spectators, 1900 horses and 1500 riders. But not this year.

And all this because of the actions of three people. A woman who had tested positive and was meant to be in self isolation went for a walk with a friend. That was a mistake. The friend, unwittingly of course, passed the virus to her son, an intelligent young man (well, he is in tertiary education), who did not wait in self isolation for the results of a covid test despite having minor symptoms. That was a mistake. Having had the test he went straight to the gym, his university and various other places. That was a big mistake. His Covid test result came back positive. I think that was the scenario. Certainly the mistakes made by these three people have caused the change in Levels. Now New Zealand waits for evidence of possible further transmission.

The government’s policy depends on the cooperation of the people and the Prime Minister has been very reluctant to lay blame for the occasional and contained outbreaks so far. This time however her frustration has showed. The danger is that if individuals are pilloried for their mistakes others will be less inclined to tell the truth about their contacts. Truthful cooperation is key in all of this.

Over recent years the calls for individual rights and freedoms to be recognised have increased. I have not detected a corresponding call for the recognition of individual responsibilities nor of the rights of the community. Events here this last week have shown the patience and forbearance of most New Zealanders, some greater awareness of just how much the actions of a few can affect the lives of many, and a degree of frustration.

Rarely, I suspect, can the words of John Donne’s Meditation 17, ‘No man is an island, entire of itself;’ have been so obviously realised.

I knew I must be able to find something to complain about in Christchurch in Covid free New Zealand, and I have. As I walked to Jellie Park for my regular swim, just ten minutes from where I’m staying, I had to negotiate my way past cyclists, scooter riders and skateboarders, all school children, all using my pavement. Of course it was just after three o’clock in the afternoon and it seems local schools get out at three.

It quite reminded me of walking to church along Kennington Park Road only there it’s usually adults on bicycles etc, not school children. And there was another difference. Here all the children smiled at me quite happily and said, ‘Afternoon!’ The ‘Good’ being understood, I think. However, like Kennington Park Road there is a cycle lane, clearly marked, on the road itself. It’s just that the cyclists prefer to use the pavement. I wonder where I should lodge my complaint?

Jellie Park is a wonderful surprise. There can be no complaints there. It was given to the City of Christchurch for a Park by a Mr James Jellie who had a market garden on twenty six acres of land. It was ‘Prime Real Estate’. He wanted it to be used by the people of Christchurch for recreation and was very reluctant to have the park named after him however the City Council’s will prevailed.

Within the park there is a recreational centre that includes a gym, two twenty five meter indoor pools, one for recreation the other for teaching, a toddlers pool, another teaching pool and, outside, a fifty meter pool, a diving pool, and a pool for ‘aqua jogging’. There’s also a bubbly spa pool, a sauna and a steam room. There may be more that I haven’t discovered.

Today I used the fifty meter outdoor pool and swam 500 meters, then sat in the bubbly spa, then swam another 200 meters in the indoor 25 meter pool. I have neither dived nor aqua jogged and I don’t intend to. All the pools are heated. Thank you Mr Jellie and the Christchurch City Council.

LOCKED DOWN IN LONDON AND OTHER STORIES

Last evening I gave a Talk, ‘Locked Down etc’ to over eighty people in the St Barnabas Church Hall. It is near here but in the other direction from Jellie Park. I’ve been giving talks in Retirement Villages and in sitting rooms to raise money for the Christchurch Cathedral Reinstatement Project. This is to restore the cathedral seriously damaged in the earthquake ten years ago. Last night’s talk was the first to be open to the general public.

People have been appreciative and generous. The Cathedral is at the centre of Christchurch, a planned city. I’ve come across another planned city from the same period, the middle of the nineteenth century, also with a cathedral at the centre. It is La Plata in Argentina. There they wanted the cathedral at the centre ‘so that all might be reminded that every person is of equal worth before God’.

In Christchurch in the 1860s they already had a bishop and it was assumed the city would have a cathedral. It was part of the tradition of the first European settlers. The motto of my old school is ‘Bene Tradita Bene Servanda’. I finished my Talk with a quote from Thomas More,
‘Tradition is not the worshipping of the ashes, it is the handing down of the flame’.
I believe the Christchurch Cathedral is part of that flame.

It was back to the Eye Clinic today for more lasering, an injection and another experience of friendly, calm and, from all I can tell, extremely skilled service and treatment. I arrived early. My family will not be surprised. Once I was so early for a flight I arrived twenty four hours early. The trouble was the flight left at 00.15. You will understand my problem with that.

Anyway early at the Eye Clinic, having updated my details, I was told that the cafe on the ground floor had excellent coffee and very good cheese scones. I returned to the ground floor and enjoyed both.

Later as I was waiting for some eye drops to take effect the nurse volunteered that she was from the Philippines and we talked about covid there and in the UK. We both felt very concerned for friends and family and talked about them.

After I’d been scanned and photographed, my eye that is, the Professor who looked after me told me and the two interns in attendance about working in an eye hospital in Jerusalem and how enthusiastic and joyful his Muslim friends had been for him when Easter approached. He told us that they, good Muslims, knew the meaning of Easter. He wondered, how many New Zealanders knew that Easter was about more than a long weekend in Wanaka.

All this and treatment. I’m seeing far more clearly out of my left eye than I have for months. Everything is brighter. I’m back again in four weeks. Watch this space.

Last Sunday I went to church. It’s what I usually do on a Sunday. I was in Auckland and I went to an Anglican Church which is known for being inclusive. It was so inclusive that I felt totally excluded. I am sure the regulars felt included but I was not a regular I was a visiting Anglican and not in Auckland long enough to become a regular.

Perhaps I must simply accept that the inclusiveness is meant to include someone other than me. I am old, and a bit ‘fuddy duddy’. I say that because an architect who was doing some work on my house wanted me to have blinds on the windows and I wanted c6urtains. When I asked what he had against curtains he said,
‘I suppose it’s because they’re a bit ‘fuddy duddy.’
To which I replied, ‘But I am a bit ‘fuddy duddy.’
And I now have curtains not blinds – well, curtains on some windows not all.

Anyway none of that is really important except that I suspect it is partly the familiar that helps me feel at home or included. I felt excluded at this inclusive Auckland Anglican Church because nothing other than the building and some of the music was familiar. I felt at home in the building until the ‘act of worship’ began. If there’s a fault it may be mine for expecting to encounter the familiar. But I am an Anglican after all. I thought I was ‘family’.

All the hymns or songs, were recently written and the music recently composed apart from one where the tune was familiar but the words I couldn’t manage. They were in Te Reo Maori with which I am not familiar enough to sing or say. I’m sure I should be and, given time, could be, but now I’m not.

None of the responses were familiar even from going to other Anglican Churches in New Zealand. I’m used to, ‘The Lord be with you’, being followed by, ‘And with your spirit’, (Anglican St Agnes Kennington Park) or, ‘And also with you’, (Anglican England generally) or ‘The Lord Bless you’, (Anglican New Zealand) but here the responses were all tweaked, in order to be inclusive I guess, and unfamiliar.

I had to keep my eyes glued to the page if I was to take part. And the trouble with focussing on the page is that it doesn’t allow my heart or mind to do much worshipping. The Lord’s Prayer was in Te Reo Maori so although I couldn’t join in with the words I did know the meaning. And I’m not convinced that worship is really about the inclusive correctness of the words anyway.

There were some moments when I was included. The choir sang, as an anthem, Handel’s, ‘Spread Thy Voice Around’, from Solomon, and for the music during communion they sang Mendelssohn’s ‘Hear My Prayer O For the Wings of a Dove’. I was included in the listening. Perhaps others who are not moved by this sort of music felt excluded.

And after the service there was tea or coffee and a great spread. The small mince pies were especially good. And one of the clergy said ‘Good morning,’ and I went up to another and introduced myself, and I told some of the choir members how much I’d appreciated their singing and I asked someone else the best way, coming out of the church, to walk towards the harbour which I knew to be rather attractive. I was told that the way to go was simply to head down hill, which I should have been able to work out for myself. And so I did walk downhill, feeling a bit out of things and a bit out of sorts.

But I went to a restaurant with family that evening, I’d never been there before, the food was quite different and included minced paua on toast, the waiters were friendly and welcoming and it was great, and I was back ‘in sorts’.

REFLECTION

This experience has opened a window for me. It has given me the faintest glimpse of what it might be like to be under colonial rule. I now know a little of what if feels like to be in what I thought was my own place, my spiritual Whānau, and to have language and songs and rituals imposed on me other than those to which I am accustomed. It is an uncomfortable learning experience and one which I know must continue – this very small identification, that is, with those who have lived under colonial rule. And, at the same time, I hope the neo-colonialists have some recognition that many of their colonial forbears were at least as sure as they are that what they were doing was for the best. The best as they perceive it, that is.