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Peters Writing
Notes on
A chance weekend job for Ady took us to the
Getting there is by Convair Combi 580 twin turboprop which is a hoot in itself. Air
If you Google Earth Chatham Islands you will find that they are a speck in the
In areas of higher ground there are limestone outcrops and sweeter land for farming but they are few and support hard-scrabble farming at best. The wild herbs do make the lamb tasty, however. There is semi subsistence farming of dry stock cattle and Romney sheep, that can be sent live to
If it wasn’t for the sharks these islands would be paradise for surfers. The beaches have that kind of sand that squeaks when you walk in it. The beaches stretch for many miles and are interspersed with rocky seaweed-covered stretches of reefs that are truly a paradise for crayfish. There are thousands of these reefs surrounding many islands. The beaches are empty and Robinson Crusoe-like in their isolation. It is the crayfish and cod that sustains the
Put it this way. I much preferred to be flying to the
There is nothing so welcome as an airstrip after 700 kms of ocean. This one is small but comfortable. As is the terminal. We were met by a group of people wearing gumboots and warm jackets, one of whom was the local policeman who had come to meet us. We were to stay in the spare unit at the back of his house, reserved for the circuit judge on six monthly visits. I should say right now that it would be hard to imagine a more hospitable policeman and his family. We were embraced into the family and even though only there for a few days, were sorry to be leaving such warmth, simplicity and generosity. The aroma of baking in their kitchen is still with me.
Waitangi is the main village and administration centre with a general store, wharf, pub, council office, garage and café. The bank is open three days a week from 10am- 2pm. There are also fish factories and fishing services. Power comes from diesel generators which supplies the town with expensive power at around $1 per unit. Compare this with home at around 12 cents, and you have the first glimpse of how expensive things are in the
Life in small communities is all about fundraising, and it goes on all the time. This time it was John, the policeman organising to take the Year Seven and Eight kids to
If there are kinder more generous people, I have yet to meet them. Islanders have little, but give and give and give. On Saturday at the rugby there was a meat sale to raise money for the netball and rugby teams to go to
The word hardy comes to mind when describing the Islanders. They need to be. They are isolated and a long way from help. The kind of people who stitch themselves if wounded. They are resourceful and handy as well. They need to be as everything must be imported, and repairs other than simple stuff are not available. So Landcruisers and Land Rovers are held together with wire and spot welds. Cars rust quickly and spend their broken years in paddocks out the front. The only vehicle that does not rust is the Land Rover, being aluminium. I saw more than a dozen Series One models which were discontinued in 1954! Everything rusts from the salt spray, and the muddy roads. All roads are muddy, I think, all the time. Gumboots are compulsory. Wind blows in your ears and the cold makes your nose run. Everywhere is the smell of salt air. When you take off your gumboots at the door the mud is cold and sticky. By the morning the mud has set like concrete and has turned off-white. When you put them on again the mud cracks off and falls into the mud and within seconds it has become brown mud again.
Around sixty per cent of the community is Maori. Historically there were tribes who invaded the islands from Taranaki in the 1830s who enslaved the local Moriori. Epidemics and hard times wasted these people to extinction, however there was a great deal of intermarriage, and there has been a recent resurgence of Moriori culture, including a new marae built in the shape of an albatross. One of their arts was tree carving, some of which remain today, which we visited. They depict their dead and are carved into the bark of karaka trees. These trees are disappearing with grazing and exposure to the elements, but are worth a visit to the
The sea is bountiful and feeds the population well. They have a high fish diet, eating kaimoana including paua and kina, along with cod and hapuku. Cockles abound in the main lagoon, as do swans which, along with weka, were imported as a food source in the eighteenth century. Both are eaten with gusto, and we were given two weka to bring home with us for a treat. As yet there remain uneaten, which is less than I can say about two red pets which were given to us. One weighed in at just under three kilos and the other at just over four kilos. We have scoffed both crayfish inside a week! They were enormous and gorgeous. We have yet to eat the paua and cod we were given. But I am getting ahead of myself, and I’m surprised you haven’t pulled me up by now.
Apart from Waitangi there are several small and very isolated fishing settlements, each with their own fish factory. We travelled in the policeman’s spare 4WD to Kaingaroa, at the other end of the island. The landscape is low lying and boggy but there is harsh beauty in the lagoon and the narrow lip of land that holds it back from the sea. After an hour’s travel in rare sunshine, we arrived in the tiny settlement which clings on to a minute harbour sheltered by reefs that looked real dodgy to navigate. We stopped to stretch our legs. Within minutes there were people looking out of windows, and we met Nathaniel Whaitiri, a local kaumatua who strolled over to meet us and find out who was driving the policeman’s spare Holden Rodeo. We chatted for a while and reflected on the remoteness of the tiny community. He was thinking about putting another coat of paint on his fishing boat, but was not too sure about the weather and in any case he was not in a hurry, because if he did paint it then he would have to go to sea to fish. As we left town we noticed that every house had someone wandering around the garden or standing on the porch looking to see who was driving the policeman’s truck. The houses are small, unfinished, and in the main unkempt, a means to an end. Boats are better maintained but even then reflect the boom and bust cycle of the crayfishing.
Being there brought back memories of living in
Back in Waitangi we had the simple pleasure of watching Kate spend time with her three children. Millie (11), Guy (10), and Johnty (8) each took turns reading aloud about life in Ancient Greece. We shared dinner with George and Bronwyn, local fisheries officer and bank assistant/ massage therapist respectively. They were genuinely pleased that Ady had been brought to the island to help families overcome a great local tragedy. Ady and John had time to debrief after dinner and to discuss the next day’s sessions. What they liked about Ady is what I love, her matter of factness, and understated professionalism. What Ady liked was having no cell phone, no diary, and no computer. She spent every spare minute in the 4WD revelling on metal muddy roads and tight corners, and using the siren in secluded spaces.
Me? I’m just glad that Ady had to be there. I hope she gets asked again.
On the relaxed flight home on Monday, we shared the cabin with boxes of fresh fish. At home we discovered that there had been a severe storm. We had another storm on Wednesday which blew trees over our road and cut power to thirty thousand houses for nearly two days, including ours. Fillet steak by candle light. Life is tough!