Friday Chapel Readings: 1 Kings 19; Phil 3;
A man was seen fleeing down the passage of a hospital just before his operation. “What's the matter?” he was asked by a staff member. He said, “I heard the nurse say, ‘It's a very simple operation, don't worry, I'm sure it will be all right.’" “She was just trying to comfort you, what's so frightening about that?" replied the concerned staff member. “She wasn't talking to me, “said the terrified patient. “She was talking to the doctor! “
What have you run from in your life?
Elijah, the prophet of God, had just had a powerful encounter with the prophets of Baal. He defeated them – all of them were dead – and he was on a high.
His faith was great. The adrenalin was probably pumping. And he knew God was with him.
And then he received a message from Jezebel, the wife of the King.By this time tomorrow I’ll have you killed! And the guy flees – he runs for his life.
That’s one kind of race. Running away!
Compare that to Paul in our second Bible reading today. Listen to what he says: the one thing I do, however, is to forget what is behind me and do my best to reach what is ahead. So I run straight toward the goal in order to win the prize. It’s flight or fight if you like. We either run from trouble, or we run towards the goal we’ve set in life.
Which way are you running?
Those of you who have had a wake-up call in the exams – are you wanting to bolt? Maybe life has thrown you some other disaster far worse. What will you do? Give up? Be like Elijah? – he just hides away from life – we are told today that he had burn-out. He crashed. If you read the rest of the story we find this.
Elijah walked a whole day into the wilderness. He stopped and sat down in the shade of a tree and wished he would die. "It's too much, LORD," he prayed. "Take away my life; I might as well be dead!" It’s an all-time low for this great prophet. Depressed. Suicidal. Messed-up totally.
And God comes to his aid. He is given physical food and nourishment – strength to go on a 40 day journey. He’s not put to bed, curled up with a good book and the TV on. He has to press on. Forward. Like a long march. And on Mount Sinai he eventually hears God again – not in the noisy things of earthquake wind and fire, but in a still small voice – in virtual silence. God speaks.
Sometimes when we’re at the edge, it takes both physical and spiritual restoration before we are brought back. Some of us end up there – at the edge - and then we press on with life again.
For Paul in the New Testament there is a different focus. He had his many trials too.
But it’s his focus on his goals that impresses me: the one thing I do, however, is to forget what is behind me and do my best to reach what is ahead. So I run straight toward the goal in order to win the prize
Forget what is behind. Don’t dwell on the past!
Look forward. Life is a race – and in a race we know the perils of looking behind you. Life is also described as a rat race. The problem with the rat race is that even if you win, you're still a rat.
There has to be a better way than winning at the expense of others – or winning and being totally stressed and burned-out. It’s the goal that matters. Avoiding the extreme stress and being a pathetic rat in a rat race comes when we have a goal that is greater, higher, and loftier than just survival. Or money.
We need time out – time for quiet to balance things – time for rest – reflection – listening to the still small voice of God who puts it all into perspective.
Then it is much easier to refocus on the future without the panic. We find a peace and inner calm which makes us so much more disciplined.
Life has thrown some of you some really bad things. Some people have far greater challenges than a bad exam result.
Don’t lose your sense of future – and don’t give up on your goals and dreams! Keep looking ahead! And may you make space and time to hear God speak a good word into your heart and life. You might just find a new and greater purpose to your existence.
It beats being another rat in a rat race.
Amen.
Friday, 19 October 2007
Sunday, 14 October 2007
Weddings and other random matters
And so I find myself back in Havelock North. We shared a wedding with a colleague from work - and a gang of teachers and ex staff from our school, travelling up together in a school bus ominously so labelled. Chaplains get to marry people - that's the term that is used. I prefer saying that I "do" weddings, as I have been happily married for 23 years and would not like the confusion of being married to all these other characters.
The Kiwi wedding, like the funeral (and no they are not related directly) could be conducted by a variety of celebrants. I find the celebrant funeral (the kind that is non- religious and explicitly without God) a very gloomy affair. New age platitudes are cold comfort in my simple view, and I prefer the ordinary Christian notion that there is life beyond the grave.
Weddings however are different. While all the weddings I have "done" (I recall of course people in my parish days asking me if they could get little Johnny "done" which referred to baptism - whereupon I would retort - "how would you like him done? Medium or well?") have been for staff members, they have all been different. People like to write their own vows (none of which includes, I hasten to add- I promise to do the dishes, wash the car and mow the lawn), and have various degrees of God-inclusion. So the poor old Chaplain (me) does get a tad confused. I guess it is the consequence of hundreds of weddings - when I lose my place in the newly written services, I simply default to what I know from memory. It can be interesting. Yesterday's wedding was such an occasion where I left out the bride's written conclusion and did a good Trinitarian blessing. Ah well, that's who I am. A dear lady came to me and asked afterwards - you can't be a celebrant, you must be a priest? Upon enquires to another priest (the father of the bride) I discovered it was the prayers that exposed me.
Kiwiland happily accepts the Maori karakia - the blessings, the traditional prayers - but gets all wobbly with conventional Christian stuff. I suspect there were many prayers during the world cup - and look what happened there!
On another matter altogether, having the reception at a very nice wine estate was a great cause of celebration for the party of educators from my school. The rest is history, and some of that history is captured on my camera. The chaplain is now loaded with interesting information on these dear people. I can only assume they will wake up some time this morning.
A more fascinating encounter was meeting a character from Durban who lived near my aunt and various friends in Henry Road. Curious that you meet people on the other side of the world and are really so connected. We had so many things in common - same High School, many of the same teachers (started there 12 years after me and the teachers, ancient in my time, were still churning it out) and same friends. He proved to be the life and soul of the party. Messed things up totally by moving himself and his very patient wife from his allocated seats at table something-or-other to table 2. The wedding hosts could not cope with this lack of order and strongly encouraged him to return to his allocated position for his meal. He politely declined. The authorities sent an urgent message to the groom, who in turn relayed the message that the kitchen would be confused. He happily solved the problem by collecting everything from their allocated table and bringing it to ours. Once their order was placed, the die was caste and we all survived. For the life of me I can't imagine why it was so complicated, but of course the groom is a maths teacher. Actually it was the waitron person who probably could not fit the extra order on her undersized order pad. These South Africans. Really. Very disruptive.
Havelock North - returning to my original chat - is a small town in the Hawke's Bay, which at this time of the year presents itself with streets lined with the blossoms of fruit trees. The fragrance and colour gently combine and add to the overall warmth of the place which yesterday reached a massive 24 degrees - the highest in the country. This little escape presents to us a welcomed relief from the wild wintry weather of our home town Wellington. real sunshine and warmth are an antidote to the cold desperation of harsh winters that hang around in spring.
I should think that our attempt to make a difference here is a bit like that - a bit of sunshine in a cold dark place. With the excessive drinking of people on these islands one might say a cold dark wet place. The wedding itself was a good reason top celebrate of course. It's all about limits I guess. Of greater concern is the binge drinking of children. They really are children. Not teenagers.
As I write to you various wedding attenders are emerging from their rooms here at the Wine Country Inn. This is wine county. Somehow we need to get people to taste the new wine of God.
From the islands....
Robin
The Kiwi wedding, like the funeral (and no they are not related directly) could be conducted by a variety of celebrants. I find the celebrant funeral (the kind that is non- religious and explicitly without God) a very gloomy affair. New age platitudes are cold comfort in my simple view, and I prefer the ordinary Christian notion that there is life beyond the grave.
Weddings however are different. While all the weddings I have "done" (I recall of course people in my parish days asking me if they could get little Johnny "done" which referred to baptism - whereupon I would retort - "how would you like him done? Medium or well?") have been for staff members, they have all been different. People like to write their own vows (none of which includes, I hasten to add- I promise to do the dishes, wash the car and mow the lawn), and have various degrees of God-inclusion. So the poor old Chaplain (me) does get a tad confused. I guess it is the consequence of hundreds of weddings - when I lose my place in the newly written services, I simply default to what I know from memory. It can be interesting. Yesterday's wedding was such an occasion where I left out the bride's written conclusion and did a good Trinitarian blessing. Ah well, that's who I am. A dear lady came to me and asked afterwards - you can't be a celebrant, you must be a priest? Upon enquires to another priest (the father of the bride) I discovered it was the prayers that exposed me.
Kiwiland happily accepts the Maori karakia - the blessings, the traditional prayers - but gets all wobbly with conventional Christian stuff. I suspect there were many prayers during the world cup - and look what happened there!
On another matter altogether, having the reception at a very nice wine estate was a great cause of celebration for the party of educators from my school. The rest is history, and some of that history is captured on my camera. The chaplain is now loaded with interesting information on these dear people. I can only assume they will wake up some time this morning.
A more fascinating encounter was meeting a character from Durban who lived near my aunt and various friends in Henry Road. Curious that you meet people on the other side of the world and are really so connected. We had so many things in common - same High School, many of the same teachers (started there 12 years after me and the teachers, ancient in my time, were still churning it out) and same friends. He proved to be the life and soul of the party. Messed things up totally by moving himself and his very patient wife from his allocated seats at table something-or-other to table 2. The wedding hosts could not cope with this lack of order and strongly encouraged him to return to his allocated position for his meal. He politely declined. The authorities sent an urgent message to the groom, who in turn relayed the message that the kitchen would be confused. He happily solved the problem by collecting everything from their allocated table and bringing it to ours. Once their order was placed, the die was caste and we all survived. For the life of me I can't imagine why it was so complicated, but of course the groom is a maths teacher. Actually it was the waitron person who probably could not fit the extra order on her undersized order pad. These South Africans. Really. Very disruptive.
Havelock North - returning to my original chat - is a small town in the Hawke's Bay, which at this time of the year presents itself with streets lined with the blossoms of fruit trees. The fragrance and colour gently combine and add to the overall warmth of the place which yesterday reached a massive 24 degrees - the highest in the country. This little escape presents to us a welcomed relief from the wild wintry weather of our home town Wellington. real sunshine and warmth are an antidote to the cold desperation of harsh winters that hang around in spring.
I should think that our attempt to make a difference here is a bit like that - a bit of sunshine in a cold dark place. With the excessive drinking of people on these islands one might say a cold dark wet place. The wedding itself was a good reason top celebrate of course. It's all about limits I guess. Of greater concern is the binge drinking of children. They really are children. Not teenagers.
As I write to you various wedding attenders are emerging from their rooms here at the Wine Country Inn. This is wine county. Somehow we need to get people to taste the new wine of God.
From the islands....
Robin
Friday, 12 October 2007
Conversations 11/10
I had a conversation with a lady this week whose family is going on a spiritual pilgrimage. I don't think she would regard it as spiritual. She certainly would not regard herself as religious. But she is going back to where the family's roots are in Europe - travelling to the places that her forbears went en route to New Zealand.
One of the nicest things that my family is doing in putting together an on-line family tree. It grows every week, and I get email reminders of the new people added. It's like a web really. I feel very connected to people I've never met.
As a traveller from Africa I feel connected to people here whose parents or grandparents were also emigrants. When you set sail from your place of birth, a part of you is left stuck in your homeland. I described it once as a kind of divorce - there is pain from the separation, and its very hard to bond again.
Here we are on the other side of the world. We are slowly bonding in a funny way. Through conversations you discover a new angle on your common humanity. There are spiritual bonds - with people who understand your spirit. There are gender bonds - you connect with men who struggle with the guy things - that peculiar breed we are who have a real desire for adventure and conquest in one way or the other. There are heart things - where you hear the tragic conversations of those in crisis - the children, the parents, the lonely ones.
So here we are. There is the drama of rugby and the all greys. That seem to have quickly blown over. Then the exams - their stresses are short-lived. Local news here lurches from one local crisis to another - each day a fresh conversation.
Whether its our favourite volcano blowing its top, or our beloved fault lines shaking the foundations of our houses (at last I felt an earthquake here), the conversations go on in the midst of all kinds of challenging places where we all live.
We give thanks to God for our spiritual heritage - for our extended family and forbears - and for you our friends who form this greater web than the www.
Robin
In Memory of Ernie Palmer (11/10/11 to 11/10/71)
One of the nicest things that my family is doing in putting together an on-line family tree. It grows every week, and I get email reminders of the new people added. It's like a web really. I feel very connected to people I've never met.
As a traveller from Africa I feel connected to people here whose parents or grandparents were also emigrants. When you set sail from your place of birth, a part of you is left stuck in your homeland. I described it once as a kind of divorce - there is pain from the separation, and its very hard to bond again.
Here we are on the other side of the world. We are slowly bonding in a funny way. Through conversations you discover a new angle on your common humanity. There are spiritual bonds - with people who understand your spirit. There are gender bonds - you connect with men who struggle with the guy things - that peculiar breed we are who have a real desire for adventure and conquest in one way or the other. There are heart things - where you hear the tragic conversations of those in crisis - the children, the parents, the lonely ones.
So here we are. There is the drama of rugby and the all greys. That seem to have quickly blown over. Then the exams - their stresses are short-lived. Local news here lurches from one local crisis to another - each day a fresh conversation.
Whether its our favourite volcano blowing its top, or our beloved fault lines shaking the foundations of our houses (at last I felt an earthquake here), the conversations go on in the midst of all kinds of challenging places where we all live.
We give thanks to God for our spiritual heritage - for our extended family and forbears - and for you our friends who form this greater web than the www.
Robin
In Memory of Ernie Palmer (11/10/11 to 11/10/71)
Monday, 8 October 2007
I will not be afraid
I will not be afraid…. Term 4 opening chapel 2007
Researchers at Johns Hopkins University reported that 30 years ago the greatest fears of prep school children were:
1. Animals (I assume ones that bite!!)
2. Being in a dark room
3. High places
4. Strangers, and
5. Loud noises.
Today, kids are afraid of the following:
1. Divorce
2. Nuclear war
3. Cancer
4. Pollution, and
5. Being mugged.
I would add – fear of losing your I-pod or cell phone or broadband….
What are you afraid of?
In the country of my birth being mugged, hijacked, robbed was a real fear. Nuclear war seems a remote possibility on our end of the world.
Latest figures indicate that cancer is still the highest killer in New Zealand. Many of us have to struggle with the impact of that.
The place of greatest risk from violence and abuse is probably not in the streets – but at home.
You would have seen the campaign IT’S NOT OK – about violence in families. About how people manipulate and control others. It’s just another form of bullying!
Scarier still the reports that women’s shelters here are busier just after major sports games where we have lost. Men become violent… People drink – and then they do dangerous things to their partners.
IT’S ALSO BEEN A BUSY WEEK in the papers
All kinds of people have been sentenced in the courts – punished for terrible crimes. Controversy rages over a man who was shot by a policeman. A man who killed an innocent tourist was sentenced to a long time in jail.
Things can go horribly wrong in peoples’ lives.
WHAT SHOULD WE FEAR THE MOST?
Some of us still struggle in dark rooms. You little guys still need to be wary of strangers!
My fear is that we all have the potential for violence. More than anything – we need to learn to manage our fears and our anger. Perhaps we should fear ourselves.
There is a Chinese Proverb that goes like this:
If you are patient in one moment of anger, you will escape a hundred days of
sorrow.
There is also great strength – as we heard in the Scripture readings today – in the knowledge that we are not alone.
That God is with us. Because of this – even in the deepest darkness – we don’t have to fear.
SO WHAT SHOULD WE DO
We should not be afraid.
In a basic sense we should not be afraid of
Change of any kind
New friends
Hard work
Difficult problems
Exams (you don’t usually have to fear them if you’ve worked!)
People who bully
Telling the truth
Sorting out people who do things that are not ok.
In fact in the second reading today we heard this:
Let us be bold, then, and say, "The Lord is my helper, I will not be afraid. What can anyone do to me?"
If we’re honest – we have much to be thankful for! We got so many privileges and opportunities… And we live in a really safe place!
Spare a thought for kids in wars – and without the basic things that we take for granted.
This is a short busy term. There is no time for silliness really. We need to make a decision today to be the best we can – without being afraid.
We need to make a simple choice also – if we have problems because we have a good reason to be afraid of anyone.
Talk to someone soon – there is lots of support. We should never be afraid of the truth.
Amen.
Researchers at Johns Hopkins University reported that 30 years ago the greatest fears of prep school children were:
1. Animals (I assume ones that bite!!)
2. Being in a dark room
3. High places
4. Strangers, and
5. Loud noises.
Today, kids are afraid of the following:
1. Divorce
2. Nuclear war
3. Cancer
4. Pollution, and
5. Being mugged.
I would add – fear of losing your I-pod or cell phone or broadband….
What are you afraid of?
In the country of my birth being mugged, hijacked, robbed was a real fear. Nuclear war seems a remote possibility on our end of the world.
Latest figures indicate that cancer is still the highest killer in New Zealand. Many of us have to struggle with the impact of that.
The place of greatest risk from violence and abuse is probably not in the streets – but at home.
You would have seen the campaign IT’S NOT OK – about violence in families. About how people manipulate and control others. It’s just another form of bullying!
Scarier still the reports that women’s shelters here are busier just after major sports games where we have lost. Men become violent… People drink – and then they do dangerous things to their partners.
IT’S ALSO BEEN A BUSY WEEK in the papers
All kinds of people have been sentenced in the courts – punished for terrible crimes. Controversy rages over a man who was shot by a policeman. A man who killed an innocent tourist was sentenced to a long time in jail.
Things can go horribly wrong in peoples’ lives.
WHAT SHOULD WE FEAR THE MOST?
Some of us still struggle in dark rooms. You little guys still need to be wary of strangers!
My fear is that we all have the potential for violence. More than anything – we need to learn to manage our fears and our anger. Perhaps we should fear ourselves.
There is a Chinese Proverb that goes like this:
If you are patient in one moment of anger, you will escape a hundred days of
sorrow.
There is also great strength – as we heard in the Scripture readings today – in the knowledge that we are not alone.
That God is with us. Because of this – even in the deepest darkness – we don’t have to fear.
SO WHAT SHOULD WE DO
We should not be afraid.
In a basic sense we should not be afraid of
Change of any kind
New friends
Hard work
Difficult problems
Exams (you don’t usually have to fear them if you’ve worked!)
People who bully
Telling the truth
Sorting out people who do things that are not ok.
In fact in the second reading today we heard this:
Let us be bold, then, and say, "The Lord is my helper, I will not be afraid. What can anyone do to me?"
If we’re honest – we have much to be thankful for! We got so many privileges and opportunities… And we live in a really safe place!
Spare a thought for kids in wars – and without the basic things that we take for granted.
This is a short busy term. There is no time for silliness really. We need to make a decision today to be the best we can – without being afraid.
We need to make a simple choice also – if we have problems because we have a good reason to be afraid of anyone.
Talk to someone soon – there is lots of support. We should never be afraid of the truth.
Amen.
Friday, 5 October 2007
School
Leisure. School. The two words are linked but bear no relationship in this wonderful generation. Mind you, it was probably worse when I went to school. Seemed like an aweful lot of work for leisure times.
Well the holidays are almost over. The work of school begins. The final term commences with exams - students have diligently turned up for tutorials during the holidays.
I guess this is a different school. Independent. World class. Yet full of real human issues.
That's my part in the puzzle. The relationships. The injustices. The attempts to foster basic kindness while students (called learners in my home country) press the boundaries to their extremes.
And then there are teachers. Educators. A mixed bag. In a special character school that needs some work in figuring that out.
Well I've been at school for decades. I plod through my 5th qualification which will give me a bit of paper. And then there is the school of marriage. Of raising families. Of emigration or immigration - and I can never spell either of those - the geographical and cultural leaving and cleaving which brave souls have attempted.
It's Saturday morning - almost midday. The rest of the dwellers in this funny little house are asleep in bed. Even the cat lies sprawled next to me, dreaming of feline heaven and endless fresh food.
I am trying to complete a project (called an assignment in the old country) on ESOL and the delights of Grammar.
Ah well. School. Leisure.
It's a grand old life indeed. As long as you're asleep.
Well the holidays are almost over. The work of school begins. The final term commences with exams - students have diligently turned up for tutorials during the holidays.
I guess this is a different school. Independent. World class. Yet full of real human issues.
That's my part in the puzzle. The relationships. The injustices. The attempts to foster basic kindness while students (called learners in my home country) press the boundaries to their extremes.
And then there are teachers. Educators. A mixed bag. In a special character school that needs some work in figuring that out.
Well I've been at school for decades. I plod through my 5th qualification which will give me a bit of paper. And then there is the school of marriage. Of raising families. Of emigration or immigration - and I can never spell either of those - the geographical and cultural leaving and cleaving which brave souls have attempted.
It's Saturday morning - almost midday. The rest of the dwellers in this funny little house are asleep in bed. Even the cat lies sprawled next to me, dreaming of feline heaven and endless fresh food.
I am trying to complete a project (called an assignment in the old country) on ESOL and the delights of Grammar.
Ah well. School. Leisure.
It's a grand old life indeed. As long as you're asleep.
New Zealand reflections
It was a deliberate choice to catch the train. It’s called the Overlander. There are no trains here that travel underground or above for that matter - so the name seems redundant. It was an arduous 13 hour journey across hundreds of bridges, a dozen or more aqueducts or viaducts (whatever) many of which were nearly 100 years old. O my... And a lot of tourism chatter along the route in which the very nice lady explained why the local little towns were dying off. Urbanisation was never mentioned, but I guess the development of agricultural monopolies were part of the story.The train chugged to Palmerston North and eventually stopped for lunch at National Park. The recently active volcano (Ruapehu) was hidden in white cloud, as was the lahar. We knew we were close to the thing of course - so cold! The ski slopes have been open again just this week.
Train travellers are interesting reflections of local and international society. The very nice Russian family in front of us - Stefan was the teenager - a blond skinny teen attached to an I-pod and cell phone - and the parents relied on him to do the translating. Faceless Italians behind us chatted away (a few rows behind) while the single Asian man next to our son slept throughout the journey - never uttering a word. All the other Kiwis seemed experts on a number of things along the route.
The good news about the train is that leg room really was room - compared to the quick flight back a few days later.Auckland gets bad press here in Wellington. The Jafa thing abounds. The people themselves were pleasant and typical of big cities. Busy - enjoying the retail therapy - or driving at a Jo'burgian pace. The best thing - the weather! Rain, hail and wind we had, but we were never cold.
Our tour guide manage to get us to various places - Mnt Victoria, One tree hill and Mount Eden. I think. We crossed harbours - climbed hills - studied volcanoes and craters. We shopped - some of us went to movies - and we enjoyed a real sense of distance from work and cold wet Wellington-ian winds... We walked along pleasant coastal strips, and enjoyed coffee and goodies in ordinary friendly places.
More delays on the way back. The Queensland and Northern Territories Air Services planes were late. Three lots of waiters (people waiting for a plane - or are they waitees?) waited in a crammed area. One lot was moved to another departure gate. Few people moved on the first announcement. A large tour group remained stuck to their seats until their leader issued a single command in the correct language and to a man they rose to their feet and left as a single body.
Reminds me of another story of a group of men rising as a group at a funeral - when a new undertaker managed to drop the coffin as it came into the church. Email me for all the rest of the gory details!! ....
What are these kiwi people? On the train a lady from the Coromandel assured us that people up there didn't really work. Self-declared beach bum was she. Others chattered away about the old days - and scampered along to the dining car thing when the evening meals were offered at half price. Food wars... Passive-aggressive ladies (women...) made it quite clear that you should be in the correct queue or that in fact the food you were holding was actually theirs.
Research indicates that domestic violence here increases markedly when major rugby games are lost - whether the All Blacks or provincial games. The national religion requires clear successes - notches on the old gun barrels, scalps etc. Not converts but victories. These kiwis avoid smacking children, nuclear weapons, and have dismantled their air force and most of their navy. But give them a rugby ball and its war.
Well the wind tonight is about 120kph. Hopefully the roof is strong. Are we strong? Any immigrant population is made up of tough people. Strength which enables you to realise that you will never be one of them - in our case a kiwi. We will always be Africans. You need strength to laugh at yourself - and to respect others who are different.
Ah well - the Overlander bought a group of people together with a common destiny. We all went in the same direction - but with may destinations. We got on a train - we got off again a little richer, quite tired, but having seen something of this nation and met more of her peoples.This was not Tangiwai. The volcano did erupt - there was a lahar. But we made it to our destination. We should always be grateful, I think, for safe arrivals. It’s the safe living together that remains the real challenge.
Train travellers are interesting reflections of local and international society. The very nice Russian family in front of us - Stefan was the teenager - a blond skinny teen attached to an I-pod and cell phone - and the parents relied on him to do the translating. Faceless Italians behind us chatted away (a few rows behind) while the single Asian man next to our son slept throughout the journey - never uttering a word. All the other Kiwis seemed experts on a number of things along the route.
The good news about the train is that leg room really was room - compared to the quick flight back a few days later.Auckland gets bad press here in Wellington. The Jafa thing abounds. The people themselves were pleasant and typical of big cities. Busy - enjoying the retail therapy - or driving at a Jo'burgian pace. The best thing - the weather! Rain, hail and wind we had, but we were never cold.
Our tour guide manage to get us to various places - Mnt Victoria, One tree hill and Mount Eden. I think. We crossed harbours - climbed hills - studied volcanoes and craters. We shopped - some of us went to movies - and we enjoyed a real sense of distance from work and cold wet Wellington-ian winds... We walked along pleasant coastal strips, and enjoyed coffee and goodies in ordinary friendly places.
More delays on the way back. The Queensland and Northern Territories Air Services planes were late. Three lots of waiters (people waiting for a plane - or are they waitees?) waited in a crammed area. One lot was moved to another departure gate. Few people moved on the first announcement. A large tour group remained stuck to their seats until their leader issued a single command in the correct language and to a man they rose to their feet and left as a single body.
Reminds me of another story of a group of men rising as a group at a funeral - when a new undertaker managed to drop the coffin as it came into the church. Email me for all the rest of the gory details!! ....
What are these kiwi people? On the train a lady from the Coromandel assured us that people up there didn't really work. Self-declared beach bum was she. Others chattered away about the old days - and scampered along to the dining car thing when the evening meals were offered at half price. Food wars... Passive-aggressive ladies (women...) made it quite clear that you should be in the correct queue or that in fact the food you were holding was actually theirs.
Research indicates that domestic violence here increases markedly when major rugby games are lost - whether the All Blacks or provincial games. The national religion requires clear successes - notches on the old gun barrels, scalps etc. Not converts but victories. These kiwis avoid smacking children, nuclear weapons, and have dismantled their air force and most of their navy. But give them a rugby ball and its war.
Well the wind tonight is about 120kph. Hopefully the roof is strong. Are we strong? Any immigrant population is made up of tough people. Strength which enables you to realise that you will never be one of them - in our case a kiwi. We will always be Africans. You need strength to laugh at yourself - and to respect others who are different.
Ah well - the Overlander bought a group of people together with a common destiny. We all went in the same direction - but with may destinations. We got on a train - we got off again a little richer, quite tired, but having seen something of this nation and met more of her peoples.This was not Tangiwai. The volcano did erupt - there was a lahar. But we made it to our destination. We should always be grateful, I think, for safe arrivals. It’s the safe living together that remains the real challenge.
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