Public Address - Club Politique (Home)

The Song Remains the Same | Nov 16, 2005 21:55

As per my personal mission statement, to uncover and give away as much information as humanly possible, I was seeking to try and bring you a series of interviews with relatively famous New Zealanders about what they thought it meant to 'be a New Zealander'.

I failed.

It seems that despite R.Brown's effort to paint me as some kind of minor celebrity, I don't carry enough weight to talk anyone famous into anything. Although, now that the cat is well and truly out of the bag, I will blog at some point about the perils of working in the Public Service and blogging. The good news is that it's all good. Maybe I'll just run a few interviews with 'real' New Zealanders in the meantime.

In the meantime though, let's turn to something a little more boring. Nation-building yay!

I love talking about this stuff. And I'm not sure why. Maybe there's something about being a member of such a young country? Something that means we all get a chance to chip in our five cents and make the most of trying to herd this great mass of lumbering cotton and wool-clad people into that great corral of national unity.

Ah well. Even better news is that plenty of other people do too. Hat Tip to Just Left who pointed out this speech by Colin James. I'd recently approached James about an interview for the identity project, and he kind of knocked me back with an indication that the Bruce Jesson speech would be his last word on the matter for awhile. Which is a pity, his take seems to be a relatively non-partisan version of the more liberal wing of the National Party, to which I've directed another blog.

Putting aside my disagreement that the Treaty is reaching the end of its use-by date, and the issue of the new New Zealander being as indigenous as the tangata whenua, both of which are destined for another time and place, I'd like to address the idea of belonging. Not belonging in the way I've been discussing it for the past few months in the Metics meanderings, but belonging as a mythology in and of itself.

As I see it, the thing that transcends all this to and fro about who is, and who is not, is the conversation itself. Once you get over the preoccupation with race or distinct language the essence remaining is the content of a national conversation. A ramshackle conversation, a bundle of memes and familiar phrases we repeat to one another every day. A long-winded diatribe we share with family, workmates and strangers about who we think we are, why we think it, and how they share our point of view.

In turn, people repeat our ideas back to us, reinforcing what we think we already know, and so a little circuit starts, turns, repeats.

All the myths James indicates as means by which people stake their claim to belonging are well-known, and shared by a number of individuals who utilise them to tie themselves to the greater whole. A statement like "I belong because [insert relevant clause]" is something you can't say in a vacuum. But there is another way to see this talking.

And that is to see the talking as a song. People don't just speak their identity to one another, they feel it in the way you do your favourite song. Identity-speak rises up out of some primeval fount, a deeper place where we keep those feelings of belonging. The fount gives rise to all kinds of other emotions, but the song that feeds them is the one constant.

The song that is our identity floats around us on a daily basis, uttered through the words of newsreaders, chirped by crappy jingles, blasted out of radio stations playing favoured hits that only a New Zealander loves. The song is the one thing that ties us to one another through the generations. It's there writ large in the words on a McCahon, it's hidden in the pages of a Ihimaera, and splashed in that characteristic washed out colour of a Sleeping Dogs or Came a Hot Friday.

Whether you want to or not, you're part of that song. Whether you're bitching about the 'bloody Māoris' or grasping your tenuous Māori roots like a fat man on a bacon sandwich, you're singing rhyme and verse of a colossal song we each carry.

Each of those statements of belonging James includes are single lines in that great song, small lines spoken by the small people who voices make up a great cacophony, a white noise of opinions, questions, demands, beliefs, answers and knowings.

So listen carefully to what those around you say, and sing it back the way you want it heard, for better, or worse.

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Reserved As | Nov 13, 2005 22:27

Well, you know when you've seen a Kiwi in full flight, your day is complete. And you heard that right, a Kiwi in full flight. And no, not an OE bound youngster on Air New Zealand, but a genuine Little Spotted Kiwi.

Our guide Ron was further up the path, and beckoned us all to come closer, but very quietly. Earlier in the trek our group had been divided in two, and we'd heard from the others that they'd seen two Little Spotteds out on a path not far from here. Most of that sight was the Kiwi's bums though, as the light-shy creatures turned tail and ran from the nosey humans. I wasn't excited about seeing much the same.

When we'd gotten close enough to where he was standing, Ron flicked on his torch. And there she was, Doris the Little Spotted Kiwi, busted in profile. Seriously, her name is Doris. Her mate is apparently called George!

We'd heard another mating pair calling to one another perhaps a five or ten metres from us at another part of the reserve, but this time we'd really lucked out. Doris kind of jumped upwards, turned a complete 180 degrees, and bounded off in full flight behind a Kawakawa that had been framing her.

Yup. Lame joke, but there you have it.

Regardless, my first decent sighting of a genuine Kiwi in the genuine outdoors.

When I talked a few mates into going on Kapiti Island Alive it was mostly on selfish motives. I'd heard that the marine reserve there provided great diving, and thought that it was a good opportunity to get the wetsuit into the brine again. As it turns out I was in for more than I bargained.

Don't get me wrong, Waiorua Bay (directly in front of the Kapiti Lodge) is simply fantastic, but I hadn't done my homework on the sheer variety of native birds I'd see. Pretty much as soon as we were off the ferry from Paraparaumu a couple of Kaka were checking us out, the place was crawling with pesky blimmin Weka, there were Tui and Bellbird singing everywhere, we saw Robins, Kakariki, Kereru, and there was rumour of a couple of Takahe out back of the property somewhere.

With predators completely eradicated from Kapiti the place is pretty much the way it would have been pre-Europeans, and the word is that the bird life will only improve as the forest continues to regenerate back from the farming era. Likewise, with the marine reserves in place the fish and other water life are bouncing back.

Originally I'd just wanted to go diving, but my dive buddies fell through. I'd contemplated going out alone, but there's a couple of fur seal colonies not far from the Lodge, and a quick web search informed me that it is currently pup season. Sharks are very fond of seal pups, I'm told.

On a recent dive to Mana Island I found out that the Great White known to inhabit the area is called Brutus, and I wasn't prepared to tempt fate and meet it in person. I couldn't resist a quick snorkel though, sucker I am for the water.

As I drove out of Wellington, the coast was looking pretty damn milky, and I wasn't fancying my chances. I shouldn't have worried. The water in Waiorua bay, near the tip of Kapiti, gave up what I guessed to be 8 to 12 metre visibility, and was quite simply, gorgeous. Remarkably shark-free too, which is always nice.

I've long though that the best thing about the water is the unusual things. A dive in Mebourne had me looking at near 20m visibility in shallow water, and I used to time to explore for the tiny or interesting little things you'd normally overlook. The number and variety of seaweeds in the bay was outstanding, with a mass of colours, textures and shapes. The fish life? Dull. But I saw the biggest freakin stingray I've ever seen and the water teemed with all kinds of bizarre planktonesque 'stuff'.

People like to talk about the tropics and reefs, but to me a tropical reef is the marine equivalent of a bottle blond. Damn nice to look at, but undoubtedly dull and uninspiring.

Waiorua bay is a fantastic shore dive. You can get there, including DoC permits, ferry and the like for less than the cost of your average boat dive, and it's far and away the best water I've snorkelled in the North Island. I already have another trip booked for February.

And the Lodge! John Barrett switched on the hospitality for us like you wouldn't believe. Included in the nights accommodation cost are four meals, and take it from an old lush like me, they were worth every toasted sandwich dinner I put up with to save for the trip.

You'd want to be quick though, the Lodge is already booked out until mid-January, and only sleeps ten. Get yourself a few good friends, some nice red wine, and get on over there. You won't regret a moment.

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