Wally's tales

This ‘Post’ is all about our extended families, holiday house. Grandfather Mckenzie had it built while he was the publican of the Provincial Hotel Port Chalmers. It was situated on a remote quarter acre section at ‘Murdering Beach’, close to the shore and the high tide mark, but tucked under a sheltered Hill on the Northern end of the Beach. I am not sure exactly how it got it grizzly name, but the story handed down by word of mouth within our family was, it was the scene of a revenge killing of some Maori residents by a sealing party. The area had certainly been extensively occupied by the Maori. There are today still many visible signs of their occupancy. Many Middens with the remains of fish and shell. As well there are areas where greenstone has been worked extensively, as evidenced by the large number of greenstone chips in sheltered places. The beach is Situated on an latitude of 45 degrees, so the living by the early inhabitants in their caves or shelters that they were able to erect, it must have been in winter, a most bleak existence. In our time only one other crib was on the Beach, so we holidayed in complete privacy.

The Crib itself was not large, about 40 feet x 40 feet and internally dividend into four equal areas, It was constructed about 100 years ago, and even today is still habitable, It had a timber frame and sheathed by a cement board that has stood the test of time. The roof was tiled and required very little attention. The front half was Dining room/lounge with the only interior door leading into a bunk room with four bunks. The dining room had two day beds which also doubled as seating for the large table. This furniture took up most of the space. The other half of the interior area was kitchen and another bunk room but no doors. There was a wood stove at the far end, and a bench and sink against the wall. We gathered our fuel from the surrounding hills. Mainly logs left over from when the forest was cleared and burnt to allow the area to be farmed. We had no title to the land, but remained there at the pleasure of the various land owners and farmers, who in fact even wrote a clause into their bill of sale when they moved on, or sold out. It could be said now, that our legal arrangements and title was ‘slack’. Why bother, where the land was located, it was of no commercial value and very difficult to get to. In other words, remote and worthless. Earlier all the building materials had been sledged onto the site by the local farmer, and by the same method, our heavy supplies and stores were also sledged in once a year.

Water was alway precious and collected from the roof into a 400 gallon tank. This tank had started out as a steel container which had been used for shipping expensive china from England, Naturally they were quickly recycled into water tanks. We also had a smaller tank but this was not piped into the Crib. We did have access to a spring up the hill where in times of drought we could walk up to and then dip out water from a former large limejuice barrel that had come off a ship. This was sunk into the ground. Some said they could still taste the limes, but I never could. All water whether for washing or food preparation was saved and recycled for the garden. In addition to the wood fuel we could also fossick for coal. This came via the dredge that worked in The Otago Harbour where ships had bunkered for many years, while doing so some had dropped overboard. The spoil from the dredge after deepening the harbour was taken out to sea and unloaded off our beach. Coal included in the spoil over the years then found it’s way onto the nearby point, waiting for someone to come by and harvest it over again.

Naturally we didn’t have electricity, so all our light came from candles and Lamps. Every morning there was a ritual which involved the lamps. Then the wicks were trimmed, glasses cleaned, and lamps filled. We also had several ‘Storm Lanterns’ which I still see for sale even today.

Access to the beach was difficult until recently when the sledge track was made into a road. This opened up the area to the general public. This access I suppose was great for most people, but it also gave access to the feral people who don’t respect property or rights of anyone. For ninety years we never had a problem, but once the road was formed, nothing but problems, such as regular breakins, as well, the garden was plundered. We had two ways of getting to the crib. You could take a taxi to the top of the hill and walk the last two kilometres, carrying all your food. The fare for this at one time, was a pound which was exorbitant. The other way was to catch the train, travel to Mihiwaka, then it was a long walk to Long Beach, cross Long Beach to the point, then climb up and over to Murdering Beach. Of course this meant carrying all your food and clothing and any extras you might wish to take along.

There was plenty of shell fish available at low tide, and fishing off the two points. But being a sandy coast with little rocky reefs in the area, fishing was difficult. The was a lagoon that contained eels, and mushrooms were available by the basketful in season, as the local farmers hadn’t yet started to ‘Top Dress’ their paddocks. Rabbits were plentiful and a welcome supplement to our diet. Gooseberries were also plentiful in the patches of bush that were still standing being spread by birds. You could have as much jam as you liked on your bread, providing it was gooseberry. Fresh milk and eggs were available from the Farmers at the top of the hill. Another long walk, traipsing crosscountry through the long grass. We must have liked it, as everyone was involved in these expeditions. In season we fossicked for potatoes that were growing wild every where, small but tasty.

There was no bathroom. Bathing was carried out for the kids in a large bathtub. This was carried out weekly, or whenever it was raining and the Tank was overflowing. I seem to remember there was a protocol to our bathing. The same water did many kids, it went without saying, Girls First, as they were deemed to be the cleanest. The adults obversely couldn’t fit into the tub, they performed what was known as a sponge bath.

I should mention the Toilet, it was situated about 20 metres from the crib and covered completely with a creeper. The girls who were loath to use it at night and demanded an escort who had to remain ten steps away. We also had several pots under the beds which you could use if you didn’t want to make a visit outside in the dark and rain.

I can foresee soon that money as we know it, (That’s our currency, coin and notes), it will go the way of the dinosaur. Even now, I have some small change in my pocket, this same money has been there rattling around for weeks, untouched. I just don’t have the requirement or any way to spend it. Slowly but Surely the need to have and carry ‘cash’ is being turned into an obsolete exercise. It’s role is being taken over by electronic systems. I still have a ‘Cheque Book’ containing 240 forms. It’s about 10 years old, and there are still a quarter of it’s forms left. Today, nearly all our regular transactions from our account are made by an automatic transfer, with only another electronics advice telling me what transaction has taken place. I also have no need even to visit my Bank. I regularly I post in any deposits. Then weekly when at the Super Market, I pay for my groceries with my EF/POS Card. If I require extra money the ‘Check Out’ operator gives me some bank notes, just to pay for incidental expenses just for those folk who have refused to make the change.

Our monetary system wasn’t always this way. Even a small Bank not so long ago would be sitting on very large sums of cash, and especially at holiday time. This would be released as a huge pulse come Christmas and other holidays. The money would be out in the real ‘World’ for about three weeks, then it would come flooding back to the Bank, only to be packaged up and returned to the Reserve Bank as fast as possible. Cash as far as any Bank is concerned is an non earning debit.

Some folk have strange ideas regarding their cash. even back only thirty or forty years ago. I recall one wealthy lady who regarded me as her personal custodian of her family’s fortune. From time to time she called at the Bank, demanded to physically see her money. I would then approach our Head Teller, who would load up a trolley with a couple hundred thousand Dollars, wheel it over to her where she was waiting in an office. She would then ask, ‘Is this my money?’. ‘All of it?’ I would reply .’Yes’, ‘Do you wish to take it home?’ ‘No’, ‘I just wished to see it’.

When credit cards first arrived on our scene they weren’t widely accepted. The Bank of New Zealand did a cold drop. That is, that they sent out cards to each and everyone of their clients. Many then and even today, were people who should never have a card. They are just poor managers of money. They will never change, their spending patterns are always the same, I want it now. They are easy to spot. They can’t wait for some windfall large or small to arrive, they are at the Bank begging to borrow against it’s arrival.

Because we never went away at Christmas I was always an easy ‘Mark’ for every sad story that befell people on holiday. I can recall on one occasion when the thousand dollars I had taken home to cover any such contingency was gone. An hungry family then descended on us. All their cash had been spent on car repairs, and now they required cash for food and gasoline, so they could return home. It’s hard to refuse a car load of hungry crying kids. My youngest daughter Beth came to their rescue. On this occasion she opened her large ‘Pink Pig’ Money Box. We were able to extracted some $20 in 50 cent coins, and send them on their way. In all these occasions of helping lame dogs over styles, no one ever let me down. All the cheques I had taken for cash were good.

I remember one day while attending a manager’s conference in Wellington. I had just finished lunch, consumed a couple of beers, sitting in the sun I was struggling to stay awake as the business of the conference droned on. Then one bright ‘apple polishing manager’ asked the General Manger, ‘Could he could tell us exactly how we should go about cashing a cheque for a customer of another Branch’. The GM said, ‘Well there is one manager here who lives in a Holiday Resort. He cashes more cheques than this roomful of people put together. I’m sure he doesn’t have any trouble, so I will ask him’. I was wide awake in a flash when the spot light pointed at me. I said, ‘I now know why you are our GM’. ‘There is no perfect system. Most people are honest, and their mode of dress counts for nothing. I once knew a Multi millionaire who dressed appallingly, and even tied up his pants with binder twine’. ‘All I required was some identification, and them it actually comes down to personal judgement’.

We moved many times during our married life because of the demands of my employment, this has meant our living in cities, as well as small country towns. We have been lucky too with our neighbours, many of these were never born in New Zealand. These people over the years became firm friends, and they introduced us to their various cultures. How our life was changed and enriched because of these contacts.

My wife and I were both brought up in a small Seaport and Fishing Town. There we lived with a mixture of many ethnic groups, mainly because over the years seamen had jumped their visiting ship, married a local girl and settled down in our area. They were soon completely assimilated to our way of living, and only their names gave them away as new arrivals from outside the normal pool of immigrants.

We also had many Germans living in New Zealand, but during the World War One, they were quick to deflect any connection with anything Germanic. Most if they hadn’t ready done so, quickly ‘Anglicised’ their names. But in a small town you needed a little more than that to go underground. Braun became Brown, Smit became Smith. In a wave of patriotic fever at this time they didn’t stop at family names, even food such as German Sausage became Belgium Sausage, this item remains the same today. It wasn’t even our only locals who were busy making a change. The Royal family were also busy as well, they were too were involved as well in this renaming exercise. Changing from Sax-Coburg to Windsor, for the Queen’s family. Her husband Prince Philip, his family as well changed their names from Battenburg to Mountbatten.

Our initial close contact with a foreign family was with the Chinese. They have been here as long as many of our early arrivals. They stubbornly clung to their traditional way of life and culture, and were only interested in their work and bettering life for their family. My father was a mentor for one local Chinese family who called on his help when they were faced with a situation they couldn’t understand. Their totally different methods of food preparation and cooking slowly rubbed off onto us over time. We were always eager to try new methods of food preparation and presentation. How lucky we were to meet other Chinese later who were just as helpful in teaching us how to cook and eat in the Oriental fashion.

Later after the war and when I had returned from overseas where I experienced many diverse cultures, I had the good fortune then to meet up with a French Family. They didn’t speak any English, and my French was limited to ‘Bon Jour’. However, with the aid of a ‘dictionnair bilingue’ we got by, but to conduct commercial arrangements I required much more. I mentioned this to my wife, she went out and purchased for me a set of French language instruction cassettes. I then took a thirty minute lesson every morning while I performed my daily ablutions. Later when we made a visit to New Caledonia, we were introduced to every other culture that had been, or still was part of the French Colonial Empire. That was Marocain, IndoChina, Algeria, and many others. The common link was their language, but all of their cuisines were different. There I was introduced to Chillies, Wow! what a difference they made to my diet. I once had a Japanese student living with our family for some six months and he too was fond of this hot spice. I was preparing his lunch one morning, busy making sandwiches onto which I was adding generous cold cuts of lamb, with large slithers of hot chilli on top. I inquired as a matter of interest, ‘Has anyone ever stolen your lunch Tetsu?’ Knowing what a surprise awaited anyone not used to eating a chilli when they bit into it. He replied with one word that said it all. ‘Once’.

I can recall one word that spurred me on to learn more about the French language and that was ‘Calihou’. I was on a boat speeding through a reef on the east Coast of New Caledonia where a crew member was pointing and calling out this word from time to time. I inquired what was he saying, and was told ‘rock’. At this time we were about twenty kilometres off shore. While staying at a small village we had been passed around various families of different ethic backgrounds which introduced us to many exciting eating experiences. It was like taking a trip around the world without leaving home.

How things change, I now live in Christchurch and you can now take the same culture trip without leaving Colombo Street. Every block has a different foreign eating establishment, it seems that all our recent immigrants, either open a restaurant or drive a taxi.

We New Zealand folk during year have several Feast and Holidays that we celebrate, the clear favourite for our family is Christmas. We are still clinging to many of these traditions brought by our forbearers from the other side of the world. Yes, we know the seasons are all back to front, but no matter, we have kept up a pretence that it’s Winter time, we reinforce this belief with artificial snow, (A white frosting sold in spray cans). Even the Holly with red berries are plastic, and we consume the wrong food for the season. But the best, by popular vote is the ‘Plum Puddings’. These were made, and fussed over in their preparation some months prior to Christmas. Their production heralded that Christmas would soon be upon us. This celebration item starts off with the search for some unbleached calico, which seems to become harder to locate every year. This is the material the Plum Puddings are cooked in, it is then washed thoroughly, and sterilised. Further, in spite of it’s name there are no plums in this pudding, possibly there were at one time, but this fruit content has now been replaced by mixed dried fruit and a citrus peel. When the ingredients mixed with flour and spices the mixture is bound in the calico, tied tightly, then boiled for hours, with fresh water being added during the process as required. It was a good idea to make yourself absent during the process as it seemed to be a female process only. I forgot to mention that several small silver tokens or coins were always added to the mixture. Some extra were also kept on hand, these were added during carving of the duff, just to ensure that the young folk’s serving was a ‘winner’. Otherwise, boys especially, would keep on eating seconds until they were rewarded by a ‘discovery’. This traditional treat was served hot with a brandy sauce and whipped cream. Left overs were eaten cold with ice cream. Once the Duff had gone through the cooking process it could then be hung in a cool dry place for weeks. Alas today we no longer use silver coins and we are loath to add the cupro-nickel substitutes of today.

The meat served for the main course of the Christmas feast was never turkey, as it is these days. Turkeys just weren’t available in my youth. A goose or leg of lamb was more the norm. Anyway many found the goose too strong and gamely to their taste, but now I know a little more, it had more to do with the age of the bird than any other reason. Some roasted a large fowl, which at the time was a rare treat. Unless you kept chickens for their eggs it was a different story. When a bird went off the lay the unfortunate bird was consigned to the pot then the dinner table. Some who had this access to a regular ‘chicken’ meal, had another problem to deal with. Many times the younger members wouldn’t eat chicken, especially if the family had made pets of the chooks, all were given names. There was no way you were going to encourage the children to eat Mabel, Sarah, or Greta.

This was the time of the year that we also purchased Pork Hams, which was eaten cold after the first day and saw the family through the holiday break including the New Year when salads and cold cuts were the norm. Back then it was very different the way lettuce salads were prepared. Lettuce was sliced very fine, and topped with sliced tomatoes, spring onions, and hard boiled eggs. This mode of presentation never changed. Vinaigrette was unheard off, ‘Foreign Muck’ could often be heard. The lettuce salad however was dressed with a homemade mayonnaise. This was mainly Nestles condensed milk and vinegar, all copied from the recipe on the can of milk.

We loved our Pickles too, these to assist in the enjoyment of our ham. I discovered early that I couldn’t buy the kind of Pickle or Chutney I really liked, hot and savoury, so made my own. I was astounded to discover that both my father and grandfather actually did the same. I have collected recipes over the years to make these condiments, and was looking over the Family note book containing all these recipes of former neighbours and friends, of how to make same. Tom Erickson’s Plum sauce. Mrs Kee’s apricot sauce, both stand out as winners, delicious, much better than anything you can buy.

A ‘Bill’ recently passed by Parliament, namely the ‘Three Strikes’ and you are out, well in this case not out, but in the ‘Slammer’. It has been one of the planks of the ACT Party, and probably the main reason why they were elected. The principal of this bill is. ‘Committing a serious crime for the third time, you will not receive the minimum penalty for your crime’ This it would seem has been the practice in the past, now you can expect the maximum. To reach this stage you are either a slow learner, or a habitual criminal. As I said, you can now expect to receive the full force of the law, as well you won’t be getting any second, third, or forth chance. As well there will be no meddling to the sentence by the Judiciary. Naturally there has been an outcry from the liberal side of our population, as well from the lawyers who make a living from our criminal’s activities, which is to be expected. But when you think about it, everyone who cares, wants these criminals off the streets. There has been an recent outcry by the populace to reinforce the thinking of the people over the sentencing by Justice Potter of a young villain. Only two years nine months what was in most minds an act akin to murder. The perpetrator knocked down a high achieving fellow Maori, then deliberately kicked him in the head resulting in the victim’s death. He had initially denied the charge of what he had done. until camera footage of the incident was shown to the court. The feral then changed his plea.

Many people today who live in the leafy suburbs, have a different attitude towards crime. There is not much criminal activity in their immediate area, the closest that some of these folk get to crime, is when read about it in their Newspaper or see a report on the TV news. Make a visit to some of Auckland’s Western suburbs, say Mangere, well there it’s different. There you will find all you want to know about criminal activity. Shop windows and doors, covered with strong roller doors and iron bars. That says it all. Everyone of our big cities have similar areas, but not on such a scale.

I know also that in Christchurch, the central zone bounded by the four Avenues, is deemed a high crime area. Some of the Insurance Companies even go so far as to impose a burglary levy on properties within this area. I know why too. Most of our thieves are a lazy bunch of petty criminals. They tend not to walk very far from the town centre where they hang out. As well they also know that there are a large number of empty flats within the stated boundary, their occupants are all away at work most week days. So there is easy money there for the picking. My daughter lived just outside this area, but she still wasn’t safe. Over a short period she was burgled four times. It’s not what they take, which is mostly small items, which are easily turned into money, cash, and cigarettes. Sometimes they do more damage by just breaking in. It would seem that’s it’s impossible to keep these vermin out, but they do respect alarms. They are a dangerous bunch too, it’s not a good scene should they become cornered. On one occasion my daughter discovered that they had opened her front door to give them another easy avenue of escape, as well, they had laid out some carving knives on the table as weapons, should they be required. Ringing the Police most times you don’t exactly get an immediately response. They are far too busy trying to catch speeding motorists. It’s hard to justify this time wasting allocation of resources. This work just as easy be done by a camera. The importance of your call depends on who has been burgled. if it’s you that’s been burgled of course it’s important, and you want a immediate response

Our Maori population is over represented in the criminal activities, their leaders and family are to blame. They are more interested in teaching their kids the Haka, which is ‘in you face aggression’. This group have a poor record in encouraging their children to take advantage of the education being offered, preferring to send them to full Maori ‘Emersion Schools’ which prepares them for failure, as there is no Maori spoken outside New Zealand, and very little within. They would be suitable to make notices for libraries and other public buildings, which infested with ‘notice’ information which nobody understands. They should take a leaf out of the Chinese book, this group ensure their children get the best start in life with every succeeding generation, ensuring that their children get a leg up, and the best chance of a good job in the future. Those Chinese who wish to speak Mandarin or Cantonese, classes are held outside school hours. Half the world speaks Chinese so it’s of very a practical use.