| Student Writing: |
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Gone Fishing
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Every year before Christmas my mother takes me up to my auntie Coleen and Uncle’s Lex place in Parakai.
It’s a great family get together, aunties, uncles, nephews and nieces. We are going fishing! My mother charters a fishing boat with a skipper and off we go!
The rules on the boat are: if you only catch small fish then you throw them back in, but if it’s big you get to keep it. I generally catch a few tiddlers and sure enough if I’m patient I’ll catch a big one. There’s a kitchen hand on the boat so if you get hungry or thirsty she will always make you a cool drink or a sandwich.
Once we have a small collection of fish, we have to chop their heads off, slice them in half and put them on ice to keep fresh. All the blasted seagulls hover over us looking for scraps and they make such a racket. When we get back to my mother’s house she puts them in the freezer. I love going fishing with mum and if we are together on a Saturday we will always watch “Gone Fishing” on the television.
If you haven’t tried fishing then I can safely say you’re missing out!
We won $15 and a medal for the biggest fish!
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| What it means to me |
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Yes I’m talking about my Adult Literacy Class.
Even though I am unable to get here as often as I would like, this class helps me not only increase my learning skills, but it gives me a place to escape to and feel like a normal person again.
It gives me the opportunity to be around younger people. It gives me an opportunity to place other things in my mind, instead of the constant worries that always seem to fill it. I take home my homework, and get to lose myself in my words and numbers.
It’s fun. It gives me an interest. It increases my knowledge. It helps me survive.
Thank you my Adult Literacy Class – you rock!
By Sheryl Evans
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| Unknown Century |
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I have come from a very big family that is made up of four brothers, four sisters, mother, father and grandmother all living in the same house. I had the most wonderful time being with my siblings. My father passed away when I was seventeen years old.
Then a war took place between Iraq and Iran and all the young beautiful men went to war. It was horrible because you had some religions fighting each other because of America’s welfare.
One of those beautiful men was my brother Zamman and he was caught and was made a prisoner of war for nine years. I last saw him in 1982. When he had returned in 1991 I had already left my country by then.
When Zamman got back to Iraq he got married and started a business and a new family and he had a wonderful life with them.
When America had sanctions against Iraq the locals became hostile because there was little food and everyone was poor, so there were fierce murderers on the streets along with looters. So a group of thieves entered my brother Zamman’s shop, and they shot him four times and stole all the gold and the money from the shop. No one heard the incident because the gun had a silencer, but one of his customers came in and saw him in a pool of blood and alerted the ambulance and he was taken to hospital to remove the bullets.
They managed to get three out and one was left in his neck. Doctors advised him to have the operation outside of Iraq because the area of the neck was too risky for the doctors to operate on with not having enough technologies.
It was too late because the US-led invasion was just about to take place, and when the troops went in they bombed the hospital he was at and he was killed.
So all my family have now separated all over the world. This is what they call the American democracy they tell us they have on offer.
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| Getting a Job at the Races |
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On Wednesday I went to the racecourse at Trentham. I went to talk to the top chef. I gave the top chef my CV and asked him for work.
He said, “Yes. Come back at 10 o’clock.”
I felt nervous. I went back at 10 o’clock. He got me to try on the chef’s top and trousers. I felt a spooner because they were too big. He sent me down to the store with the other chef to get a smaller size.
They showed me around. I started work straight away. I had to show the chef how safe I was with the knives. He was pleased! I helped the chef do the garnishes. I worked all day from 10.00am -7.00pm. I felt proud of myself! He told me to come back the next day.
I went back for the next two days. I earned some money and felt like a new person. I really enjoyed my time working at the races. He said he would get in touch with me next time if anything comes up.
Look out for the next instalment!!! Gordon Ramsay!!!
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| Our Road Trip to Waiouru (in memory of my Mum and Richard) |
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We started our journey in Lower Hutt after picking up my Mum and my sister Debbie.
We were soon off on a day trip to the Waiouru Army War museum. After leaving Lower Hutt we made our way over the Rimutaka Hill through Featherston on to Pahiatua where we stopped for a picnic lunch at the memorial that was built for the Polish orphan children in World War Two.
After lunch we travelled on to Woodville and on through the Manawatu Gorge to Ashhurst. This is where the fun started as Richard, our diver, got us well and truly lost. The tar seal road soon ran out and we ended up on a windy, metal road that we shared with a flock of about 1,000 sheep.
Several hours and a broken window screen later we eventually came out at Taihape. We continued on and finally arrived at Waiouru after asking a farmer for directions. This journey normally takes three hours, but took us six hours!
It was an enjoyable trip and we saw some lovely countryside along the way. All in all it was worth getting lost. This was a special trip for all of us as a family as it was the last trip we had with my mum who passed away a few months later.
Janice Hopkins
While working on this story in memory of my mum, my husband Richard suddenly and unexpectedly passed away. I will remember this trip with fond memories of them both.
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| A Letter to Home... |
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Dear Mum and Dad
It’s been a long time since we’ve seen each other. There have been big changes in my life since that time and I would like to talk to you about them all. We’ve moved a few times and we are now back where we started from, living with Uncle Fred. Moving house is a pain in the bum and we hope we can stay here for a year or two. The only good thing about moving is that you get rid of junk.
We have a new baby. Our second daughter is now three weeks old and has heaps of black hair and looks a lot like me. She’s a pretty good baby and she sleeps well at night. We’ve named her Erin, and she was born on 20th June at home. Mary always wants to cuddle her and lifts her top up and tries to breast feed her. We laugh at her when she does that.
We have found that Mary is a water rat, so we enrolled her for swimming lessons. She goes twice a week and makes a song and dance when she is asked to get out of the pool. We are thinking of sending her to kindy in the summer.
And this is the big news! The bravest thing I have done in my life so far is to get help for reading and writing. I made a phone call and was given a tutor in April 2008. We have been working hard together and now I buy the paper every night on the way home from work. I also read books. I get lost in the story and it makes me feel good. As you know I have always wanted to be a policeman and I plan to apply at Christmas. I’m sick to death with my boring job and can’t wait to move on. In September I hope to do a pre-police training course full time at the Polytechnic. Now that we live with Uncle Fred, we can afford for me to do that. It is also a good place for my family to be while I am away at Police College.
Heaps of things have changed now that I can read and write. For example I can now fill out forms anywhere I go, so taking Mary to A and E when she has an asthma attack is no problem. Having the ability to read helps heaps at work too. It has given me loads of confidence and I am proud of myself.
My tutor has just arrived so I must close now.
Love you guys heaps and miss you heaps too.
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| I left School at 12... What Now? |
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What a privilege and opportunity it is to be able to share with other people who are thinking of up-skilling, or wanting to improve their knowledge for a bigger, better, brighter future.
Firstly, a little insight into my background. Due to a dysfunctional family environment, and the death of my mother, I left school at the age of twelve. This meant I missed out on a great majority of my early education. The pressure of my family environment had become too much and I ran away from home. I drifted from place to place, picking up any labouring jobs I could.
My life began to spiral out of control until the age of eighteen. It was then that I entered into a relationship and became pregnant with my first child. That’s when the cold hard reality of life started to hit home. I suddenly had a decision to make as a parent, and an individual, to become a good role model.
By the time I turned twenty-four we had four children. I wanted the best for my children, as many parents do, and I knew that I would become a major influence in their lives. Education suddenly became very important and little by little reading, writing and spelling became an important skill that I needed.
Family life changed around the time my youngest child was six years old and I became a single parent. It became clear that to be able to move forward and create a better future for my children I needed to make changes that would lead to bigger and wider choices for them.
Parenting courses, self help groups and education, became a big part of my life and have helped to influence who I am today. Raising the children and working in retail stores I began to learn new skills. Due to work requirements like invoicing and ordering, I realised that the basic understanding of spelling, reading and writing had become very important for my future goals.
I was given a brochure about a place that could possibly help with the struggles of learning and understanding I had lived with. Literacy Waikato has opened doors of possibility thinking. The experiences, lessons and learning have given me the confidence to achieve and strive towards a future of opportunities.
I am fortunate to be able to take my new skills and understanding in this area and apply them in my work, which is required within my new role of ‘Store Manager’.
It is my intention and future plan to share the whole concept of what Literacy Waikato is all about and the value of being an adult student with others. No matter who you are, where you’re at, or the level of help you need they are able to help. There are no barriers. Every student is valued and respected for whatever reason they are there for. Every person from Literacy Waikato, gives their time and wealth of knowledge to all students.
The whole environment is a positive place to be in. From the moment I walk in we are greeted with a warm welcome. During our lessons, if time is available other tutors offer their time and help in their field of teaching. How lucky we are, our learning experience is made as comfortable and accommodating as possible. This helps students to not only learn, but enjoy the whole experience.
I can honestly say that this journey is an awesome experience. Thank you everyone and all the very best to Literacy Waikato.
Never to be forgotten
Barb
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| Tell Someone Who Cares |
Juggernaut |
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I haven’t always been glad.
Sometimes I’ve been sad,
So sad it’s driven me insane.
I would howl at the stars,
With emotional scars,
Yes, sometimes wishing I was dead.
A reason to be
Is so hard to see
When darkness covers your sight.
You’re at home on your own
Feeling alone
Each and every night.
This pain will end -
Have faith my friend -
Light the light that is within.
For when the light’s bright
It drives out the night
And you’ll find a new day begins.
Don’t worry, don’t frown
As you travel through town
A bad day seems never to end.
But if you grin
Like you have just sinned
Don’t be surprised if you make new friends.
The light in your eyes
It hides no lies
It shows you’re well on the mend.
If you’re stuck in the house,
Then surf the net with your mouse.
Write a letter to your family and click send.
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Three tons of steel, plastic rubber and glass.
Can’t take the bend ‘cause it’s going too fast.
Every corner, lamp-posts stand out like masts,
Wire rigging, like a ship from the past.
Another white cross is placed on a fence.
A message for all who have any sense.
Don’t drive too fast or you’ll end up past-tense.
Remembered by tears and sticks of incense.
I’ve walked away from a crash, I recall.
Crashing my truck, into a concrete wall.
When I think of it now, I was such a fool.
Lucky to have walked away from it at all.
Older and wiser, I now have slowed down,
And count white crosses pegged into the ground.
People going faster yell, “YOU OLD F’’N CLOWN!”
But death waits at corners, you can’t get round. |
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| Disenfranchised |
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Hiding in the mountains there is a little pub.
I thought I’d drop in and have a few suds.
At the end of the bar I saw a pathetic-looking man,
Hunched over the counter clutching a beer in his hand.
I offered my name as a way to greet -
Getting a response was like pulling out teeth.
Not being put off I pulled up a seat,
Ordered a beer and waited for him to speak.
This is the tale the old man told.
More of a horror, it made blood run cold.
He leaned in close and his voice was quite hoarse.
It was about his wife, his life, and his divorce.
These stories I know always have two sides -
Both of them claiming the other one lied.
This one was different-he didn’t offer proof.
The way he told it, it had a ring of truth.
“I smoke and I drink and was never at home.
She was unfaithful ‘cause she was always alone.
Hid away money in her own bank account
For quite a few months before she threw me out.
How did that happen? I was in a hospital bed,
Double pneumonia and feeling near dead.
My wife came and visited as a matter of course
The words out of her mouth were, “I want a divorce.”
What do you say to a man twice your age?
I’ll admit that despair comes just after rage.
Trying to think as I looked down and around,
This is what I said when I looked up with a frown.
“My father left when I was just a lad.
When I got older I went looking for my dad.
Finally we met again and tried to make amends,
Honestly, when he died, we were best of friends.”
I advised, “Write a letter every Christmas
Put it in an envelope and seal it with a kiss.
Go to the store and buy a glory box.
If you’re inclined, put on sturdy locks.
Fill it up with nice little gifts,
Thinking of children that you really miss.
Don’t worry that they don’t get them here today -
Your children will come back looking one day.
Honestly, face it, you might not be around.
The way you’re drinking you’ll soon be underground.
As long as you remember the envelope and key.
Put it in a trust with your attorney.
Do you know what I’d think if I opened that box?
That mum lied to me. That you never forgot.”
The old man looked at me with quite a surprise,
“How did the young suddenly become so wise?”
I remember that day now while here with a crowd.
Best man is beside me looking real proud.
My instincts tell me to run far and hide,
While the organist plays, “Here comes the bride.”
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| Living with an Abusive Partner |
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Hi my name is Kia Kaha (This is a pseudonym name). I live in Heke Street. I have lived here for 30 years. I was happily married, with 7 children, lost a set of twins, which turned my world upside down, so I started drinking ’n’ smoking cigarettes which I thought was cool, this was going to help me ease the pain. My kids watching me, what’s going through their minds, anyway you know how they talk about abuse, the hitting, punching etc. 20 years of my life was wasted living in that dark side and waking up see the light. Go to the bathroom, oh my gosh, what a mess again. Cut lip, so ugly, too sore to do anything. Can’t go anywhere, looking like a bruised black plum.
He was an angry husband. So I thought, new day, wake up and smell the roses. For myself and my kids, who comes first, the abuser or you and the kids? It was time for me to stand up and take aim, so that is what I did. I will tell you of the last happening.
Off he goes to the pub, time to get the kids out to my sister down the road. Time to cook him some food to eat, still over the stove, oh no here he comes, swearing. Yes, it’s nearly cooked, both standing at the stove, the swearing. Next thing I find myself gasping for air, stop I try and yell, at the same time I have enough energy to grab hold of the fry pan. I did it. Hot food and hot fry pan, with one hard kick. I was gone to where my kids were, at my sister’s house. Three days later I had to go home, wow what a mess. Where was he? Gone. Wow what a mess, my sister was so angry. What’s been going on here? I thought I’d told her. So me, my kids, and my sisters cleaned up the house and everywhere else, got my windows fixed. Yes it looks like a house. As we were on the last of the cleaning, the kids are yelling, Mum the police are here.
They wanted to know what happened, they had told me that he had gone to the police station in Whangarei to give himself up. Oh, so he should, my sister says. Anyway he ended up in court, did 9 months in jail, which was the best break I needed. Me and my kids lived in happiness, freedom. Until he came out. I accepted his apology and so did the kids. So he had learnt a thing or two while he was away for that 9 months. We ended up going to church with my sons.
Three months later his mum came over from the Islands to stay. I ended up helping her get her ‘resident’s’ to stay in NZ. I was not going to let her go. Yes, one month later it came. She was so happy that she got her ‘resident’s’ to stay here with us, for old me. She was the only one that could talk to her son. And it did work. It was every day work, then home for him. No beer for him. He was without alcohol for so long. But then he became a better person for me, our kids, and his mum. So I ended up going out to look for a job for me. So I was lucky, because I got in on the shut down, at Marsden Point. That job lasted for 3 months. But me and 2 other girls got to stay on. After being there for 2 years I ended my job, to be a mum again.
So everything was going well, me expecting, him going to work, kids getting big and enjoying every moment with their nani. Until he ended up going out one night and never came back till the next day. And man, did he get into trouble with his mum. He got the broom ’cross his back. But sadly, 4 years later his mum passed away.
But by then everything had changed; the lifestyle, the kids were getting older. We were getting on. But now life is good, kids got their own kids, I just love it. He is still working. We both go out together now. I was working, until I ended up in hospital with a stroke, which set me back quite bad. But hey; I thought, don’t let it get to you. I am still a bit slow, my hearing is a bit poor, so is my eyesight, but I’m doing just fine sitting here in my chair learning computers. And it’s just so cool. So look ahead and don’t linger in the past. I thought it was too late for me. But it’s not. We are all a close family. Shame it took all the bashing, the smashing, the breaking of windows, the mess, crying, yelling, screaming and the rest to finally have a happy family. Be 31 years this April we have been married, and we have 10 grandchildren. It’s just so great walking with the mokos to the bus stop. Listening to them tell one another their own stories. It’s just so great.
COME OUT OF THE DARK AND INTO THE LIGHT. To end my worst fear; I have conquered it.
KA KITE ANO.
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| The Great T.A.B. Train Robbery |
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A spluttering, smothered KABOOM of an explosion sent me jumping out of my blankets and hanging onto the window ledge alongside my bed. I tried to rub away the sleep from my eyes and clear the foggy mist that seemed to be outside my window as I stared across the drive. Pound and ten shilling notes drifted through the dark mist, swirled up and down between the drive and bird aviaries and drifted into the Long Swamp as the breeze carried them off.
I sat up on my knees, still gripping the window ledge, staring out into the night, wondering what had happened. Dad had raced outside through the door beside my room. My huge dog Dusty, the guard dog of Mum and Dad’s tearooms was barking and snarling at the end of his chain. Dad let him go. I know he got someone, as he returned to dad with a bloody piece of pants leg and we heard a car screeching away, south along State Highway One.
Then I realised it was smoke, not fog, from the smell, and that I couldn’t see the back of the T.A.B. which was across the drive from my window. I was off the bed and outside like a shot, to check out what had happened. Dad came back through the smoke motes and dust, yelling at me to get back to bed, and to tell Mum to ring the police. The T.A.B. had been robbed. I raced back inside, yelling to Mum to do what he had told me. As she rushed to the phone I slid out the back door again and onto the drive, keeping to the shadows and the long grass, watching as other people from around the village came running to the T.A.B.
Pound and ten shilling notes were drifting down and landing all around me. What was that saying? Finders keepers. I started to pick notes up. By this time a crowd of neighbours had gathered around the back wall of the T.A.B. and as the smoke was clearing I could see that half the back wall was gone. I couldn’t see inside as there were too many people in the way. Dad had cordoned off the area, so people started picking up money from the road, the drive, around the bird aviaries and amongst the long grass of the swamp. I was gathering them as well.
That night seemed surreal. Torch beams cut tracks through the low-lying smoke and dust that was slowly clearing. I got my dog and tied him up so he wouldn’t bite anyone and wandered around the back, with handfuls of money piled in the front of my pyjamas. I saw dad and the police from Huntly checking things out. I waited on the back porch, watching all the excitement going on, with my pile of money stacked beside me. Finally my eyes started to betray me by sneaking shut as I leant against the wall. The wet dew which had covered my pyjamas let the cold seep in, so I stumbled off to bed with dreams in my head of the pony I would buy with all the money I had found and so carefully stacked on the porch.
When I awoke I jumped out of bed and raced to check that my saved money was still there and that it wasn’t a dream. As I rushed out to the porch I could see there was NO MONEY! It was all gone. Had it been a dream? But no, there were sheets of iron nailed over the huge hole on the back wall of the T.A.B. and all the long grass was trampled. I went to the kitchen where Dad would be having his cuppa. "Where’s my money?" I asked. "Your money?" he replied. "That was not your money. It belongs to the T.A.B.” “NO!" I cried. My dream of a pony was drifting away just as the smoke had the night before. "I found it in the grass and along the drive", I said. “So it’s mine.” When my little sister had found a five-pound note in the drive a few months before she had got to keep it. So how come what I collected was not mine? “The money wasn’t lost”, Dad explained. It turned out that the robbers had put too many explosives around the safe door and had blown the safe out the back wall.
For picking such a lot of the money up and stacking it so well I was given a pound to go into my bank account. Definitely not enough to buy a pony! I often wondered how many other people returned their piles to the police or T.A.B. One will never know.
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| A Way of Thinking |
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A way of thinking? Just like you are what you eat, you are what you think. It’s a funny old saying, you are what you eat. It's all about creating good habits that you will use to benefit you for the rest of your life. Yes I'm writing about the first real look at myself in the mirror, and asking myself some really hard questions.
I had to make a decision to live or to die.
My story starts off three years ago when I hit rock bottom. I didn't know what was wrong, I just felt like shit. I felt like a bit of old rotten wood being pummeled down the dirty swollen river of life - all the ups and downs, twists and turns of its angry, quickening out of control torrent. At that stage of my life that’s how I saw things. All dark grey and no light at the end of the tunnel. One day I woke up and couldn't get out of bed, my mental had caught up with my physical. My way of thinking had got so bad that my body just gave up. I was this thing that people called depressed. What’s that?
Mental illness, what’s that?
I wasn't seeing things I should be seeing…… and hearing things I should have been hearing…….. so how could I be mentally ill? All these questions I was asking myself and I didn't know where to start. The first thing I had to do was to admit to myself that I was sick. Yes, sick, and I had no choice in the matter. The second was that being sick meant I could get better. I didn't know how I was going to or if I could.
I found that looking at the time leading up to ground zero (rock bottom) was a good start. I looked at the events, the way I felt and the way I handled them. I came to the conclusion that my motivation to do things was anger. I had to be the best, or come first in everything. If I didn't I would beat myself up emotionally, calling myself ‘stupid’ or ‘hopeless’. This is OK now and then, but not all the time. Over a long time this way of thinking can become a habit, a bad habit, and like all bad habits very hard to break.
I found that I didn’t get depressed overnight, that I got depressed over a long period of time. Lots of little things happen, and before you can see the red flags (warning signs) you have formed bad habits.
People have asked me what depression feels like.
I say, “Have you ever lost someone that you are close to?”
They say, “Yes”.
I ask, “Could you stop the sadness - the mourning?”
And they say, “No”.
Well that’s depression in my opinion, a never ending sadness, a way of thinking, a habit, a bad habit. But looking back I know that this way of thinking was a bad habit……. and like all bad habits can be broken, just like a person going straight after being on drugs and alcohol, filled with feelings of mistrust and emptiness. It’s funny writing about drugs and alcohol and how these things affect the way you feel and handle things. If you have too much of either you can get addicted. Addicted to the way it makes you feel and think, which can end up making you feel depressed.
I found that my thought patterns had got to the stage where it was affecting everything that I did. My mind would drift off and I would start thinking about bad things and about stuff that hadn't even happened.
On the road to recovery I found that it was one day at a time. I went to the doctor and the doctor put me on anti-depressants (Prozac).
These drugs that the doc put me on knocked me for a six. I could see how they worked, you couldn't drift off thinking about bad things because you forgot. I found that I would start something, forget what I was doing and move onto something else, and move onto another thing… later finding the first thing that I started and finishing it.
I found that I needed to break these bad habits. I started putting things into place. Every time I started thinking about bad things I would try and think of happy things. This became a good habit. I had to make plans and goals to achieve and over time this became a good habit too.
Some of the most important things for recovery I found are to eat well and make sure that you have enough sleep - eight hours at least. You shouldn’t be ashamed of being depressed and you should find someone to talk to about it - counsellor, family or friend.
So in a nut shell, it’s all about retraining yourself, it’s about turning bad habits into good habits.
By Simon Bradley.
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