Adventures in Paradise Volume 2 #29

Kia ora! Our excellent adventure continues with some thoughts on whistles, wandering sheep and what it means to be a good shepherd. Several weeks ago, a friend gave Ward a tiny gift. This gift has proven to be the source of a huge lesson, and in the process, it has become the focus of this weeks blog. This is a shepherd’s whistle. This little innocuous looking piece of tin is invaluable to the New Zealand shepherd. It is remarkable in its simplicity while at the same time offering its owner infinite possibilities. It is a director, a communicator and often, literally, a life saver.  

 

This whistle is used by the shepherd to communicate with his shepherding dogs. Each dog has its own distinct set of whistles that only he recognizes. By maneuvering the whistle in his mouth, the shepherd can tell each dog, individually, to turn right or turn left. Those distinct sounds can tell each dog whether to go forward or backwards; whether to stop, start, or go up hill. This communication between a man and his dogs takes time to develop and it requires great patience in the process. The human must learn to maneuver his mouth and that small piece of tin so that a myriad of sounds is produced and the dog must be taught to focus so well that he can selectively hear only those whistles meant for him personally. The end result is that one man or shepherd, can with the help of his dogs, have complete command over a great number of sheep.

 It has been fascinating to observe how one shepherd and three or four dogs are able to direct whole herds of sheep. We observed, spell-bound as this scene unfolded in front of us one day as we were caught in a “sheep jam” on our way to Wairoa. There were about two hundred head of sheep blocking the road, and as we watched, we could also hear the shepherd, whistling for his dogs. Those well-trained dogs reacted to their instructions and that mass of sheep was turned as if of one mind and the whole lot of them was herded into a roadside paddock in a matter of moments. It was fascinating and as we passed, we spoke to the shepherd, who showed us that he keeps that whistle tucked into the side of his cheek for handy access at all times!

As the shepherd observes and directs from a distance, he is also able to discern whether any lamb has strayed. An important lesson to be learned here is that the shepherd does not whistle for the lamb to come home, he whistles for the dog who has the ability to rescue. The lamb doesn’t know that he is lost but the shepherd does. The shepherd relies on others to help find his sheep. He relies on those who have learned to listen to his direction. The dog has learned to listen so that when prompted, he can do what the shepherd asks him to do. His job is to bring the lost sheep home.

In a country where there are only four million people, and over forty million sheep, one could be forgiven the thought that the loss of a lamb or two wouldn’t matter in the grand scheme of things. But loss does matter and how would one go about choosing which lamb to lose? As parents, we understand this concept and we can appreciate how the shepherd views his flock and how he seeks to avoid loss at any cost.

Three weeks ago, fifty sheep arrived in our paddock. The land is leased out to the owner of these animals so that they can graze and be well-fed during the winter. We are aware that some of our new friends are destined for motherhood next spring and we are waiting anxiously to see what that August will bring. In the meantime, we have been given a charge to be watchful. We were asked to notify the owner should any lamb seem to be in distress. Now, I will readily admit that I have absolutely no experience with livestock and I am depending on Nephi-raised Ward to take the lead in this. But the reality is that we now feel the responsibility for watching over these sheep and we don’t want to lose even one of them. I have already grown quite attached to several of our wooly friends and at the moment am particularly concerned about two who are lame. I watch with tenderness as those two sheep hobble from one part of the pasture to another as they try to keep up with the flock. I can’t bear the thought of waking up one morning and finding that one of them is missing and I am imagining how our Heavenly Father feels about all of us down here on earth, so far away from home.

I suppose that you could say that Ward and I as well thousands of others like us, are listening to the promptings of the Shepherd as we are working hard to help find His sheep. We have learned to listen and to be grateful for those quiet directions that come specifically to us that help us to know where to look.

As always, we are happy and trying to work hard. We are so glad that you are not lost to us and that we always know where to find you. Thank you for just being “Ewe” and know that we think of you often.

Love, Ward and Susan    Elder and Sister Belliston, serving in Gisborne, New Zealand

 

 

Our sheep on a frosty morning

 

 

Breakfast is served!

 

I think my friends are warmer than I am since they are all wearing wool!

Adventures in Paradise Volume 2 #28

Kia ora! Our excellent adventure continues with some thoughts concerning creativity and the ability to make others smile. Several blogs ago, I mentioned our friend, Samantha, who is blind. You may remember that we were touched when she said that she was grateful for her “disability” as it prevented her from seeing all that was ugly in the world. Although I would not have argued that point with her, I find myself being grateful for the inventivness and creativity of my fellow human beings. I am grateful that I possess the ability to visually appreciate so much of what is around me. There is an added bonus for me, personally, when what I see also makes me smile.

Having said that, I would like to invite you to accompany me on a visit to my favorite little place in New Zealand. Tirau is a small town of just under seven-hundred people. For years, it was only a stop for travelers who were on their way to somewhere else. That was, until the Clothier family decided to invest in a little property and establish some roots.  When the Clothiers arrived in the early 1990s (doesn’t’ that seem like very recent history?) the largest employer as well as the main reason for visiting Tirau was the corrugated steel works. In fact, that single business made Tirau the corrugated iron capital of New Zealand.  It was an impressive title, but a very unimpressive spot on the map. The town, according to Steven Clothier, seemed drab and unhappy in its circumstances. Did I mention that Steven is an artist and is known for creating works of art out less than typical materials?

Steven Clothiers bright idea was to take advantage of the endless supply of scrap corrugated steel that resulted from the iron works. In others eras, especially in Europe, a tradesman would advertise his goods by hanging over the door of his shop a larger-than-life replica of what he was selling. In that manner, one was able to see from a distance just what that particular shop was tendering. You may recall seeing sepia photographs of huge spectacles handing over an optomotrists establishment, or  some sort of food item swinging from chains over a restaurant or diner. Those creations have given way to a host of neon and garishly lighted facades, but Steven decided to turn back the clock and revive the lost art of advertising by use of eye-catching displays. It was a brilliant idea and in the rendering of that idea, the artist has created a booming tourist Mecca. It is creativity at its whimsical best and guaranteed to leave one smiling. It is perfection in corrugated steel. So rather than go into more raptourous declarations, I would simply like to invite you along on one of my strolls through my new favorite guilty pleasure. In a world where there is often too little to smile about, I would like to welcome you to Tirau, New Zealand! Please feel free to linger when and where ever you like. Soak up the ambiance and no fair keeping a straight face!

As always, we are happy and trying to work hard. We are grateful for the opportunities in life that leave us smiling and acknowledge that often those smiles come as a direct result of having been in contact with you. Thank you for sharing your creativity with us over the years and in the coming days, if there is something that tickles your funny bone, think of us.

Love, Ward and Susan   Elder and Sister Belliston, serving in Gisborne, New Zealand

Welcome to the information center where they might tell you that the town is going to the dogs!

 

The Big Sheep Wool Company where the prices aren't Baaad. (sorry about that one!)

 

The name of this store is of course,"Poppys"

 

This shop gave me "goose bumps"

 

And take a gander at this one!

 

 

I wonder if they have those shoes is a size 8?

 

This wall "leaves" me very impressed

 

New Zealanders actually eat more ice cream per capita than do we in Utah. Hard to believe but true. This is the Kiwi version of the revolving double scoop at Snelgroves!

 

Mr. Licorice outside the candy store looks good enough to eat!

 

This lends a new meaning to the term compact car. I'll bet the gas mileage is cut in half!

 

Bargain hunters can turn into such animals! But the prices were right in this op-shop.

 

 

This is literally a pie-in-the-sky

 

My friends know that I have always said that I will never eat at any place where there is an animal on the roof. I may have to make an exception in this case!

 

 

I hope you loved your visit to Tirau as much as I loved showing you!

Ka kite, and see you next week!

 

Adventures in Paradise Volume 2 #27

Kia ora! Our excellent adventure continues with some thoughts on appreciating the sacrifices of others. This is the blog that I had designs on posting last week, but we were very busy and rather than quickly tossing off my weekly message, I decided to wait until I could give this subject the attention and respect that I believe it deserves. As I have been pondering on how best to relate the events of two weeks ago, my father and his wartime sacrifices has been in the forefront of my thoughts. Perhaps someone you know may elicit the same response. For our adopted country it has been a month of memories centering on courage, loss and lessons learned.

April 25 marks the commemoration of Anzak day. This year was the one- hundredth anniversary of the battle of Gallipoli. Combined Australian and New Zealand forces (hence the acronym Anzac) suffered greatly as they fought against the Ottoman Empire during the first- world war. Originally this day was intended to honor those gallant men who, beginning on April 25^th, 1915, while heavily outnumbered, continued to behave heroically in the face of staggering losses. In later years, this day of remembrance was expanded to include all Australians and New Zealanders who served and died in all wars, conflicts, and peacekeeping operations. The focus is to remember and appreciate the contributions and suffering of all those who have served.

While I am aware that we in the United States, have opportunities to remember and reverence our service members, I will admit to being totally in awe of the scope and breadth of the Anzak ceremonies. In almost every community in New Zealand, plans were laid for day-long observances. We were aware that Australia’s plans were moving along in the same direction, while in Gallipoli, the town was bracing for a surge of visitors and dignitaries that would most probably double its population. Many veterans and their families booked passage on cruise ships which would sit off the coast so that those on board could view the services from the decks. Under the circumstances, it would be difficult not to become caught up in the emotions that were permeating the atmosphere. For days before the actual date, it seemed that the entire population of Gisborne was wearing the red poppy that stands as a symbol for all war dead. It was a powerful visual reminder of the ultimate sacrifice made by so many in the face of oppression.

In an interesting side note, the war memorial honoring the soldiers who lost their lives at Gallipoli, was severely damaged by the earthquake of 2007.  The nine-foot statue of a soldier standing at rest which had stood on top of the cenotaph, rotated during the tremors and when the ground stopped moving, citizens were amazed to see that the soldier was no longer facing the river. He was now gazing across the harbor at Kaiti Hill! Because of the concern that he might actually topple from his perch, the serviceman was removed during repairs and was only returned to his original position a few days before Anzak day.

In the days and weeks before the commemoration, we learned much more than most of us wanted to know about the hell that is war. Newspapers were filled with interviews and old clippings from men and women who had seen first-hand what it was like to live in muddy trenches and fox holes. On TV, there was endless jumpy footage of actual conditions during the siege. The lack of sanitation, disgusting food, and sickness that ran rampant was displayed in horrifying detail. For the first time, I realized that being shot while in combat was often considered a blessing when compared to the spectre of living in inhumane conditions for days and weeks at a time. The specifics of the conditions that these heroes endured is beyond description, and now , I have gained insight into what my father, serving in the Pacific Theater in World War Two, must have suffered through as well. I had a clearer sense of why so many have said so little about their experiences in combat. I can now better understand why my father changed the subject when I would question him about his “adventures” during the war. As a young person, I thought that there was a tinge of romance associated with a handsome soldier in a crisp uniform going off to a war in a foreign land. I now know better.

April 25^{th  2015}  was a solemn day. There were no fireworks, no floats and no marching bands, although there were bagpipers. The predawn parade consisted of men in wheelchairs and other elderly participants who proudly wore their service uniforms. There were children and grandchildren of deceased soldiers who also proudly wore the medals that had often been awarded posthumously to family members. Many citizens were carrying framed photos of loved ones pictured in uniform and nurses from the local hospital marched in unison while wearing the traditional red cape of a service nurse. In the dark, the parade followed by the onlookers ,walked silently across the bridge towards the war memorial cenotaph where prayers, a flag-raising ceremony and a rededication of the momument took place. The Australian and New Zealand national anthems were sung and at the end, we all quietly and I believe, thoughtfully, strolled slowly back across the bridge to face a day of activities all centered around remembering.

I am grateful for the opportunity to have experienced Anzak day with our new friends in Gisborne. We were invited to participate in other observances during the day and we are so grateful for the opportunity to learn and gain greater understanding. The world becomes a much smaller place when you gain an appreciation for the sacrifices of others and when you begin to understand what that ultimate sacrifice meant to the loved ones left at home. I am truly grateful and humbled by what I have learned and experienced here and I won’t forget.

As always, we are happy and trying to work hard. We appreciate the many forms of sacrifice that we see from the people in our lives. We are grateful for the examples that you are to us and we will remember.

Love, Ward and Susan   Elder and Sister Belliston, serving in Gisborne, New Zealand

 

Hundreds  gathered in the predawn darkness to be part of the Anzak ceremony and rededication of the cenotaph at the marina. It was reverent and respectful.

 

 

Local artists created the ceramic poppies that adorned the lawn around the monument. No two were exactly alike, which referenced just how differently and individually people had suffered. 

 

After the ceremony, we all walked quietly back across the bridge as we anticipated what the rest of the day held in store for us.

 

A tribal community meeting place is called a Marae. The building on the right is considered sacred ground and one must be invited to enter by a member of the tribe. Special ceremonies as well as funerals are held here.  Notice that the carvings are very reminiscent of American Indian totem designs. This is the Muriwai Marae and we were honored to be invited to participate.

Veterans and family members of servicemen stand at attention before their march onto the Marae. The commander at left is giving last minute marching orders. As each of these participants entered the Marae grounds, they were given a wreath to lay at a special place inside the building.  

 

 

This distinguished group were the first to be invited onto the Marae. Inside the afternoon passed as touching stories and tributes were shared.

 

 

Eventually we were invited to enter as well and I would not have missed the experience for the world.

 

 

This is an Anzak cookie. It was not love at first taste for me until I was educated on the reason it was invented. Men were starving and missing home at the same time. Local women started baking a "biscuit" that was nutritious and almost indestructible and seemed to stay semi-fresh forever. These cookies have become a tradition in New Zealand and have been part of care packages sent to service personnel since the first-world war. The recipe includes oats, coconut, nuts and butter. Knowing how welcome this cookie would have been to an Australian or Kiwi who was hungry and missing home, I suddenly developed an appreciation for them and I now consider them quite delicious. 

 

The "Anzak" soldier is now standing at rest back where he belongs.

 

And once again he is facing the Gisborne harbor. Welcome home!