Adventures in Paradise volume 2 #38

Kia ora!  Our excellent adventure continues with some thoughts on vocabulary and how the words we use define our culture. I have found it fascinating to learn how some cultures lack words to describe certain experiences with which most of us are familiar. Many cultures, I am finding, also have words that have no equivalent in English. I have found it touching that some of these words and expressions are descriptive of familial relationships.

When we first arrived in the Cook Islands, five years ago, we were faced with strange and confusing terminology. Although our new friends were speaking in English, many of the terms they were using were unfamiliar and confusing to us. They were using words that we easily recognized but their context was unrecognizable. When we first encountered the term “Feeding Mother”, we had no idea what that meant. We started asking questions and soon found that in a country where there are no visible homeless, the terms, “Feeding Mother and “Feeding Father” were descriptive of those who took in children without legally adopting them. These men and women would feed, clothe and shelter young people, often until they reached adulthood. There was never a formal agreement or any compensation; it was just the way it was. In the Polynesian culture, there is always room for one (or several) more. No one needs to be without a home. In the Maori language, there is no word for legal adoption.  

When we arrived in New Zealand, we were struck that many Maori words were used in conjunction with English. We find it a charming mix of two cultures that have learned to live together on two little islands. Even the Chamber of Commerce booklet we were given explaining government services had Maori words intermingled with English and we again found that we needed an interpreter to ascertain proper meanings. This publication, entitled, “Living in Gisborne City”, introduces the reader to Justin and Aroha Gizzy and their Whanau. Having recently learned that Wh has an “F” sound, we realized that the word whanau, was pronounced  “fahnu.” And by reading the booklet, or at least those parts that we understood, we eventually realized that whanau is the Maori word for family. It has been interesting to us that many Maori words are used by Kiwis, even when they have no Maori family ties.

As we became more acquainted with our new friends we began hearing another term which left us questioning its meaning. Having now learned the meaning of the word whanau, we were able to make an educated guess as to the word “Whangai”. We have often heard friends refer to a particular family relationship by saying, “He was whangaied into the family. As was the case in the Cooks, this phrase referred to the non-binding action of a child being brought in under the protection and tutelage of people not members of the child’s immediate family. This practice makes for confusing family trees to be sure, but it also speaks to the heart of people who value familial relationships and don’t care to think of people being on the outside looking in. Again, this Maori word does not mean adoption in the legal sense and most people that we spoke with about this could not imagine the need for anything to be formalized. The need was there and the child was whangaied. It is an open-arms, open home sensitivity where everyone is loved. It is as simple as that.

So, we have learned more touching lessons about relationships as defined by the words our friends use to describe them. We have again taken note that in Maori there is no word for a formalized, legal adoption. In the Maori culture, there is no need for such a word and to be honest, they cannot imagine why my culture has need for a word like that either!

As always, we are happy and trying to work hard.  We have almost fully recovered and have truly felt that while we were ill, we were whangaied into more than one thoughtful family as people have been concerned for our health. For that, we are deeply grateful. We are also grateful for all of you who have whangaied us into your families at home. It is truly a gift to feel at home when we spend time with you. Time is passing too quickly and should any of you still be thinking of paying us a visit, please korerorero mai. We hope that you will come and talk to us!!

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

This is the cover of the guide to living in Gisborne. Meet Justin and Aroha Gizzy and their whanau.

Adventures in Paradise Volume 2 #37

Kia ora! Our excellent adventure continues with some thoughts on creature comforts and what we miss most when we are unwell. It is winter here in New Zealand and despite preemptive flu shots and in my case, a booster shot of the pneumovax, we have been ill. While it’s true that we have not suffered any more than most of our dear friends here in Gisborne, it is also true that we have had a slightly different perspective on that discomfort and some of the reasons for it. That perspective has, while we have been ailing, engendered an attitude of wistfulness. We find ourselves wishing to be in other circumstances. We are missing home, our own beds, and snuggling under our own blankets. Isn’t that the way it is when we don’t feel well?

Early in our residency in Gisborne, we began to notice something interesting. There were trailers full of firewood stacked to their brims parked along almost every roadway. These trailers advertized a phone number and promised delivery within twenty-four hours. Often, one could see two or three of these trailers parked in tandem, each with their specific contact information as well as the price and an assurance that the wood was two-years dry. My personal experience with fireplaces relegated them to a “mood enhancer” classification and I did not at first grasp the concept that people here, would be buying wagon loads of wood to feed into their fireplaces as a primary means of keeping warm during the coming winter. I did not fully appreciate that entire families would spent the long winter months, “rugged up” sequestered in one room huddled around a firebox. But I do now.

For some reason, most homes in New Zealand do not have central heating. It is their way here and people seem genuinely puzzled when I mention that all we have to do to stay warm is to flip a switch or press one button and the whole house heats itself. Most have no concept that my home is not equipped with a series of portable oil burner-type heaters or fans and that we do not have to move these devices from one room to another, as needed. It is entirely normal to them to live with a labyrinth of electrical cords running through their homes as these heaters are constantly being rearranged, often requiring the use of extension cords. Power is very expensive here, so many of our friends cannot afford to operate these heaters, hence the need for the constant supply of firewood during the winter months. I did not appreciate how difficult it would be for our friends to stay warm during the long winter months, but I do now.

As first, I was entertained by the endless ads hawking portable heaters and the adult-sized onesies, complete with hoods, which were displayed in a vast variety of animal prints. Advertisements featuring insulation and new windows were seen everywhere. I laughed out loud the first time that I discovered a display of hot water bottles in a local store. These “hotties” as they are known here, are best utilized by encasing them in a designer cover before filling them with hot water. I was mesmerized by the array of cover choices but again did not appreciate how crucial they were in helping residents to keep warm. I did not appreciate that the hoods on those onesies were crucial in keeping heads covered and toasty while sleeping. But I do now.

As I have spent this last week trying to stay warm in someone else’s home and bed, I have become more acutely aware of what I have taken for granted. Never again, will I adjust the thermostat in my Salt Lake City home without appreciating the simplicity of that action. The next time that I build (ok Ward builds) a fire in my fireplace, I will be reminded that the cozy atmosphere created by that fire would not be the fundamental reason for building it in the homes of our Kiwi friends. Although, I consider myself to be financially conservative, I do not spend a great deal of time in worry over whether or not I can afford to pay my utility bill. No part of my home goes unused in the winter because I cannot afford to keep it heated. I will spend my next winter in Utah reminding myself to be grateful.

The truth is that New Zealand is wet and cold in the winter. Kiwis have a struggle to stay warm and dry and it is simply expected that June, July and August will be difficult months. Everyone has their own home remedy for the aches, pains and coughs that accompany the change in the weather. There is very little complaining; rather we have noticed a “let’s just get on with it” attitude and the residents have learned to “rug up”. We have refrained from any sort of sentence that might start with the words, “In our country”, as we would appear to be ungrateful guests and we are not ungrateful. Our friends cope as they look after each other. Last Monday, a sweet family left a pot of soup a loaf of bread and some breakfast scones on our doorstep and we appreciated their thoughtfulness. Another friend mixed up a batch of hot lemon tea for me with lemons from our own tree! The attitude here is more of a “We’re in this together, so let’s get though it together” and we have learned a lot by observation.

The lovely news here is that because there is so much winter rain, everything is turning green and lush. Daffodils are springing up in clumps near the paddock and there are buds on the Hydrangea bushes. We know that spring is coming and soon we will all emerge from our collective hibernation. Soon the woes of winter will be forgotten as we begin to enjoy the sunshine and the beaches. It’s the cycle of life here and we have become caught up in it at well.

So, while this last week or so has left me lusting after my duvet and push button heating, I will also willingly admit that I would not have missed this adventure for the world. I am grateful for all of the lessons that I have learned this winter and will always be beholden to the people who have taught them. There will never be another winter in my life, no matter where I might happen to be, where I won’t be thinking of those here who have to work a little harder to experience the warmth that I have always accepted without much thought.

As always we are happy and trying to work hard. We are eternally grateful for the warmth of the friendships we enjoy with you. We cherish your thoughtfulness over the years and that is one of the reasons that we miss home so much when we are not feeling well. It is where we have always felt most nurtured. We now happily add other names and faces to that list of people who we look to for comfort. We are grateful.

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

This wagon load of wood is selling for about 250.00, but would not last the whole winter.

Notice that for 145.00, you are not buying a full trailer, rather it's only the wood inside the box.

This is our oil burner in the bedroom. We remind each other not to touch it when the red light is on.

Andrea came to our home for dinner all rugged up. He looks pretty cute in his hoodie robe. We could not coax any adult into modeling their onesies!

We have been encouraged to take a "hottie" to bed!

Adventures in Paradise Volume 2 #36

Kia ora! Our excellent adventure continues with some thoughts on predators and a mother’s protective instinct. It is lambing season here and everywhere we look, we are enchanted by the spectacle playing out around us. Each day, as we notice countless wobbly little bundles of wool perched precariously upon spindly matchstick legs, we marvel at the miracle of birth and we are touched by the tender care that these new mothers exhibit towards their babies.  It is a magical time here in New Zealand and we are grateful to participate, if only as spectators.

Watching the lambs instinctively tending to their offspring, it occurred to me that these particular sheep do not know just how fortunate they are. There are no natural predators in New Zealand. These new mothers have the luxury of watching their children cavort happily in the paddocks without the concern of being too anxious over their safety. In truth the most pressing concern one new mother experienced was the presence of two camera-wielding Americans who were clicking away on the other side of a fence. It was clear that we were making her uncomfortable, so we drove away, leaving her to focus on her twins in private. These new mothers don’t have much to worry about, and I wish that I could say the same for human parents.

What would it be like if we humans did not have to worry about predators where our own children are concerned? What if the world were a safer place? What if we weren’t constantly concerned about the physical safety of our kids? What if we didn’t fret over broken bones and broken hearts? What if we could just sit back and watch?

There have been times in the growing up years of my sons, when I found myself wishing that I did not have to worry so much, but that is what human mothers do best, isn’t it? I remember looking into the bassinette, where my week-old son, Jared was swaddled, sleeping peacefully, and thinking naively that I would never worry more about him than I did at that moment. Thankfully, I could not see far enough into the future to know what it would be like to experience being awakened at 2:00 in the morning nineteen years later by a voice in the dark saying simply “ Mom and Dad, I think you had better wake up”. In those few seconds before turning on the light, fear and dread washed through my brain. What had happened? There was no mistaking that something was wrong! Then, a calmness settled as I struggled to wake fully. My mind was sleepily processing the situation and I reminded myself that whatever had happened, my son was home. He was home and because I knew where he was and that he was talking, I would be able to cope with whatever had taken place. It was the single most reassuring thought that I have ever experienced as a mother. My son was home and at that moment, nothing else mattered.

To make a long story a little shorter, earlier that evening Jared had been in a serious automobile accident. He had lost control of his vehicle on a dark, snow covered mountain road in Park City and he and his little white car had ended up in a river. Fortunately members of his band had been following him and were quick to the rescue. The car did not survive, but my son did and for that I will be forever grateful. I am so thankful for the calm reassuring feeling that settled over me that morning in the dark, as I realized that my son was home. That feeling epitomizes my experience with motherhood.

I should make it perfectly clear here, that my sons have given my very little to worry about, but I have worried just the same. It’s one of the things that I do best. I have not stopped being concerned for them, even though they are grown men. I want them to always be healthy and happy and if I had my choice (and I don’t!) they would still be coming down the stairs for breakfast and sharing with me their plans for the day. I miss the everydayness of our earlier lives together, but they chose to grow up instead of staying little boys and I miss them.

So, as I watch those new mothers being so relaxed around their little lambs, I envy them in a way for their lack of angst. They will never have to worry about so many unsavory elements of today’s society. They will not spend one moment concerned over hurt feelings or broken hearts. They will not lose sleep when their lambs come home later than they should. They will not worry that they are lost. But I do not envy the fact that their babies will grow up so quickly and sooner than later, they will all forget that they are related. I am grateful that I have loved my children enough to be constantly worried about them. I am glad, that for a season, I was their protector.

As always, we are happy and trying to work hard. Once a mother, always a mother and I suppose I will always be looking for another little lamb to watch over. One of our little lambs here, is young mother Rana, who will be baptized next Saturday and we are so happy for the peace that has come into her life as she has made decisions that will help her to provide a better life for herself as well as for that of her young daughter. We are going to enjoy watching her learn to walk on her new wobbly spiritual legs as she makes her way in her new life. We will be there to help her up if she falls, and soon enough, she will find that she won’t need us quite as much as she did. That’s just what parenting is all about, isn’t it?

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

These babies are less than ten minutes old. The lamb in the foreground has not yet tried to stand. That is his hind leg stretching out behind him.

Newly-born lambs stay very close to their mothers.

 Twins!

These babies instinctively know where to look for their first meal. Mom is licking them clean.  

The twins are bathed and ready to face the world

This whole paddock was full of mothers and their children

Kindergarten is open!

Rana will be baptized on Saturday and her baby girl will be blessed next month!