I started my last blog by saying that nothing ever happens in New Zealand until something serious happens. I didn't realise how true this would be until the events of last Friday played out on the streets of Christchurch. Something serious was happening and it might change the way Kiwis look at themselves and the way the World looks at this country.
I've lived here for just over three years now. That has been filled with the 'nothing ever happens' stuff. You think that's boring but its actually the reason most immigrants choose to live here. You can enjoy the beautiful countryside, the virgin beaches, the pleasant weather and the friendly locals. You also don't have to worry about crazy tweets from your populist leader or live in an existential crisis about which trading group your country should belong to. The news is something that happens overseas, tucked into the middle of the paper here, between the agricultural prices and the rugby results.
They interview the Prime Minister on the radio here every Monday and then they give the leader of the opposition the right of reply on Tuesday. That's because it takes him that long to think of something interesting to say, a task he fails miserably with most weeks. If you distil both of their conversations, you could create one of those Apps that help people get to sleep at night. Politics is dull and boring here. The most radical party in Parliament is one whose main policy is to increase old age pensions.
This serenity was shattered on Friday afternoon by the madness in Christchurch. I have no great insight into the mind of someone who could carry out such an act. I'm not sure I want to understand a mind like his because it must be like staring into hell. I'm normally as liberal as they come when it comes to prison reform, but in this case, I'd be happy if the perpetrator was locked up for 23 hours a day with a gap-toothed burly Maori with a sexual preference for pasty-faced Australian men.
Christchurch was the first place I visited in New Zealand. I arrived in December 1995 and spent three wonderful months there. I've been back many times since, so it holds a special place in my heart. A heart that has already been dented by the deadly earthquake in 2011.
I grew up in Ireland of course, in the years of the erroneously named "Troubles". Last Friday's events reminded me of the Omagh bombing in 1998. I was on a mountain hike that August afternoon, enjoying the beautiful scenery of the Cooley Mountains and Carlingford Lough. The tranquillity was shattered when news crackled across the radio that 29 people lay dead. Ireland had slipped into a sleepy innocence before then, seduced by the Good Friday Agreement and the promise of future peace.
New Zealand felt like that on Friday. I had just come back from a boozy Pre Paddie's Day lunch when the sad news from Christchurch started to trickle in. We gathered in the office kitchen to watch the unfolding coverage on TV. It felt as though the countries innocence was seeping away through an open wound. While most people said, "this is not New Zealand", you could tell that many of them felt that the country would never be the same again.
The big bad world that normally lives on TV screens, the world of suicide bombers, of hatred and despair, had landed on our shores. This sleepy little corner of the world, that thought it was immune to the madness that seems to engulf the rest of the planet was wrong. Unfortunately, evil knows no borders.
Some solace can be found in the fact that the shooter was an Australian who learned his hate overseas. Apparently, he chose Christchurch because he happened to be living in New Zealand at the time his mind flicked into monster mode and because mosques make soft targets here. There is little Islamophobia in New Zealand so nobody thought their places of worship needed security.
Despite the sadness, however, I am still filled with hope. After the Omagh bomb Ireland rallied against the few malcontents who refused to get on the peace train. They were no longer tolerated and it drove people in the South to have a greater understanding of the plight of our neighbours in Northern Ireland.
I think the same will happen in New Zealand. I have Muslim neighbours and I called in to see them on Saturday. It was the first time I'd been in their house and I would say that's an experience that was mirrored throughout the country. Kiwis like to accentuate the difference between here and Australia. Islamophobia is rampant there and they even have a couple of out and out fascists in Parliament. In contrast, New Zealand likes to promote tolerance and humanity.
We are also blessed to have a wonderful Prime Minister in this regard. She fronted up on Friday and said that Muslims were part of 'Us' and the killer wasn't. I have lived under many leaders and Jacinda Adhern is the most compassionate and well-intentioned of them all. The contrast between her and say, Margaret Thatcher, could not be greater.
The outpouring of sympathy and support the Muslim community has been heartening. Kia Kaha is the Maori for 'stay strong'. You see it everywhere this week. After a forest fire, a new and healthy life emerges. I really hope that happens in Christchurch, a city I love and want to see rise from the ashes.
This is a great country and one bad bastard won't change that. Kia Kaha.
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