The 80's in Wellington

Moving to Wellington

I remember moving to Wellington from Christchurch. I spent first night at the Waterloo hotel and then moved to the youth hostel before finding a basement flat on Glenmore Street. After Sumner it was very cold and dank, I knew nobody and felt and depressed enough to see the doctor and to go on dreadful antidepressant pills at the time.

This was the doctor who stated on inquiry that "there's only anecdotal evidence that food has anything to do with allergies" (sic)

I don't really have a lot to say about work that time.

I was working in the Trade Services section of the Department of Trade and Industry, something to do with the promotion of New Zealand trade abroad and I was involved in the Canadian section. I do recall they were permitting our orange roughy fish to North America as if there was no tomorrow. Now it's practically extinct.

As always I gravitated towards the outsiders and befriended a Cambodian man, Sokha Duong, who drove an old sports car and I remember him coming through the newly built tunnel on the motorway to come off at Glenmore Street and drive up to visit me in the evenings. I remember drinking Steinlager beer (that was not a patch on German beer of course), in a pub in the popular Oaks complex. Now it's empty and practically derelict. There was a band that played musi that was like the original Django Reinhardt and that I enjoyed.

The wonderful thing that I will remain eternal ya grateful to my parents for, is that they set me up with a home of my own. They found provided money for a deposit for a home and the best took out the mortgage (the rates at the time for 18%!) Unfortunately, (in hindsight), they have their own ideas about where I should live and unfortunately the flat and Island Bay semidetached that I quite liked didn't come into their view of what was appropriate,so we ended up buying a sunless semi-detached flat in Broadmeadows

I had regular trips back down to Christchurch to see my parents and they visited me on more than one occasion.

When I went back home to Sumner for Christmas at the end of 1983 the family was together, as it turned out for the last time.

I recall Kathy's family stayed in the wonderful old stone house down the bottom of Whitewash Head Rd, ( has subsequently been destroyed ), while Jeremy and I stayed in the retreat house next door.

This was the first time that my mother had seen Kathy's third child Georgie. Mum had spent many hours preparing a dolls house for Georgie but unfortunately got lost amongst all the other Christmas presents that year– mum felt quite disappointed.

Just before I was getting ready to leave to go back to Wellington I went down into the garden with mum to pick some roses. I didn't know at the time but she felt quite dizzy and the next day with the hospital for tests. Tests showed that she had secondary cancer that manifested as a tumour in her head.

Later on she revealed to me that at the time when she had the scans she had an out of body experience. She explained that she been drawn by the lights but had come back because this saw my father looking so helpless.

For my mother this meant undergoing chemotherapy during which she lost all here she loved and had to wear a wig. So then later she obviously tried juicing and alternative therapies, but I can die was cast and she didn't have long to live.

I went home to Wellington and went through the pretence of working. I wasn't at all prepared, in any way emotionally to go through this transition. I'm sure that I felt suitably anaesthetised and disembodied through much of this time. I do recall, however telephone conversations with my mother in which she experienced exasperation with my father and his inability to accept her illness ("you won't get better unless you exercise") and planned a trip with me to Australia.

The illness however progressed quickly.

I still treasure Mother's Day card that I have in my position in which she said in her now shaky handwriting "I like being your mother".

Losing my mother was like losing a confidant, someone was home I could share what I was going through, I plans, my emotions etc. there was nobody else in the family with whom I could share anything in anything the same way.

Remember that coming home from the hospital at first time, all I wanted to do was go back to the hospital and set with her. I father, my brother and my sister to refuge in classes of June well I felt isolated and very alone. I felt that nobody understood me – a feeling that has been with me so many times through my life since then.

My mother's death

Remembering back to May,1984, when my Mum died Jeremy gave me a ring at work to say that we been summonsed down to Christchurch. In those days there were indirect flights from Auckland and Christchurch so that Jeremy could fly down pick me up in Wellington and then we would fly down together to Christchurch.

We were, I think picked up at the airport by our father and taken directly to the hospital.

Our Mum was in bed and I remember her saying directly that she had swelling in her ankles and had chosen to die. I can’t really remember any more of the conversation at the time – it was probably quite awkward but I do remember that Jeremy and dad left and mum and I were on our own.

I remember saying to her “I don’t know what to say “to which she said there is nothing really much to say. We must have spent quite a lot of time just in silence, perhaps I held her hand – I don’t really remember clearly. In any case we were both able to say in our own way that we loved each other. I probably felt quite numb.

When the time came for her to have her last meal I said her and I distinctly remember her saying “don’t force me” with some humour.

At some stage soon my father came back to the hospital. Mum was obviously in pain and my father held her while she had an injection of morphine. I now know that she was given an overdose of morphine for very soon after that she went into a coma from which he never awoke. Nothing was ever said to me at the time – there was no explanation.

I don’t remember the details but Dad must’ve gone home again for I was left on my own with my mother. I sat with her from many hours – I must’ve felt quite a lot of anxiety – I just remember that her breath came infrequently and wondering whether this would be her last. By this time it was long since dark and I really was on my own with my mother. I must’ve at some stage other fallen asleep in the chair alongside her at.

After a good few hours – it might have been two or 3 o’clock in the morning I was fetched and taken home. I don’t remember whether someone stayed with her – perhaps my father – but I had a little bit of time to rest in bed. God knows if I slept – probably not – but quite early in the morning I drove in with aunt Barbara driving her car extremely slowly between red cliffs and the hospital with me following.

I spent the whole of the next day with mum. Events are a little hazy now but I remember two things.Firstly I remember Jeremy and my father at the hospital. My father insisted that Jeremy drive him to see Archdeacon Pastowe presumably to make some sort of arrangements for the funeral.

What that really meant Jeremy was taken out of the way at the time when my mum passed away.

I don’t think that my brother has ever quite got over the fact that he was not there but I think there is a reason for everything and for some reason he was not meant to be present.

At about this time my aunt Pam – mum’ s sister – arrived at the hospital. She had only recently lost her second husband who had died in bed alongside her. She was, at the time the best person I could have had alongside me to help my mother make the transition from her body.

I remember her talking to my mother, saying it was all right.

It was about four in the afternoon when mum passed away.

It’s funny what we remember, what stays in in our memories. I remember Peter, in his eulogy saying that dad

I remember that assist in the hospital was present – she must have been used to working in the cancer ward for she was able to talk us through it. Again all I remember was the infrequent breaths and then finally the “death rattle” – sister was able to tell us that mum had passed on.

What happened after that is a complete haze.

I remember family being present, feeling very numb and disconnected – and suddenly, very lonely. I did not feel at all supported, altogether with the rest of the family, whoever was present and was just alone with my own feelings, something that I was not very adept at.

Whatever happened between Mum's passing and the funeral is a complete blur.

I remember that once she passed on I did not spend any time with the body – perhaps I was afraid.

The funeral happened at a crematorium on ferry road between Sumner and the city, again I remember very little – it’s all haze – I remember people that I knew filing past, I think to shake hands – people like Mr and Mrs Stace, Mrs Cottrell and others. Even now, when I look back I am confusing things that were said and done at the time of my father’s funeral.

After the funeral and the committal of my mothers body to be cremated everyone went back for the “after match function” which was as usual a very boozy function. I don’t think that anyone had much to say to me, much less take me aside or talk directly to me.

I just remember a terrible feeling of emptiness and being alone in the world, so much so that I left the house and went for a solitary walk just to be alone with my feelings. I could not stand to be in the house with all the boozing, loud conversation and laughter when I was feeling so destitute alone.

Life back in Wellington

The next thing I recall is coming back to work in Wellington at the Department of trade and industry. I don’t think that I ever got much work done – I was trapped in my own private world. What I do recall is that choose one a colleague and a friend Arina Mudryj who was working alongside me. She was quite open to simply listening to me as I talked about my mother. That was so therapeutic, just what I needed at the time, to be listened to without intervention.

I don’t recall was anybody else that I could open my heart to, not least my own family. I did not feel estranged but simply very alone.

I remember the visit to my Aunt Sylvia not long after mum died. She looked at me with that intense look that I remember so well and said “well your mother’s gone now – it’s time for you to grow up now!”From that time onwards I don’t recall aunt Sylvia even so much as mentioning my mother’s name even once.

That was my family, disconnected from their own feelings, from their own grief and was little understanding of my sensitivities.

On returning to Wellington I had no choice but just to get on with life without anything really to hold on to, without a real refuge. I was essentially lonely my new little house in Broadmeadows, just taking were train in every day to work that I was neither connected to, nor interested in.

I made a connection with the Cambodian colleague at work who I think, was just as lonely and disconnected as I was. He invited me back to his place – I remember he had ancient old sports car which he used to drive quite fast from the beginning of the newly built motorway, through the tunnel and off the exit onto Glenmore Street.

I seem to remember he had quite a taste, as I did for beer and we used to go to pubs – in particular I remember we used to frequent in the Oaks complex. I remember a local band that played in the style of Django Reinhardt which I loved, and which reminded me of my time with my German friends, and my time in Germany.

The other thing I did was to immerse myself in German and went to advanced conversation classes at the Goethe Institute which I really enjoyed.

One person I remember meeting at the time was Alistair, who apart from learning German spoke Russian with a strong Glasgow accent. He later went on to take over capital music and to open his own shop Alistair’s music in Cuba Street.

I’m getting a bit ahead of myself but I remember another Scotsman Peter. I don’t remember how we met – he was another musician and played on electric guitar and was a friend of someone I didn’t know at the time, Maurice Tuckwell – who finally who later on became a flatmate.

Before that, my Cambodian friend Sokha Duong gave up his flat in Nairn Street and came to live with me as a flatmate in Broadmeadows.

At about this time I started to seek out the company of Russians. That meant meeting with new arrivals of the fourth wave of emigration from the Soviet Union, Jewish refugees.

Among the first that I met were Bella and Leon Nodelman who hailed from Baku in Azerbaidjan. They met my need for Russian conversation and I remember them visiting me in teaching me how to cook rice in the Caucasian fashion. I also remember a trip with them and another very lively friend whose name I forget up to Napier where I found, in a secondhand shop very passable balalaika which I bought with their help.

I know I’m getting ahead of myself because many of these events happened when I first arrived in Wellington before mum died. I know this because I remember that my new girlfriend Elena actually met my mother before she died.

Elena

I met Elena Shmukler on a blind date recommended by Leon and Bella. I recall that we might have gone to the movies and had something to drink afterwards. In any case Elena was quite happy to meet me again and we quite quickly became good friends.

She had arrived as an immigrant in 1979 from Kiev with her parents and younger sister, Svetlana. As a testament to the quality of the Soviet education system she passed all her subjects in school certificate with the exception of English. Quite a bright girl! She went on to university and when I met her was studying for a chemistry major at Victoria Uni.

During the time we knew each other we did lots of fun things together, I met lots of Russians which I enjoyed, drank lots, shared lots of music participated in the life that suited me at the time.

One thing it stands out in mind is that quite early on in the piece, in July 1984, just a few short months after mum died Jeremy and his new fiance June got married in Dunedin.

Elena came down with me to attend the wedding. We flew first to Christchurch and then made the long car journey down to Dunedin (which had never been to before) with Jeremy and Dad. I remember nothing about the wedding but I remember seeing the wonderful old buildings of Dunedin for the first time and I remember meeting June’s mother Florence for the first time and watching the Los Angeles Olympics on the TV the next morning. I’ve got no idea what a Jewish girl from Kiev thought about the whole affair.

Which brings me to the fact that June’s father, Mr Phillips was Jewish so that Jeremy’s entire family in law was Jewish.

When I look back at this time it seems to me that I was really wedded to things Russian – it was as if I needed to play out some form of Karma that was unconscious. I persuaded myself at the time that I was in love basically because I was lonely and hadn’t yet really found myself.

I have met Elena again since and found, not only that there was nothing in common but that I was also horrified. I could not have lived with those close minded prejudices of the Russian Jewish community for long.

Early in 1986 Elena decided that she needed a bigger world than working for ICA in Wellington so moved to Melbourne to find a bigger world.

Discovering yoga and meditation

That was really the best thing that could happen for me for I quickly found my own resources and discovered through reading the novel (in German) of Herman Hesse’ s Siddhartha discovered the world of yoga.

It was one of those days when I once again through a sicky from work as I went down to the bookshop in Johnsonville and discovered a book on yoga from the Sivananda ashram. I devoured the book and was so taken that I looked up yoga in the Yellow Pages and found the Lotus yoga centre and made an immediate enquiry about yoga classes. It turned out that there was a yoga course starting in a week or two.

I was too impatient to wait so started teaching myself from the book.

The course taught by Eric Doornekamp was a revelation. I felt that I had found my niche at last. After doing Eric’s course I went on to classes by Tanja Dyett which opened up a whole new world of fantastical stories told by… And regular yoga classes. After a while Tanya's classes ceased to give me what I wanted and it was then that I discovered the Monday classes by Gwendoline Hunt and I became an instant fan. In the year or so that I attended Gwendoline’s classes I don’t think that I missed a single time.

These were a real revelation! I had never enjoyed myself so much or been so open to such knowledge and I lapped everything up voraciously.

It was a period when I met new people and had new experiences that took my life to a whole new level.

I remember the wonderful visits to the Lotus yoga centre in Paraparaumu, the wonderful people that I’ve met there through the Wwoof scheme, a trip up to a gathering in the central North Island. Wow! It was as if I was discovering the alternative movement, the hippie movement for the first time in my early 30s.

The feeling I had was that my mother was guiding me and I was finally finding my spiritual self.

It was some time before this, while I was still with Elena that my wonderful companion, Sammy the dog turned up on the scene. I was in Karori visiting the home of Elena that we both encountered Sammy on the road. He refused to leave our company and it was obvious that he’d been visiting a girlfriend but he seemed to have no home to go back to and was quite happy in our company. We looked to anyone who knew who he was and where he lived but could find nobody. After a while it was obvious that his owners were not going to turn up so young Samuel became my dog.

Samuel got me out full wonderful walks and outings – I discovered the delights of walking Mt Kaukau with him and he became my best and most wonderful companion. While I went from these wonderful Sunday afternoon walks Elena chose to stay behind and do the house work or watch TV – walking was not for her. I quickly discovered that this was something that we didn’t share in common along with so many other things.

Perhaps the fact that I have not mentioned my work indicates the level to which it played a role in my life. Basically, I tried to be interested but was essentially completely disinterested in that realm.

It was through work though that I was introduced to the next new, important phase in

A Sri Lankan colleague at work, Sheila Gunasekera, invited me back home to sample (very salty) Sri Lankan food. She mentioned that she was going to a Buddhist ceremony led by the monks of the monastery in Stokes Valley. Would I like to come along?

I had studied a little bit of religion at university but knew nothing about Eastern religions, let alone Buddhism.

So I accepted the invitation which I seem to remember was Kathina, which is held at the end of the rains retreat. It was the first time that I had seen Buddhist monks in their brown robes and heard Pali chanting. I was able to sample the delectable Asian food that was given to the monks and then heard the talk given by the senior monk,Ajahn Viradhammo.

When I heard what he had to say – and I don’t remember exactly what it was - something about the craving, grasping mind – it felt as if I had been waiting my whole life long to hear this message.

Very soon I visited the monastery in Stokes Valley, and started to read all I could about Buddhism.

I was made very welcome out there and I can remember long talks with Ajahn Thanavaro, an Italian monk who established the monastery Bodhinyanarama alongside Ajahn Viradhammo as he pasted wallpaper in the new meditation hall (called the sala).

I started to learn to meditate as I was taught, following the breath - and began to visit the monastery regularly.

On the first attendance at the evening puja I took a seat and leant against the wall. When Ajahn Viradhammo and the monks into the room they found that I taken up their position. Ajahn quipped that "you'd better shave your head".

Work was actually reasonably interesting, as it coincided with the early Rogernomics reforms as the government tore apart "Fortress New Zealand"

And any ability of the country to be at all self-sufficient. Working in the industry section of trade and industry I saw for myself that you there was no future for me in this environment and I started making preparations for what was most important for me – the preparation for the next stage of my life.

I didn't even try to take leave but took the rash step of resigning from the Department of Trade and Industry, and from the public service. I never looked back.