Kaiapoi gets a 'red zone'
So the first of the orange zones has been turned red or green - they chose Kaiapoi because they were most affected by the first quake and so they have been waiting the longest time. This has come as a bit of a blow to Kaiapoi and the greater Waimakariri district because they were so well advanced in their recovery and rebuild plan (as in they were days away from starting work on the land remediation when the June 23rd announcement put a halt to all work) and now they have been told that not only is the recovery on hold but it won't actually happen for almost 1,000 of them. This includes a house that has great personal significance to my family.
My grandfather had it built - he even grew the timber to make it himself. It is, in a very real way, a huge part of our family history. My dad grew up in that house and we spent all our summer holidays there. It was a wonderful place. The house was small, as most houses built in NZ at the time were, but the backyard was magical. It was created at a time when the 'quarter acre' was a normal part of urban life here, when you were expected to grow your own vegetables and provide as much as you could for yourself. Consequently by the time I was old enough to notice the garden was a food lover's dream. There was a walnut tree right down the end of the garden which we loved and which has contributed to my current dislike of walnuts (I ate far too many of them and got thoroughly sick of the sight of them). There were numerous sheds dedicated to so many different things. My grandparents were enthusiastic potters and so there was a wonderful long shed that housed potting wheels, a kiln, and long tables filled with all sorts of pots in various states of being made. Right outside was a huge plum tree which my brothers and I would sit under and eat as many of as we could in one sitting. There were blackcurrent bushes everywhere and all sorts of other fruit trees (from memory there was a particularly wonderful peach tree) and the biggest vegetable garden I have ever seen. Out the front of the house they had the first lemon tree I ever saw (it was far too cold in Invercargill for such things to flourish) and my grandmother also had a fine selection of cactuses which both fascinated and repelled me.
Inside the house there was still the old metal firebox that had an element or two on the top of it. It could still be used as a stove top, though we never did. My grandma did still do the washing with a hand wringer - or at least the handwashing she did. It was the hardest thing ever to work but we always wanted to help because it was such a novelty to us 'modern' kids. I remember scratching pictures in the paint in one of the bedrooms (and getting into significant trouble for it). I have a picture of me shelling peas on the front steps with my grandfather while he was still alive and I still remember sitting in the living room of that house when we heard that he had died.
It's just weird - this place that means so much to our family (and whatever it means to me can be magnified by a large number to what it will mean to my dad and my grandma) will just be bulldozed. It's particularly cruel because it doesn't look like there's a lot of damage to the actual house so it's a land issue most likely. We don't own that house as a family anymore (Grandma sold it to buy into a small over 60s housing area a few years ago before eventually moving to the rest home) but it's still a shock to see it put into that category. It's not like I was ever going to be able to go back to that place anyway and it's changed a lot (subdivided now so the magical backyard is already a thing of the past) but it's still really confronting to see this happen. My dad was all 'I'm being philosophical here' about it but you could hear in his voice that it was a shock to him as well and while he's not prone to bouts of nostalgia he got quite nostalgic and told a few stories of the old place. Poor Kaiapoi - it was so close to rebuilding its dream township and now it's been crushed for a large number of people. My grandma still lives out there and Dad's trying to work out how to tell her the old house has been redzoned. We're pretty sure she won't cope too well.
My grandfather had it built - he even grew the timber to make it himself. It is, in a very real way, a huge part of our family history. My dad grew up in that house and we spent all our summer holidays there. It was a wonderful place. The house was small, as most houses built in NZ at the time were, but the backyard was magical. It was created at a time when the 'quarter acre' was a normal part of urban life here, when you were expected to grow your own vegetables and provide as much as you could for yourself. Consequently by the time I was old enough to notice the garden was a food lover's dream. There was a walnut tree right down the end of the garden which we loved and which has contributed to my current dislike of walnuts (I ate far too many of them and got thoroughly sick of the sight of them). There were numerous sheds dedicated to so many different things. My grandparents were enthusiastic potters and so there was a wonderful long shed that housed potting wheels, a kiln, and long tables filled with all sorts of pots in various states of being made. Right outside was a huge plum tree which my brothers and I would sit under and eat as many of as we could in one sitting. There were blackcurrent bushes everywhere and all sorts of other fruit trees (from memory there was a particularly wonderful peach tree) and the biggest vegetable garden I have ever seen. Out the front of the house they had the first lemon tree I ever saw (it was far too cold in Invercargill for such things to flourish) and my grandmother also had a fine selection of cactuses which both fascinated and repelled me.
Inside the house there was still the old metal firebox that had an element or two on the top of it. It could still be used as a stove top, though we never did. My grandma did still do the washing with a hand wringer - or at least the handwashing she did. It was the hardest thing ever to work but we always wanted to help because it was such a novelty to us 'modern' kids. I remember scratching pictures in the paint in one of the bedrooms (and getting into significant trouble for it). I have a picture of me shelling peas on the front steps with my grandfather while he was still alive and I still remember sitting in the living room of that house when we heard that he had died.
It's just weird - this place that means so much to our family (and whatever it means to me can be magnified by a large number to what it will mean to my dad and my grandma) will just be bulldozed. It's particularly cruel because it doesn't look like there's a lot of damage to the actual house so it's a land issue most likely. We don't own that house as a family anymore (Grandma sold it to buy into a small over 60s housing area a few years ago before eventually moving to the rest home) but it's still a shock to see it put into that category. It's not like I was ever going to be able to go back to that place anyway and it's changed a lot (subdivided now so the magical backyard is already a thing of the past) but it's still really confronting to see this happen. My dad was all 'I'm being philosophical here' about it but you could hear in his voice that it was a shock to him as well and while he's not prone to bouts of nostalgia he got quite nostalgic and told a few stories of the old place. Poor Kaiapoi - it was so close to rebuilding its dream township and now it's been crushed for a large number of people. My grandma still lives out there and Dad's trying to work out how to tell her the old house has been redzoned. We're pretty sure she won't cope too well.