Lisa Wills
I just got back from the Wellington protest; I suppose that makes me a dangerous activist. I’m a mandated teacher; someone who has never broken a law and has only had one speeding ticket (for going 64 in town, trying to get my daughter to her piano lesson in time). I’m a middle-aged mum of three and a very enthusiastic gardener, which my teenagers tell me is not an interesting topic of conversation. I am also someone who absolutely loves New Zealand; the country I was born in.
Herein lies the central issue. I was born free. Free to move and to go where I liked and completely complacent in the knowledge that I was equal to every other New Zealander in my rights and liberties. Now – not so much. While I was in Wellington my daughter wanted to use a toilet in the central shopping area. I had to think, as an unvaccinated person, where will she be allowed to go? This disgusts me! Why doesn’t it disgust every New Zealander?
We spent three marvellous days at the protest. It was filled with smiling, friendly people from all walks of life. Much like a six60 concert (not that I’d be allowed at one of those anymore). The organisation is awe-inspiring. There is a children’s area complete with toys, art supplies and books, a church and a hairdressers.
The kitchens are amazing. I helped chop vegetables and I couldn’t believe how organised and equipped they are. Much sharper knives than we have at home.
On the stage, there were speeches and music. I never heard anyone speaking about the Queen and how she likes to eat baby mice for lunch, or aliens, but I did hear some people speak about how they couldn’t work in their careers anymore and how their children can’t participate in society anymore.
I didn’t see anyone drinking or any bad behaviour although one guy was carted off by the protest security. I’m not sure what he had done but people in the tents around him cheered when he left.
I saw children everywhere playing in the fresh air and teenagers on skateboards or playing basketball. I had crayfish, snapper and steak – for LUNCH. Usually, at home, I have a tin of tuna.
What people seem intent on ignoring is WHY we are there, and by “people”, I mean the media.
I met so many lovely people whose lives have been devastated by the Covid policies implemented by this Labour Government. Skilled, highly qualified and hardworking people that have been mandated over no proof of more transmission of Covid.
I chopped onions next to a midwife. Peeled eggs beside a Fonterra worker and ate lunch with a young woman who had worked on super yachts. I met people, vaccinated and unvaccinated, who hate what is happening in our New Zealand. Business owners who’ve had enough, Christians who aren’t allowed to run their church youth group anymore.
I can tell you that everyone is on their best behaviour. NOBODY wants to give the hyper-critical, biased media anything to focus on.
I’ve seen the video and spoken to people who were there; the police sprayed themselves in the face with their own pepper spray – the winner on the day was the Wellington wind. There may be some rowdy, overly passionate individuals, or the occasional nutbar but, so what? Do we say an All Blacks game was a disaster because somebody threw a beer bottle? There are thousands of people at the protest every day.
Here is the real newsworthy item – we don’t actually WANT to be there. We WANT to carry on working and being fully-functioning members of society. We WANT our children to be able to drive, study and have the freedom to pursue their passions.
We are there because we are being discriminated against. We were born free and we will remain free. We HAD to do this because NOBODY was listening.
So what if some of us are ‘anti-vaxxers’? I own that label. I don’t like the Covid vaccine. I don’t know what it will do to my already stuffed up immune system. It doesn’t make me a bad person who can be shat on in 40 different ways. I haven’t done anything wrong. I’ve never turned a sprinkler on anyone. I’ve never denied anyone the ability to make a living. I won’t be ashamed of making a medical decision.
As we left the protest yesterday, we crossed the outer bollard where protesters are sitting or standing encouraging people to toot for support, holding signs and being visible. We sat next to a woman with a sign that said she had been an early childhood teacher for 10 years and owned her own business, now that has gone for her.
Everyone was singing ‘one heart, one love’ by Bob Marley. The police were across the road dressed in riot gear. As I walked by them, I decided to go over. I said, “I hate this, how it’s you and us. I just want to say hello. They looked at me without replying. I felt sick inside. “Aren’t you allowed to say hello to me, aren’t you even allowed to speak to me?” I asked. A couple of them close to me turned and said hello. Then one said, “This isn’t really the time for a conversation.” As I looked back to the protest, the people on the bollard were singing Tu Tero Mai Nga Iwi. When is the time for a conversation? When is the time?
