The BFD | The Seed

I’ve never stood at a protest in my life. Until now. As a former mainstream media journalist for almost 20 years, I didn’t ever actually cover one. But I had my line In the sand drawn recently and now I am. Here.

I am fully vaccinated. My entire family is. My previously healthy, fit, independent, dear Mum had a stroke after the first one, and my beautiful, robust 18-year-old son ended up in hospital with heart issues after his second jab and four months later is still suffering chronic fatigue and ongoing muscular-skeletal pain. Despite this, I still believed that our people’s government and our health professionals were doing their best for us.

Until the announcement that those who chose not to be vaccinated would not be penalised, morphed into a division between the vaxxed and the unvaxxed, with the latter losing their jobs, their homes, their friends, family, social circles, leisure activities and mental health.

Until the two jabs became a third, (to rework an old nursery rhyme: one jab, two jabs, three, jabs, four (soon I’m sure) the hint of more) with almost no exception and no exemptions.

But my line in the sand was drawn on Thursday, February 10th, 2022. When NZ police who are supposed to protect and serve us, the people, acting on orders from a government elected by and paid for by us, the people, turned on their people who were peacefully protesting at Parliament. I cannot unsee the violence with which they acted that day. And I cannot condone the mainstream media’s failure to report the truth of what happened that day. Or what has happened in the days that followed. So I came. To my first protest.

I had no idea what to expect. What I did not expect was to be involved in an extremely well-organised event with a very clear central message. End the mandates. It is not about being vaxxed or unvaxxed, masked or unmasked. It is about ending the mandates that are ruining people’s lives and creating division, discrimination, segregation and anger.

And I did not expect the overwhelming love. The number of hugs. I’m not a very tactile person normally but over the last few days I have learned to be and there is no turning back. I have met so many people here who have been injured in one way or another by these mandates and whom I now regard as friends for life. Sometimes only having a half-hour conversation with them. But I know if I ever need them they’ll come running. As I will for them.

Here in this rapidly growing village at Parliament, there is no anger, discrimination, segregation or division. There is only love, peace, inclusion, freedom of choice and unity. I came alone and I have been welcomed by all.

The people here are from all walks of life – vaxxed and unvaxxed – – doctors, nurses, lawyers, business owners large, medium and small, firemen, police, teachers, plumbers, electricians, gardeners, the big and small, those with and those with little, the young, middle-aged and elderly, Pakeha, Maori, European and Asian, all religions from Hare Krishnas to Roman Catholics. What they share is the desire to end these destructive mandates, return to their lives, and once again have freedom.

The shameful portrayal by the government and the mainstream media is of a place of chaos and filth (Chris Luxon actually called us that). I could eat off the footpaths here. The portaloos are cleaned four times a day and have none of the “fragrance” of council toilets.

Self-appointed volunteers are picking up rubbish and organising recycling all day, every day, and trucks pick it up and take it away. The paths are swept constantly. Landscapers and gardeners here have pledged to put right any actual damage done to the grounds when the government drops the mandates and the protest ends. I suspect their promises are more reliable than those from higher up the steps here.

The worst of the damage to the grounds was done by a representative of the Government but we all know that.

What is rubbish is the mainstream media’s concern that the kids here are being exposed to excrement and disease and being deprived of their education. I would argue that mandates do more of that. The kids are having a blast. There is a playground. None are on their phones or screens. Teachers here are homeschooling them. There is a crèche. There are monkey music and exercise classes during the day and family movies in the Evening. Bubbles in the air for the children, bubbles of laughter, love and joy for the adults.

The generosity here knows no bounds. All food is free (and there is a heck of a lot of it) from the nourishing Hare Krishna’s vegetarian fare to stalls offering hangi, sandwiches, sausage sizzle, burgers, salads, doughnuts and candy floss. As I sat in a common area yesterday I was offered muesli bars, chocolate cake and sandwiches. All within half an hour. I didn’t even need to move. Wheelbarrows with water bottles, again all free, roam the grounds constantly.

There is an admin tent advertising anything the people need and it comes in in floods. Speaking of, after the cyclone last weekend people flowed in offering tents, marques, sleeping bags, pillows, offers of places to stay and opened their homes for those needing a shower and a few hours to recuperate. The amazing Aura hotel opened up rooms for the same.

The remaining police also showed their hearts, handing out lollies during the darkest night of the storm.

Every need here is catered for. It is truly a village of people helping people. Other spaces include a first aid tent, meditation space, massage, aromatherapy, hairdressers, a barber, laundromat, health practitioners, clothing, bedding, tents, shoes and boots…free for all but gratefully accepting donations.

There is music, speeches, seminars. Generators and speakers have been donated. BBQs, coffee and tea facilities, rest and respite rooms, heaters and fans, you name it, they’ve got It. This is a well-oiled machine and help is pouring in daily.

Even a veggie garden has been planted. One of the lovely ladies I have met here said today, “We have planted the seeds, and we will be here until there is a harvest.” She meant the garden, but much more as well.

As with such a gathering sadly there are a few who have tried to hijack it for their own agendas. Or those stirring trouble to try and paint us in a bad light. They are usually quite effectively and kindly settled by the lovely security detail. But we still need to be vigilant.

Despite what MSM says people are waking up and becoming curious. School kids in uniform are walking through enjoying not wearing masks, listening to the speeches and music and engaging with the loving people here. People at work in downtown Wellington are popping in on their lunch hours to see things for themselves.

I have been feeling stressed for so many months but my beautiful few love-filled days here have allowed me to reset. And I’d actually kind of like to live in this beautiful, loving, generous, caring community full time. I do, however, have to go home soon to finally settle my battle injured Mum into her rest home, and help my son heal. But I will be back.

I cannot sit by while this government more and more rapidly erodes our rights, liberties and freedom.

A funny little thing on an end note…when I got to my new accommodation today and sat down to write this, I turned on the TV and Dr Suess’ The Lorax was playing. The script reminded me of my new protest friend’s harvest comment.

“There’s no cause for alarm, I chopped just one tree.“

“That was long, long ago. But each day since that day I’ve sat here and worried and worried away. Through the years while my buildings have fallen apart, I’ve worried about it with all my heart”

“But now that you’re here, the word (of the Lorax) seems perfectly clear. Unless someone like you cares a whole awful lot, Nothing is going to get better. It’s not.”

“A seed has been planted. It’s not about what it is, it’s about what it can become.”

I and we will be here watering that seed until it flourishes.