Kauri

The New Zealand garden in the Botanic Gardens is a good place for ‘forest bathing’, I discovered yesterday. The canopy is thick, the species varied and, even though it is a planted environment, it almost smells like native bush in the wild. The air is different: fresh, cool and rich with leaf litter. There are streams and a lake with ducks. A large wood pigeon flew into a rimu tree with a whump. This kauri has grown to an impressive height.

A different kind of tree features in the book I have read over the last two days. The story is a grim one of poverty and neglect, but also hopeful. In the back of my mind as I read, was an interview with a politician on tv this week. With elections looming, he was pushing the ‘same for all’ and the ‘Māori privilege’ myth. If he doesn’t know the reality of the lives of many indigenous people in NZ, he should. He chose to ignore the statistics, evidence and research quoted by the interviewer. This makes his stance immoral. He could be enlightened by reading this book. The narrator’s name is Kauri.