A Song That Brings Hope

We finally have a new government and a new Prime Minister in New Zealand.

Jacinda won and Labour has formed a coalition government with the Greens and New Zealand First.

After keeping us in suspense for several weeks, Winston Peters finally made his choice.

So shines a good deed in a weary world.

With all the mind numbing stupidity brought by the Tangerine Prince of Comb-overs, it's really uplifting to have a woman of my age getting ready to take the reigns of power in this country.

Today I made a discovery that has given me so much happiness.

I know the birds in my garden. I know their Latin, common and Maori names. I know their songs and nesting habits. I know if they're natives or were introduced from Australia or Europe.

Recently I noticed a clear and lovely voice which rang out above all the others.

It was solitary and never answered by another of its kind.

I had a suspicion it was a bell bird or Korimako but I was doubtful because they've been driven out of this part of the Canterbury by the loss of habitat.

They are nectar eaters who love the blossoms of the flax plant and kowhai.

This afternoon I went outside and tried to pinpoint the source of the beautiful song.

My house has several large, established trees and flax plants.

I crept among the trees and looked up whenever the song was repeated.

And then I spotted it-a solitary bell bird flitting through the branches.

I mimicked it's song and it flew closer and answered mine.

If you ever go into the bush and start whistling all the nearby bell birds will hop over to check you out. This happened the first time I visited my uncle's house. His property is filled with manuka trees which they also love.

It gives me an enormous sense of well being to find this bird in my garden.

I know if we Cantabrians work to restore the native habitat, these birds will return and join the dawn chorus as they did before.

Conversation With A Young Man In A Shop

 My laptop crapped out. They always do. I don't know why it's still such an unpleasant surprise.

Getting a new one means a trip to a shop where some young salesperson will inevitably try to hornswoggle me.

I hate this process slightly less now that I've hit an age where I'm more assertive.

I went to the type of shop where they have huge televisions with gorgeous color saturation featuring images of blown glass and bright flowers.

No one came to help me so I went to the counter to wait for one of the young men to notice me.

The one who did was tall with blond hair, blue eyes and an American accent.

He looked to be in the shallow end of his twenties.

I told him what I was looking for and he asked where I was from.

We then established that I was from Alabama and he was from Utah. He was Mormon and I was raised Southern Baptist. He had been to the Dominican Republic for his mission and spoke excellent Spanish. I had lived in Mexico and loved cheap street tacos.We had both suffered from Salmonella and been hospitalized while living in those countries.

The following discussion happened throughout the negotiations over the computer I wanted.

He mentioned his fiance was studying Criminal Justice at the UC.

I asked if she had any classes with Greg Newbold and what she thought of him.

He said she loved him.

I made some facial expression that caused him to ask what I thought of him. I said I had read his textbook in which he claimed 60-80% of women who reported rape were lying and that he had cited Wikipedia numerous times which is just not done in academic texts. I said I was worried that he was teaching future law enforcement professionals to victim blame.

That's when the fresh faced young man told me that most women were to blame for getting raped because of the way they dressed and acted.

At that point I became a concerned mother type. My hand went to my heart and I said, "No, no, no you don't believe that surely?"

He did though.

I reminded him that women in Saudi Arabia who are covered from head to toe also get raped and he said he had read all about it and it was mostly domestic abuse.

My readings on the subject told me women reliant on taxi drivers because they weren't allowed to drive were often assaulted in those vulnerable situations.

And then he said men couldn't help themselves and if I knew what went through their mind all the time I would understand.

I said he was confusing a normal, healthy sexual desire with committing an act of sexual violence against someone without their consent.

I heard the sincerity in his voice and was reminded of myself when I was younger and fully immersed in my church's version of Christianity. Back then, I spoke with absolute certainty of my world view because I was steeped in it and no one ever came along to contradict or disprove it until I got out of my parent's house.

I had a comforting thought that one day he would think back on our conversation and be embarrassed of himself for saying such things. After all, I had.

But there again, maybe he won't.

There's a difference with how men and women experience most major religions.

His and mine are both set up to put men in positions of power and decision making. That sort of thing can be hard to give up.

I joked that if men were really at the mercy of their sex drive maybe they should all be locked up.

I'm puzzled by the church's portrayal of men as strong leaders meant to rule the world but also weak-willed sex zombies at the first hint of leg or cleavage.

Should they really be in charge if this is the case?

I changed tack and asked if we met and I was wearing a bikini would he lose control of himself and feel the need to sexually attack me.

No, not him. He would never.

"Well you see then, you can control yourself and there's hope." I said.

He declared that he was brought up to respect women.

That respect is highly conditional though.

It requires us to dress and act in a certain male approved way.

We mustn't like sex too much because that's unnatural. That's what men do.

If we are not good, modest girls then we deserve to be raped. We bring it on ourselves.

This is a horrendous way to view women.

It's not doing men any favors either. It assumes they're all sex fiends just trying to get through life without having to rape someone.

I found the exchange so disturbing that I went home and immediately called my mother.

"I don't think anything I said got through," I told her.

She thought it might have.

In a few weeks that young man will be going back to Utah to get married.

I hope his wife gives birth to a series of daughters and that each one is more outspoken than the last.