Tokaanu – Loved that place

We lived in Tokaanu from the late 1960’s, early 1970’s. The old place burnt down recently but the old box hedge is still there and still overgrown. The house was built next to the swamp adjacent to the Tokaanu Marae.

Tokaanu was the main settlement in its hay day so the old place was already old when we moved in 50 plus years ago. It was your typical country town. Nothing was easy but never a problem. There were no automatic anything and neither was it so, so complicated.

We had a telephone on a party line with our own special ring pattern. Our TV was black’n’white and we had two channels – I think they were called Channel 1 and channel 2. Mum cooked on a wood fired stove and oven. Our hot water for laundry and sundry was heated in the copper over a fire. There was no Bathroom so we would trek to the thermal pools for our daily baths. There was no inside toilet, just a glorious longdrop a half marathon from the house – and it was a very scary place at night.

We were touring the west cost of the South Island, NZ when our (then) 8 year old needed to go. So we stopped at a rest area and bugger me if the toilet was a long drop. Our babies first reaction was shock horror, then she flatly refused to go anywhere near it so she held on til the next servo.

 

Mum had a strict seven’o’clock bed rule during school nights, which sucked a little but, there was plenty to do in the morning before we went to school. Apart from the mundane chores like lighting all the fires, cooking breakfast washing cleaning etc; there were some good jobs like checking dads water rat traps, making sure Dopey hadn’t wrapped himself around the blackberry bush and my personal favourite – pick the fresh bread up from the local Bakery. The smell of fresh bread, still warm off the counter was hard to resist on the way home. Rarely did the loaf (or loaves) make it home unscathed. It was worth the clip under the ear.

Dad had a man shed in the middle of the yard. Inside were all manner of bits and bob’s including his rifles. It was fair to say dad wasn’t a gun man. He only hunted pigs and only ever used knives. He would carry a stubby little shotgun when hunting in the native bush only if we were likely to come across….. duck, which happened more often than people realised. On one occasion I come across a .22 rifle while rummaging through the shed. I managed to scrape up a single bullet, so I sat on the step of the shed with a loaded gun trying to decide on a worthy target. I was sighting down the barrel swinging it across the swamp when a black bird lifted up out of the swamp reed. I took aim, allowed for travel, and fired; it was that quick. Nothing happened. The bird continued to rise then disappeared over the box hedge, I ejected the spent bullet and put the rifle back and continued to look for something else mischievous to do. Late that afternoon a man called in. He introduced himself as a Ranger for DOC and asked Dad if he had seen anybody shooting birds today? Dad shook his head and asked why. Apparently a bla bla bla (I never did find out the breed) was found dead on the side of the main road this morning. It appears to have been shot.

Dad said “Na, they’d be silly if they were. There’s people all around here. If anybody were shooting, some body would say something” (I did feel a little bit of remorse) and I suddenly became nervous.

The man returned the way he come, dad went inside, and I shat my dacks. I was genuinely scared for the fact that I was going to prison. Not sure for what at that stage but that was irrelevant. I was going to prison, then forced into a gang, not have a bath for weeks, drink beer and smoke weed. I had embarked on a dark road to utter …..badness.

We never saw that man again, I guess they found the killer.

In my late teens I decided to buy a rifle for Deer stalking. Ironically having never touched a rifle since that incident, it brought to mind the true implications of my actions that day. My respect for firearms was suddenly justified and caused an appropriate level of unease while handling them.

We had a billy goat. Dad named him “Dopey” just because of the way he looked. Dopey ate the blackberry, and did a very good job of that. One day, Dopey ate Mum’s sheet and did a very good job of that too. Dopey had an enormous set of horns which he used often on unsuspecting animals and humans – he didn’t discriminate. So we would introduce any new friends, cuzzy’s or visitors, to Dopey when ever we could. While you faced Dopey he was fine. He would do the Goat thing with his lips, tongue and head – you know, waggle and flick everywhere. But as soon as you turned to walk away he would wind up and drive the flat of those horns into the middle of your back; ahh! it never got old.

 

During the winters we often went to the Hot Pools and happily soak there all day, but the Summers were by far the best in Tokaanu.

The fine weather was consistent and hot. The Tokaanu Wharf  was just a short walk up the main road where we spent most of our free time swimming or paddling around in the many dinghys stored there.

We would explore the swamp and the regrowth around old house ruins which were usually packed with various fruit trees gone wild. Long afternoons would be spent picking berries and fruit as they ripened and for that reason, they seemed to taste all the sweeter.

The Tokaanu stream was also a great option for fun in the sun. The clear, clean water stream run the length of the township which you could wade, float or swim as far as you wanted. We gathered watercress, foraged for koura, fished for eels and tried to catch trout by hand (not very successfully)

There was always plenty to do and at the time, I considered this the norm. It was nothing extraordinary, just children filling their time. I figured all kids had these options but alas, no. I sometimes wonder how things would have turned out if we were raised in the suburbs. When we lived in Rotorua it wasn’t too bad because we were still close enough to the country to wonder up to the bush however, the mischief we made was bordering on delinquency – but that’s a story for another blog, maybe.

My two older children were fortunate in that they lived in some interesting places – but they were forced to learn life skills early because we, the parents were not around as often as we wanted or should have been. We both worked toward a goal but allowed ourselves to be distracted. Our kids were world wise at an early age which isn’t necessarily a bad thing but, to say they didn’t suffer was being naive. I know this because it has since come to light that there were issues. The positive is, they are proving to be far better parents than we were. If that is a result of our unique parenting style then, job done!

Love your children (love your grandchildren more).

So what are you thinking. If you have any questions please put them out there. I know I am a little old school and that won’t change much. I find old school less chaotic, peaceful, which suits my thoughtful nature.

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