Monique Devereux: Wise words from Uncle Jimmy

COMMENT

As I write this my uncle lies a couple of kilometres away in a stark hospital ward, breathing some of his last breaths.

He shudders involuntarily and struggles back to consciousness, asking "who's there?" before waking fully and snorting with laugher "You still here? Not a very good host, am I."

Soon enough he is dozing off again, having a conversation with God only knows who about something I can't quite catch.

Uncle Jimmy is 76. He has had a good life, a good innings. He has a loving family and had a happy marriage.

His kidneys are not so happy. They have been on a long journey and the message on how to operate is no longer getting through. So they refuse to do anything at all anymore, which means the end is nigh for this gentle man.

But his brain is working as if he were still the 40-something year old I played backyard cricket with as a child. The same man who told me off for dead-heading the very much alive hydrangeas. My mother's little brother.

He is not ready to die, even if his kidneys say he must. And sitting by his bed, watching him ponder this, is the worst place I have ever been.

Several hours north of his hospital bed a hikoi has arrived at Parliament. A long march by thousands to argue about wet sand.

The marchers are emotional. It has been a long journey, yet their message is not getting through.

Uncle Jimmy is oblivious to the hikoi, but has a theory on the debate.

"It's wet sand, why does anyone need to own it anyway? It shouldn't belong to anyone who doesn't just want it to be wet sand."

He would rather talk about rugby, a long-time passion. But he's missed a couple of Super 12 rounds now and he is too tired to try and catch up.

"Mose headbutted someone," I tell him.

Uncle Jimmy sighs. "Oh well, he'll be getting the message from the bosses not to bother next week."

Another round of medications. Another sleep.

I sneak out and back to work, interviewing a Malaysian man who has been threatened with a headbutt, spat at and yelled at. All for being an Asian living in Christchurch.

He cannot understand the mentality of his fellow residents.

"Why are they so annoyed with me being here? I do not say anything to offend them, I do not dress in offensive clothing, I do not abuse them and try to pick a fight."

Christchurch has a racist mentality. He is a victim. He has organised a march to point this out to community leaders who prefer to brush the complaints off.

So far his message has not got through.

"We are victims and no-one is doing anything to stop it. They want us to get used to it, they say it's normal. It's not normal to me. I would never do it to you."

I return to Ward 14. Uncle Jimmy doesn't know about the march. He doesn't know if Christchurch is racist.

"People can be cruel. Sometimes they don't listen to anyone except themselves. They should listen more."

It is a wise message and I promise to pass it on. He slips back to dreamland and I go home.

* Monique Devereux is a Herald journalist in Christchurch.