Guy Fawkes
For ages, it was the custom at this time of year to celebrate a custom inherited from Mother England.
In 1605, a recent convert to Roman Catholicism, Guy Fawkes (also known as Guido when he was a soldier employed by Catholic Spain in the Eighty Years War against the Dutch Republic), joined a bunch of conspirators who planned to assassinate the Protestant James 1 and restore a Catholic monarch to the English throne.
He was caught in a tunnel underneath the Houses of Parliament, more or less ready to light the fuse to enough gunpowder — 36 barrels — to accomplish the nefarious mission. He was, of course executed in the most horrible manner of the time, along with seven other conspirators.
The chosen method called for the perpetrators to be hanged, drawn and quartered. They called it the Gunpowder Plot.
For some reason, New Zealand chose to perpetuate the commemoration and re-enact the execution — in a modified form — combining it with celebratory private and public fireworks displays, probably to represent the conflagration had the barrels been ignited.
Kiwi adults left it to their children to build a Guy Fawkes effigy, usually by using Dad's old clothes, stuffing them with straw, rags, newspaper or anything handy and inflammable, adding gloves and shoes to complete the extremities, then topping it with a head covered with a hat.
We children would put it in some manual means of transport — a wheelbarrow, pushchair, pram or wooden cart — push it from door to door, chanting the age-old "Guy, Guy, Guy, Stick him up high, etc", in an attempt to extort small change from householders. Pennies or half-pennies, actually, as the words to the chant attest. They would freely give and the money collected would be put towards fireworks and, if there was enough, lollies.
Then on Guy Fawkes Day, November 5, in the evening, we would build a backyard bonfire, place the faux "Guy" on top and set the whole thing alight, at the same time firing sky rockets, watching catherine wheels spin, Jumping Jacks spring, waving sparklers and setting off explosions, big and small, by lighting other things as no longer exist in New Zealand.
We called them "crackers" — Double Happies and Tom Thumbs, and the joy of every young boy, Mighty Cannon. The latter could do some serious damage if biffed in the wrong direction.
Did we know what it was about? Some of us did, being history buffs and having those ubiquitous encyclopaedias written especially for children.
Most of us didn't care, because it was fun and that's what counted.
Of course, they were different times, when children had much more freedom and dangers were few. Neighbourhoods were communities and children of all families were protected by family friendships and relationships formed through mutual social activities.
We never felt unsafe going to houses, showing off our carefully crafted Guy and asking for copper coins. I remember one bunch of kids, instead of making a Guy, dressed a young sibling in old clothes, covered his head with a hat and put him in a cart for travel and display. I'm not sure what they burned on their bonfire that night!
I have a feeling Guy Fawkes celebrations in New Zealand will not last much longer, and probably rightly so.
The heart has gone out of most communities and children are discouraged from such politically incorrect things as begging for coins to buy self-indulgent things like fireworks and sweets, Halloween excepted.
Private bonfires and backyard fireworks displays are frowned on and more than one mistake has resulted in property damage or human injury. Scrub fires and even house fires are not uncommon during Guy Fawkes revelry and the psychological damage to animals is unacceptable.
While I remember our cracker night celebrations fondly, I do recall instances when things could have gone terribly wrong, and my father carried the scorched scars inflicted by a rogue Roman Candle for some time after one such night.
Even in those halcyon days we remember reading of someone, somewhere who tried to experiment with home-made fireworks and lost fingers or bits of face.
We were lucky, times were different and we now look at things through a different lens.
Guy Fawkes and his gunpowder barrels have no relevance in New Zealand and setting things on fire seems an odd way to celebrate anything.
There must be other things, occasions more Kiwi, worth commemorating in a way more suited to current thinking. Your ideas are welcome.