New Zealanders often talk of the number eight wire culture that allows us to fix anything and solve any problem with a strand cut from a handy fence.
This notion is one of our abiding myths. Although of dubious provenance, it allows us to firmly tie down our national character as
the do-it-yourself people of the southern oceans.
This example of creating something from nothing is readily demonstrated in that most innovative of constructions - the Taranaki gate.
Assembled from a pile of battens, a spool of number eight wire, using only a hammer, staples plus pliers (with build-in cutters) this elegantly scruffy example of functional rural artifact deserves a place in Te Papa.
Cheap and relatively escape proof, anyone who has tried to open or close one will know that these gates can present difficulties. They do not respond readily to instructive handling, resisting even the force of coarse language.
The Taranaki gate stands as a symbol of rural enterprise. It challenges those who attempt to open one, while simultaneously reinforcing our skill in creating something so simple and clever to restrain a herd of cows.
My father was one of those Taranaki farmers for whom these crazy gates were a daily feature of the landscape and frequent wrestling opponent. He recently passed away aged 86.
A wonderful man and role model to all the young men of the whanau, he achieved much in his life. He welcomed into his family those who needed a place where care and love were a given and made a huge contribution to his community. Like the Taranaki gate, he was modest in manner but tough and uncompromising on the things that really count - family, church and community.
As the Taranaki gate represents a triumph of making do with what is to hand, so does my father's life. In hindsight, it can be seen that, like so many of his generation, his life was not easy. Hard work and making do with very little was part of that story.
He grew up in a time when many of the things we now take for granted could only be imagined. The rapid pace of change over his lifetime can be measured out from working with horse and plough as a young man, through to travelling the world in a jetliner in his retirement years.
Growing up with a clear view (on a good day) of the mountain, the Taranaki environment influences all who live there. The mountain is a sure and steady constant. It reminds us that what has gone before is worthy of respect and understanding and provides a valuable reference and guide for future generations.
My mother and father managed through the tough years. They brought us up while taking under their wing other young people needing a home.
He was one of those who walked the walk. He believed it was not what you said but what you did that really counted.
If the entrance to heaven has a Taranaki gate then my father will have no problem negotiating it. He will find it easy to unhook the stubborn and tricky wire loop, fold the gate open without getting snagged in the wires and then closing it carefully behind him so that the angels don't wander off.
Terry Sarten is a Taranaki-born son, a father, husband, writer, musician and social worker who lives in Whanganui. Email: tgs@inspire.net.nz
New Zealanders often talk of the number eight wire culture that allows us to fix anything and solve any problem with a strand cut from a handy fence.
This notion is one of our abiding myths. Although of dubious provenance, it allows us to firmly tie down our national character as
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