We’re not Wellingtonians
Otaki ¯ was sizzling in the sun over the weekend. The Otaki Pottery Club’s week-long 11th Festival of Pots and Garden Art did a roaring trade. “The first day saw $63,000 worth of sales. The event is growing,” club member Rod Graham said. This is just one of a number of O¯ taki events helping to not only ring the cash register for the local economy but also shape and showcase O¯ taki’s local character. Next month, there is the 5th Whakaaro Whakairo Sculpture Symposium. Its timing blends into the 8th Otaki Kite Festival. The twoday kite festival comes with international participants. They in turn add to the attractions of another unique global event, the 6th Annual Maoriland Film Festival, which celebrates indigenous filmmaking. These signature events spring out of a strong sense of community. It’s these deep historical umbilical cords attached to the land that makes locals describe their self-identity in a peculiar way. Over the five years I’ve been resident in O¯ taki I have often heard locals say “I am going to Ka¯ piti” when they are in O¯ taki. Technically speaking they see O¯ taki being ‘separate’ from Ka¯ piti.
I see two reasons underpinning this. Firstly, its undeniably strong historical identity that makes O¯ taki, well, quintessentially O¯ taki. Secondly, the¯half-cooked treatment of Otaki during the most significant local government reform in New Zealand for a century. That’s when, in 1989, around 850 local bodies were amalgamated into just 86 local authorities. I say half- cooked because while O¯ taki, was, without consultation, carved out of the Horowhenua County and its boundaries grafted to the new Ka¯ piti District Council all of its central government agency services were still linked to the north. Today, while the rest of Ka¯ piti looks south for its health, police, justice, and other social services O¯ taki looks north to Levin and
Palmerston North. While transport infrastructure north of O¯ taki is poor, the opening of the Peka Peka stage of the expressway linking Ka¯ piti to Wellington will induce pressure for O¯ taki to look south. One solution is for these central government services for O¯ taki and the whole Ka¯ piti district to be located in Paraparaumu. But, whatever the infrastructure and social service investment, and location, O¯ taki’s dominant self identity as a community will remain intact and be celebrated as O¯ taki.
And that brings me to the real point of this week’s column. Firstly, kudos to Virginia Fallon’s article in a publication that highlighted a majority of Ka¯ piti residents interviewed saying they do not identify themselves as “Wellingtonians”. This was in response to a debate around the question — which is the second biggest city next to Auckland i.e Wellington or Christchurch? It was clear that if Wellington City defined itself by including the populations of its regional local bodies like the two Hutt cities, Porirua, Wairarapa, Masterton, Carterton and Ka¯ piti Coast, it will have a population of almost 523K to claim second place. To be fair, the region’s local bodies appreciate the economic synergy that links all of us. In Kapiti, we appreciate that more the 6000 of us commute to work in Wellington City. I appreciate the tongue-incheek observation, I have made to the other mayors, that when our 6000 commuting workers return to Ka¯ piti in the late afternoon the IQ level of Wellington City drops. It’s good for Wellington to understand that while what’s good for Wellington is good for us, it’s also true that what’s good for the region is good for Wellington. It’s a two-way street. The strength of Ka¯ piti is in our unique collection of coastal communities with our separate identities. I can guarantee that almost 100 per cent of us in O¯ taki will not call ourselves Wellingtonians. And Ka¯ piti Coast, wrapped around and embraced by our Island, is . . . quintessentially, Ka¯ piti. We are not Wellingtonians.