Ordinary Kiwis step up with courage and kindness
Amid the devastation of Cyclone Gabrielle are the everyday New Zealanders and volunteers who’ve made such a difference, writes
As the Barber family huddled in their roof cavity, furniture bobbing against the ceiling in floodwaters below, they heard a motor approach.
The sound was a godsend for Chris, who six hours previously had been told by a 111 operator to smash a hole in the ceiling and shelter with his wife and two young children.
Frantically banging on the roof, the family yelled out their whereabouts, and when the inflatable boat arrived, Chris asked its wetsuit-clad occupants ‘‘are you guys the navy?’’
‘‘Nah, we’re just three Mā ori boys,’’ came the reply.
The men who saved the Esk Valley family are anonymous heroes for now but their actions reflect scenes played out across New Zealand’s northern regions.
The cyclone has displaced about 10,000 people from their homes, regions remain cut off from communications and the death toll stands at nine, with more expected. Grave concerns are held for the many more who can’t be contacted.
Much of the response has been shouldered by thousands of everyday New Zealanders. And, as exemplified by the tragic deaths of volunteer firefighters Craig Stevens and Dave van Zwanenberg, many risked their own lives to do so.
Just one of those volunteers was Samantha Seon of Mangawhai, a St John
Ambulance first responder who was called to assist an elderly woman on Monday night.
Hoping the patient could remain at home to avoid venturing out in the cyclone, Seon discovered she needed to be taken to Whangarei Hospital, and the normally simple trip quickly became perilous.
Navigating through gale-force winds and flying debris, the ambulance was trapped multiple times by downed trees. When the fire service couldn’t move them, Seon took the longest possible route to hospital, finally getting home at 4.30am.
The graphic designer downplays the experience but does say it reflects the importance of volunteers, especially in smaller communities.
Speaking from a Hawke’s Bay fire station, Tony Adie apologises for crying as he describes the scenes his colleagues face.
‘‘It’s a like a war zone, Cyclone Bola was nothing compared to this . . . I’ve never seen anything like it.’’
Adie and his workmates cover both Napier and Hastings with a mix of volunteer and professional staff facing the loss of their own properties and possessions.
As for what Adie’s seen this week? Too much to make sense of.
There were the 120 RSE workers evacuated from orchards, and the others rescued from rooftops; his mates waistdeep in water walking stunned people to safety. There were the deep drifts of silt; the floating animal carcasses, the wall of water racing towards him.
And on Monday night, when the teams started work at 6pm and didn’t stop for 24 hours, there was the darkness.
‘‘It’s like going into a burning building, you don’t know what’s there. The trees were coming down; cars moving around; fires amongst the floods too.’’
Much of the response couldn’t have happened without volunteers, Adie says, and all emergency responders have put their own lives in danger.
Of New Zealand’s national family of firefighters, 85% are volunteers who cover 93% of the country’s land mass, according to United Fire Brigades’ Association chairman Peter Dunne.
With 1700 permanently employed firefighters and 12,000 volunteers, it’s the latter attending most fires and road accidents.
The work of the country’s surf lifesavers has also been thrust into the spotlight in past weeks.
In the past week, Ben McKernan, Search and Rescue Coordinator for Ruakā kā Surf Lifesaving Patrol, has responded to numerous calls for help and has evacuated residents from their ruined homes.
‘‘They were oblivious there was half a metre of water around their house when we were knocking on the door at 4.30am.’’
The financial value of New Zealand’s volunteer workforce – about 21.5% of the population – is estimated at $4 billion per annum, according to consultants ImpactLab.
As they always do in disasters and times of crisis, marae have opened their doors. Terenga Paraoa Marae, also known as Kaka Porowini, has been sheltering more than 20 people per night since the storm hit.
Marae spokesperson Auriole Ruka (Ngā ti Hine, Ngā ti Manu) said her people were used to supporting whā nau in times of stress.
‘‘That’s the thing about marae. Our tikanga is to manaaki our whā nau and communities.’’
The disaster has proved is that no matter the conditions, New Zealanders are there for each other. Just as the tales of extraordinary resilience are still emerging, so are the quiet heroes who stepped up.
There’s the ‘‘extreme courage and skill’’ of a pilot who balanced his helicopter on one skid for a rooftop rescue; the Northland couple who kayaked to reach cutoff Kaipara residents; the many people who threw open their doors to shelter survivors.
And as the people of the North continue to help each other, the rest of Aotearoa is racing to help. Donations are flooding in and supply drives are on their way, including three utes and trailers organised by Goodmans Contractors on the Kā piti Coast, bring three tonnes of food, blankets, water and fuel..
Mita Harris (Ngā puhi) of Kerikeri brushes off any suggestions he’s a hero.
At the height of the cyclone, he fielded a call to help a woman in labour get to hospital. Jumping into his Unimog, Harris picked up a midwife before rescuing the woman and her whā nau from a ute on a flooded road.
It was just one of many transfers Harris, along with fellow driver Ari Burt and daughter Hana Harris, have undertaken since the storm, though the Unimog has been used for years to help Northland people.
That’s the reason he got it in the first place, he says. It’s just what Kiwis do.