There were plans today for a hike along the coast, but
strong winds and a steady drizzle meant they were cancelled. I was fine with
that, as my sore muscles and blistered feet weren’t really up to another hike
anyway. Instead I spent pretty much the whole day at Te Papa using the free Wi-Fi.
I was able to talk to my parents, who thus far had been in bed every time I’d
been online. Doesn’t make for a very interesting blog post, but it was very
good for my mental health.
In the absence of anything more interesting to write about,
I’m going to take the opportunity to describe one of Te Papa's exhibits. I found it one of the most striking, the most memorable, though it's simple almost to the point of austerity in design. It’s called the Mixing Room, and aptly so: it is
dedicated to the residents of New Zealand who come from refugee backgrounds. Apparently
about a thousand refugees come to New Zealand each year. On the floor is a
timeline of the arrival of different groups of refugees, dating back to the
1800s when Dutch Christians were seeking to escape religious persecution, all
the way up to the last few years with those trying to escape war in the Middle
East. Meanwhile, the walls are lit up with pictures of some of the more recent
refugees, accompanied by quotes that share little bits of their stories. There are three
or four round touchscreen tables around the room as well, each of which had a selection
of pictures, stories, and poems written by refugees, describing their
experience.
The stories felt too brief, too surface-level, and I wanted
to know more. But even so, it was a powerful room. The timeline on the floor
made it clear that persecution can happen to anyone—any gender, race, religion.
The same group that was persecuted in one century was persecuting another in
the next. And hasn’t that been true throughout all of history? The Christians were persecuted in Ancient Rome, only to set out on the crusades a few hundred years later. One would think
we would learn better. But if we haven’t yet. I don't know if we ever will.
It also reminded me of home. Vermont becomes a final
destination for some number of refugees; I don’t know how many. We have neighbours
from Bosnia. I know there was a large group of Sudanese refugees in I think the 1990's. And, really, wasn’t America founded
by refugees? The Quakers and Puritans who fled religious persecution in
Britain?
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