Welcomed to the Neighborhood by Being Tied to a Tree

To the Tune of 'I Wanna Hold Your Hand'

In a recent post, I wrote about the demise of my father’s Austin 10, as we shifted from Christchurch to Auckland, and completed the journey by train from Paraparaumu. It was an interesting journey and while the car wrecker paid enough to cover the train trip, we arrived in Auckland with next to no money and no car. At least my father had a good job that he was about to start.

We were supposed to be moving to a house in Titirangi, but it turned out that the previous residents weren’t moving out for another 3 months. Auckland Museum kindly found us a house to rent in Birkenhead on the North Shore, and my father was able to use a vehicle belonging to the museum until he bought his next car. This was our 5th house in New Zealand in 4 years.

It was towards the end of the year, so I didn’t have to go to school, given I would be leaving again within a month or two.

I’m not sure if this is our house or the one next door, we weren’t there long enough for me to draw any attachment to it. Back then there was lots of native bush in the area. With today’s infill housing, you can count the trees. Did you know, Auckland is one of the most expensive cities in the world? Don’t ask me why. Nice at is, it is also geographically remote. On the plus side, going to the Pacific Islands is an economical holiday. I do feel a little envious when my family in Holland can be in another country after a drive of only a few hours.

I remember being bored and not having anyone to play with when we were there because I didn’t have the network you get through attending school.

It was a hot summer’s day and I remember the heat reflecting off the pavement as I walked along our cul de sac. I distinctly remember hearing the Beatles, I Want to Hold Your Hand, blaring through the open door and windows of a house across the street.

Brian Epstein asked The Beatles to write a song for the American Market. They came up with Hold My Hand, which was later renamed. The IV IV V chords in the introduction are among the most famous in rock music.

Lennon and McCartney wrote it in a matter of a few hours, in the basement of Paul’s girlfriend’s (Jane Asher) parents’ house in London. It was released in October 1963, just as we were moving into our temporary home. True to Epstein’s request it was a hit in America with the single reaching Number One on the Billboard Hot 100 Chart.

I wasn’t aware of it at the time, but The Beatles' arrival in New Zealand in June 1964 caused a frenzy of excitement among fans. The group's concerts were sold out in minutes, and thousands of fans lined the streets to catch a glimpse of them. The song's catchy melody and simple lyrics spoke to the hearts of young people all over the world, and it helped to usher in a new era of peace and love. But maybe not on that day, for me.

As the heat on the tar seal of the road burned the soles of my bare feet, four kids came up to me and asked me who I was. I told them I had just moved up from Christchurch and that we wouldn’t be staying in the area for long, as we were waiting for our new house in Titirangi. That was probably my first mistake.

They probably decided that I thought I was too cool to live in their neighborhood or go to their school. I was 7 and they were bigger than me, I’m assuming they were a couple of years older.

The boys said they were going to go play in the bush and asked if I wanted to go with them. I replied that I would have to ask my mother first. Their response was something along the lines of “Are you a sissy or something.” Well, I may have been only 7, but I wasn’t going to go and ask permission after that challenge. That was my second mistake.

Off we went down a bush track, doing whatever kids do on a bush track, when one of them came up with a bright idea for a game of cops and robbers. Before I knew what was happening, the boys (there were three boys and a girl) grabbed me, and while two of them pushed me against a tree, the third boy who had been carrying some thick string tied me to it.

I struggled, and asked them to let me go and was told, “It’s just a game, don’t be a sookie bubba.” Then they all stood back cackling and pointing their fingers at me.

That wasn’t enough for them, so they came back to me, grabbed my shorts and jerked them down, and then off. They stood pointing again, then laughing their heads off, they ran away taking my pants with them, leaving me half naked and tied to a tree.

Funny what you remember. That was my welcome to the community and not one I enjoyed. Anyway, I managed to untie myself, and taking off my shirt to cover my privates, I started walking back through the bush, towards the street, wondering what people would think when they saw me with no pants on. I was hoping there wouldn’t be anyone around.

Fortunately, I needn’t have worried. As I walked out through the lush native bush, I found my shorts hanging from a tree branch and quickly put them back on. I then ran home, hoping I wouldn’t see those kids again.

Then I made my third mistake. I told my mother what had happened. When my father got home from work and heard the story from her, he went and talked to the parents of one of the kids, probably with an angry, indignant tone, delivered with a Dutch accent.

Immigrants were still considered by some Kiwis as people who were there to steal their jobs. Ironic, given families like ours were given financial assistance to make the trip because New Zealand needed more workers.

I don’t recall having anything to do with the kids after that. I suspect that they considered me a snitch and snubbed me. In fact beyond that day, I don’t remember anything about our stay in Birkenhead, other than being impatient to move away.

In hindsight, if I had stayed in the neighborhood, I probably would have become friends with those kids. It was no big deal, I wasn’t physically hurt. I just hadn’t experienced anything like that before.

As for me, my new home in Titirangi was going to be awesome, and Birkenhead would quickly be forgotten, other than that one day which still lingers in my memory.