What Can You Do Douglas Henry Child
And Kindness Lay All About
Stories from the Christchurch Earthquakes
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Glenn Busch
Douglas Henry Child
Well, I’ve had them all my life. Murchison, I went through that one, then Inangahua, and now this one. I didn’t worry. I knew what it was, so no good trying to do anything, I just stayed there in bed. You hear
the cupboards open and the crockery coming out onto the floor, the
preserves coming down but there’s nothing you can do. You’ve just got to live with these things. February, I had the TV roped up to stop it
going forward and it went sideways, toppled over sideways. What can you do? I had the jug on for a cuppa tea at the time, just had to put it down and hang on. Sometimes you can’t do anything else. It’s just
things isn’t it, one of those things. Anyway, I’m on my own these days so it doesn’t worry me.
The biggest disappointment will be having to get out of this place
and go somewhere else. But there you go, all these places here, both
sides of the river, out the back there, all those houses behind us, yeah, all going to go. Got to come down. And that’s a lot of memories.
This place here was something of a hub in the old days. The wife’s
people down in Dunedin, they’d be coming up to stay, and vice versa,
you’d get other parts of the family from Brisbane, from Queensland, they’d come over here, then they’d go South. We were sort of a centre. A meeting place. People coming and going. These days it’s not so busy
but it’s still my home. I’ve still got a roof over my head so I’m not going
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anywhere just yet. Not for a while. This has been home for thirty-eight
years, and that’s a long time to be told they’re going to bulldoze you out and you’ve just got to bugger off.
I’ve been in Christchurch since I was ten, 1936 it was when we
arrived. I didn’t like primary school much. Living up Takaka way it
was just mum used to teach us so I never got to school till much later. I was always behind. Never picked up much at primary school but by
the time I went to the secondary school that all changed. I was either
first or second in the class. I wanted to be a woodwork teacher or an architect but because I was left-handed my dad wouldn’t let me. I don’t
know why but he didn’t like it. He used to put my hand in a sock. Yeah, hammered away at me until the day he died. My brother-in-law from Balclutha, he had the same thing. He stutters as well but they used to
hit him over the knuckles all the time with a ruler trying to make him right-handed.
I ended up in a grocery shop. From 1948 right through to ‘82.
Then I had a bookshop in Barrington Street for about ten years. A
newsagency. Magazines, cards, all that sort of stuff. I bought the grocer shop from my parents and they shifted elsewhere. Then self-service
came in and I thought I’d like to get in on that. I spent ages, nights and weekends in the garage, building the shelves and fixtures we needed for
that. It was the third self-service in Christchurch. In the end we gave it up because of the wife’s legs. Her veins. She had very bad varicose
veins. We thought it might have been her standing so much—on her
feet so much—but her sister was the same so I don’t know about that. Anyway we got the bookshop and she used to come down a couple
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of days a week. It gave her more time with the daughter as well, our
adopted daughter. She’s over in Australia now. She likes it there, she won’t be back.
When we came here this was supposed to be our home for the rest
of our lives. Well, for my wife it was. She was a cripple and she passed away five years ago. I’m the only one left here now. They told us it was
going to be a couple of years before they bulldozed us but I didn’t want
to muck around; I’ve got in early. Brought a bit of land out Rangiora
way, a section. They start building in April. If I were a bit younger I’d build it myself. They say you’ve got to have a Master Builder to do it these days but I’ve always liked the idea of a man doing things for
himself. Well, we had to be like that. It’s no different today. Eventually I’ll have to move, go out to Rangiora and take it one day at a time. Do the same as I’ve always done and see what happens. Until then I’ll just
potter around here, do a bit in the garden, go for a walk, cook my meals. I will miss the river. It’s a bit hard to walk around these days but they
say they’ll eventually make a park all along here where people can go. Be by the water, take a stroll or whatever. I think that’s a good idea.
I’m not saying that I wanted things to change but it has and you
have to be a man about it, just get on with it. Okay there is still a lot of
memories here, a certain amount of regret but in the end, I don’t have a lot of choice. All I can do is start again and make a new life. Take it
in your stride, that’s the story. I know it’ll never be the same, not after what I’ve got here—the garden I’ve established here.
Setting out a new garden that will be the hardest thing. When my
wife had no legs I couldn’t get away from home so much and so I spent
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a lot of time out there. All the vegetables I grew and gave away to the
friends and neighbours, I’m going to miss all that. I’m going to miss
them. We were all pretty close but most of them have gone now. There’s
still friends I want to see but if you think about it, at my age, a lot of your friends have disappeared already haven’t they.
The fact is I’m eighty-six now, so I haven’t got that long to live
myself. I wish we hadn’t had these earthquakes but it looks like we’ll
have them now for some years to come. Some say they’ll be around for donkeys’ years, I may never see the end of them. So what, I’ve just got
to forget about them—oh yeah, there goes another shake sort of thing. You can’t spend your life worrying about them. Take my house now, I’ve got a few cracks and scratches here and there and sometimes the
doors will get jammed. Today it’s jammed but then tomorrow it will
open. You never know from one day to the next what it’ll be like. Well, if you think about it, life’s always been a bit like that eh.
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