My grandparents were kind people. And they were also unthinkingly vicious racists. They talked of "niggers". "Blacks have only come down out of the trees in the last few years" my grandfather explained to me. "You can't expect them to be civilised". "Get that out of your mouth" my grandmother shouted when she saw me sucking on a penny. "Some filthy Chinaman’s been touching that!” They called anyone they suspected of greed a Jew.
My grandparents died many many years ago and to be truthful I didn't much mourn their passing. But last Thursday morning I did think of them as I was walking with my dog in Upper Moutere around a large irrigation pond fringed with flax and toi-toi.
The dog ran ahead with busy nose to the ground. As I walked, I listened on my iPod to Roald Hoffmann, an elderly Jewish man, recount his experiences as a child in Nazi-occupied Poland.
The dog ran ahead with busy nose to the ground. As I walked, I listened on my iPod to Roald Hoffmann, an elderly Jewish man, recount his experiences as a child in Nazi-occupied Poland.
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