Odette Taylor - Ghosts of the Past: A memoir of a childhood in Port Ahuriri, Napier, New Zealand, in the 1950s

The wild, swirling foam flies in abandonment over the mole. A resounding Boom! ricochets off the incongruous, grey slabs again and again. We watch in awe as the monstrous waves crash against the breakwater, totally covering it like a latticed white tablecloth.

Will the waters reach our homes? Are we safe? These questions flashed alarmingly through my mind as I gaze mesmerised at the mole. The mole at the Napier Wharf is like a mother hen, closeting her chicks against the elements. Its long, grey arms extend out past the ships, forcing the wild-water to swirl and rage out into the open sea once more.

The angry sea moves tenaciously towards our homes. Thankfully, its full potency has been thwarted by the mole, but its turbulent waters spew up onto the road. We watch from our homes as tendrils of water come towards us, but, like an anti-climax, it simply trickles into the gutter to disappear down the drain.

There is an atmosphere of trepidation amongst the locals as the small, seaworthy fishing boats come back to the quieter waters. With thankful hearts, wives and sweethearts alike, recognise their loved ones vessel before the boats disappear around Perfume Point to enter Scapa Flow. The larger Norwegian trawlers, Jenko-I and Jenko-II, take it all in their stride. After all, they had sailed all the way from Norway to start a new life here in New Zealand at Port Ahuriri, Napier.

Life in the fifties for a child was full of adventure and exploration. I was born in 1949, so grew up with a lot of freedom. The road I mention is Hardinge Road, my home being number 47. The beach across the road was full of rocks. We built our own huts, even having fires inside to cook seafood etc. We worked untiringly to clear the rocks and make pools. The Macalisters, Smarts and the Lucas families, all made their own pools. We even bordered our paths to the sea with a row of small rocks competition was fierce for the best pool. On one occasion, my older brother Tony, while standing on the rocks at the edge of our pool, had his toes clasped by tentacles of an octopus. We were all so excited. Kina, or sea eggs, stingray, crabs, and a variety of fish were commonplace but we did not always see an octopus! Our neighbour used to preserve them, and he showed us all his jars of preserved octopus. I thought they were disgusting!

We lived on, in or under the sea. Flippers, masks and snorkels were a must. As I got older, I paddled on a skiff and my brother Tony became a surfie. My skiff was a long, relatively narrow, wooden board. Nothing like the fiberglass boards of today that lifeguards use. It took two of us to carry it down to the sea, and on return, I had to pull out a plug and drain out the water. What fun it was, paddling over the calm, glistening waters on a warm summers day! If I got too hot, I just dropped into the cool green sea, hanging onto the skiff as I did so, then climbed back on board. It was so refreshing, so exhilarating. I was as brown as a berry and as fit as a fiddle. The Sparling girls also had skiffs. We would paddle down to the wharf or paddle over to the sandy beach at Westshore and come in on the waves.

We had a high wooden fence in front of our house which was fine for my mothers garden, protecting her plants from the wind and sea spray, but for me as a toddler, it was very frustrating. I could not see a thing! So, Dad made a wooden ladder for me to climb and peer over the top. My older brothers and sister never wanted to include me in their escapades. I would hear their cry, Quick, here comes Odette! and before I knew it, they had rushed outside the gate and shut it leaving me trapped behind once again.

I was pleasantly surprised when one day, I was invited to join them in their adventure. We walked down the road and then turned at Knox Presbyterian Church into Waghorne Street. There, opposite the church, was an old house where Taranaki Liz lived. A small paddock, with a horse in it, was adjacent to her home. The lure for all the kids in the Port was the huge plum tree that grew next to her outhouse.

They would all clamber up, stand on the tin roof, take the plums and then run off home.

However, on this day, I was unwittingly included in the raid, but I was too small to climb the tree onto her roof. So, with much pushing and shoving, they finally got me up onto the roof. Then someone saw Taranaki Liz on the loo! Some of the children pelted her with plums, after which they all took off except me! I was left behind once more; only this time, I was not at home. She came around and stood under the tree, yelling and screaming, to no avail. I was the only one left and I couldnt get down. I dont remember whether I cried or not, as I was little after all, but somehow, she got me down and took me inside her house. She was very kind and we got on really well. So after that, we were friends, much to the amazement of everyone else.

As far as I knew, no one had ever been into her house before.

I liked the old ladies, as they often gave me lollies! It is amazing, now that I look back, how I was able to walk around the streets near Hardinge Road, on my own, and meet old ladies, who took me inside their homes and let me see all their lovely ornaments. I had no fear and, indeed, they were all quite charming.