I DIDN’T want to tell this story.
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I am from Christchurch, but this story is not about me.
It is about the people of Christchurch … and more importantly, those who called Christchurch home but have been ripped savagely from that home.
Firstly, to my Muslim brothers and sisters, I’m sorry you weren’t safe in your home.
Our home.
Your culture enriches New Zealand and makes it the diverse and vibrant country it is today.
And through one man’s actions, you didn’t come home on Friday afternoon.
I had the great pleasure of knowing Tariq Omar and indirectly knowing Atta Elayyan before they were killed by a white supremacist terrorist at the Masjid Al Noor mosque.
Tariq was a year or two above me at high school and we played soccer and futsal together regularly for a local club.
Tariq was a talented player and he got on with everyone — coaches, teammates, opposition, parents. He never had a bad word to say about anyone and no-one had a bad word to say about Tariq.
His life was taken during prayer.
Atta was both the Canterbury Dragons and New Zealand futsal team goalkeeper with 19 senior caps to his name.
Aside from that he was a successful and popular member of the local tech community in which he worked.
He had recently become a dad.
His life was taken during prayer.
Tariq and Atta were two of the 50 people we tragically lost that day.
The outpouring of grief and genuine aroha (love) for the victims, their families and for the Muslim community, is the only thing helping me feel anything other than horror.
That and the fact we the people are proudly saying: ‘white supremacist terrorist, you failed’.
Despite his intentions, his actions created aroha for the victims and their families and brought every Kiwi closer together than we have ever been before.
His plot to create division has unified us.
Christchurch has been through first-hand devastation before. The 2011 earthquake claimed the lives of 185 people.
We’ve been there and came out the other side stronger than we were before.
This new-found feeling of being one people is now an entrenched belief and you cannot, will not and are never going to shake that from us.
There’s a famous waiata (song) taught to primary school aged children around New Zealand. It has been around for years and I hope it’ll be around forever.
It’s called Tūtira Mai.
Most Kiwis know this waiata, and if they don’t know it, they’d know the tune. It’s as Kiwi as Jacinda Ardern.
My favourite part roughly translates to this:
Whai-a te marama-tanga, (Seek after knowledge)
Me te aroha — e ngā iwi! (and love of others — everybody!)
Ki-a ko tapa tahi, (Call ourselves one people)
Ki-a ko-tahi rā (And stand united)
Tātou tātou e. (All of us, all of us.)
As crowds gathered in the days after to say their good byes, it was a fitting tribute to see parks, streets and schools filled with waiatas like Tūtira Mai and hakas like Tahu Pōtiki.
In those dark days following the Friday, I was delighted but not at all surprised to see my old high school principal Mark Wilson say something deeply brave and profound just three days after the school lost two of its pupils.
‘‘(We) reinforced the message (to the students) that has been played throughout the media, that these events don’t define us,’’ he said.
‘‘They don’t define us as a school, as the city of Christchurch, or as a country.
‘‘What defines us is how we choose to respond to these events...we can choose to respond to these events with love, and I think that’s what’s happening here.’’
That is the Christchurch I have always known.
The city that comes together and responds with love, not hate.
Just as we did after the earthquakes.
But showing your love by talking about it with friends and sharing a Facebook post isn’t enough this time.
Amidst this horror is a chance to redefine ourselves as a people who won’t stand by as racism and Islamophobia proliferates.
The bystander effect has gone on too long in this world, allowing white supremacist terrorists to bubble away beneath the surface without being noticed with no one to step up to them and say ‘what you’re doing is wrong’.
We have to say no. All the time, every time.
Not in spirit but actuality.
No matter how small or large it may seem at the time, you standing by while someone else is abused for the colour of their skin or their religious beliefs could lead to something far worse in the future.
It means if we’re on the bus or at the supermarket and we see someone being subjected to the ‘everyday’ racist stuff we are accustomed to, we must step in and actually stand beside people.
If your brothers really are my brothers, then I cannot and will not stand quietly by, feeling uncomfortable and not sure if it is my place to say something when your brother, mother, cousin is insulted or made to feel afraid.
Call out racism and vilification for what it truly is.
Make a stand for what’s right and remember the real heroes of Christchurch.