A Very Unusual Kiwi Christmas Tale
Mary and Donald are old friends from Wellington who have been coming to Wharekaho on holiday for the last 40 years. I first met them when I lived next door to their apartment at the northern end of Wharekaho and quickly warmed to their outgoing sociable personalities. They were both members of the New Zealand symphony orchestra and spent their month-long summer holiday at the beach every year. We were often entertained by them giving us impromptu concerts around the beach barbeque.
They were always there for Christmas and after a few years we decided to give each other funny, unusual presents. I remember receiving a giant condom called Big Boy one Christmas.
Unfortunately, it was way too big, even for me, so it now sits in a drawer and serves as a conversation piece when guests visit with the predictable quirky comments from both sexes.
I am hoping one day to find someone who could actually make use of it so I can finally get rid of it. Let me know if any of you fit that category.
Donald is a keen fisherman, so this year I gave him a T-shirt with the words ‘Master Baiter’ emblazoned on the front, with a proviso that he wears it to the next NZSO practice when he returns to Wellington. He didn’t promise but he loves his new T. Perhaps he can wear it while fishing. Most fish probably can’t read and shouldn’t be offended.
The present that has left the most lasting impression though was a doll which we named Rachael. I first met Rachael about 15 years ago in a Whitianga op shop and immediately thought she would be a suitably weird Christmas present for Donald. Rachael was a large doll and was completely naked so you can imagine some of the looks and comments I got. “That’ll make some little girl happy,” chirped the old lady at the op shop.
I didn’t tell her it was for an adult. And while carrying her along Albert St to where my car was parked, “Have a good night” was one snide comment offered by one smiling local. We gave Rachael to Donald.
He was underwhelmed but accepted Rachael in a good-humoured way. Mary, however, didn’t take to Rachael at all, even though she was quite pretty and had nice hair.
Anyway, the Christmas holiday flew by, and Donald and Mary were preparing to return to Wellington. On their day of departure, we waved farewell and then rowed out to my boat which was anchored off the beach.
After cooking up a tasty fish dinner, my partner and I prepared for bed. I noticed there was something under the covers, so I pulled back the duvet on my bunk in the aft cabin and lo and behold there lay Rachael with her slight smile and outstretched arms. Donald had abandoned her to a life on the ocean waves. There wasn’t room for Rachael in the cabin, so I found a berth for her inside one of the hatches outside, which contained diving and fishing gear. I hoped she liked water sports.
Rachael occupied the lonely hatch for a few weeks until it was time for me to return to my temporary teaching job in Auckland. I sailed my trimaran Jiwa to Auckland where she occupied a mooring next to Northcote Wharf. Unfortunately, there were a lot of seagulls living there and after a few weeks Jiwa was a frightful mess covered in seagull shit which had dried in the sun and hardened like concrete. After unsuccessfully trying to stop their shitting by tying ribbons and music discs to the rigging, I came up with a novel idea. I decided to use Rachael as a maritime scarecrow. I opened the hatch and woke her from her dark slumber.
Then I tied a cord around her neck and hung her halfway up the mast where she could sway in the wind and hopefully scare the seagulls away to shit on another boat.
Well, on seeing Rachael hanging there my partner, who has an aversion to dolls anyway, immediately insisted that Rachael be given some clothes, so on arrival home she pulled out her sewing machine and made a beautiful dress with silver flecks shining in it.
Decked out in her new garb Rachael looked very pretty. I wasn’t sure if the seagulls would feel the same about her or whether or not she would attract or repel them.
We definitely got a few unusual stares from people rowing out to their moored boats when they saw a doll hanging there. I must admit she did look a bit forlorn despite her new clothes, so I took the cord from around her neck and put it under her arms. I think that made her feel a little more alive and less self-conscious. Despite her good looks, Rachael actually succeeded in keeping the birds off Jiwa.
As the months passed and the storms blew through, Rachael’s dress began to fade and tear, and her hair started to fall out. Strangely, her head also faded to a soft grey colour while the rest of her body maintained its warm pink hue. She began to look downright scary and if I had been a seagull I would definitely have performed my ablutions on a friendlier-looking boat.
Eventually, it came time to return to Wharekaho, so Rachael was once again relegated to her dark bed under the port hatch. It was summer and Christmas holidays were upon us. Mary and Donald were due to arrive again, and we hadn’t managed to find any weird funny presents, so I thought, ‘I know, Donald can have the new look Rachael back with her grey face, almost bald head and her torn faded dress.’ She looked like a demon doll ready to sink her teeth into you. I was the gardener at Donald and Mary’s apartments and had a key. The day before their arrival I entered Donald’s bedroom and hid Rachael under the covers of his bed. Mary told me the next day she heard a scream from Donald when he went to bed and couldn’t help laughing when she saw his old friend reaching out for him.
In case you were wondering, none of us has had the heart to get rid of Rachael. It’s almost like she’s part of our extended family destined to spend her days stored in a plastic bin in the garage. Occasionally, we take her out to see if she looks any older but unlike us, she doesn’t. A quiet solitary life free of seagulls and humans seems to suit her.
Words by Ross Liggins
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