Christchurch

December 4. Lonely Planet describes Christchurch (KRYST-cherch) as one of New Zealand's jewels, a vibrant beacon of Kiwi culture. But that was before the earthquakes. A pair of devastating tremors, within three months of each other, left the city shell shocked. The once-proud city center now lies in desolate ruin; the good-natured optimism so prevalent among New Zealanders is difficult to find here, as a pall of depression now blankets the city's inhabitants. The city's emblematic cathedral personifies the damage. Christchurch has been gutted to the core.

After swinging and missing on all my previous attempts at couch surfing on the south island, I finally got a hit in Christchurch...from a guy named Kyle who wasn't even there. His automated message referred me to Occupy Christchurch, saying they'd take care of me when I got there---all I needed to do was say, "Kyle sent me." Lacking any better ideas, I decided to go see firsthand what the Occupy movement is all about. After all, traveling is about gaining new experiences, and I've never engaged in a protest before.

I should admit my biases about Occupy---particularly Wall Street, since that's the only one I knew anything about previously---before continuing. Politically speaking, I'm a free market Libertarian with strong anarchist inclinations, which basically means I dislike government and really like capitalism. I think the Occupy protesters who actually want to accomplish something are only half right. While they have cause to be angry about government corruption and the under the table alliances between politicians and big businesses, their lack of economic understanding leads them to wrongly villainize capitalism. And that's the ones who actually care...I think most of them just want to show up and cause a ruckus, but aren't really after anything productive. Anyway, I came into Occupy Christchurch with an open mind, but that was my preconceived notion.

The occupiers set up shop in Hagley Park, a giant recreational area in the middle of everything. Apparently, city architects designed Hagley first, then planned the rest of the city around it. Hagley was always meant to be the heart and soul of Christchurch. Though it's within a few blocks of the earthquake's carnage, the park itself remained largely unaffected by the tectonic shifting. Thus, it offered an ideal environment for protesters who want people to notice them. And notice them I did---it's tough to miss three or four dozen tents set up in one of the busiest corners of town, with artwork decorating the sidewalks and banners flying everywhere.

No one had any idea who Kyle was, and I got handed off a few times before anyone showed me the designated couch surfing tent. I dropped my gear and made for the "lounge" where a couple battered couches, some folding chairs, and a giant beanbag formed our communal area. Thus began my 36-hour stay over days 50 and 51 of Occupy Christchurch.

It didn't take long for me to be unimpressed. The whole escapade struck me as disorganized and incoherent, and no one seemed to know what the point was. The words of the old song by Buffalo Springfield come to mind:

What a field day for the heat
A thousand people in the street
Singing songs and carrying signs
Mostly saying, "hooray for our side

Except, I don't really know what "our side" is...and no one else seemed to either. Also, this:

I was intrigued by the diversity of people comprising the movement. Almost everyone fell into one of five categories. First, you had the individuals with a clear cause and purpose who wanted to do their part to get the word out and fight important battles. Next, you had hippie, vegan, artistic types who seemed more excited about living simply in community than anything else. I'll lump in with them the spiritualists and conspiracy theorists who just wanted to throw ideas around. Third, You had people with a victim complex and no concept of economics---they just know they're against it. Fourth, you had people who just wanted somewhere to go and be angry. Finally, you had those who just wanted somewhere to go and do drugs. Everyone, however, sat down together for the evening meal, regardless of creed or motivation.

We had an official meeting (they happen twice a week) my second night there. Items on the agenda included preparation for 30 guests arriving from Occupy Wellington; whether or not to relocate some---or even all---of the tents; a call to personal reflection for each person as to why they were there; what to do with a donated t-shirt, whose designer clearly sympathized with a locked-out work force; a contingency plan for if/when the city booted them out of Hagley Park; and some other things I can't recall. Consensus came quickly at times---we voted unanimously to raffle off the shirt and donate the funds to the locked-out workers---but far more often, the conflict never reached resolution. Ideals clashed with pragmatism. Tempers flared, and disillusionment rose to the surface. During the meeting, I fully grasped what a fragile alliance this is.

I think I get the primary tension within the Occupy movement. Occupiers claim to represent 99% of the populace, with the 1% being those with all the money and power. The reality, though, is that 1% have the money and power, 1% are living in the park, and the other 98% are basically just trying to get on with their lives. The challenge to the occupiers is, how do you treat the 98%? Are they potential converts to be won over, or are they, as members of the status quo, to be lumped in with the enemy? Ultimately, occupiers are both ambassadors and fighters, and the two roles are in direct opposition to each other. How the movement navigates this tightrope will determine whether it succeeds or fails.

To be completely frank, I don't like its chances. I think it's too fractured to have a legitimate chance. I think the truly passionate members are saddled with too many delinquents who aren't actually contributing anything. But even if they can steeplechase those hurdles, I don't know what the point is. I have a really hard time imagining anything will be accomplished by camping in the city park. I suspect that, sooner or later, Occupy will fade into irrelevance. But I'll remember...

A dude about my age who everyone calls "Chef." Chef quit his job---as a chef---to join the movement. He prepares the nightly meal and dreams of starting a weekly culinary class. Through Occupy, Chef has found more purpose and meaning than ever before...

A guy challenged me to a game of chess. I beat him with only my king and a bishop still standing. He said it was the first time he'd been defeated. He also said his name is Batman, so take the whole shebang with a grain of salt...

An American girl known as TC---it stands for tall chick, because she's tall and a chick---who participated in Food Not Bombs back home. Upon realizing her plan for sustaining herself while in New Zealand was threatened by a pending food bill, she joined on with Occupy...

An older Maori guy named Shawn who is kind of hard to understand, but about as hospitable as they come. He made me a pre-dinner dinner my first night and showed me around the place. He takes pride in cleaning out the latrine every day and setting a positive example for the younger protesters...

An Irish girl whose name I never got who plays her guitar on the street for coin...

A young Aussie guy whose name eludes me, who does tricks with a bo staff and volunteers for security nearly every night...

A guy named Jake, whose perpetually smoldering anger is born out of disillusionment and unreturned love and passion. Before I left, Jake announced he was leaving Occupy Christchurch to start his own movement occupying the trees in the park. I don't know what he's searching for, but I hope he finds it...

A guy known as Pops, of mixed Kiwi and Bohemian descent, who continually challenged complainers and rabble rousers to come up with solutions...

A girl from Seattle named Shaina, who has been through more adversity than I can imagine, and yet retains such a bright spirit. She honored me with a rare explanation of her Samson and Delilah tattoo, and an even rarer account of her life's struggles. The goodbye hug she gave me was among the warmest I've ever received...

I believe the movement is somewhere between futile and ludicrous, but I'm really glad I stayed a day and two nights with them. These are real people with hopes and dreams, hurts and fears. They took me in, giving me food to eat and a place to lay my head. They let me be one of them. I will remember them.

* * *

Post journal edit: An hour before my plane took off to return to America, a third earthquake wracked Christchurch. I know that Shaina was gone by then, but other than her, I don't know if anyone I met was injured or worse. I don't know what has become of Occupy Christchurch. I hope they're all ok.