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Roger Rabbits with |
Brian has declared Christianity the “official religion of New Zealand”. That settles it then. It is enshrined. Bless! But why stop there Brian? Why not go the whole nine yards and declare there to be just one official church. And with one self-ordained, all-empowered, supreme leader. We could be a theocracy by the end of the week. Hallelujah!
A bit of silliness after some ugliness in Auckland when 500 people marched through town burning flags and denouncing all religions, other than Christianity, as “evil and satanic”. Nice! Isn’t Christianity about love, forgiveness, understanding and inclusion.
The march prompted an outpouring of disgust – “thuggish”, “un-Kiwi, un- Christian”, and “vile rhetoric and behaviour”, people said.
The targets of the opprobrium, Muslims, Sikhs and Buddhists were equally blunt: “despicable”, a “…racist stunt”, they said.
Shoulder of lamb
Already the incident has disappeared in the fog of time. But it reminded me about, of all things, a shoulder of lamb.
It was in a halal butcher shop in Auckland’s Sandringham – a bustling, multi-ethnic suburban enclave, with a richly diverse religious landscape. Mostly Christian, but a good dollop of Muslims, Sikhs, Buddhists and others.
This cauldron of colour, culture and faith, is just along the road from a 50,000-seat temple, Eden Park, where faithful yell their adherence to rugby gods.
The Sandringham butcher shop’s pumping – one customer, a practising Muslim from Kuala Lumpur, now of Mt Roskill, Auckland, is curiously amused why an out-of-practice Christian drove right past a supermarket to get to a Muslim halal butcher shop.
For the learning, for the experience, I tell him. I’m looking for something to put on the spit for dinner. And halal has good rap – two billion Muslims, can’t be wrong. He laughs, we laugh. Nothing “evil” or “satanic” in the air this morning.
My new foodie friend tells me halal meat is far more tender. It’s to do with the humane treatment of the animal, he says, reduced stress hormones at slaughter. Not sure how any animal can be at peace in the hands of someone with a boning knife and looking reverentially towards Mecca.
There’s banter, back slapping, balderdash. Loved it. You don’t get that over the pre-packaged cuts in the supermarket.
The good book
But all this against that backdrop of gloom, intolerance, and loathing which was gathering across town. Christians were marching and foodie friend was under attack simply because his faith is not like theirs. Flags of faith were torn and torched.
But back in Sandringham’s butcher shop, we were oblivious. “Don’t get the leg,” I’m advised. “Get the shoulder. Cheaper, juicier, more flavour. Slow cook it all afternoon.”
He’d borrowed a pencil from behind the butcher’s ear and was scribbling a recipe for a drop-dead, fall-apart massaman spit-roasted lamb shoulder on the large sheet of white paper which’ll be used to wrap my meat. What’s not to like? Recipe on the back of the pack.
“And across the road, you can get all the paste and spices at the Indian grocers.” He even recommended a brand of coconut milk “that actually tastes of coconut”.
Across town there’s paranoia and fear brewing. The man with the mic, the protester-in-chief, was claiming “uncontrolled immigration” in the UK had caused spikes in crime, and a collapse in British identity. And this was a march to protect “Christian values, Kiwi identity and the future of NZ”.
“Have you read the Qur’an?” foodie friend asked me. Um, no! And I’ve only just skim read the Bible. The Muslim had just read the Bible…again. Again!
How many New Zealanders have read all 788,258 words of the King James version from “In the beginning …” to “…Amen”, let alone opened The Qur’an?
‘Jumpa lagi’(sidehead)
New Muslim friend had read the Bible three times because “there’s a lot to take in”. And living in a Christian country he felt a “responsibility” to acquaint himself with the good book.
“Here’s the thing,” he observed, “while there are essential differences between the Bible and the Qur’an, I also found there to be many parallels. And I suppose that’s why people embrace ANY faith – to learn peace and love, understanding and tolerance, forgiveness and hope.”
All the time, across the counter, there are Halal carcasses being sawed, cut, trimmed and packed for Muslim dinner tables around Sandringham. And mine. Community was building.
I was also the interloper in this setting, I was the fair hair amongst all the lustrous black hair and beards, I was the pale-faced Anglo-Saxon amongst all the olive complexions. But it all felt just fine. And when the butcher spotted me, he gesticulated for his regulars to step aside so I had a path to the front of the queue.
That afternoon, I was sat mesmerised by a massaman Halal shoulder of lamb doing revolutions on a spit before falling apart on our plates. I didn’t feel my “Kiwi identity collapsing”. And if fear and loathing is the problem, perhaps massaman halal shoulder of lamb is the solution?
“Jumpa lagi”, as they say in Malaysia – “see you again”, foodie friend.