Halswell Domain

Halswell Domain
View from the Model Engineers' site in the Halswell Domain

Wednesday, May 1, 2024

 Seeya Soni- Speech for Halswell Anzac service, 25 April 2024

Theme- Through learning comes appreciation.

Mihi

Mōrena ki a koutou katoa

Ko Seeya tōku ingoa

Nō India ōku tipuna

Ko Ganga te awa o te rohe

Nō Ōtautahi ahau

Ko Horomaka tōku kura

Kei te ako tonu au i te reo māori

Tēnā koutou, tēnā koutou, tēnā koutou katoa

Good morning, my name is Seeya Soni and I am a Year 13 student at Hillmorton High

School. My parents were born and raised in India, but we have lived in Christchurch for most

of my life, and within the Hillmorton area for 7 years. I attended Burnside Primary School,

and then Cobham Intermediate. Cobham is where I began debating, and I have continued

that at Hillmorton where I am a part of our debate club. My favourite subjects are History,

Chemistry and Physics, and I am looking forward to studying them alongside Law at

university next year. I am so grateful to have grown up here where our history, young, but

eventful, is taught to be recognised and appreciated.


As a child, I did not understand why Anzac was so important to commemorate. I actually did

not know what it was, except that we got a day off for it. My earliest memory of Anzac was in

primary school, maybe year two or three, when we were given poppy colouring in sheets to

scribble in red. But why? Why should we colour in poppies? Fast forward a few years and I

am in Year 8, happy to be baking Anzac biscuits during Technology at school because they

tasted good. But why? Why should we bake Anzac biscuits? I did not know the story behind

them; how these biscuits were created and sent out to our soldiers because they were

strategically made with ingredients that would not spoil. There is so much history, yet no

questions asked. But taking History at Hillmorton High School has given me a new lens on

how I view the environment around me. The class requires you to be inquisitive and critical,

and I find myself asking 100 more questions, and wanting 100 answers for each. At

Hillmorton, they talk about having a love of learning, which comes from our Mission

Statement. This makes sense to me now because through learning comes appreciation. It is

the same reason that we do mihi to introduce ourselves, or the family tree projects at school.

Learning about where we come from creates appreciation and understanding of it, and that

is how we have come to be gathered here today.


When I was younger, I would not have been standing here like these cadets and scouts are,

showing their respect. Though I cannot turn back time to be a cadet or scout, I realise that it

is never too late to understand; you just have to want to. Anzac day is a huge part of New

Zealand history, and while I am so enlightened, grateful that I was eventually taught this,

learning about New Zealand History was not always a part of our curriculum. In 2015, a

group of students from Ōtorohanga College, a secondary school in the North Island,


delivered a 12,000 signature petition to parliament calling for a statutory day of recognition

for the ‘New Zealand Land Wars’. Alongside them were supporters who called for that

troubled period of New Zealand's history to be officially included in the secondary school

curriculum, and to incorporate a broader, greater focus on learning about New Zealand

History. This petition began after the students visited Ōrākau and Rangiaowhia, sites of two

brutal clashes 150 years ago. Such clashes are important to dissect because of what they

reveal about Māori and Pākehā relationships, to compare the changes with current attitudes,

and it is unbelievable that if those students from Ōtorohanga College had not fought for this

change, we would not be learning about our own history in classrooms today. One of our

school values at Hillmorton is Tūrangawaewae, which means having a place to stand, to

belong to. Discovering your nation establishes your place to stand more than learning about

Tudor England ever could.

I cannot imagine staying the night in Akaroa and not knowing why the town wears a French

mask. My mum and I have taken countless trips to Akaroa, passing Ōnawe without knowing

it was the site of a massacre until about a year ago. In 1832, the chief of Ngāti Toa; Te

Rauparaha, invaded the pa Ngāi Tahu had set up on the Ōnawe peninsula. After much

bloodshed, hundreds were left dead. So many stories lie between our mountains; we just

have to look and listen. It was revolutionary when the new Takapūneke reserve opened in

Akaroa in 2022. Before, the land was used as space for a wastewater treatment plant and

rubbish dump. A complete 180 was made when the local council considered the pressure

from local Māori and were reminded of what happened at Takapūneke; a raid by Ngāti Toa

which ended with dozens of people killed or enslaved. Suddenly, it was important to do

something big to show that we recognised the events at Takapūneke, and so the reserve

was developed. As a history student, this was such a prime example of how through

learning, recognition, comes acknowledgement, appreciation.

I also cannot imagine driving through Blenheim without knowing that the area has one of

New Zealand's oldest archaeological sites of Māori settlement, known as the Wairau Bar,

dating all the way back to around 1250 AD. My appreciation of New Zealand has grown so

quickly in such a short time, because I have learnt about it. Learning is a journey, one that I

look forward to most days, and I am grateful that after all Aotearoa has done for me, I am

finally able to show my respect.


Taking History at Hillmorton has enabled me to learn so much more about New Zealand

history, as one would think. Last year, I was fortunate enough to attend the Social Science

trip to Europe. While we were in Italy, our class visited Monte Cassino, two hours south of

Rome, which once was a WWII battle site. Today, the town features a vast war cemetery

commemorating this. I thought it was so interesting that even though we had come from little

New Zealand, our soldiers were remembered there today. On the bus our teachers handed

us a poppy each to lay by the headstones of the kiwi soldiers, and as we made our way

across the cemetery, I was surprised to see that every row of New Zealand headstones was

lined with crisp poppies. Who did this? When? It would have been a slightly different story if

this cemetery was in New Zealand, because I thought Anzac was our thing. But seeing

poppies on kiwi headstones all the way over in Italy really reinforced how significant Anzac

is, and not just in New Zealand. I would like to thank the Christchurch RSA for giving us the

poppies for our class to lay. We had hoped to help them with locating and providing pictures


of another memorial to our New Zealand soldiers in Monte Cassino, but it was difficult with

our schedule.


2023 was a year of travels. Last summer, my mum and I took a trip up to Wellington for the

week. I was looking forward to visiting the Te Papa museum, mostly to see the giant squid,

but when we got there, we saw posters for a special Gallipoli exhibition. I was like ‘cool,

mum lets go’ and so we had a look through and were amazed to be met with a sculpture of a

soldier almost 3 times the size of the average human. This sculpture was modelled off of

Lieutenant Spencer Westmascott, and was only the first of eight larger than life sculptures to

come. The exhibition was called “Gallipoli: The Scale of Our War”. But I thought; what is

“our”, and does it include me? How does someone know if they’re a part of this “our”? Do

you have to be a native of or to New Zealand? Do you have to be related to someone who

went to Gallipoli? Do you have to have a relative who’s a veteran? When we learn about

New Zealand history in school, terms like “our” and “we” and “us” are often thrown about, but

do all of my classmates relate to that? I believe that you decide whether you are a part of the

“our” and “we” and “us" by choosing to regard the history, and therefore accepting it as your

own.


The exhibition was an immersive experience; letters written by soldiers to their wives were

showcased on the walls. Models of trenches and base camps were decorated with tiny

plastic soldiers. You could pick up a phone and hear commands roared from the other side.

What the soldiers went through was revealed to me in that exhibition, and it was incredibly

overwhelming to see it all, and picture that most of them were not much older than I am. It is

hard to imagine that instead of going to university, these men had to go to war. But the

sculptures we saw were not just of men, there was one of a woman too; a young nurse

called Lottie Le Gallais. This represented the contributions and involvement of not only men

but women also, and showed the kinds of roles had within the conflict. At the time, those

young people, not only those who lost their lives, but also those who returned from war,

would not have thought that their actions would be remembered in New Zealand today with

such reverence, but they deserve this recognition.


A journey I am currently on is learning more about my Indian heritage and the stories of my

ancestors. It is important for me to step back and acknowledge how I am here today. I have

a wero, which means a challenge to you, and that is to be curious about your history, and

always be open to learning.

Ko te manu e kai ana i te miro nōnā te ngahere

Ko te manu e kai ana i te mātauranga nōnā te ao

The bird that consumes the miro owns the forest

The bird that consumes knowledge owns the world

No reira, tēnā koutou, tēnā koutou, tēnā koutou katoa