Secretary-General William Shija |
It’s no secret that Norfolk
speaks for itself on a sunny day. It can
call to you and welcome you in simple ways that even seasoned travellers notice. That day was such a day. The skies were clear and the seas a deep,
cobalt blue: perfect for sightseeing. I first
took them to Mt. Pitt, our second highest point, which lies in the middle of
the Norfolk Island National Park. From Mt.
Pitt, you can view almost the entire circumference of the Island. It was in the Park discussing some of our unique
species of plants and animals that I learned Mrs. Chesham was originally from
Tonga. Wan she ai’len gehl. We
started identifying plants Norfolk and Tonga had in common and from there
quickly segued to which plants were good for plaiting and weaving. As a Pacific Islander, I guessed that not too
far beneath her measured diplomatic exterior was someone who probably liked to
laugh. She giggles, with a glint in her eyes
and a shy hand to her mouth. It was
great to see.
What I often say to visitors
is to pack a lunch and just go for a drive.
Everywhere on Norfolk is a good place for a picnic, and everywhere we
went locals and visitors alike were at tables or on blankets fully enjoying
their surroundings. I would introduce
the Secretary-General to people and I believe he was genuinely taken by everyone’s
friendliness and informality and affection for the Island. It was initially “Secretary-General Shija”,
but I quickly learned to let him introduce himself as “William”. But the highlight of the day, for me and I
learned for the Secretary-General and Mrs. Chesham, was a small moment later in
the day when we went into St. Barnabas Chapel.
Until the Chapel, the
Secretary-General’s questions and remarks about Norfolk were observant and
kind, but fairly generic. They were the comments
of a diplomat who travels the world and is aware of being quoted. But when we entered the Chapel, which is
ornate and beautiful and described here, a friend of mine, Naomi Hallett,
happened to be inside playing the 380-pipe Willis organ. Naomi and I will periodically meet at the
Chapel, she to play and I to sing, so at some point it seemed natural that we
play something for our guests. The
selection seemed natural, too: the traditional Norfolk hymn, “Oakleigh”, composed
by my great-grandfather, Gustav Quintal.
Neither had heard a Norfolk hymn before.
I opened a hymn book, Naomi
started to play and we quietly began the hymn.
By the start of the third verse, Mrs. Chesham, who up to that time had
been somewhat reserved, was singing along in beautiful harmony. If you had never heard a Tongan
Congregational Church Choir, you were hearing one now. And by the fourth verse, I could hear the
Secretary-General’s baritone tentatively chime in. He, too, had a church choir background, but
from an ocean and continent away. By the
fifth and final verse, there we were singing this most Norfolk of hymns in St.
Barnabas Chapel in full voice, with 380 clarion pipes resounding in the
background. Wow. It was a sublime, wholly unexpected moment of
cultural fellowship and something I’m certain the Secretary-General and Mrs.
Chesham never thought would occur on a routine trip abroad: to sing with
abandoned joy.
We all know it’s difficult to remain
formal after a good sing-along, especially if you don’t hit all the notes. We said our goodbyes to Naomi and exited in a
wonderfully light-hearted mood. It was
our last stop and on the way back to their hotel we used music and the role of
religion to explore those elements of Norfolk’s cultural history they probably
wouldn’t find anywhere else in the world.
I think they agree. It sure was
fun.
Rick
Kleiner
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