Elsie Locke Writing Prize 2016

The prize commemorates Elsie Locke’s life, both as a writer and as a person who was concerned about peace, the environment, women’s equality, and the community. The winner receives $250 together with a certifcate, and their story is published in the School Journal.

TOPIC FOR 2016: 
     People and protest – a story about taking a stand

The judges will look for the following:

• an original and thoughtful response to the topic
  
• a sense of time, place, and character
  
• an understanding of the event and its importance to the main character
  
• the ability to engage the reader
  
• clarity, coherence, and an effective use of language.
  
  What issues are worth taking a stand on? How might this be done? The story could be set in the past, present, or future, and the event could be real (Parihaka, the 1978 Pureora Forest protest, the 1981 Springbok tour ...) or imagined. Remind the students that protest can take various forms – and that their story should focus on the experience of the individual.

• This topic links to the level 4 social sciences learning objective: Understand how people participate individually and collectively in response to community challenges. 

HERE ARE SOME OF OUR ENTRIES FOR THE ELSIE LOCKE PRIZE COMPETITION:

The Day the Sheep Came to Town.

I will never forget the dreadful day the farmers started to drive their sheep into town. The sheep looked very skinny but, being a city girl, I didn't know much about sheep. Everyone thought that the farmers were having a bit of a laugh but, they were definitely not. At all. Every single resident living in Invercargill must have been aware that the freezing workers were on strike because they weren't getting paid enough yet, nobody thought that this was related. It was in fact related though because on this awful Friday, the farmers started slaughtering their sheep in the middle of the streets. I couldn’t watch, it was too horrific.

The day after the traumatic experience I went to fetch the newspaper. On the front I was reminded about the sheep, I read the title ‘’Bloody Friday’’. I quickly scanned through the words on the page. After much discussion, Invercargill farmers had decided to drive hundreds of their half starved sheep into the streets of Invercargill. Holding up much traffic as well as terrifying bystanders, they then slaughtered over 1400 sheep that were in terrible condition. This was because of the freezing works not operating and, the farmers didn't have any money left to buy enough food for the starving animals.  The paddocks had no grass left, because of the months of drought.

It was all a disaster with nobody to blame, it seemed.  The freezing workers weren’t getting paid enough, the farmers needed rain and the animals couldn't help the fact that they were starving. Meanwhile the farmers were still in a sticky situation because the stock would still be starving and they couldn’t be sold to the works. Most of the farmers had come to the conclusion that they would have to wait for the rain but, one farmer wasn't ready to give up. The next day he planned to take this situation to Sean Smith, the local Member of Parliament. The name of this farmer was Dean, he told Sean that if this problem wasn’t sorted out soon, another sheep cull would be happening. “Animals need food you know!” Dean said crossly, as he left the room.

I was very pleased when a week later, I heard on the radio that a petition was to be sent around all homes in Invercargill, to raise the hourly pay rate of the freezing workers. I was sure going to sign it. The petition got more than enough signatures and the freezing workers were soon back to work having accepted a small pay rise. There was still one problem though, there had been no rain and the farmers had no grass. Back Dean went to the Member of Parliament.

“My animals are still starving, what are you going to do about this?” Dean questioned angrily. Sean was put on the spot, and he said he wasn’t sure there was much he could do. After much debating about what to do, Sean finally decided that it may be possible to get funding for food to feed the starving animals. Dean left the room satisfied by his effort.  

That night Dean was sitting at his desk waiting for an important phone call from Sean and he was the most anxious he had ever been! ‘Ring Ring!’ the sound went straight to his head. Dean picked up the phone, the voice on the other end sounded very proud of himself. “The stock food is to be delivered tomorrow!” After making relieved phone calls to all the farmers around Invercargill, Dean was finally able to lie down and rest. He had proved that taking a stand does pay off.

Written by Daisy Lane.  Year 7

My Hard Life

My life is not easy, it’s hard...

My life is not good it is bad.

My name is Izzy Stratford, my dad is Craig Stratford, and when my mum Wendy Stratford died so I got sold for a slave. My slavery years started with me picking corn from the field.

Every day I dressed myself in clothes that were ragged, had three tablespoons of porridge and then headed off to work.

One normal day while I was collecting corn, I found a newspaper that had been dropped on the ground. It said that people are wanting more corn and that the pickers were no good. As soon as I saw that I ran as fast as I could to tell everyone that the town’s people thought we were useless workers, {but the people didn't know that they had little kids picking their corn}. I knew that I had to do something about it so I made a plan.

The next painful day I refused to pick corn.  Instead all my friends and I went into the town and held up signs saying, “We won’t pick corn any more!” and “Stop slavery!”  

Soon after our protest, the slave master told the townspeople that it was not the children who picked all the corn, but it was him, and he picked lots more to show them.  He also told everyone that he did not keep slaves, especially not kids!

After the town’s people had seen that and heard the man they stopped him and said, “You are telling us lies!  We know the children are forced to pick the corn all day long, and you never pick any!  We also know that you keep adults and children as slaves to work your farm.  So we will not let you get away with this and be so mean to all the children and other slaves.”

After that three town’s people went on the news and told the world about the children being slaves. For the next two years people argued about those children until they had made a decision that they are not going to let there be kid slaves.  Meanwhile, the children were kept working for no money and very little food, while the adults argued about them.

Then one day, the government passed a new law and from that day on no little kid was ever to be forced to pick corn again, and no one was allowed to make people their slaves.  If the town’s people wanted corn they had to pick it themselves, or buy it from the market, after it had been picked by paid adults.  

A year later my dad invented an orphanage for kids who didn't have homes. The slave master went to jail, and my dad and I were thanked by all the people for freeing their kids and all the other slaves.  Everyone was so grateful, they brought us a new house to live in.

By Eden Goodwin  Year 7

South Africa Protests

It was a sunny day in South Africa, when seventy-eight years ago my family and I were living in the best house in South Africa. Probably the third best house in the world. My family was a family of four with me as the ten year old daughter named Emily, my brother as the seven year old son named Luke and my Mum and Dad.

Seventy-eight years ago if your skin colour was black you couldn’t go into the white people’s toilets, benches, bus stops, and everything else that was mainly only for the white people. This also applied to activities such as eating in restaurants, drinking from a water fountain, attending school, going to the movies, riding on a bus and purchasing a house. This is all called racial segregation. Racial segregation is the separation of humans into ethnic or racial groups in daily life. After the National Party gained power in South Africa in 1938, it’s all-white government immediately began making everyone follow the laws of racial segregation under a system of laws that it called apartheid. Racial segregation has appeared in all parts of the world where there are multiracial communities, except where races have mixed together on a large scale, such as in Hawaii and Brazil.

One day I went on the bus to school with my brother Luke. Luke went and sat in a seat but since Luke’s skin colour is black someone else went and told him to get out of the seat because she was going to sit there. So Luke got up and went to the back of the bus wondering what was going on.

When we finally got to school I told Luke why he had to get up and go to the back of the bus. I said, “Luke, the reason why you had to get up and go to the back was because since your skin colour is black.  The people with their skin colour as white, like me, can sort of boss you around, like telling you to get up because they were going to sit in that seat.”

He just answered, “ Oh, Ok!” He then just walked off to his friends.

When Luke and I got on the bus after school, the same thing happened to Luke just like that morning but instead of sitting down Luke had to stand up and hold onto the rail above him.  After the long bus ride we finally got home but we heard someone yelling.   We rushed inside and found out that it was Mum and Dad. Mom Comes up to us and gave us a big humongous hug. She then told us that her and Dad had split up. Luke and I sat there giving Mum a hug, looking for Dad as well.  We finally asked where Dad was.  Mum said that he was packing up his stuff, “And you kids are probably going to have to go live with Nana for a while.”

Luke and I both answer at the same time, “ Why?”

Mum replied, “Just so we can work this out.”

“Ok,” we reply.

So two days later we were on our way to Nana’s in Australia. Five days later Luke and I were in Australia with Nana. We stayed in Australia for three whole weeks and had a really great time. And we could sit together on the buses and at any restaurant that Nana took us to.  We were not really looking forward to going back to the strange ways of living in South Africa, except to see Mum and Dad, hopefully together!

By Dannie Ansley  Year 7

Cambridge   University  -  Animal   Testing   Protest

Animal testing is cruel and heartless.  Although it is of much use to humans, it is an unfair act of cruelty.  The Cambridge University animal testing protest, in which I am participating, is a gathering of around three hundred protesters.  We are all animal lovers and believe using animals to test our medication, makeup and cosmetics is wrong.

In 2013 alone there were over one hundred and seventy thousand helpless animals tested.  Today is world day for laboratory animals and we will march through Cambridge in protest.  Being only eleven years old this is the first protest that I have participated in, so I am both excited and nervous.  Along with me and my best friend Lilly, I’m also taking my dog Patch.  He will represent all of the dogs living their lives as laboratory animals.

Walking out of our gate with Patch’s lead in my hand and Lilly at my side, we begin our descent down the hill towards the gathering of protesters.  At exactly one o’clock we will begin our march.

Finally the clock strikes one and we begin to chant as we walk.  The sound of hundreds of enthusiastic voices bounces off the buildings that surround us.    Suddenly the sound of sirens drowns out our chanting voices, over twenty police cars round the corner in front of us, scaring some people off their feet.  This is what all protesters dread.  Fifty police now stand in front of us, batons in hand and blocking our way.

I push my way through the crowd to the front.  The six foot officer who stands in front of me is very intimidating.  Holding his megaphone up to his mouth, he tells us that if we aren't off the road in five minutes, he will have us all arrested.  We decide to split the group in half.  We begin to walk and chant again but this time on the footpath.  The police leave and we continue walking.    

We arrive at the Cambridge University, but nobody is there.  We choose to leave some of our brightest banners taped to posts and go home, as it is getting late and we are all tired, but I believe it has been a great success.  Although no laws have yet been made against animal testing, I assure you that we are working on it and one day the law will be right!                  

By Emma Hurley Year 7

The Springbok Tour

At the time, I was living in Tokoroa with my Mum, Dad and two brothers called Fergus and Daniel, and I was the oldest child. Fergus, Daniel, Dad and I were extremely mad on rugby…

One Saturday night when the Springboks were on a tour in New Zealand, in July, 1981, we were drawn to the little screen on our television. We were hoping for a really good game, but it was tremendous!  Protesters were on the field holding signs, saying and yelling things like ‘Stop the tour’ and ‘Springboks go home’, and we were all totally confused.

The next morning we got up at 6:30am to watch the news. Sure enough, it was ‘breaking news all over’.  Apparently ‘protesters’ from South Africa and New Zealand were protesting about a system called ‘apartheid’.

According to Mum apartheid meant apartness. Introduced in 1948, it was a system designed to keep different races apart.  It divided all South Africans into groups based on race: ‘black’, ‘white’, ‘coloured’ and ‘Indian’.  Marriage between the groups was absolutely forbidden, so were each other’s toilets, buses, hospitals, schools and beaches, unless you were the right colour.  Unfortunately  for the ‘black’ people, they were the poorest.

The next rugby game was in Hamilton, and we went and watched it. Well tried to!  It was rough! This time over three hundred people stormed onto the field!  Dad heard a rumour that a stolen plane was spotted heading towards us. So thoughtful Hamilton police cancelled the game.  Outside the stadium when my grumpy family were trying to leave, were heaps of protesters who took a stand, and chaos broke loose!

Over the next six weeks similar scenes broke out all over the country.  My friends at school would always be saying that they should just play some rugby! This is also what I was hearing from my family, except for Mum…

Mum was always protective, probably because she was in the New Zealand Police Force for 7 years.  She was six foot two and way taller than Dad at the time, probably because Dad was a shorty, even I was taller than him, and I was 14!

Wellington, Nelson, Invercargill, Christchurch…, the protests and anti protests were all over the news. Then breaking news that the final test match was a week away on Saturday.  I already knew that Dad would be glued to the TV screen, screaming and yelling but I knew that he was just having fun!

The big game was a day away.  We were watching the TV and seeing that 15 million dollars had been spent by the Police/Government to make sure the tour went ahead. Which even to us rugby fans seemed absolutely ridiculous!

The final game was finally underway and Dad was already glued to the TV screen, only because it was so exciting.  Flour bombs and flares were being dropped by a plane.  Finally, after lots of great rugby and loud protests, Allan Hewson kicked a last minute goal to make the score 25-22 to the All Blacks.  At least we won the rugby!

In the end 150,000 protesters protested, 2000 of them were arrested, 14 protesters were given a prison sentence including Marx Jones, the flour bomb pilot who spent 6 months in jail.

In the end Dad was pleased.  Hopefully no one ever needs to protest about apartheid again.  It was just people saying that if you are a different race you aren’t as equal as others, not as rich and as perfect, but no one is perfect!

By Ben Black