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
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!
No comments:
Post a Comment