Threads of Connection

THREADS OF CONNECTION

JANE SHEARER

To Chris. For everything.

CONTENTS

Prologue

Humans with Stories

Julia

November 2029

Julia

7 March 2030

Julia

7 March 2030

Stephen

7 March 2030

Julia

21 March 2030

Stephen

21 March 2030

Stephen

21-22 March 2030

Julia

22 March 2030

Stephen

22 March 2030

Julia

22 March-4 April 2030

Julia

4 April 2030

Julia

4 April 2030

Stephen

4 April 2030

Julia

5-17 April 2030

Stephen

5-17 April 2030

Julia

18 April 2030

Julia

18 April 2030

Stephen

18 April 2030

Stephen

18 April 2030

Julia

19-20 April 2030

Stephen

19 April-1 May 2030

Julia

2 May 2030

Julia

2 May 2030

Stephen

2 May 2030

Julia

4 May 2030

Stephen

5-15 May 2030

Julia

16 May 2030

Julia

16 May 2030

Julia

16-24 May 2030

Stephen

16-24 May 2030

Julia

25-26 May 2030

Julia

26 May 2030

Stephen

26 May 2030

Julia

26 May 2030

Stephen

26 May 2030

Julia

27 May 2030

Julia

30 May 2030

Julia

30 May 2030

Julia

30 May-3 June 2030

Julia

3 June 2030

Stephen

Early June 2030

Julia

Late June 2030

Stephen

July-October 2030

Julia

November 2030-March 2031

Acknowledgments

About the Author

Also by Jane Shearer

PROLOGUE

BREAKING NEWS 7:00AM 26 MAY 2030

TERRORIST ATTACK IN LYTTELTON HARBOUR

In the early hours of this morning, terrorists sank a foreign-owned coal ship in Ōhinehou (Lyttelton) Port, Aotearoa New Zealand, near Ōtautahi (Christchurch). Eleven crew members are reported missing although no one is yet confirmed dead. It is thought the sinking used a method similar to the 1985 bombing of the Rainbow Warrior in the Waitematā Harbour, Tāmaki Makarau (Auckland). Explosives were placed below the waterline and detonated remotely. The area is cordoned off in case of more explosions. Police are asking the public to stay away while they investigate the attack. Police report that an accident on Governors Bay Road, in which five teenagers were injured, may be linked to the bombing. The Prime Minister, Marama Wihongi, says she deplores terrorism in Aotearoa New Zealand. She deeply regrets any harm to the international crew and wishes to convey her sympathy to the crew members and their families.

BREAKING NEWS 7:05AM 26 MAY 2030

COAL SHIP SUNK: Desperate Times Desperate Measures

A foreign-owned coal ship has been sunk in Ōhinehou (Lyttelton) Port, Ōtautahi (Christchurch), Aotearoa New Zealand. Ōhinehou residents report hearing explosions shortly before sunrise. My dog woke me up to go out for a pee, said Mark of Gilmour Terrace. I opened the door, then heard a muffled thud. I looked out the window but couldn’t see anything. A few minutes later I heard another loud thud. Then I saw sirens and flashing lights headed to the port.

A spokesperson from Green Planet denied any involvement. We have no connection with this incident. We extend our sympathies to those affected. We believe all crew and port staff are accounted for, despite some reports to the contrary. Green Planet also stated, We emphasise this action is ecotage not eco-terrorism, given the focus on property rather than people. Ecotage is a last resort. However, coal shipments should have ended a decade ago. Exporting climate change is not a strategy. We must prevent further injury to our critically damaged planet.

HUMANS WITH STORIES

FEBRUARY 2030

On the noticeboard of the Sumner Fresh Choice supermarket, Ōtautahi (Christchurch) Aotearoa New Zealand:

LOOKING FOR CONNECTIONS?

TRY HUMANS WITH STORIES

Find the current state of the world overwhelming? Need some support from people outside your whānau? Want to meet other people in a nurturing atmosphere?

Come and join us at Humans with Stories, where we’ll share narratives to find our common threads.

Lynda 030 786 7437 (STORIES)

JULIA

NOVEMBER 2029

It’s a stormy November night and my toilet is vomiting onto the floor. Fran, Lynda, and I are having one of our regular Dolls with Stories board meetings while the sea growls and rumbles three blocks from my house. Will tonight be another event where waves tear through the rip-rap wall protecting the Esplanade walkway from marine predation?

We should have connected on CryptoCast, rather than got together. However, we haven’t caught up in person for weeks, and ten years of friendship have only enhanced how much we enjoy each other’s company. Lynda, Fran, and I met at Obsessives Associated and, through sharing our stories there, became friends and started our Dolls with Stories social enterprise.

We are sitting in my living room drinking Kenya Bold tea out of my eclectic collection of mugs on my brightly re-covered easy chairs. I match the mug with the person drinking from it, rather than mugs with each other. Kenya Bold is my only addiction but it’s getting ever harder to source, given the strained supply lines into New Zealand. My tea ritual centres around a brown Temuka teapot kept warm by a slightly misshapen tea cosy I knitted as a child. The pot and mugs are laid out on my gran’s tray inlaid with swirling mother-of-pearl leaf patterns, and I pour milk into a Boris Johnson Toby jug Lynda gave me.

Today I give Lynda a mug decorated with ‘Home is where the Mum is’ in flowing, flowery text. Love hearts and roses sprinkle down between the letters. It’s so not Lynda. Fran’s drinking from a mug painted with a rainbow shaped like a wiggly slide, with stick figures leaping into the colour bands then launching off into the sky. I hold my own mug, decorated with a pumpkin saying, I’m soup-er, and inhale the earthy scent of Kenya Bold.

We have tea, Lynda says. Time for business.

Hang on, I say. If you go to the toilet, please don’t flush. When it’s stormy, sewage spews back into the room.

Really? Is that recent? Lynda asks.

It started a while ago, but now it’s worryingly frequent. Apparently, groundwater is getting into the pipes because of the rising sea.

Lynda screws up her face. Glad we live high on the hill.

Yes, lucky you, I say.

Okay girls, Fran says with a smile in her voice, no bickering in a meeting. Fran’s had many years’ experience managing children in her teaching roles.

Like we’ve talked about before, Lynda says, I want to help more adults. Life is so stressful and getting worse. More need mental health support but fewer professionals are available. People wait months for an appointment with a counsellor. Our community needs to help itself.

Lynda is the CEO of Dolls with Stories, through which we help children by pairing them with a mentor and giving the child a special doll with amazing clothes and accessories made by volunteers. Each child and mentor jointly create stories for their doll, developing plotlines children can aspire to live. It’s been a great success, and we have branches throughout New Zealand. To help fund Dolls with Stories, we make limited numbers of highly collectible dolls and sell them in international, online auctions. Lynda is always looking for the next great thing to improve or expand what we do.

We don’t need to help everyone, I say. We’re good at helping children, but we might not be the right people to help adults. Our Dolls with Stories workshops for adults were a complete disaster.

That disaster is why we are thinking again, Lynda says. We need to learn from our mistakes. Move on. Do better. We’ve learnt so much, I’m sure we can extend.

We trialled two workshops for adults last year which were painfully embarrassing and made me nervous about trying again. Imagine a group of adults sitting in a circle with dolls on their laps, making up stories for the dolls based on personal life experiences. How could we have thought that was a good idea? One of the guys walked out when we tried to hand him a doll. A couple of group members got into it, but most didn’t come to the second session. We considered getting adults to create stories for dolls in pairs or groups but decided that might be worse and canned the whole idea.

How about storytelling circles? Fran suggests.

Yes, Lynda says. We could advertise using a picture of people sitting round a campfire.

I don’t think that’s enough, I say. People can tell each other stories whenever they want. And we shouldn’t encourage people to light fires. Did you hear the government’s reduced the fire service’s energy quota by the national reduction target this year? Soon they’ll be walking to fires and borrowing garden hoses.

Lynda rolls her eyes at me.

How about telling each other stories with the goal of finding connections? Fran says. Isn’t that what’s missing since the pandemic? People feel divided and groups like Regain Your Power exacerbate things with their social media making people scared of each other. Storytelling helps everyone to discover common ground.

If we just let people talk, some people might go on forever, I say.

We’d have to manage them talking, Lynda says.

You can’t shut people down! I exclaim.

We get one person to tell a story each meeting, Fran says. They tell a story important to them, but one they are comfortable telling to the group. We give them a set amount of time and a co-leader keeps them to time.

That would be me, Lynda says, seeing as Julia doesn’t wear a watch and I always run meetings under time. It’s true. Lynda would never be late for a meeting. I try to be prompt, but I don’t like the constriction of a watch on my wrist or my life. I can forget to look at my cell phone for hours when wrapped up in a creative project. Lynda will pop in to find me immersed in a pile of creative debris, which I move to make us a cup of tea.

Now, we need to figure out how people share their connection with the storyteller, Fran continues. What ideas do you two have? I shouldn’t have to invent everything.

I say, People could write Post-it notes and put them on the wall.

Post-it notes are so 2010s, Lynda says. And we’d have to buy Post-its then throw them away. Wasteful. You can’t even use both sides. And who writes on paper these days? Next you’ll be wanting fountain pens and ink wells. We could do the obvious – people raise their hands and say what they have in common with the speaker?

Interrupting the speaker might make it hard for them to tell the story, I object.

Fran says, How about we create a Buzz chat group for everyone in the workshop? People message their connection.

Best not to use Buzz, says Lynda. I’ve read you might as well broadcast your private thoughts to every nutcase in cyberspace. Warble has much better encryption.

Sure, you know best about technology. Fran and Lynda pulled me out of a rabbit hole of online misinformation during the pandemic. I’m now terminally wary of getting too involved with the internet. I agree we need to find connections during the meeting before people forget what’s been said. But if workshoppers are using their phones, mightn’t they look at funny cat videos rather than listening? And read other people’s messages rather than writing their own?

All solvable problems, Lynda says. Warble has a ‘holding pen’ function for group chats. Messages go to an admin who then releases them. Everyone can see who has sent messages, but no one can read messages until they’re released. That way people can’t copy each other.

Perfect. You can be the admin and manage the messages, Lynda, I say.

Oh, no. You’re not getting off so easily, Lynda replies. I’ve already volunteered for timekeeping. We can both be administrators, but you’re the lead for messages.

Okay, I’ll manage messages, I agree. But what about cat videos? Or Candy Crush?

We sit contemplating the challenge. I’ll send our IT guru a message – he’ll have a solution. Lynda’s already typing rapidly with her thumbs.

Lynda’s phone buzzes almost as soon as she finishes her message. Of course, we use phone-to-phone connectivity without the internet. If everyone switches on flight mode, Warble will still work fine. We can also be old school and ask people to bring their phones to the front of the room once they’ve sent their connection.

Good work, Fran says. That’s the start of a plan for running workshops. What about an introductory session to get people comfortable before they tell their stories?

Comfortable? Lynda says. Shouldn’t we get people out of their comfort zones? Unsettle them so they’ll talk to new people. Everyone similarly uncomfortable, you know?

What are you thinking of? I ask.

Twister? Get everyone moving and connected! Lynda is an enthusiastic runner and biker; movement is part of her psyche.

I look at Lynda’s eight-months-pregnant stomach. How are you going to play Twister? And what if someone in the group isn’t very flexible?

You have a point about the other people, Lynda says. Fran?

Fran tilts her head, and her dark chin-length curls swing with her face. Over the last ten years, those curls have accrued numerous grey strands. How about the ball-of-wool intro?

I like wool; I’ve got some nice balls in my shed. I ended up at Obsessives Associated because my house had filled with broken objects together with a miscellany of materials for repairing them. These days, I keep favourite repair materials in my shed, but do most of my work at our Broken is Beautiful workshop in Ferrymead. Broken is Beautiful is the name of my repair and re-creation company which I manage jointly with Robbie, Lynda’s partner. I ask, How does the ball of wool work?

Fran explains. I hold the ball. I tell you about myself. If you have something in common with my statement, you put your hand up. Like, if I say I enjoy gardening and you enjoy gardening too, you raise your hand. I hold on to the end of the wool and pass you the ball. Next, it’s your turn to tell the group about yourself until someone else puts their hand up. We keep going until everyone in the group has spoken. The line of yarn zig-zags across the group, creating a visual web of connections.

Okay, I say, I’ll get some wool options and we can make a multicoloured ball.

Nice, Julia. You are getting more proactive all the time, Lynda says, and I give her a wry smile.

JULIA

7 MARCH 2030

Kia ora, hello, and welcome to our first Humans with Stories workshop. I’m Julia and this is Lynda. My mind precipitately goes blank, and my mouth is dry. What do I say next? We’ve been planning these workshops for nearly half a year; I should know! Ten years ago I attended my first Obsessives Associated meeting in this same room – the Sumner Surf Club – as an unwilling and unhappy participant. A decade on I’m a confident person, co-leading a workshop with Lynda, except I’m unexpectedly struggling to keep my gaze on the seven people sitting in a semicircle of brightly coloured plastic chairs and all looking intently at me.

Luckily, Lynda has never suffered from lack of confidence. She faces the room, bright-eyed and erect. Hi, everyone, I’m Lynda. I’m so happy to meet you all. Julia and I are sitting up the front right now. But we’re all in this together. Humans with Stories is a group of equals sharing stories to build connections. Life’s tough. Community creates a safety net. We’ve helped children for a decade through our social enterprise Dolls with Stories. We want to help adults and we’re excited to be sharing these workshops with you.

Thanks, Lynda, I say. Her intercession allowed me brain space to remember my role. Today in our kōrero we will find things we have in common using a ball of wool, then share kai brought by our mentor, Fran, sitting in the orange chair.

I see glances between participants and raised eyebrows. How does one find connections using a ball of wool? Fair enough, I’d wondered too when Fran suggested it.

Let’s all move to the open space by the windows so we’ve room to lay the wool down at the end of our exercise. Everyone shifts over to the floor-to-ceiling windows with a view of puffy clouds dressing an evening sky above a dark-blue sea. People jog along the narrow strip of sand between the waves and the Surf Club, weaving between dog walkers who launch balls for their running animals. When we’ve formed a circle, Fran gives everyone a smile. Her blood-red shirt looks great against her brown skin, and her matching red glass earrings catch the light.

We’ll start with a karakia. I’ve just sent the words to our Warble chat so you can read them, Fran says. Today we’ll say it in English. Next workshop we’ll use te reo Māori. I’ll send a YouLook link for anyone who’d like to practise.

I’d been resistant to including karakia in our meetings. We aren’t Māori and likely workshop participants aren’t either, I said.

Karakia are a normal part of meetings, said Fran. They’re a good formal recognition of the beginning and end of a group session. We could consider a waiata as well. People like singing together.

Julia, which stone are you hiding under? Lynda said.

Well, I still can’t speak Māori and I don’t like prayers. I know I was supposed to do lessons, but learning languages has never been my thing. I’m not sure about mixing Māori words in with English, either, like you keep on suggesting.

We can work on your pronunciation and vocab, Fran said. And there might be Māori participants, even though Sumner is still awfully white compared with the rest of Ōtautahi. Languages constantly get new words. Modern English contains plenty of words from other languages.

Yes, I know that, I say. I’m not ignorant, even if I didn’t go to university. Fine, karakia and random Māori words are in, and Fran will teach us the karakia. Do I have to say ‘Ōtautahi’ rather than ‘Christchurch’?

Up to you, Fran said.

Fran leads off our first group karakia. The sun has risen in the sky.

Birds are singing, insects are moving, the world is alive! The group responds, although most of the response is from me and Lynda.

A new day is upon us, my friends … Fran continues.

So, grab your paddles, we chorus back.

Is it decided? Fran asks.

It is, we all say together.

Excellent, says Fran. Now I’ll hand the meeting back to Julia and Lynda.

I’ll start off holding the ball of wool and tell you some things about myself, I say. "If you have something in common with what I say, put your hand up. I don’t want to be holding the ball too long – I want to hear about you.

So, I’m Julia Stout, though I’ve always been thin. There’s a burble of polite laughter. "I love to re-create broken objects to be better than they were before. Maybe you’ve heard of kintsugi? It’s a Japanese art form. You glue broken ceramics back together then highlight the glued cracks with gold rather than trying to hide the breaks. That’s the basis of what I do to re-create people’s special things."

As yet, no takers for the wool.

I started my business, Broken is Beautiful, by repairing things for Sumner locals. People were always grateful, and now it’s hard to buy new things, repair is more important than ever. When I’m taking a break from repair and re-creation, I like to drink tea. My favourite is Kenya Bold, although I’ve been trying New Zealand-grown Zealong tea. I know I should swap completely to Zealong because buying local is more sustainable. But old habits and tastes die hard. Kenya Bold has helped me through too many crises; I won’t desert it easily.

First wool taker. The large man opposite me in the circle has thrown his arm in the air.

Andrey, what’s your connection? I’m grateful Lynda organised name tags so I could say ‘Andrey’ smoothly. Fran remembers names because she’s a teacher and Lynda has lots of practise at meetings, but I usually only meet one person at a time.

I hold the end of the wool and throw the ball to Andrey; a thick purple length of yarn joins us. Andrey is an intense‑looking guy in his early thirties who flamboyantly fills the space he occupies. He has an intriguing, colourful tattoo covering one arm, a thick mop of mid-brown wavy hair, an impressive handlebar moustache and bright orange shorts.

Hello, I’m Andrey Putin. No relation to the former dictator. Although I am from Russia by way of Finland and Slovenia. Because I am Russian, my second-favourite drink is black tea. Like you, Julia, I am excellent at repairing things, and building. I am building a tiny house on wheels. I do everything myself. If I don’t know how to do something, I learn. I love learning! I love many things! I love Aotearoa. I love Ōtautahi. I love freedom. I love IPA, my first-favourite drink. You know IPA? India Pale Ale? With great flavour. Not so very Russian, though. Vodka I can drink, but IPA I love. I learn about brewing in my work as a Production Assistant at Three Boys Brewery. When I’m not working at Three Boys or on my tiny house, I like to cycle around the Christchurch Port Hills.

Lynda puts her hand up and Andrey passes her the wool; a fuzzy yellow mohair thread joins them. I’m a keen cyclist too. At least I was and will be again. I’m looking forward to welcoming my daughter into the world, so my knees don’t hit my stomach when I get on my road bike.

The hands of two young women go up simultaneously. We didn’t plan how to manage two people wanting to talk at the same time, but Lynda doesn’t miss a beat handing over the wool. Zahra and Victoria, one of you hold the strand and the other the ball. Zahra takes the ball and unrolls some wool so Victoria can hold it; a pink and blue piece of yarn connects them with Lynda.

Zahra looks at the wool. How appropriate, or traditional, depending on how you think about such things. I’m Zahra Kämpfer and I work as an arborist. Victoria and I are also looking forward to our babies who will be born in August. We don’t know their sex yet and we don’t want to. We’ll give our babies names that don’t limit them by gender. Our goal is to create full human beings for whom sex is not a defining characteristic.

Zahra has stunning blonde dreadlocks down to her waist which hang heavy on her head. Zahra’s clothing contrasts with her dreads; it’s all sharp-edged. She has shiny pointed boots over jeggings and a square-cut jacket. She has a mouth that turns down at the corners even when she’s smiling. Are some babies born with downturned mouths or do people develop them over time?

I like recreational biking too. Perhaps you can give us tips on how to keep cycling for as long as possible when you are pregnant, Lynda? We have a tandem we will put kiddie seats on. Although, I’m much keener on biking than Victoria, aren’t I, sweetie?

This group is going to produce a lot of babies, although our workshops will finish in July, before Victoria and Zahra are due. Not so Lynda. She, Fran, and I discussed how our timing of this trial of Humans with Stories is not ideal, given Lynda’s pregnancy. With typical Lynda determination and energy, she wanted to push ahead and co-facilitate.

This is the next step beyond Dolls with Stories. It’s time to get on with it. And I’m going to be part of it! When our baby is born, Robbie can look after her as much as me. We’re both her parents.

What about breast-feeding and not sleeping? I asked.

Julia, you know me better than that! Where there’s a will, there’s a way. I’m not lacking in will!

Lynda’s right: I would never criticise her determination.

Zahra continues. "We wondered if this is the right time to bring