A love letter to Stuart Harvey

A love letter to Stuart Harvey, the chief roading engineer and a farewell to my debating buddy:

*Confounded Drats!!!!! *

Yes, those are the words,

“Confounded” and “Drats.”

The explosion that burned from me today was nothing short of sheer authoritarian righteous anger that almost sent me into an early labour, Thankyou, just Thank-you, because I love to kick start my ‘Braxton Hicks’, I said as I got off the phone to Kerry.

My unfortunate outburst was the result of over 18months of haggle and administrative detail With a certain Mr. Harvey, and with that, the cool and dismissive Kerry had been on the receiving end to witness my now, total lack of control and bitter disappointment with the whole matter.

Ps/ I hope you having a good day, *Kerry* from NZTA and to dear Stuart Harvey from WBOPC, here is my sarcastically, generous “Thank-you” for the following:

The surprise let down after agreeing verbally on a phone call only a mere few weeks ago, to install that 50k sign because you knew that our road, more specifically, our community needs it. And this was in Despite of the usual bare minimum red tape that suggests a repeater sign, legally speaking, is not required.

You see, It was you, chief roading engineer, that AGREED that we are indeed a unique case BEYOND the bare minimum. Not the regular residential area with a 50k road, but more akin to a motorway, in desperate need of repair and fixing. This One road, which carries the heart of a billion dollar industry both in water and in kiwi fruit, hauling trays and trays as we live our lives perched upon the vein of this giants artery.

But Kerry, yes Kerry, the person I was left to deal with in your departure, (and despairingly, the witness to my subsequent mental breakdown) wouldn’t understand, and she made that very clear on the phone. She rattled off the usual legalities to me not knowing our history Stuart. It’s like a Will, or the inheritance of an estate, however, you left no clear instructions the outcome of our conversations and agreements in writing And all we have to go on now was an agreed word. Something Kerry does not find adequate enough, nor is a “word” or a “promise” good for the world in general now days. Oh yes, She’s an administrator, a strict and cool managerial type, no room for flexibility unlike us, eh Stuart? I nod my head as if to agree with myself, and in reflection I write: You see, Despite our debates and disagreements, our humour remained in tact, there was passionate commitment during our exchanges and it remained robust, in spite of ourselves . I thought we understood one another Stuart. And that even within my lower rank, I had earned your respect, in the matter of mental sparring.

Oh Stuart,

But there you go, up stakes, resign and as for the No 1 Road cause? It dies with you. The least you could have done, before you resigned was follow through on your word and sent NZTA the message. The final clauses within your will, regarding the inheritors, (the residents) of No 1 Road.

But, was all that promising just a ploy? Maybe you knew all along your intention to leave, so to satisfy me, you said you would agree to install that darn sign. And on that day of agreement, It was a good day indeed. I even, texted the neighbours with the good news!

But you left me in the hands of strangers, with no clue of our back story. Their cold hard stares, even through a telephone line, burst everything that we had suffered for, suffered together for.

Looking back on it,

I guess you loved to waste my time, maybe we loved to waste each other’s time. And, I still have the record of our phone call which was close to an hour long. While we haggled on the issues facing us, boring ourselves, discussing aggregated concrete and engineering details, financials, companies, industry, councils, councils budgets, their thoughts, and money woes. I even know how much it costs now to make road signage. Who knows, maybe info like that may benefit me on a local pub trivia night one day.

In that phone call, Your English accent was compelling but cold.

And in return, my heart : Sad, and undone.

*sigh*

Oh Stuart,

What about the rest of the roading plans to fix No1 road? It’s so important to us, is that doomed to die as well? Or, is the man or woman intended to take your spot, are they going to be better in charging the future? Please don’t tell me, I have to back track and start all over again? Another relationship with a roading engineer. Remember our call, You shared with me the vision of No1 road, how you’ll give it that “residential” feeling, with walkways and lighting, an updated road. You even suggested these works to start in the summer. I doubted you though, I told you on the phone, “I have trouble believing you Stuart” I said, “things change” you know what the council and government people are like: Pipes, weather, water treatment plants, even the god of Trevelyan’s, money, budgets, and now so I hear, ill health.

But I do hope someone can run with your Baton and carry on our cause. That’s it’s not left forsaken in the dust of your departure.

But I ask myself: “Why do I shake my fist at the air? Or punch under water? Perhaps I think my voice would make a difference for the community. Isn’t that the reason every artist creates and comes alive within the story? To give a voice to the voiceless story. But what would Farmers, engineers, admins, men and women of greater deeds than I, know about all that? Probably not much. After all, bureaucracy has a way of spoiling even the sweetest members amongst us.

As it is, Maybe I’m just not cut out for this pursuit anymore. You see, I don’t want to be a politician, I feel too true for all that. And perhaps, looking into my own mirror, I too, am not a very sympathetic person, and if I’m not a sympathetic person, why should anyone be sympathetic to this cause? Or, maybe it’s a matter or paying rates to the equivalent (and even over) $5000 a year, but our road is left to disrepair, we have no fibre to our homes, and even a sign is looked upon coldly.

Maybe that’s why I suffer to no avail? Because deep down no one really cares for each other, and as long as we keep paying, it’s easier not to care, it’s less of a burden. And that’s the bitterness of the hustle, the rat race in a nut shell: When life becomes a series of budget and to do lists, it’s a void for the preservation of ones true self, and i’m not surprised ageing and stress has effect on our society.

But I’m rambling now,

Anyway Stuart,

We crossed paths for a moment in time, a moment, over the space of 22 months, and if indeed what I hear is true and that your health is compromised, I sincerely wish you recovery and a blessed future.

I do hope you find my letter not to offensive, but knowing what I know now about you, I don’t think you will.

Kindest Regards

Esraa Muse