After the flood
It’s the Sunday after the Auckland floods. I’m standing near my old school friend Jo Lodge’s childhood home in Tennessee Ave, Māngere. The street backs onto a creek, where Jo’s brothers used to play with their neighbours. On the first day of Auckland’s deluge, that same creek morphed into a fully fledged river, viciously gouging out backyards, tossing cars, rubbish bins and sleepouts aside, before slinking back into the mangroves and mud. I expected bustle, noise and movement, but everything is quiet. Walking towards me is my Neighbourhood Support mate Toni Helleur, her reassuring smile matching the brilliance of her fluorescent jacket. Toni and her companions are checking in with their community, house by ruined house. We stop beside a stormwater drain; the grille has popped and been swept away. It’s a…