The late Wilma Sutherland

It was infectious, compelling and, frequently, more than a little naughty.

The straight-talking Australian, born in Victoria’s Ned Kelly country, ended up in New Zealand out of sheer bloody-mindedness.

“When I was 17 I came over here with my Dad, who was on a contract. His idea of my future was that I’d end up looking after him and Mum in their old age. I wasn’t wild about that particular plan so when the time came to return to Aussie I told him I wanted to stay in NZ to become a nurse. He said that if I did he’d never speak to me again. So my response was ‘right-o: goodbye, Dad!’”

Wilma came from a staunchly Methodist family that “hated Catholics more than magpies or snakes.” So when she met and wanted to marry a Catholic ‘bitser’ of mixed Tongan, Māori, Scots and Dalmatian heritage it was of little surprise that they objected.

“When I showed their letter to the minister here in NZ he put it in his pocket, said something about how shockingly slow the mail was between Australia and New Zealand, and married us on the spot. Now that’s the kind of churchman I like!”

All of Wilma’s stories were epic. And hilarious in the way she told them which, inevitably, was at her own expense with a healthy dollop of self-deprecation. Like the time she let a “gorgeous, red-haired young Irishman” with the gift of the gab use, at no cost, an events centre she was managing - only to find out afterwards he was there to raise funds for the Irish Republican Army. Or the time an inmate at Arohata Prison escaped during a release-to-work programme at a business she owned - and she was told by an official to do nothing further because the prison “didn’t want her back.” Or how she asked her son-in-law to let her know how much she owed him for the payment he’d made on her accommodation at Kerikeri Retirement Village and he said not to worry, they just wanted her “gone”.

While we’re sure there’s a bit of ‘narrator’s licence’ in that particular story, we’re glad she chose to live here. Not least because Wilma was one of Kerikeri Retirement Village’s natural-born organisers. And, as such, she made it her mission to involve some of the Village’s older residents in our ‘Spark of Life’ approach to dementia care.

‘Spark of Life’ is the model of care adopted by Kerikeri Retirement Village. Particularly focused on people with dementia, the programme works with the individual person and identifies his or her interests, rather than treating the dementia. It’s designed to help people re-connect, re-learn and find purpose in their lives, and to give them back their ‘spark’.

Often this involves giving people with dementia a meaningful role within the community. Something to do. And this was very much Wilma’s cup of tea.

She and a good friend, the late Margaret Jelley, had formed a Rummikub group and taught the game to 23 older residents, some of whom had suffered strokes. The point being that the game encourages the re-development of hand, eye, brain coordination as well as mental stimulation.

So when she heard Village chief executive Hilary Sumpter talking with our clinical manager about the ‘Spark of Life’ concept, it didn’t take Wilma long to put a plan together.

“Seeing people no older than me sitting in chairs all day and doing nothing with their lives made me a bit weepy. So I arranged to use the Village’s social centre to start a sewing and crafts group.”

In true Wilma style she set about delegating responsibility for making her new group a success - one person would lead the knitting circle, another would be in charge of games, another would lead the crafts activities, and so on.

“I’m a firm believer in letting people do things their way. It always gets the best results. If you ask someone to arrange the knitting, don’t then tell her what to knit and how to knit it!”

A lifetime of learning how people tick helped Wilma break down initial reluctance to join the group. 

“People don’t want to look foolish for giving something a go. But if you just say: ‘God, you’re good at that. Come along to our group, we need you. You’re great. You can roll a ball of wool better than anyone I’ve ever met’ you’ll find that’s sometimes all the motivation they need to get involved. Just a little note of encouragement.”

And so the group started making little knick-knacks for others in the Village’s Care Facility, and to sell in fund-raisers. Quality didn’t matter. Wilma chuckled at the memory. “Some of it is the most imaginative stuff. They’re doing it with love. And it gives them that all-important sense of purpose.”

And while they’re doing it they talk. Boy, do they talk!

“It’s wonderful, light-weight, inconsequential chit-chat,” Wilma said. “They’re desperate to talk and they babble on, not even listening to each other. We talk about what they heard the night before, the latest goings on with the Royal Family, the weather, childhood memories… whatever comes to mind. It’s a constant waterfall of words and it’s wonderful.”

Sometimes important stuff came bubbling up through the froth.

“One of the saddest moments so far was when one of the ladies came up to me after one of the sessions and asked if she could talk. I had been waiting all afternoon for her to say something. Anything. So I leaned in to hear what she had to say.

“She told me in the quietest, most timid little voice that she’d been bullied at school. Because her father only had one arm and he couldn’t go to war.  

“I felt as though I’d been hit in the stomach. I was blown away. How long had she been dwelling on this memory, wanting to talk about it? Before deciding, in her final years, that she’d found someone she could share the memory with? It made me so cross about some of the nastiness of life and the loneliness of old age. But so grateful that we were doing something that was obviously bringing her out of her shell.”

Positivity oozed from Wilma. She loved her garden and showed it off at the drop of a hat.

So did moving from a farm to a small retirement unit bother her at all?

“Not a bit of it! I had a brilliant time getting rid of all the stuff I’d accumulated over the years and choosing which most precious items I’d bring here with me. You know - we’re constantly opening new doors and starting new chapters in life, aren’t we?

“We get to leave home, start relationships, have kids, start new careers, move to new places. Retirement and old age is just another door opening. It’s up to us what we make of this new chapter. This clean slate. Whether we choose to enjoy it or complain about it is entirely up to us!”

 Well said, Wilma. We’re glad we were able to let you know how grateful we are for the company, joy and laughter you brought to our little community. We remember you with love.