After an upsetting Customs experience at Queenstown Airport, Australian visitor David Baron bemoans the perils of old age and wonders if it's safer to stay at home.
Age is not for the faint-hearted. Arriving at Queenstown Airport recently on holiday from Australia, we discarded the remains of our lunch in the bins provided and my partner asked the Customs officer in the arrival hall whether the biscuits and muesli she was carrying and had declared on her form were able to be brought into the country. They were. I had nothing to declare. The place bristled with warnings about food and fines.
The officer at the scanner extricated my backpack and asked me if I knew what was in it. I replied that I did. He then opened it and withdrew a sealed plastic packet of finger food which I immediately recalled I had retrieved from the fridge six hours previously and added to our prepared lunch without saying anything.
Promptly forgotten, it had slipped to the bottom of the backpack remaining uneaten. A second officer was summoned who asked ‘‘who had declared''. My partner said that she had as she had declared the breakfast cereal. I, of course, had nothing to declare. We were then escorted to another area and told that my partner was to be fined $400.
Our attempted explanation and obvious embarrassment were of no interest to this officer and she prepared the paperwork. My partner to my puzzlement became very distressed. She was unable to understand how she could have forgotten including the packet with our lunch. Could this complete loss of memory herald the onset of Alzheimer's?
Since the mistake was mine, why was she so upset? I would pay the fine anyway. Why was she being charged when I had already acknowledged the backpack was mine? I am 77 and my partner 73. Above our necks, we normally function well and still work in a professional capacity.
Twenty years earlier, such an absurd situation would not have arisen with as yet no ‘‘senior moments'' and not easily befuddled. We did not have dietary restrictions then or carry our own food. There would not have been inexplicable tears and the wrong person would never have been fined.
Triumphantly waving her paperwork aloft, the officer indicated my partner could pick up a tissue on the way out. So much for the professionalism and interpersonal skills exhibited in a recently viewed TV series on NZ Customs.
A little concern and sympathy for our forgetfulness and an explanation there was no power of discretion in a world of zero tolerance would have been most helpful.
We were surprised at how disturbing the episode turned out to be. Initial fury was replaced over a few restless nights with a deep disquiet as we slowly processed the episode. For the first time, the changes in memory, which most of us had noticed and recounted with amusement for many years, became sinister.
Forgetfulness could lead us into all sorts of unexpected situations. We understood how our parents had become afraid to travel or even catch taxis.
How they were distressed at moving to a more sensible but unfamiliar property. Even in New Zealand, welcomed tourists could be unexpectedly seized and fined.
Of course biosecurity is of vital concern for the country and so far apparently successful. But since the system is so good at picking up ‘‘offenders'', why would one punish them? Who are they anyway? The forgetful aged? Harassed young mothers? A diabetic with a banana in his pocket?
A system that appears to zap these people as they enter the country on holiday may well raise revenue but is hardly likely to assist biosecurity and is strange behaviour for a country that encourages tourism.
Samuel Butler's Erewhon has come of age. I hear my mother's angry defensive words: ‘‘One day you will see what it's like.''
Yes indeed, and so will they. I wish I had been more sympathetic.
●David Baron is a Melbourne psychiatrist.
