Gallipoli - nationalism and vegemite

In Turkey, being a New Zealander or Australian matters. After months of anonymous travel, random Turks have been greeting me with a hearty 'Kia Ora!' after seeing my bone carving. The only hostel in Canakkale is called Anzac House, and upon walking in we were greeted with a poster of the NZ, Australian and Turkish flags intertwined to remind us that our nations are all friends now. A sılver fern sticker is even stuck to the door. As a further reminder that Canakkale really loves the ANZACs, I got served vegemite for breakfast. It's funny to think that getting served vegemite in Turkey is a consequence of a failed invasion over 92 years ago. And yesterday, Tane and I went with Stephen and Erica to see what it was about Gallipoli that has made it a Mecca for NZ backpackers. Being a uber war history geek, I'd wanted to go to Gallipoli ever since I found out that you could. And, I don't know what I was expecting, but I was not dissapointed one bit.

First, the scenery was fantastic. You don't really expect somewhere where so many people were killed to be so beautiful, but Gallipoli is a stunner. If it hadn't been a battle site, I think the word Gallipoli would conjur up images of fat British tourists on a resort holiday rather than war and suffering.

Tane at Anzac Cove, where the ANZACs landed

As well as being beautiful, Gallipoli - in particular our tour guide- struck the perfect balance between being a sombre place to visit without being corny. According to the official NZ website dedicated to ANZAC day, Gallipoli has become a symbol for New Zealand's national identity, and this is why NZers come in their thousands. The theory goes that NZ and Australia went to Gallipoli wearing nappies and emerged wearing grown up trousers. The old ad for Huggies Pull-Up nappies springs to mind, where the children sing 'Look, Mum, I'm a big kid now!'

I've never been a big fan of the 'our nation was born at Gallipoli' idea. I think that Gallipoli was important, but not the most important thing that has happened in the history of NZ's emerging identity. First, I think that a sense of nationhood slowly emerged over time, and to say that our sense of national identity and relationshıp with the UK was changed forever on a rocky beach in Turkey seems to ignore the fact that during the Second World War most New Zealanders were more concerned with the war in Europe than the war in the Pacific because that was our 'spiritual home'. The theory goes that we were supposed to have decided at Gallipoli that NZ was not going to follow the UK around anymore, which ignores NZ's role in World War Two and Savage's famous speech that where England will go, NZ shall follow. Not to mention the reports of NZ men fighting in the Second World War for God, King and Country.

In the cemetery at the beach, looking at the grave of a Wellingtonian

Second, I don't like the idea that NZ identity was formed at an event that only white men were able to participate directly in, which implies that women played their part in the forming of NZ's identity by largely being at home. Maori units were at Gallipoli, but were largely employed digging trenches and making roads rather than fighting. I don't like the idea that our nation was formed at an event where white men get the Oscars for best Actor, Director and Picture, Maori get the Oscar for best costume design, and women are at home watching the show on TV. Gallipolli did contribute to our sense of being, I just don't think it was the single most important thing. But, I suppose it's harmless to beleive that we took off our nappies at Gallipoli. Turks have forgiven us for invading their home so there are no residual dramas involved when Gallipolı is celebrated. Unlike, say, the Battle of Rangiriri, which decided the fate of NZ much more definitively but discussions of which make many Kiwis uneasy, assuming they know about it at all. Tane lurking in a trench.

Anyway, going to Gallipoli there was no corny 'this is where our nation was born' what-not. The only unpleasont thing was seeing a shoe still containing a leg bone,as well as a skull with a bullet sticking out of the forehead. This aside, it was just a lovely place to visit to remember the people that died there, the Nzers, Australians and Turks. I recommend visiting, regardless of what you think about how it formed NZ identity, and whether or not the idea of our nation being formed there is as disgusting has being served vegemite rather than marmite in the first place.

The NZ memorial