A year ago on March 15 a heavily-armed Australian gunman went on a killing spree targeting New Zealand Muslims during their Friday prayers.

He opened fire at the Al Noor Mosque then continued shooting at the Linwood Islamic Center. Both are in Christchurch, the largest city in the South Island,

Prime Minister Jacinda Ardern who led the nation in mourning following its “darkest day” has publicly sworn never to mention the far-right extremist’s name. This column will do the same.

In June he’ll face a New Zealand court. He’s charged with 51 counts of murder, 40 of attempted murder and one of engaging in a terrorist act.

The legal and journalistic convention is to report his “alleged” crimes. Although he live-streamed the massacres we have to say he’s innocent until proved otherwise. So far he’s pleaded “not guilty”.

There’s no death penalty in New Zealand, but if found guilty the 29-year old will probably die in jail of natural causes decades hence.

In 1996 a mass shooting in Port Arthur, Tasmania left 35 dead and 23 wounded. The killer pleaded guilty and was given a 35-year life sentence without possibility of parole. He’s now 52.

After that tragedy the Australian Parliament passed laws banning the sale of high powered weapons and restricting the ownership and use of firearms. Similar reforms were introduced in New Zealand last year. Neither country gives citizens the right to bear arms, unlike in the United States.

The Christchurch killings shocked the world and moved millions to ask: How could this have happened in such a small, peaceful and welcoming country? The answer is that hate, like the coronavirus, knows no boundaries.

Among the distressed questioners are three Indonesians who studied in New Zealand: Naila Rahma, Maria Qibtia and Sophie Amani. They’re the daughters of Alida Assegaf and her academic husband Zainal Abidin Bagir.

In 2014 the director of the Indonesian Consortium for Religious Studies at Yogyakarta’s Gadjah Mada University was a visiting lecturer at Wellington’s Victoria University while the couple’s children attended local schools.

Instead of just texting tears and sad emojis to commemorate the massacre, the young women have compiled a 72-page book of 15 of their friends’ thoughts called Kotahi Aroha — Maori for One Love, One New Zealand –—in English and Indonesian.

Said Dr Bagir: “The goal is an expression of sympathy to the victims — not only the dead, but also to New Zealand communities who experienced deep sorrow — and a wish that New Zealand remains a loving and beautiful place.” 

The book starts with 11 observations by Twindania Namiesyva, “six years a Wellingtonian, forever a Kiwi at heart”. She was in the national capital while her husband Muhammad Ghifary was studying for a doctorate in engineering and computing science.

When asked to comment on the cultural differences between Indonesia and New Zealand she focused on dress: “New Zealanders, unlike urban communities in Indonesia, don’t judge someone based on appearance. They are more concerned with attitude than appearance. This kind of culture suits me.”

Under the heading “Let me tell you what NZ is” she wrote:

“NZ is local authorities allowing churches to be converted into a masjid [mosque].”

“NZ is your midwife making sure all the staff in the hospital delivery room you’re dealing with are women, as per your request.”

“NZ is your daughter’s school principal announcing there will be halal sausages at the school barbecue day.”

Sophie said she made the mistake of watching a video of the shootings: “I wish with all my heart that I’d never stumbled across the video — I will never get it out of my head.

“I could cry all day but that’s not going to change what’s happened so instead I wrote this piece to spread awareness.”

Ali Riza spent five years in New Zealand studying creative writing and design, some of that time in Christchurch walking home at night. He knew about Islamophobia and religious killings in the US. For a while he was terrified: “No one looked like me, no one believed what I did.”

Later he reflected: “It [racial slurs and threats] never happened to me. Not one. Not a single unkind word about my faith. Not a single untoward mention of my race. Nothing. My paranoia turned out to be just that, nothing but paranoia.”

Yet while Riza was losing his fear, in the same city a man with a warped mindset was allegedly stockpiling weapons and ammunition. He was also writing a hate manifesto, making intricate plans to kill people he had never met after digesting fake news about Muslims he’d read on the Internet.

While the killings drew widespread horror and sympathy, they also stirred the xenophobic fringe. There have been reports of an upsurge of white supremacist messages.

This month a New Zealand teenager was arrested for allegedly threatening terror by posting a picture of a masked man outside the Al Noor mosque.

The authors of Kotahi Aroha are now back in Indonesia. Naila, 22, graduated from the University of Indonesia and now works in Jakarta.

Maria, 21 is studying graphic arts at a West Java university. She designed the book.

The last words belong to Sophia, 17, now at a state high school. 

“To everyone reading this: We too will stay strong and stop being afraid. I was terrified but I know I shouldn’t be. Whoever you are, whatever you believe in, whatever your story is I love you.

“Let’s show everyone we can stand together, united, strong as ever and loved by one another.”

Kotahi Aroha is not a commercial venture so it’s not for sale. It can be read here: issuu.com.

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