Athletics aren’t necessarily synonymous with student life. Sport New Zealand attests to this, claiming weekly participation in sporting activity drops from 98% to 75% at the age of 18. Despite these staggering statistics, the question remains: how do breathas remain so skinny in spite of such unhealthy eating habits? Surely it’s not the Domino’s diet keeping them gaunt, so perhaps there is something greater at play. What if Sport New Zealand aren’t looking at the bigger picture? What if they aren’t looking at the right kind of sport?
After wrestling with this issue for nights on end, Critic Te Ārohi finally figured it out. Within the student body there exists a secret sport played by hundreds, if not thousands, of breathas - by conservative estimation. No, it's not rugby, you horse. Nor is it beer pong. It is, in fact, the sport humbly known as ‘treasure hunting’. The breathas’ beloved treasure hunting generally occurs during the school holidays when the Otago Museum hosts a treasure hunt for literal children to complete around the different museum galleries. Participants are given clues as to where answers may hide, and on completion of the hunt are presented with a lollipop the colour of the participants choosing.
To some, the sport may sound ridiculous. One student said, “That sounds so fucking stupid.” This is what Critic Te Ārohi thought as well before witnessing a pair of students sprinting through the museum, unaware of the children and parents around them. Before we could chase the eager treasure hunting breathas down for an interview, they were gone - lollipops likely in tow. At the beckoning of this profound sight, Critic Te Ārohi wondered: have the community of existing treasure hunters shut themselves off from the rest of the student population, fearful that their sport may be tarnished by unruly outsiders? With this in mind, Critic Te Ārohi endeavoured to hunt down the underground community and expose the secret student sport keeping breathas slim.
Ex-museum staff member Georgia appeared to be unaware: “I’ve got no clue what the holiday programme treasure hunts are!” When asked if the sport had been institutionalised by the University, Hannah*, a member of staff at the museum, responded warmly that “we haven’t got around to it yet. I think a whole bunch of students running around the museum probably isn’t a good idea, especially in the school holidays.”
Spectators at the cafe were equally bamboozled, along with parents and children doing the treasure hunt themselves. It seemed as if the community had completely evaded the watchful eye of the museum’s inhabitants and staff! When asking the student community for answers, one student said, “Never heard of it mate,” while two others bluntly said, “No,” leaving us in a state of agony.
At a dead end, we did the only thing possible in such a time of despair. Lacing up our runners, we headed into the depths of the museum armed with only a stopwatch and an official starting gun (not really) to begin our own foray into the sport of treasure hunting. Blitzing gracefully down hallways, it became apparent why other students had so rigorously indulged in the sport. Darting between Animal Attic and the Marine Gallery, the sport seemed a blissful melody of head and heart intertwined. With a time of 12:27.40, we exited the museum proudly, failing, however, in our mission of luring out other treasure hunters.
So, treasure hunters: you win. Critic Te Ārohi was unable to bring your community under the harsh microscope of journalism. But at what cost has this battle been won? On the 24th of March the ODT reported on an impending financial crisis set to impact Tūhura, the Otago Museum. Why mention this sad news? Hopefully it will rouse the small community of treasure hunters into action. By opening up the gates and broadening this community, not only will we, as students, be indulging in possibly the greatest sport of all time, but it also may encourage the lending of a neighbourly hand to a financially struggling museum.
If any treasure hunters are brave enough to heed this call to arms, head along to the museum, time yourself while doing the treasure hunt and send in your record to Critic Te Ārohi. In the case that you don’t, we will deem ourselves the unequivocal champions of the sport and no one will ever hear about the time you got a sub-ten-minute treasure hunt time thanks to a combination of adrenaline and last night’s gear.
Like all sports, treasure hunting teaches us a lot about life. Perhaps, some would say, it teaches us the greatest lesson of all: how to hunt for a brighter future.