Wednesday 30 April 2014

Changing the guard without rancour

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It was probably a foregone conclusion that Alistair Scott was going to win the National party selection process as the candidate for the upcoming election. Scott signalled his intention to challenge the incumbent at least a year ago. He managed to convince the voting delegates that he was the best option despite being up against three excellent fellow aspirees and won the nomination on the first ballot.

I’m not sure why John Hayes felt he had to step down. The Wairarapa seat, totally misnamed when you consider it encompasses all of Tararua and a sizeable chunk of Hawkes Bay, is New Zealand’s second largest electorate geographically and despite spurious claims to the contrary, Hayes has served his constituents well. Certainly by increasing his majority over his three-term tenure would seem to validate that.

He is also the Parliamentary Private Secretary for Foreign Affairs reporting to Murray McCully and it has been suggested that with him opting to retire, perhaps Shane Jones is going to have to assume at least some of his responsibilities.

The National party candidate selection process is about as democratic as you could get. It contrasts utterly with Labour’s procedure where the locals have to put up with serious input from head office and a union vote. National’s candidate is chosen entirely by voting delegates who are all local financial members.

National party members wishing to participate in the voting process must attend at least one meeting where all the candidates speak as well as the final meeting where the voting takes place. On this occasion there were four pre-meeting opportunities; at Masterton, Dannevirke, Waipukarau and Greytown. Those desirous of being part of the voting process had to sign in at the commencement of at least one of those meetings before being eligible to vote at decision-making meeting in the Masterton Town Hall last Friday afternoon.

184 delegates gained eligibility to vote and their numbers were swelled by at least the same amount of non-voting members who came along to witness the process.

Once seated, the delegates were “locked in” and officials from head office manned the doors to certify no one left the building. This was to ensure no one voted without having heard all the aspirants speak. This ruling was thwarted when it was discovered some delegates had parked their cars illegally and notices placed under the windscreen wipers had inferred they were about to be towed away. About ten delegates were subsequently given permission to leave the hall which held up the proceedings somewhat.

The voting process requires that if no one gains 51% of the votes in the first ballot then the lowest polling candidate drops off and the delegates have another vote with the remainder.

This process is repeated until one of the candidates reaches the required 51%.

Mercifully, given the time the whole process was taking and the hardness of the Town Hall seats, articulate Alistair Scott gained the required number of votes on the first ballot. His winning margin is not known; the scrutineers were sworn to secrecy and it was unanimously resolved that voting papers be destroyed.


The candidates drew lots as to speaking order and were given ten minutes each to put their case and were then required to answer two questions. One submitted by the Prime Minister and the other from the party’s national president, Peter Goodfellow.

During these addresses the other three aspirants were ensconced in a soundproof room so they couldn’t hear the speeches or the questions. The prime ministers question related to the problems facing middle-class New Zealander’s and the party president asked how the candidates intended to encourage local electors to give National their party vote.

The candidates all acquitted themselves well and at another time any one of them could have been chosen to represent the Wairarapa electorate. It may be unfair to rank them, but I thought Jo Hayes probably came in second. This petite Maori lady spoke with real passion, but is already a list member in parliament and delegates probably considered that leaving her there meant they get two representatives for the price of one.

Richard Townley had stood for selection for Wairarapa 9 years ago and at the time was told by local members to go away and get some worldly experience and come back again. He did this and would have been justifiably disappointed that he missed out a second time. He did however make the curious decision not to use the microphone when he spoke in the Town Hall and given the average age of the audience and the percentage of them who would have been wearing hearing aids this could have counted against him.

Tall, dark and handsome James Perry also spoke well and looked the part. This youthful-looking John F. Kennedy type, a local young farmer currently employed by a German company selling farm machinery in Europe, appeared to be a little overwhelmed by the political process.

He and Townley are both 34 years of age; no doubt their time will come.

If the delegates had been more prudent they may well have chosen Jo Hayes to replace John Hayes. The savings in stationery and signwriting costs could have been considerable.

“If you’re in politics and you can’t tell when you walk into a room who’s for you and who’s against you, then you’re in the wrong line of work” – Lyndon Baines Johnson

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Wednesday 23 April 2014

When the local lads occupied Japan

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Upon the surrender of Japan which ended the combat phase of the Second World War the Americans made a request for allied forces including New Zealanders, Australians, Canadians and Indians to supply an occupying force for Japan. In February 1946 a contingent was sent to restore peace, clear up debris from the atomic blast, help rebuild and direct Japan into becoming a democratic society.

Prime Minister Peter Fraser wanted the 5000 strong New Zealand contribution to be drawn from single male volunteers from the troops destined to come home from the war in Europe. Few volunteered as most were keen to get back to family and friends after having survived the war. As a result all single non-Maori men from the 13th 14th and 15th reinforcements were conscripted for the force.

Back home however there was no shortage of volunteers to go to Japan with applications coming from returned servicemen who were having trouble readjusting to civilian life as well as from young men and women who had missed out on wartime service and wanted adventure.

Between May 1946 and August 1947 four relief drafts were dispatched from New Zealand to Japan. These relief drafts also included women in the form of nurses, shorthand typists, hostesses and welfare staff.

Known as J-Force their policing duties included monitoring black market groups and also large gatherings of people on public occasions and generally keeping law and order until a civilian government could be established. J-Force also assisted the Americans in promoting democracy in Japan by supervising local and national elections for the prefecture.

A number of local men joined up. Well-known among these were twins Colin and Clive Thorne, Jack Snowsill and Darcy Christiansen. Colin and Clive’s older brother Jim had gone in an earlier draft and in a letter home encouraged his twin brothers to join him.

Earlier this week I spoke to sprightly 87-year-old surviving identical twin Clive Thorne about his experiences in the war-torn nation. They were in an unsettled country on active service as peacekeepers, but their role as it happened was not too arduous. Clive said he and Colin played in the company brass band and so they didn’t face too many situations that might have been considered threatening.

They were issued with clarinet and a side drum rather than arms though towards the end of their tour of duty they did do a three month stint on guard duty as camp police. On that occasion they were each given a rifle with a bayonet, with just one round of ammunition in the breech to be used as a warning shot and a 38 pistol with two rounds.

Band members were also trained as stretcher bearers, but Clive said this skill was never called upon.

They got on well with their charges and most of the more dangerous situations were tackled by the American 11th Airborne Division who had been selected by General Douglas McArthur to lead the American forces that would also occupy Japan.

Clive said they were paid in pounds sterling and the exchange rate with the yen was set at an artificially low rate in an effort to slow inflation. On pay day he said they could swap a British sixpence with one of the locals for 100 yen. A jug of beer was just ten yen so you could get 10 jugs of beer for sixpence!

In April 1948 the New Zealand government made the decision to withdraw from Japan. Once back in New Zealand J-Force personnel found they were treated differently from World War II veterans. Their service went unrecognised and until 1956 they were not eligible to join the RSA or receive war pensions. It was not until 1995 that the New Zealand Service Medal 1946 – 1949 was instituted to recognise the service of J-Force veterans in Japan

Not that the local contingent minded. They hadn’t faced combat and they came home worldly-wise and subsequently made big contributions to our community.

Coincidentally, all were extremely talented musicians and in the 1950’s and beyond you could scarcely attend a dance hall or a ball without at least one or perhaps all of them being on the stage. Colin Thorne played the drums and Clive the tenor sax with older brother Jim on the clarinet. Darcy Christiansen was a trombonist and Jack Snowsill played the piano and the xylophone.

Clive and Colin took up that most dangerous of occupations - aerial topdressing. They were exceptionally skilled pilots, but weaving an aeroplane in and out of Wairarapa’s steep hill country is not for the faint-of-heart. They saw many of their colleagues in the same industry crash and burn and indeed Colin’s career came to an abrupt end after a near-fatal accident in 1966 when the tail wheel fell of his Beaver aircraft during take-off.


Jack Snowsill became a chemist in the town centre and Darcy Christiansen a builder on his own account. Clive, Jack and Darcy still play when asked and have lost none of their skills which were, and still are, considerable.

Japan survived the occupation and emerged as one of the most prosperous nations on earth. They haven’t kept inflation in check though. I noticed recently that a bottle of beer in Tokyo costs 600 yen.

“Peace with Germany and Japan on our terms will not bring much rest. As I observed last time, when the war of the giants is over the wars of the pygmies will begin.” – Winston Churchill

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Wednesday 16 April 2014

Reflecting on that one life

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Easter and the holidays that are related to it are moveable feasts in that they do not fall on a fixed date in the Gregorian or Julian calendars. Instead the date for Easter is determined on a lunisolar calendar similar to the Hebrew calendar. The First Council of Nicaea in the year 325 established the date of Easter as the first Sunday after the full moon following the March equinox.

In Western Christianity, using the Gregorian calendar, Easter always falls on the Sunday between the 22nd of March and the 25th of April inclusive, within about seven days after the astronomical full moon.

The following Easter Monday is a legal holiday in many countries with predominantly Christian traditions.

New Zealand’s shop trading restrictions for the upcoming Easter break are quite complex. Basically shops must not open on Good Friday or Easter Sunday, but there are a number of exemptions.

For instance dairies can stay open provided they only sell items “that people can’t put off buying until the next day such as baby formula or pet food, and the quantity of goods for sale is no more than needed to meet the needs of people in the area.”

Same rule for service stations, only they can also sell petrol, oil, car parts and accessories.

Takeaways bars and restaurant/cafes must sell “only cooked food ready to be eaten immediately.” Shops for cutting hair or renting videos are exempt, pharmacies can stay open, real estate agents can sell houses and garden centres can trade on Easter Sunday.

Duty Free shops and shops that sell souvenirs are also exempt, so I guess Wills and Kate won’t have to take the next step of their journey without a genuine plastic Tiki, manufactured in China.

It’s a funny old world and there are lots of people who will carry on working without anyone giving a thought to them having a break and where exemptions haven’t even been considered. I’m thinking particularly of hospitals and hotels, taxis, bus and train drivers and caregivers to the elderly and infirm.

I assume if you die on Good Friday or Easter Sunday funeral directors won’t have to seek permission to render their services either.

It was a death on Good Friday 2000 years ago that started all this and I suppose that as we idly sit agonising over not being able to shop at the supermarket it might be an opportune time for reflection.

The judicial murder of Jesus of Nazareth is not a pleasant story. He was done to death with the connivance of the religious and secular authorities and the backing of public opinion.

After a sleepless night in which he was given no food, he endured the mockery of two trials, with Pontius Pilate reluctantly agreeing to the death sentence after his body had been lacerated beyond description and to within an inch of his life with the cruel Roman cat-o-nine-tails.

A crown of thorns was embedded on his head before He bore his own cross to the crucifixion site where He endured an excruciatingly painful death in which every nerve in His body screamed with anguish.

It was clear that the Jewish priests and most of the social elite of the day hated everything about Jesus. He saw through their pontificating and their self-important determination to maintain their status as the only dependable interpreters of the scriptures. He steadfastly refused to bow to their authority. He persisted in teaching a gentle doctrine of love that wasn’t suitable to the hard-hearted old enforcers of the Mosaic laws. His teaching threatened to weaken their positions as sanctioned flunkeys of the Roman consulate.


There is something disturbingly familiar about all this. Two thousand years on, for many the world is not a better place. Television images of some sections of the Middle East today cause you to think: has anything really changed? Israel, though just a speck on the world map, receives overwhelming attention and the surrounding states live in constant conflict.

The so-called “Arab Spring” turned into a disastrous summer of discontent.

But we shouldn’t complain. Laws and human rights based on Christian teachings have served New Zealand well as a society and we can probably endure a couple of days with restricted shopping options.

Christians believe the Easter Sunday resurrection of Jesus is not a fairy tale or a product of man’s desirous imagination, but a profound truth of life foretold, foreshadowed and carried through by God, just as He planned from the beginning.

For believers, the day the Son rose is worth constantly celebrating.

But in the Ukraine, Egypt, Syria and many other parts of this tortured planet the Christian message is as elusive as ever.

I’m told the meek held a meeting recently. They’ve decided they don’t want to inherit the earth.

At the ecumenical dinner the catholic priest taunted the rabbi by asking him when he would become liberal enough to eat some of the ham. “At your wedding,” replied the rabbi. – George Coote

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Wednesday 9 April 2014

Cruising the captivating Coromandel

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We recently spent a week in that curious section of the country known as the Coromandel Peninsula. We’d been there before, but that was a long time ago and we were keen to see the changes.

Actually there were none.

Our first stop was Thames. Now this town I would describe as having shown little progress since the last century, but then I remembered that the last century was only fourteen years ago and that’s not going back nearly far enough. The verandas in the main street are still curved and corrugated and they all have veranda posts. Inside, the shops have those wonderful high ceilings with ornate plaster cornices. They’re probably miles from any earthquake fault lines so they’re no doubt thinking “why change?”

We had a meal one evening in the historic Junction Hotel, built in 1880 when the gold rush town had a population of eighteen thousand - now down to less the seven. In the interim the hotel has hardly changed from its original shape and form. The dining room was full to the brim and served a hearty meal at pre-second-millennium prices. We repaired to the bar afterwards and met some of the locals, mostly indigenees, who were overwhelmingly welcoming.

The one word I would use to describe Thames is “quaint.”

Next stop was Whangamata on the South-east coast and unknowingly we had occasioned our arrival during the week of their “Beach Hop.”

This is an annual event initiated in 2001 by the local Rock and Roll club and draws an estimated 30,000 visitors to the area. The “Hop” has become the largest specialty car show in New Zealand and the second largest Rock’n’roll festival in the Southern hemisphere.


Bill Haley Junior was there, but Richie Cunningham and The Fonz were conspicuous by their absence amongst this crowd determined to relive the happy days.

The cars took centre stage; over a thousand of them. There were hot rods with their superbly painted body’s just centimetres off the ground, sans their bonnets to reveal chrome-plated engines. Alongside these were the audacious American cars from the mid-fifties; gleaming often two-toned monsters, many with ostentatious tail fins. They were obviously made for the days when gasoline was a shilling a gallon.

Almost without exception these cars had steering column gear shifts and white vinyl bench front seats. Great for courting and even more sensible after you married the girl you courted and had four children. The youngest could always sit between mum and dad in the front.

Today’s bucket seats have meant less lust and smaller families.

The cars have fared better than their owners. Beer bellies on the men were the rule rather than the exception and before her tearful apology Rachel Smalley would probably have described many of the women as “lardo’s”.

Next stop, Coromandel’s jewel in the crown, Whitianga.

Whitianga was the antitheses of Whangamata with shopkeepers revealing that the place had actually gone backwards.

It seems that the young people who once used to flock there in droves have now found other paradises in which to holiday due in part to the fact that the camping grounds, always strategically placed, had all been sold off to developers who have built vast blocks of expensive holiday apartments.

Expensive to build perhaps, but not to stay in. We rented a luxury apartment for three nights for a comparatively modest sum.

We were told that sixty-three per cent of Whitianga’s population are absentee landowners. They drift in from Auckland and other parts of the world at the height of the summer spending their money in the trendy cafes or the supermarkets and the run-of-the-mill shopkeepers see little of the potential largesse.

The compact northern town of Coromandel was next on our journey; we stayed there and took potter Barry Brickell’s train to the top of the mountain. The train takes you through a replanted native Kauri forest and includes 2 spirals, 3 tunnels, 5 reversing points and several large viaducts and ends up at a structure called the “Eyeful Tower” which allows you a grand view of Auckland across the ocean. It traverses ravines that look frighteningly high and when the train driver tells you that Brickell built the viaducts himself you silently pray that he was as good an engineer as he is a potter.

The March weather was near perfect - autumn served up the summer we never had - but with the exception of beach hopping Whangamata the peninsula was largely bereft of people and we wondered where the reported ‘great increase in tourists’ are vacationing.

The answer to that was found when we overnighted at Rotorua on our way home.

The lakeside city is looking splendid; there wasn’t a curved corrugated veranda in sight and busloads of visitors disgorged at our hotel, most of them Asiatic in origin.

Rotorua has that unique advantage over the rest of the country in that you could break wind there and go completely unnoticed.

“A good holiday is one spent among people whose notions of time are vaguer than yours.” - J. B. Priestly

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