By Rhonda Bartle
On Whangamomona Republic Day, January 2005, the dawn yawns bold and bright. At 10am the band starts up on the balcony of the pub. They're playing a kind of light jazz, something lively to listen to without having to know the words. The street is abuzz with organisers issuing final orders to the completely disorganised. Hay bales outside the M & M Café are yanked into wobbling lines for make-do seats, while the plastic ones under the pub's eaves are already occupied.
Mind ewe: the sheep race.
Stall holders adjust their creaking tables, while the woman in front of the G-String rack lingers over a last cigarette. Necks crane and faces keep turning up and down the street as though a stampede is expected soon. It is - this is Republic day, Whangamomona style.
There will be Clydesdale rides, whip cracking, shearing and chainsaw sculpting, wood chopping, archery, pipe bands, a waterslide, guess the weight raffles and wood turning exhibitions.
In between these minor events are the real crowd-pulling favourites, the ones that people have flocked in to see, like the sheep races, the possum skinning, the gumboot throwing, the shoot-out on the bridge.
The sheer popularity of Republic Day has escalated over the years, with a new theme embraced each time. Two years ago it was the gunslinger era, today flappers and gangsters. Plans for 2007 include a M.A.S.H. re-enactment - a good excuse to have three tanks roll into town.
People keep arriving, as they will do all day, on foot, in cars, trucks and motorbikes and a wavering line of campervans. The occasional tourist falls into this town with a bewildered look on his dial: 'Where exactly is this?' And just for good measure, four trains will chug into a pocket-sized railway station...
Jafa invasion: The train brings more townies to join the celebrations.
Some might stop long enough to pocket their $3 passports and read the Letter to all you Townies in their programme, the Whanga Whale:
Dear Jafas,
Well, it's persisting down, colder than a witch's tit today... herd you buggers were coming down to real man's country... can't say I blame ewes. You should bring that lemon-lipped ex-mayor with you. We'll show him that there is more to life than living above the Bombay hills...
And above all, there's the magnetic draw of the looming Presidential election. Where else but Whanga can you vote for a President by scrawling your mark on a piece of dunny paper and hurling it down a loo? And you don't have to be a resident to vote.
The candidates in 2005 include Murt - an avid Whanga rugby fan and a local Mr Fixit, Ian Kjestrup - a man known mostly by his nickname 'Kessie' and a cross-dresser called Bruce. Bruce/Miriam Collis, a newcomer from Wellington, is a keen writer and rose grower and the town's Avon lady.
The Presidental candidates: Ian Kjestrup, Bruce/Miriam Collis and Murt Kennard.
Image: The Daily News
And at 4pm today, three disorganised campaigns will rattle to an end, with all 'real' politicians put to shame. Despite all wanting to win the election, these candidates haven't spent a red cent, abused an expense account or cruised round in a chauffeured limousine.
And no matter who's elected, nothing much is likely to change. Having a goat and a poodle as prior Presidents means there's definitely no act to follow.