Next Small Thing
A miserable Saturday night in late May. It’s cold, dark, wet and windy in rural Maraekakaho, 22 kilometres west of Hastings. Wine country, this, with a smattering of pastoral farms and orchards.
Anybody with normal sensibilities is at home in front of a roaring fire with television for company. Not so for this crowd of locals (and some not-so-locals), about 100 of whom have driven to the community hall to ease out of their utes and make their way to a rollicking night of drink, chat and live music. It’s the kind of show that would normally be found only in big-city venues, played in a venue which would typically host 21st parties, yoga classes and rugby club functions.
My wife Sonia and I, in Hawke’s Bay for a short break away from the Waikato, are in unfamiliar territory, and getting to Maraekakaho Hall — perched some way off the road next to the rural fire station near State Highway 50 — isn’t made easier by the dark and the lashing rain. But we find it, and once there stumble through the car-park puddles to join the action inside. Never mind the weather, this is Hawke’s Bay and these folk are going to
