Wine, Women, and Song

Hawke's Bay, on the east coast of New Zealand's North Island, is the first place in the world to see the sun (it's generally accepted that Gisborne, just north of Napier, is the first city in the world to officially greet the dawn), and as such to see all the new things that each day brings with it. Plenty of sun, plenty of new things.

Hukarere Girls' College, a boarding school here in town, celebrated its 138th anniversary on Friday, an anniversary that coincided with its annual kapa haka. The school is exclusively for Maori girls, and the kapa haka is a tradition within that culture that showcases song and dance through performance. Ordinarily, the story of how I went into the city on a Friday night to watch high school girls prance about on stage would be part of the opening statement used by the plaintiff's attorney, except that Gary, my host, is a teacher there, and welcomed me to come along and watch from the lighting booth.

Napier Muncipal Theatre, an art deco theatre venue near the waterfront, could easily seat a few hundred, although the audience was mostly visiting parents, a relatively small group considering that the school only has about 90 students. The show comes just a week before school holidays – if you've been paying attention, this is the third two-week holiday I've encountered in New Zealand (they were midway through the holidays when I arrived, and I left Dunedin about a week before that term break). This was a chance for the four houses (whare) of the school (Mere Hana, Wiremu, Mataruahou, and Reremoana), led by a prefect and backed by guitarists, to perform their own songs, choreographed dance, poi displays (that's a fluffy ball attached to a string, in the colour of their house), and, of course, the haka itself.

The haka is something I knew about, but had never actually seen performed before. You probably know it too – the All Blacks, the national rugby team, is inevitably one of the most recognizable things people know about New Zealand, and the traditional Maori war dance that they perform before each match to intimidate their opponents is part of their notoriety (the fact that they're really good is another factor). Each whare prepared their own haka, all different but all involving loud chanting, synchronized foot stomping, face contortions, and a general display of ferocity.

When each house came on stage, they passed a microphone around and introduced themselves in a condensed version of what would actually happen at the meeting houses, the marae – they said their name and the iwi they were affiliated with, in the Maori language, eliciting huge cheers from the audience members who belonged to the same tribe. The audience participation throughout, in terms of the cheering and waving (and one dude even stood up and bellowed his own mini haka, as if in response), was something different from any school assembly I've ever been to – like I was looking in on something intimate, a community celebration rather than a public performance. Throughout the whole evening, the girls had their arms by their sides, quivering their hands in fluid motions – the wiri, a representation of the relationship between the mind and the body.

I may not have understood any of the words, but the songs were melodic, and the dancing had moments of prowess and collaborative harmony, especially when you consider that some of them were only 14 (your Honour).

Downtown Napier isn't exactly party central, but I was anxious to get out and see some nightlife on Saturday, so away I went into the clear brisk evening, to the Cabana. It was punk night, but whatever – the beer was cheap, the stereo system was loud, and there was a fog machine. Deadly. Lots of beards, tight jeans, and that smell, whatever that is. Four local bands were on the bill, including Alec Withers from Devils Elbow, whose Brain Fallon-esque rocking on an acoustic guitar was pretty cool.

Diamond Doll that was the main act though, a four piece with lots of screaming by the gal that fronted it. I don't think I was expecting to stick around until the set ended, just before 1:00 in the morning, but even though the room started clearing out prematurely, I had a lot of fun rollicking with the small crowd by the front of the stage to the deafening clash of drums and guitars, and kept thinking, “Ok, just one more song,” until there wasn't one more song. There must just be something to live music, that when it works, it works, and you feel it no matter what the style. Who knew?

When the sun comes out in the afternoon, it's got heat to it, and there wasn't much else I'd rather do than take a book to the nearby park and lie down on the grass by the side of a tree. That's what I did, and it was pure coincidence that the book I pulled from the shelf here was The Lost Symbol. Sometimes you just have to indulge in a Dan Brown conspiracy thriller, but the reason it's a coincidence is because Gary is a fairly high-ranking Mason at Scinde Lodge here in Napier, and took me to see the Lodge today – debunking some of the half-cocked ideas everyone seems to have about this worldwide fraternity, but also finding out that some of the ideas that seem stranger than fiction might actually be true.

Freemasonry really is a society that can trace its roots to the Middle Ages and the stone masons who were kept busy with building cathedrals, castles, and placing clues throughout Europe for the adventuring benefit of future generations. Ok, maybe not so much the last one – the idea of the organization is to promote prudence, temperance, fortitude, and justice. Yes, symbolic ceremonies are the main thrust of the organization, initiations to different levels depending on ceremonial performances (one of them does involve a ritualistic death). Yes, there is a certain degree of secrecy as to exactly what happens, and if you're not a Mason then you cannot be admitted to these ceremonies. But, all that aside, there are five million Freemasons in the world, and though their dress has a bit of a historically archaic feel to it, they also have dinners and community outreach projects. Essentially, it's a social club for ordinary people that helps develop leadership skills and a heightened sense of how to be a better member of the community.

Men only, unfortunately (there is a sister organization though, the Order of the Eastern Star, and women are allowed in this one). Other than that, the only other prerequisites are that you believe in some Supreme Being (most people assume it's a religious cult, but it's more about fostering an open-mindedness about world spirituality), abide by the law, and make the decision to join of your own genuine volition. Then, go find yourself a Mason, and express your desire to join – they won't come find you.

As for the actual Lodge meeting room, the so-called Masonic Temple, it really is laid out in a very specific way, having to do with the points of the compass. There really is a floor pattern hidden beneath a rug, for use in special ceremonies. The Worshipful Master sits in a carved chair at the head of the room, opposite two golden pillars gilded with the symbols of the Zodiac, holding ties to Solomon's Temple from Biblical times (even though it's not a Christian organization – the gavel used, incidentally, has a stone head that really does come from Solomon's Quarries beneath the old city of Jerusalem). The other members of the Lodge (many of them with specific roles and titles) sit around the room on blue benches.

Admittedly, I still don't have a good answer for what a Mason actually does, and at the same time I do have a better, more inherent idea. This is the world organization that's shrouded in the most mysteries and misconceptions, but at its philosophical core it probably isn't that different from something like Rotary, once you get past all that superficial stuff.

Hawke's Bay wine and Chinese takeout tonight, as I get my duds in order to find my way back to the Central Plateau early this week. Taupo and Rotorua, two places I did a drive-by on my way through in January, are right at the top of my itinerary, after a long divergent route that took me to the southern tip of the country and back again. Let's hope that sun keeps shining on whatever comes next – the roads ahead are familiar now, but the days are still brand new.

Cheers,

rb