Masterton, New Zealand

By Brenda Anderson

I came to Masterton, in the heart of the Wairarapa region of New Zealand, just over nine years ago. Masterton was founded in 1854 and settled by farmers, mostly, from Scotland and England. My husband's many-times-great-grandfathers were among them. You could say that Masterton is in his blood; now it's in our children's blood as well.

Moving from a major American city (Boston, whose population in 1800 was greater than Masterton's is today) to a small New Zealand town was a bit of a culture shock. Adjusting to life in a small town took a bit of time. There was so much to get used to: the shops closed at 5pm during the week and at noon on Saturdays, there were only three TV channels (and those only broadcast from noon to 11pm or so), there was no central heating or cooling. The locals spoke a language they called English but with an accent and vocabulary that to my American ears was sometimes indecipherable. Add to that the local placenames, such as Kuripuni, Matahiwi, Te Ore Ore, and Kiriwhakapapa in our other official language, te reo Maori, it's a wonder I found my way around. I've cleared most of those cultural hurdles over the last nine years, but two of the things that first struck me about my adopted town are still here: roundabouts and sheep.

Roundabouts. In some places they're called traffic circles. Back in Boston we called them rotaries. Twenty years ago I smashed my car in an accident while negotiating a rotary. Ever since, I've had a slight phobia about them. Imagine my chagrin, then, when I discovered that Masterton has no traffic lights, but instead has roundabouts at most significant intersections. Not only did I have to navigate roundabouts but I had to do so while driving on the wrong (not right) side of the road, in a car with the gear stick shift on the left and the turn indicator control where the windshield wiper one should be. If you saw someone on the road stuck in second gear with the wipers going on a sunny day, that would be me.

But if you succeed in driving into Masterton, you might inotice a glint of gold and ask the question that I asked on my first visit: "What are those giant golden scissors?"

From my travels around New Zealand, I knew that certain towns had iconic statues to represent them. Ohakune has the Giant Carrot, Cromwell the Giant Apricot, Paeroa the giant L&P (soft drink) bottle. It seems that a giant could eat and drink his way around New Zealand with no worries. In Masterton, he'd probably get a haircut.

At least, that's what I thought the first time I saw them. They are actually shears and they represent the event for which Masterton is best known. We are the home of the Golden Shears - the world's premier Shearing and Wool handling Championships.

Each year, hundreds of competitors gather to compete in shearing, wool handling, wool pressing, and wearable arts categories. Shearing is now considered a professional sport and competitors follow a circuit of tournaments around the world. They converge on our town every March, and along with a large group of local shearers, put on a show that is well worth seeing. The speed and grace that these men and women possess is a sight to see.

For those few days during the Golden Shears, the traffic in town swells with all the extra visitors. Camper vans and sheep trucks cause congestion that we otherwise rarely see. During this year's Shears, I was sitting at an intersection with a double-trailer 18-wheeler sheep truck in front of me. Bits of wool stuck out from the three levels of the trailer filled with hundreds of sheep. As we sat at the stop sign, I thought to myself, "Gee, I wish there was a roundabout here... it would be so much quicker."

Masterton, it seems, is now in my blood as well.