OPINION
On Marcus Lush Nights, Newstalk ZB, the calls are coming in. Carl, from Gisborne: “We’ve been put up at a Top 10. Some awesome people. In a bit of a daze. We lost our house.” James: “We haven’t had Eftpos for four or five days. I’ve been reduced to three small tins of tuna, 2 cans of pasta sauce and a couple of onions.”
There’s a shout out from Janine in Hawke’s Bay to a local helicopter pilot. His own house is gone. “He’s been taking people off roofs in Esk Valley and all around Waiohiki. He’s been doing it in his stepfather’s undies ‘cos he had no clothes.” A tribute to the kindness of neighbours: “The beer is warm but he’s still giving it to me for free.”
In the lead-up to Cyclone Gabrielle, Lush gathered useful information, including how to secure your tramp. We’ve had a freakish number of opportunities lately to be reminded how vital communication is in a pandemic, a natural disaster. Lush provided a masterclass. Television and social media have risen to the occasion. In some communities, local papers heroically went to press. But a lot of people in affected regions had no TV. Radio has its own unique, intimate place in the conversation. You can’t call Mike McRoberts for a yarn when times are tough.
Lush’s shows came as a relief after some talk radio that was oddly in denial about what was about to happen. The closure of most Auckland schools or an unarguably factual headline - “There will be destruction” - set off an increasingly familiar soliloquy about how anxious, soft, hysterical we have become. It’s just some rain. What cyclone? Some commentators link this disinclination to listen to experts with the Covid lockdown contrarianism. It’s just the flu.