Dialogue: Trying to find Kaiwaka? Just look for the lights

By SUZANNE McFADDEN

Even in the dim nights of the latest power crisis, the little town of lights keeps on glowing.

In Kaiwaka, a dot on the map at Northland's doorstep, the locals have worked so hard to burn the image of their town into the memories of passers-by that they're leaving their fairy lights on.

The town baker, Mark Ottaway, has strung together thousands of light bulbs to create the striking signs that stand above the church, the pub, the bakery and almost every other business in town.

"They're low-wattage bulbs - they burn very little power. The council has turned theirs off, so we reckon that's our power saving," he says.

Kaiwaka is like other settlements along our main roads that were once not much more than forgettable pitstops and have altered their image with a little novel artwork.

There's the mural town of Katikati, where a dab of paint has transformed bleak walls and old poles into roadside masterpieces.

Or further south in Bulls, where they plundered the dictionary for quirky names for the landmarks (thus the local policeman is known as the consta-bull).

The light bulb switched on in Mark Ottaway's mind to spruce up Kaiwaka four years ago when he saw the bright lights in cities in the United States.

He says the signs in Kaiwaka are not there to boost business. There's not much point lighting the way to the garden centre with a giant glowing daisy at 10 pm.

But they have boosted the morale of the tiny service town where my grandmother was born.

"It's finally put us on the map. We're sort of known as the little town of lights now, instead of 'Kaiwaka? Where the hell's that?'," says Mr Ottaway.

"I'm getting letters from people simply addressed to the 'Light putter-upper, Kaiwaka'. They're from people who go through the North and say thank you for making the trip less boring."

Mr Ottaway was given a Queen's Service Medal in this year's New Year's Honours, partly for his efforts to light up the town.

His first sign was at the local church, where the outline of a steeple is visible all around the parish.

Now there's a fish swimming through the darkness above the takeaway shop, a clover leaf over the Shamrock service station and a kauri tree sprouting from the grass verge at the edge of town.

And on the patch of land where my grandmother, Minnie McClean, and her six sisters ran the local boarding house and post office, there now stands a shining windmill against the wall of the store selling Dutch cheeses.

Mr Ottaway's favourite is the ship along the wall of the engineering shop - "it looks as though it's sailing through the night".

The signs use special bulbs from Hastings and cost about $400 for him to make. He's now working on a larger-than-life blade for the sawmill.

Although he has been asked to make signs for people in other towns, the local baker has turned them down; he is determined to stay loyal to Kaiwaka.

Now the town is getting its own stamps made, illustrating the illuminations. And they're expecting business to boom when - or maybe, if - the final stretch of the Albany-Puhoi motorway is completed.

Why can't other nondescript towns along the main truck line dress themselves up a bit?

Take my home town, Wellsford, 15 minutes down the road from the glow of Kaiwaka.

When I was a kid I was horrified that Wellsford was known by passers-through as nothing more than a stop for a pee and a pie. Today it's a stop for a burger and the same ablution block.

An attempt about a decade ago to beautify the street failed when vandals tore out the flowers and smashed the wooden planter boxes.

It's a sad reputation for a town so lush and beautiful beyond its ugly main drag.

Why can't they see the light?