Beyond the glittering Christmas decorations and the tinny speakers blaring out carols lie the twisted, charred remains of a building that represented a future for hundreds of Te Aroha's families.
Generations of meatworkers, men and women, had earned an honest living there, enough to carve them out a comfortable life
in a close-knit rural town. Husbands and wives worked there; fathers, sons, brothers, friends.
Nine day ago when fire ripped through the Silver Fern Farms meatworks, leaving it in ruins, that comfortable life came to a shocking end for 350 of the town's families.
Before the fire, they had the luxury of choice - what to buy the kids for Christmas, what to eat for Christmas dinner. Now the focus has changed. A shadow of uncertainty cloaks the town, much like the cloud of ash and smoke that hung over the gutted remains of the meatworks long after the last flame was extinguished.
There are bills to pay, mortgages to meet. And there's Christmas coming. Workers received one week's extra pay and the minimum wage until Christmas. After that, nothing. Some will go on the dole, others will leave town in search of work.
Aa dozens gathered to watch their main provider go up in smoke, emotion ran high. Shock and panic. Disbelief. Then, uncertainty. The "what now?" question.
Chris Nelly, 21, a trimmer in the factory's boning room, raced from his Keripehi home to the plant.
"I got there about one-ish. A friend of mine texted me. They said, 'Did you know the plant's ablaze?'," he says.
"I stood there and watched my job go up in smoke and four years of hard work go down the toilet. I think pretty much everyone within a half-hour drive came down for a look. A lot of these guys and girls were quite emotional. For us that place was more than just a job. [The fire] totally crushed our lifestyle."
For some families, the fire will mean empty chairs at Christmas as breadwinners leave town to take up alternative work.
"At least they're still with us, they're just somewhere else," Nelly says.
Some have already left. Silver Fern's Hastings plant has taken 190 workers. Dozens more will be redeployed to the company's Dargaville and Hawera plants. Those who move will get $300 a week accommodation allowance.
But sometimes it's not as simple as packing up and shipping out, not when you have 11 mouths to feed.
Father-of-nine Tilomu Veatupu, 37, lives on the outskirts of Te Aroha with his wife Taina, 33, and their children - Kilisitina, 12, Ofa, 11, Hafoka, 9, Heni, 8, Tevita, 5, Simione, 5, Sione, 4, Maumi, 2, and Elisapeta, who is 4 months old. Both Tilomu and Taina Veatupu worked at the plant's boning room - he on the day shift and Taina the night shift so that one parent was always at home. It meant they hardly saw each other but the double income was crucial to pay the family's bills.
Tilomu Veatupu sits in his lounge, surrounded by his wife, children and two Christmas trees. There are no presents underneath.
He speaks softly about the meatworks: "It's very good. We both like this job. It has good wages. I can feed my family because we're both working. After tax we get paid $600 [each] a week. We can pay the rent and feed the family. If it's only me it's very hard."
When Veatupu heard the plant was gone his first thought was how to put food on the table.
"I feel sad because I can't offer something for the kids. Now I just want to find a job. It's better than wait, wait, wait. The bills don't stop."
While some of the younger, single workers may be able to uproot and go to Hawke's Bay or Dargaville, it's not so easy with nine children, he says.
"They offered me a job in Hastings, but we're still thinking about it. Because if we're going to go there we have to find a house, but we don't know if we can find a house there.
"Going to Hastings - to take them there is very hard. My family is important. My work is important. I have to find a job here."
Besides, the family wants to stay.
"We really like it here. When we moved from Tonga we liked this place because it's like Tonga. It's nice and peaceful.
"I don't like Auckland because my kids growing up - I don't want them to be in a gang."
Christmas will be different to how he pictured it. "Yeah, very different."
Wednesday this week brings more options - a day-long interviewing session at the Cobras Rugby League Club for 100 positions at AFFCO's Horotiu plant. Many of the job-seekers arrive waiting for the doors to open at nine sharp. Some hang around catching up their friends. Among them is Pete McCarthy.
The 45-year-old applied for a place even though he will probably travel to Hastings tomorrow to work at Silver Ferns' Pacific plant.
"I'm keeping my options open. "People are optimistic. Hopeful. Most of the boys look like they're going to go with Silver Fern down the line."
Unlike the Veatupu family, McCarthy has no children and lives alone. He can move at short notice, unlike many others who may have to take the AFFCO jobs an option frowned upon by Silver Fern workers who are loyal to the company.
"At the end of the day I can't knock the guys for taking it up. Guys can't leave their wives and that, you know?"
Tony Watts, 57, has been the union rep in Te Aroha for more than 20 years. He's worked at the plant since 1987. Watts says he'll stick with the company and will probably move to Hastings.
"Silver Fern looked after us pretty well at short notice. Most of our people will probably stick with them there. I'm employed by this company and I'll stick by them. Our workers should be quite thankful that the company is not a single site operation."
But he doesn't want to leave Te Aroha: "I've lived here for over 40 years. I don't want to move. I'm certainly not going to wait for a rebuild and lose my house."
The fire happened at a bad time - right on Christmas - compounding the stress, he says. "How do mum and dad tell little Johnny there are no Christmas presents?
"At the moment I think uncertainty is a terrible thing with our workers because they don't know where to go. They can make the wrong decisions."
AFFCO Horotiu plant manager Jamie Ginders is in town, hoping to scoop up some of the workers.
"It's a bit of a sombre mood in here balanced out with a little bit of hope for the opportunities here."he says. "It's probably more family people who are looking at the Horotiu option because they don't want to move away from their families, particularly at this time of year."
But it's not only the workers feeling uncertain. The whole town is waiting to see what the flow-on effects will be.
At night the pubs are surprisingly empty. The Grand Tavern publican Graeme "Blackie" Blackford, 60, has lived all his life in Te Aroha and is confident the town will come through.
"Te Aroha is a hard town. We've all got balls round here and I'll tell you, we're going to survive. But it's gonna be tough. Really tough.
"A lot of my customers who come here from Silver Fern have got young families, they've got mortgages, even if they're renting ... the poor devils.
Matamata-Piako district mayor Hugh Vercoe says the town's make-up has changed over the years - from white-collar to blue - as, one by one, large office employers had moved away. Inland Revenue used to employ hundreds there. Same with the local catchment and power boards.
"This was a white-collar town. Then the Government pulled the IRD back. The catchment board became environment Waikato. The power board moved."
Vercoe points to a large four-storey building: "It's been empty ever since they shifted."
Gradually the big retailers pulled out of the town and moved to Morrinsville.
"As one goes it has an effect on the others."
The council will try and soften the fire's blow on the plant's workers, he says.
"Rates assessments go out shortly and we have said, 'If you're going to have trouble, come and see us."'
If Silver Fern Farms decide to rebuild, the council will appoint a senior staff member to cut through red tape to get the plant rebuilt as quickly as possible.
Silver Fern Farms CEO Keith Cooper says the company needs to have a plant in the area and has every intention of rebuilding. The company is waiting on insurance assessment before a decision can be made.
Vercoe fears some townspeople heading elsewhere to work won't return. Next year the local old boys' rugby club is likely to have just two teams, rather than three.
Says Vercoe, "The worry that we've got is families look at their long-term future and they're saying, 'Is it time that we looked at shifting?' Once we lose these people they don't really come back."
Meatworkers try to pick up the pieces
The fire has destroyed more than just the Silver Fern Farms meatworks at Te Aroha. Photo / Herald on Sunday
Beyond the glittering Christmas decorations and the tinny speakers blaring out carols lie the twisted, charred remains of a building that represented a future for hundreds of Te Aroha's families.
Generations of meatworkers, men and women, had earned an honest living there, enough to carve them out a comfortable life
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