Issue 10 – Generations

Salient GENERATIONS

Vol. 83

Issue 10

18 May 2020 1

Contents EDITORIAL.......................................................................................................................................................................................... 03 LETTERS

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LETTERS

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LETTERS

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NEWS Budget 2020 Fails to Deliver for Tertiary Students....................................................................................................................... 07 Wellington Representatives Weigh in on RMA Changes............................................................................................................. 09 VUW Senior Leadership and Council Cut Back Amid Uni Losses............................................................................................... 10 Another Tertiary Support Package on Loan Basis......................................................................................................................... 11 OCS Ltd Declines Cleaners' Wage Top Up..................................................................................................................................... 12 Tweet of the Week.............................................................................................................................................................................. 12 Opinion................................................................................................................................................................................................. 13 Probing the Punters............................................................................................................................................................................ 14 FEATURES Life In Death.........................................................................................................................................................................................

Home vs Home....................................................................................................................................................................................

Manatu..................................................................................................................................................................................................

Spaghetti..............................................................................................................................................................................................

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CENTREFOLD

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POETRY

COLUMNS Going Nowhere..................................................................................................................................................................................

To Be Frank.........................................................................................................................................................................................

Bachelor of Parenting........................................................................................................................................................................

Student Wellbeing..............................................................................................................................................................................

UniQ.....................................................................................................................................................................................................

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REVIEWS The Man, the Myth, the Mo Cara Vai

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Salient is funded by VUWSA, partly through the Student Services Levy. Salient is kinda, sorta editorially independent from VUWSA. It’s a long story.

Salient is a member of the Aotearoa Student Press Association (ASPA). The perspectives and opinions in any issue of Salient do not necessarily reflect those of the Editors.

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ENTERTAINMENT Occupation Station Horoscopes

Complaints regarding the material published in Salient should first be brought to the Editors. If displeased with the Editors’ response, the complaint should then be brought to the Media Council. Complaints should be directed to info@ mediacouncil.org.nz.

Editorial NOW FOR SOME SOPPY SHIT Instead of a bitchy editorial this week, we’re gonna give you some sop. We’re a bit vulnies, a bit sensitive, and we’ve had about 7 weeks to, like, realise things. Without further ado, here’s some oversharing: *** While we navigate our early twenties (or late teens, you freshers), we’re more often than not living away from our families. With this hustle-bustle way of life, we might forget to catch up with them.

This issue is about our elders. They have a wealth of stories, and the time to tell them. They’ve literally grown up talking on the telephone and I guarantee most of our grandparents are hard to get off it. What we can forget though is that our elders might not actually have that much time.

I told myself I wouldn’t bring my Nana into this but here I am, bringing my Nana into this.

My Nana was my best friend and fundamental to creating the person I am today. I think if I had known her while she was in her twenties, we would have gotten into a lot of trouble.

One of my fondest memories as a small bean was my Nana baking shortbread with us. She’d take my brother and I to the rest home she worked at, and we’d deliver shortbread to the residents. While this was just an afternoon for us, we’d probably made some of the resident’s days. It was this memory that brought me along this journey for this issue.

My Nana sent me into my first heartbreak when she passed suddenly last year. I take comfort in how many stories she told me in my 21 years of knowing her.

What I’m trying to say here, without spilling all my personal stories, is that if you’re lucky enough to still have your elders around you need to call them. A lot of them have been alone for the last few weeks, and like shortbread, your call might just make their day.

Kirsty Frame she/her

I think about land a lot. Growing up with one foot in Te Ao Māori and one in Te Ao Pākehā, this was something I didn’t really understand until I got older.

My Dad’s parents are Rakiura Māori, kaitiaki for the Tītī Islands down south. Every year (except this year), hundreds of Kāti Māmoe return to the Islands to harvest muttonbirds—a delicacy beloved by many Māori, generally despised by Pākehā taste buds. Not mine though.

The last time I went to the Islands I was 16. This was my Pōua’s 75th consecutive year. Ending up in a wheelchair between seasons wasn’t stopping him from making the journey which included a truck, a helicopter, and a wheelbarrow (there’s no roads on the Islands).

When the pandemic happened, my first thought was for my tūpuna. Not just my grandparents, but the land we come from. I knew that tūpuna translated to more than just grandparents, but I hadn’t felt it until then. I missed the land like I missed my whānau. Six years later, my colonised lil brain understood why someone would put themselves through such a hīkoi at 80. *** Looking to the past has brought us solace when we don’t know what the future looks like. Sally pitched this issue theme to us in the first week of Level 4 (thanks, Sally). We loved the idea. We thought ancestry was such a universally complicated and equally beautiful topic.

That hasn’t changed. What we have been surprised by is how confronting this issue has been. It is uncomfortably personal.

This issue ended up scaring the shit out of us, which is why we knew it had to happen. Go see your grandparents through the window. Go to your whenua and just be. If you can’t, send love regardless and know that your ancestors are always with you.

Rachel Trow Kāi Tahu, Ngāti Tūwharetoa | she/her

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Letters Sup, Salient, I love your themed issues! I always learn so much from them - it's very eyeopening to listen to the experiences of others. However, in all the years I've been at Vic, never once has there been an issue solely dedicated to Disability.

This seems like a tragic oversight. As someone who is proud of my identity as an Autistic academic, I would love to see the voices of people like me represented in a meaningful way which recognizes a wider range of disabled experiences, rather than just in the weekly 'token cripple' column.

Please do something about this!

Sincerely, A slightly peeved post-grad.

ARE YOU A FIRST-YEAR INTERNATIONAL STUDENT? I would like to invite you to participate in my Ph.D. research.

The study includes reading texts and writing an essay. It will take place at the Kelburn campus. You can also participate online.

You will get a $10 supermarket voucher and participate in a $50 prize draw.

If you are interested, please contact me. Aynur I. Karakoc aynur.ismayillikarakoc@vuw.ac.nz or phdvuw@gmail.com School of Linguistics and Applied Language Studies

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The task will take up to 2 hours.

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The students from the Humanities, Social Sciences, Commerce, Education, and Law disciplines can participate.

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This research has been approved by the Ethics Committee [0000027493].

LETTERS | NOTICES

Did we do something right?

Something wrong? Enlighten us.

Send through your letters to editor@salient.org.nz

Contributor Call Outs Salient has a long-standing tradition of featuring guest edits in Trimester 2. Salient does its best to hold space for students of all different backgrounds, but sometimes, you gotta hand it over to the experts. 2020 is no different.

This year, our first two guest edits are with the Pasifika Students’ Council and UniQ. Watch this space for more info about upcoming guest edits and other themes.

WAN SOLWARA Calling All Pasifika Students!

Wan Solwara, the Pasifika Issue of Salient, is coming up and we want you! If you’ve got a story to tell, an opinion to share or a piece of art to showcase, get in touch with Leilani Vae’au (President) and Lofa Totua (Public Relations Officer) at pasifikastudentcouncilvuw@gmail.com

QUEERLIENT

The year's Queerlient issue is right around the corner and UniQ is on the lookout for contributors. Whether its features, reviews, visual art, poetry, or anything in between, we want to see it. Find us on social media or flick us an email to get involved!

• EMAIL: uniqvictoria@gmail.com • FB: @UniQVUW • IG: @uniqvictoria

As always, if you’ve got a pitch for Salient, send your reckons to:

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Poetry: poetry@salient.org.nz

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Reviews: reviews@salient.org.nz

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News: news@salient.org.nz

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Art portfolios: designer@salient.org.nz

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Everything else—features, columns, creative writing, prose, shenanigans: editor@salient.org.nz

CONTRIBUTOR CALL OUTS

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Salient's Quick and Dirty Guide to Pitching So you wanna write for Salient but you don’t know where to start? Firstly, if you have no idea what or how you want to write, that’s ok. Email us regardless.

We’ve always got room for new contributors and we can look at assigning you topics to get you started, usually a news piece or a review.

If you’ve got something more specific in mind, here’s what your pitch should look like: 1.

Introduce yourself. Tell us who you are and where your pitch is coming from. We try to prioritise current VUW students, so please let us know if this isn’t you.

Tips for Feature Writers: •

We welcome non-features, i.e. creative writing, personal essays, prose, but we’ll need to make sure it works within the context of the issue. For example, Eat the Rich was political, academic, and highly researched, which called for more traditional features. This issue, Generations, is incredibly personal and emotional, so you won’t find any investigative pieces here.

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Personal essays are great and Salient always does them well. Our personal stories as students are valid and vital. However, a feature should not be just about you (sorry lol). If you haven’t left your desk, you haven’t written a feature. Talk to experts, and others within your community, and interview them about your chosen topic.

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A strong voice throughout the piece is essential.

Bring your voice and experience to the piece, but support it with other perspectives from your interviews/research. See: Sunday Morning Coming Down, Salient Vol 83, Issue 02.

2. The Elevator Pitch: A short paragraph outlining the kaupapa of your piece.

3. Why? Tell us why your column/feature/review/ nudes/finsta/etc. belongs in Salient 4. Who? Tell us who your target audience is and how they will benefit from reading it.

5. How? Tell us how you’ll be constructing the piece. What will the voice be? Will it be personal or informative?

6. Extras: How might you collaborate with TV and/or Podcasts? What research may be involved? Are there any content warnings?

Lastly, you’ll need to show us what you’ve got. Send us a first draft of your piece and/or a portfolio of your other writing so we can get an idea of your strengths and style.

Make sure you include your name/pseudonym, pronouns, and iwi/hapū affiliation in the header.

We’ll keep posting upcoming themes here, but even if those don’t take your fancy, send through your pitch anyway. You never know, we do enjoy making our lives hell by throwing in an unthemed issue here and there.

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PITCH GUIDE

So, go forth, write, keep writing, come back to us soon.

News

MONDAY 18 MAY 2020

Budget 2020 Fails to Deliver for Tertiary Students ANNABEL MCCARTHY | TE WHAKATŌHEA | SHE/HER

Grant Robertson with the Budget 2020. Image: NZ Herald

Finance Minister, Grant Robertson has unveiled the Government’s second Wellbeing Budget at Parliament today.

be a sharp fall in economic activity and a significant rise in unemployment in the coming months.

Delivered in the shadow of a 1 in 100-year shock to the economy as a result of COVID-19, Budget 2020 sets out the Government’s planned spending for the 2020/21 financial year.

Robertson said Māori and Pasifika, young people just entering the labour market, and those in lower income households will bear the brunt of COVID-19’s economic fallout and Budget 2020 will hopefully address this.

The budget, titled Rebuilding Together, establishes a $50 billion COVID-19 Response and Recovery Fund to be invested in jobs and the economy.

COVID-19 Response and Recovery Fund

While many New Zealanders will be looking to retrain in the coming months, the tertiary education sector has received little support.

Calls from tertiary students to increase student allowance eligibility or the amount students can borrow to assist with living costs have gone unanswered.

In his budget speech to parliament, Grant Robertson warned there was no “sugar-coating” the impact COVID-19 has had on the Government’s books. He said there would

The centrepiece of Budget 2020 is the $50 billion Response and Recovery Fund. It includes the $13.9 billion already spent by the Government on its COVID-19 response since early March.

Budget 2020 sets out how a further $15.9 billion of the Fund will be spent on the COVID-19 recovery phase.

Extension to the Wage Subsidy scheme The Wage Subsidy Scheme will be extended to provide further support for those businesses most affected by COVID-19.

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From 10 June, businesses who have suffered a 50% revenue loss over the 30 days prior to applying compared to the same time last year will be eligible for a targeted wage subsidy. It will be available for a further eight week period on top of the 12 weeks already paid out.

The targeted scheme will cost an extra $3.2 billion and will help sectors struggling the most such as tourism, hospitality, and retail.

The initial wage subsidy scheme has cost $10.7 billion and has helped over 1.7 million workers.

A further $150 million will be spent to increase support for research and development. A short-term, temporary loan scheme will be launched to incentivise businesses to continue research and development programmes that may be at risk due to COVID-19.

Tertiary education spending A $20 million student hardship fund to support tertiary students who have found themselves “particularly impacted”

by COVID-19 will be established under Budget 2020.

Education Minister, Chris Hipkins said a major advantage of this approach was that it can be implemented easily, will be distributed by tertiary education providers and “gets money into the hands of students who need it quickly”.

“There’s no one-size fits all approach to meeting the financial needs of students who can’t access the general student supports available,” Hipkins said. “[The fund will] help those students get through the next few months and keep them engaged in their studies.”

A Trades and Apprenticeships Package worth $1.6 billion has also been created to provide retraining opportunities to those who may have lost their jobs as a result of COVID-19.

This includes $334 million funding for additional tertiary education enrolments and a $320 million investment to make targeted vocational training courses free for all ages, not just school leavers.

“There’s no one-size fits all approach to meeting the financial needs of students" - Chris Hipkins This will go towards courses linked to industry needs such as agriculture, manufacturing, building, and construction as well as vocational courses like community health, counselling, and care work.

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There is also a specific $50 million fund for Māori apprentices and trades training.

The Government has not committed to restoring postgraduate students’ eligibility for the student allowance despite the Labour Party promising to do so if elected in 2017.

Additionally, the Fees-Free programme remains unchanged despite some commentators saying it will assist with the costs of retraining.

While VUWSA welcomed the $20 million hardship fund, they commented that it was “disappointing” that the Government did not propose a more “equitable” funding model for tertiary education or “introduce the Universal Education income”.

Jobs and unemployment A $1 billion Environmental Jobs Package announced in the Budget creates thousands of jobs that will at the same time support habitat protection, pest control, and biodiversity on public lands.

Unemployment is set to rise to 8.3% in June 2020 before peaking at 9.8% in September. It is forecast to recover thereafter. Treasury estimates the initiatives delivered in Budget 2020 could see employment rise by 234,00 jobs over the next two years.

Housing The Government will deliver an extra 8,000 new public and transitional houses to help fix homelessness and reduce the housing shortage. This will take the number of public and transitional houses funded by this Government to approximately 17,000.

Budget 2020 will also ensure an estimated 9,000 additional houses will be well insulated and efficiently heated through the existing Warmer Kiwi Homes programme. An extra $56 million will be invested in the programme which is part of Labour’s Confidence and Supply Agreement with the Green Party.

Support for Māori The Government will invest over $900 million in its response to COVID-19 to support whānau, tamariki, and the Māori population.

This includes a $200 million Māori Employment Package in which the Government will work in partnership with iwi and Māori to grow job opportunities in the regions.

An extra $136 million has been allocated to Whānau Ora also, and an additional $400 million will be spent on Māori education including $200 million in funding for Kōhanga Reo.

Wellington Representatives Weigh in on RMA Changes

TE AOREWA ROLLESTON | NGĀI TE RANGI, NGĀTI RANGINUI | SHE/HER

The Government is planning to clear out parts of the Resource Management Act (RMA) in order to speed up the process for development projects following COVID-19.

The RMA is the legislative document containing principles laid out for managing the environment and its resources more sustainably.

The bill would be released in June and is set to remain in action for the next two years.

The changes offer a possible solution needed to get the country moving again economically and hopes to get employment mobilized quicker and upheave work ready projects more promptly.

Some of the changes in the proposed bill include skipping some aspects of public consultation and consent in order to lessen the load on councils working with the public, which would normally take more time. Instead, the bill opts to appoint a panel of ‘expert’ advisors to undergo a majority of the decision making.

The Minister for the Environment, David Parker has said publicly that, "The new processes will get projects started sooner and people into jobs faster [...] but environmental safeguards remain."

Wellington region representatives were reasonably open and interested in the bill as it would be a productive way to get projects such as water infrastructure, district housing, and transport projects underway sooner rather than later.

Public and council involvement Wellington City Mayor, Andy Foster told Salient he was interested in the bill and its ability to match “speed and outcomes” but said the council would be looking into the details of the bill further. He welcomed the opportunity for decisions to be made by a selected panel but also emphasised that the panel would need to have quality information in front of them as the absence of councils or public response proposes a risk.

Wellington Regional Councillor, Daran Ponter also reiterated that they are awaiting more information about the bill. He said that the proposed changes wouldn’t completely exclude the public and that there would be submissions and hearings. The public would have the opportunity to propose developments but not all of these may be taken into consideration. “[Greater Wellington Regional Council]

will be looking to see that the fast tracked processes remain transparent and even handed.”

Conservation The environmental impacts of the bill changes are being taken into consideration by multiple council representatives as the focus on speed and productivity may mean that conservation and sustainability principles are more vulnerable.

Mayor Foster commented that “the legislation needs to ensure a good process and good decision making framework to protect the environment.”

Porirua City Mayor, Anita Baker was trusting of the panel being appointed and also said that “there is a large group of people who are very experienced in planning and the sciences to draw from who are highly capable and will ensure good decision-making processes are used.”

Local Iwi involvement The government has assured that part 2 of the RMA which focuses on “Purpose and Principles” including consultation with Māori and obligations under Te Tiriti o Waitangi will remain the same.

Many of the upcoming development projects could be beneficial for Māori in terms of economic relationships with councils and the government. However, environmental concerns will be key areas of consideration that will be looked into further in June.

Te Rūnanga o Ngāti Toa and Lower Hutt Mayor, Campbell Barry were not able to return a response to Salient.

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VUW Senior Leadership and

Council Cut Back Amid Uni Losses FINN BLACKWELL | HE/HIM

With universities across the country facing a potential $300 million dollar loss a year (due to the travel ban), VUW is looking at ways to cut back and reduce expenditure.

Last week it was announced that the VUW University Council would take a 33% cut to council member fees, along with Senior Leadership at the university taking a 20% pay cut.

Ahead of the 11th’s Ministry of Education announcement, Salient spoke to University Chancellor and Managing Director of Forsyth Barr, Neil Paviour-Smith on the council’s decision.

“The savings are directed towards student hardship” Stated Paviour-Smith, “and specifically the ‘Great Futures’ fund”.

The Chancellor has explained that this cut will last until the end of the year, at which point the decision will be reviewed.

When asked if the council were prepared to extend this cut Paviour-Smith commented “we’ll look at that at the time.

In terms of what the environment’s looking like at the moment, it’s highly uncertain.”

“It’s clear that things are going to be tough going into next year, and that’s something which the council will look at, at that time.”

It has been reported that this decision from the council was unanimous. While the council is taking a larger percentage from their fees, the Chancellor explained that this was due to the nature of their position and that the difference “can’t be compared”.

VUW Vice-Chancellor Grant Guildford.

Photo by: Ross Giblin/Stuff

Guilford told Stuff that around $1 million NZD was being spent weekly on maintaining halls of residence during this time.

“This was decided to recognise the pressure across the university and on the basis that the savings were directed to support student hardship,” as stated by Paviour-Smith.

“As to the quantum this was an amount council members agreed they were willing to reduce after Council discussion about the matter.”

“As Council fees are not salaries/wages it cannot be compared with salary reductions volunteered by university management.”

“You don’t take these steps unless you’re trying to do everything you can to support the University, and that sentiment isn’t going to change.”

The cuts come after the University attempted to resume fees for hall students, in what some speculate as an attempt to recuperate lost revenue.

“It’s important that everyone is doing what they reasonably can, and are comfortable with.”

Universities around the country have been devising plans to continue to help students learn during this time, as well as cutting costs since it was announced in mid-April that they would not be able to operate under Level 4 lockdown.

Vice-Chancellor Grant Guilford commented in a recent Stuff article that the University was preparing for a $30-$40 million loss this year, and expected “significantly worsening result in 2021 and 2022 if the borders remained closed”.

Notable costs that the University are still incurring include maintaining the halls as well as staff wages.

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“It’s tough times ahead,” Paviour-Smith explained. “If we could get some certainty around particularly international students, that would be a really positive step.”

Another Tertiary Support Package on Loan Basis RACHEL TROW | KĀI TAHU, NGĀTI TŪWHARETOA | SHE/HER

The second tertiary education support package was quietly announced on the 2nd of May. The Technology Access Fund for Learners, valued at $20 million dollars, plans to supplement the support offered by the Government’s first tertiary support package. Both packages are provided on a loan basis.

The aim of the package is to “help eligible tertiary learners access digital devices and internet connections to continue their study disrupted by COVID-19”.

A Beehive statement announcing the support package stated that 11,150 tertiary students do not have access to devices suitable for studying from home. According to Education Minister Chris Hipkins’ statement, approximately 200 more students don’t have access to a stable internet connection.

According to a Facebook post by Critic - Te Arohi, “Any student who was hoping to suss a new device with this fund can expect it to be owned by either their uni, or just the government itself.”

The Tertiary Education Commission’s website states, “TEOs retain ownership of any device purchased with TAFL. [...]

Once a learner has completed/finished their studies, the device must be returned to the TEO so that it can be redistributed.”

Salient reported on the Government’s initial support package which was announced in April. The $133 million package was met with an overwhelmingly negative response from students and representatives alike.

The package secured loan living costs for 8 weeks and doubled the course-related costs available to students.

One student told Salient that the first tertiary support package “pushed already struggling students further into the pit of poverty with nothing but a couple of toothpicks to get back out with”.

VUWSA responded to the first support package saying, “students remain as the only group expected to borrow to live, and this package does not change this or alleviate current hardship. In our eyes, increasing student debt is not a solution.”

Education Minister Chris Hipkins at a COVID-19 Press Conference. Photo by: Pool/Getty

In a statement to Salient, VUWSA President, Geo Robrigado, stated, “While VUWSA welcomes technology support for students to continue their studies, we are wary that this could be considered as another loan on top of other loans”.

“What is needed from the Government is to implement a Universal Education Income to ensure that students can still push through with their studies despite the huge disruption COVID has caused.”

“We know access to technology isn't the only barrier to study for students facing hardship- Many students primarily need assistance with living costs, like food and accommodation, which we believe the Universal Education Income can help with.”

Vice-Chancellor of VUW, Grant Guilford voiced his support for a Universal Education Income during his recent presentation to the Epidemic Response Committee.

Victoria University of Wellington did not return a request for comment on the second tertiary support package.

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OCS Ltd Declines Cleaners’ Wage Top-up FINN BLACKWELL HE/HIM

On April 29th it was announced that contracting company OCS Limited NZ had turned down an offer from Victoria University of Wellington to top up wages for cleaning staff.

VUW’s cleaning staff are contracted via the third-party who

received over $21 million dollars under the Government’s wage subsidy.

According to the initial statement from E Tū, most cleaners have been paid only 80% of their usual wage, despite the company’s subsidy.

Prior to this pandemic, the University had agreed to additional funding over the next 5 years, to work towards moving the University’s cleaners towards the living wage.

However, OCS rejecting the University’s offer could pose a new hurdle to overcome.

In an article from Stuff, the company said that it “had to apply a consolidated approach to all 4000 of its contracted staff

across the country, and accepting the offer wouldn't enable consistency.”

Last year, the living wage campaign was a focal point for student action, with student organisers devoting an entire day to sharing stories and support for underpaid workers at the University’s Kelburn campus.

General manager for OCS Limited Clinton McKee has stated that "From the outside it could be hard to see... it's not possible for our clients to direct our funding. [If we deal with things on a] site by site basis, we lose the way to look at it as a consolidated approach.”

E Tū is the largest private-sector union in the country with thousands working in a variety of different industries.

Victoria University cleaner and E Tū delegate, Henok Gebre explains on their website that “It’s not too late – we’re urging OCS to reconsider their position and do the right thing”.

Tweet of the Week Level 2 is all you would have heard about on social media for the last few days so here is the only tweet that matters:

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Opinion Why I Didn’t Pay My Rent AZARIA HOWELL | SHE/HER

I had just finished lunch (if you could call an old packet of mi goreng and an energy drink a lunch) when I was scrolling through my emails.

“We will be charging you a weekly fee of $150 for those who intend to return to the hall as soon as they are able.”

I let out an audible sigh. It was only a month ago that the University kicked all students in catered halls out. Now they were expecting us to pay rent for rooms we wouldn't be able to live in, as well as forking up money to be able to travel.

This not only put us at more risk of catching Covid-19, but also implied that we can all afford to travel home during a crisis. They also assumed that home was a safe place to be, or that ‘home’ was even a place within New Zealand.

The $150 fee students were expected to pay was rubbing salt in the wound which surfaced from kicking us out in the first place. My bank account had already been severely dented by the first Hall instalment fee—many of us wouldn’t be able to take another hit.

In fact, this wasn’t the first instance of VUW Halls running as a business rather than a public good. Just last year, they increased the rent by $4,000, making it even harder to pay the living costs. But, due to the monopoly the University has on first-year living, we were forced to pay this massive price increase.

"The $150 fee students were expected to pay was rubbing salt in the wound" I was shocked at the lack of compassion that the University Accommodation Service had for students in these tough times. They should’ve been supporting people who have lost our sources of income, rather than treating us like cash cows.

Due to the lockdown, many of us had no real source of income, making the Hall payments even more of a challenge.

We decided to take our frustration onto social media. A Facebook group called “VUW Halls of Residence Rent Strike” was set up, and within 24-hours, over a thousand people had joined, estimated to be a third of all people living in Halls.

We had all pledged not to pay the $150 fee under Alert Level 3, as we were not able to return to the halls until at least Alert Level 2.

"...the University doubled-down by threatening to fire University staff" Thankfully, the movement gained traction. VUWSA and the Tertiary Education Union backed the rent strike and it made headlines in the mainstream media. Political youth wings showed their support for the rent strike, causing some of their adult counterparts to speak up in support as well.

Prime Minister Jacinda Ardern told the University to "be compassionate" in a press conference, but they seemed to disregard her comments by continuing to run the Halls like a business.

Due to the people-power of the rent strike, the University changed their minds. In an email to all Hall residents, they told us they received ‘a lot of feedback,’ and we wouldn’t have to pay rent until May 11th, when the Government was set to make an announcement on the move to Alert Level 2.

The rent strike at Victoria University was thankfully a success story. However, there is still so much more work to be done elsewhere. It’s about time Universities started valuing students and their potential, rather than profits.

We sent countless emails to the Accommodation Service and the Vice-Chancellor. But the University doubled-down by threatening to fire University staff, rather than taking a good look at their profit margins and the Vice-Chancellor’s pay.

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Probing the Punters Have you been feeling less than impressed with your daily routine?, sleep killing your motivation? Do those Zoom calls take up all your time?

Well check out this week's probing as we ask your VUWSA executive how they keep it all together or just plain soldier through it

GEO ROBRIGADO •

Wake up at 7am or 8am

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Take a walk around the neighbourhood for 30mins

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Attend to some admin things, until around 10 or 11am or when my first meeting will be

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Lunch usually around 12-2pm, then meetings or vuwsa related work until 5pm

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Then I do my Duolingo modules between 5 and 6:30pm, then family time between 6:30 and 9pm

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A few more admin stuff then go to play Sims 4 or board games with the siblings, usually until 1am

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5:30-6pm: Blob around, make dinner, watch some TV, go for a run or read

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6-8(ish): Chill with family, zoom with friends, play with the dogs

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8(ish) till late: Some night it will be yoga, journaling or reading. More often than not, it’s a combination of them both.

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Late: Go to bed and do it all again

TAYLAH SHUKER •

7am: Convince myself it’s is time to get out of bed

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8am: Mostly responding to emails, planning my day, and getting a head start on my uni work

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9am: Group exercise zoom with friends (this is actually so much fun!)

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9:30am-5:30pm :This is my selfimposed “work-block” for uni/ VUWSA work

MICHAEL TURNBULL

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Wake up at 10, jump straight into a Zoom meeting that I realise I am well late for

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I then realise that I am so far behind on all the fucking shit that I was supposed to do today

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So then I cram 3hrs worth of shit into an hour, getting real close to a mental breakdown at this point

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So then I go for a jog to get rid

of all the stress, just makes me sweaty, the stress is still there •

I’m back, I have a shower, it’s probably like 3pm at this point

•

Have a couple more meetings, then spend the rest of the night trying to claw back all the shit that I missed

•

Have a glass of red wine which turns into a bottle

GRACE CARR •

Wake up around 9:30am

•

•

Breakfast, tidy room, get ready for day

Do VUWSA for around 2 Hours (Meetings, research, planning etc)

•

•

Study for 3-4 Hours (Lectures, assignments, readings, call with lecturers/tutors, crying, planning, Coffee)

Sometimes spend 3 hours making dinner lol

•

Play club penguin, hang with flat mate

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Either do Yoga or high intensity interval training (20-40min)

•

Watch netflix or a movie or read

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Sleep around 12am

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Go for a walk around Botans (30-60 min)

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Film several tik toks while watching the sunset (follow @ wreckitralphz for the good stuff)

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Have a spiritual and life awakening moment while watching the sunset

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Finish assignments because we procrastinated too much during the day lol

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Get ready for bed, open a cheeky brew and hop on tinder for a bit cause we miss cuddles :(((

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Procrastinate sleeping by watching Netflix and scrolling on social media until 2/3 am

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Have crazy vivid or lucid dreams

RALPH ZAMBRANO •

Wake up at 8am to Doja Cat Boss Bitch

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Get out of bed at 10 to get ready for classes

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Attend multiple zooms for lectures, tutorials and meetings only decently dressed from the waist up

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Slide into my friends dm in zoom chat boxes for the lols, seeing if they react on camera

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Make a quesadilla with heaps of hot sauce for lunch

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Regret decision to pour heaps of hot sauce

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Walk up the peak to watch the sunset

JOANNA LI •

Wake up at 8am because back when we had a timetable, I planned it so i had 8:30am class everyday—discipline

classes or listening to lectures or go run errands for WSVA •

I try to have all my work done by 5pm because the light in my flat isn't great so as soon as the sunlight goes away, I can’t concentrate

•

Most of the time it's usually rolling out of bed 1min before a meeting

•

Take a shower and properly start getting ready and get dressed and usually by that time, it’s lunch tbh

•

After that I call a friend or listen to a seminar in the background

•

Then I usually have meetings,

•

I try to talk to a friend every single day NEWS: ISSUE 10

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Life in Death WORDS BY LOFA TOTUA

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During those last months in my village, I sat with Papa on our deck, looking out at the heavy rain. We were an inbetween, no one’s main destination. Not anymore. Every morning, I brought Papa his lemon drink, but his hands shook uncontrollably so I often had to feed it to him, sip by sip. On his good days, we could weave.

We watched the men trudging home after toiling in the plantations and the children lugging water from the markets in town, while I did most of the cutting and plaiting and folding and smoothing. Papa helped when he could. When his tremors eased he was more skilled and precise than I was, but I was still faster.

Papa would say, “Why are you rushing Tina? Do you have somewhere to be? Do it properly.” Our woven mat would sit on the deck, waiting for attention, and we would continue weaving every evening. Outside the deck, plants that lined our entrance were overgrown and the grass was unkempt.

My mother tried her best, but she had a small stature and the land we lived on was wild.

Every now and then, a weak breeze would try to ease the heat that hung around after the rains, but rivers would still run down our backs and faces. Even now I can still hear Papa’s laboured breathing, searching for air. Raspy coughs would drown out the few birds that still hung around and it hurt to hear him talk. Most of the time we would sit quietly, his old eyes observing the new motor vehicles that rolled past and my fresh eyes on our home that he had built from nothing before I was born. My home.

Papa loved to weave because my Nana had loved to weave.

When she was alive, people from all the neighbouring villages came for her especially, with their commissions.

The deck he had built for her many years before had started to rot underneath us. He’d built it with the trees that grew in the corner of our front yard. At night it would creak when the ghosts came to visit Papa, calling for him to come home.

He was stubborn. The calm ones would talk to me when I couldn’t sleep, sharing stories from the old times. Looking back, I know now they were my ancestors, men and women of my bloodline who walked and talked on earth as we do now. They warned me of angry black eyes and sad spirits, the result of suicides who were stuck in between Pulotu—the world of darkness and heaven, the white man’s paradise.

One afternoon, a day after the rains had stopped, Papa held my hand. You could see his veins, like green lightning tattoos on his pale skin. They stuck out on his hands, hands that had accepted the rough thwack of palm leaves in our plantation. Hands that had learnt to move the stubborn earth to give birth to new life. Hands that could be tender with our gardenias—white petals that are stained brown

after a time. The garden was a renewed green. The worms and bugs beneath us were awake. Papa’s gardenias were abundant and pearl white.

“Your birthday gift,” Papa said.

His hands didn’t tremble as I hung on for dear life. We sat and watched the road together. Our mat was finished.

That was the night the cats cried. A warning that signifies death is near. *** I was married and living with Joseph by the time I was 20.

We welcomed my 20th birthday along with the wet season in December. Joseph insisted that I invite everyone. He said time was precious, as was my youth. He was right as always.

Everyone came. The younger women, family friends and daughters of other village chiefs who smiled too brightly at me. It didn’t match the green fury in their eyes. I could hear it in their murmurs, the not so discreet conversations that only raised in volume as soon as I left the room. My name on their lips was a new sound for my ears, twisted and spat out like the fish bones from a feast. Valentina. Of course, they wanted to be me. Well at least, the me that was with Joseph. I was set up for life. Before me, Joseph had crowds of women pursuing him. It was a slap in the face to many when he had chosen me.

My stomach had swelled fully and the aunties were eager to celebrate my pregnant glow. The other women said nothing.

“You’ve always been so beautiful Valentina but your skin! So clear, so perfect!”

“This baby is going to be the most handsome boy our family has seen. A smile like Joseph and light skin like his mother!”

His family would make bets on whether the boy would have my copper hair, or Joseph’s bat coloured nest. “He will look like his Mother but have his Father’s strength,” one said.

“No! He will look like his Father and have his Mother’s gentle nature!”

One of the daughters of a High Chief from another village interrupted, “Better the Father’s looks. We have enough boys wanting to be girls.”

FEATURE: LIFE IN DEATH

17

“Oh darling, you are just jealous you have your father’s nose!”

Nicky fired back. He was Joseph’s cousin, a fa'afafine. We didn’t have any in Papa’s village. I would find myself staring at his perfect eyebrows and ever-changing hairstyles often, wondering how long he took to get ready in the morning.

“And anyways, no one asked for your ten cents! The boy will have Tina’s beauty and his Father’s dick!” Nicky shrieked with laughter and the room joined her. Nicky winked at me and threw me a dazzling grin, the family’s secret weapon and my weakness.

My 20th celebrations were more than any birthday in my household. More food, more people, more noise.

I remember the warmth that stirred within me as I breathed it in. The harmonies during prayer caressed my skin. Every morning and evening they would unite in the same song. His aunties would cradle their babies closely, soothed as they would fall asleep to beautiful hymns that glorified life. Prayer was amongst my favourite times with Joseph’s family.

When Joseph said his speech to me that night, laughter could be heard from the neighbouring villages. Both the comedian and dramatist that he was, Joseph knew how to command and hold attention. He adored me and it felt like his family did too. I remember glancing around the room as his oldest sister Silia balanced my cake, taking her time as she began my birthday song. I had never had my own cake before. It was simple, as all things were, but it was enough.

Halfway through the song, I locked eyes with Joseph’s younger sister Ema. Her glare matched the burning of the single candle on my cake. The flame flickered and I looked back at her unbothered. It was not the first time she had openly shown her dislike. Her features were nice enough, but she was not what one would call beautiful. Her hair was bat black like her brother’s but less coarse. She wore it in tight braids, the kind that I was forced to wear as a child. Everyone in the family loved Joseph, except I think, Ema. She was a couple years younger than me and a whole 10 years younger than Joseph. I smiled, but her face stayed hard. Ema had barely said a word to me throughout my early days with Joseph and in our first months of marriage. She kept to herself and followed her Mother to and from Church. Joseph said she was precious and wasn’t welcome to change.

She approached me later, when I was alone outside, listening to the joy inside Joseph’s family house. I sat on the stairs while she stood above me, arms crossed and chin high.

“Why are you here?”

“I like sitting outside,” I replied.

“At night? You shouldn’t be doing that. Especially in the state you’re in.”

“I think I’ll be okay.”

“How do you know that? Who are you to challenge them?”

She pointed her chin out into the night. I laughed.

18

WORDS BY LOFA TOTUA

“I like to think I’m well protected.”

She sniffed and was silent. It was at this moment that I realised how much of a loner she was. Ema was always at the edge of family celebrations—always the last to eat, to clean up. She was an afterthought to her family but to me, there was something unsettling about her presence. She liked to keep to herself. Unusual for our people who thrived off community. I observed her while she looked out onto the dark road. Ema was skinny now, unlike when I first met her. She was stronger when she was a girl, often muddy and bruised from working outside on her Father’s land. Now she looked sick, her frame ready to break at any moment.

I shifted my eyes to the road too and saw a light from a motorcar in the distance. Joseph’s family was amongst the first to have them, I remember seeing their black Ford cruise past Papa’s home when I was Ema’s age. I looked back up at Ema and saw her scratching at her wrist, a habit that won her the nickname “dirty” from her aunties. I sighed. Be kind, Tina.

Perhaps this was her way of reaching out.

“I was talking to my Papa..”

“What?” Her black eyes widened. They did not look like her own.

“Isn’t he dead?”

“Yes.” I breathed in and saw the motorcar pass outside Joseph’s fence. It was long and silver, one of the newer imports.

“He passed away on this day two years ago.”

A long pause greeted me.

“Wait. What? Your mean your Papa was – “ “Old Man Wilfried? Yes.” Ema’s eyes widened again. They looked like owl eyes.

I heard Papa’s warning tone brush my ear only to be interrupted by Ema. “I… I…. I’m so sorry Tina. I didn’t mean to-” “What? Didn’t mean to what? What did you do now Ema?” Joseph came from behind us, straight for his sister. Drunk.

The door to his house was wide open behind him, his family one by one joined us outside. Joseph’s Aunty was at his back, her hands on his shoulders trying to settle him. *** Ema disappeared the night I turned 20. I gave birth to my son Wilfried at dawn the next morning.

FEATURE: LIFE IN DEATH

19

20

JASON FASTIER, BLUE ROCKS, 30 x 20 INCH, OIL ON CANVAS, 201921

Home vs Home WORDS BY GRACE CLARKE | SHE/HER

22

As I write from my boyfriend's flat in Island Bay, I’m currently over 18,000 kilometres away from ‘home’. But, every night since lockdown, I go to sleep and have the same nightmare: I’m stuck at ‘home’ with no way of getting back home.

CW: Death I know that sayings like “home is where the heart is” definitely belong on a suburban mum’s fridge freezer rather than in a student magazine. But, since moving across the globe away from my entire family, I’ve been able to learn what home really means to me. I went ‘home’ to see my family for a couple of months in summer. I spent most of it longing to come back to Wellington to be with my friends and boyfriend who feel so much more like family than most of my relatives ever have.

Most of my family are, well, pretty shit. There’s a handful of good ones: my Dad’s side of the family is small, but they are genuinely lovely (apart from my 16 year old, self-proclaimed libertarian cousin). My mum was great too, but she unfortunately died when I was 10. That left me with the dregs of her relatives. There’s my racist grandfather who abandoned my mum as he fled the country from loan sharks, and my chronic chain-smoker uncle who rants about the wrong side of politics on Facebook at 3am—to name a couple. However, those guys are nothing in comparison to the real antagonist of this story—my grandmother.

Is it selfish to abandon our older family members for our own health? I’m all my grandmother has left of my mum, and I know that just talking to her makes her day. There are days where all I can picture is her crying as I ignore her text message asking why I don’t communicate with her more. We are supposed to care for our grandparents after all. Taking them in when they are sick and preventing them from being lonely is just part of the deal after they’ve dedicated their life to your family. But what about when they haven’t held up their end of the bargain?

I’ve never felt at home around my grandmother; she’s always found a way to ruin my day. Some of my earliest memories are feeling sick as she would tell me that my mum’s cancer would probably come back. She was right—cancer killed my mum in 2010. But all these years later, I’m still not sure why she thought telling a 7-year-old that was a good idea.

I wonder if she’s happy that she was right.

As much as I like to deny it, I’m connected to my grandmother.

Whether I like it or not, we are tied together by my mother.

Our shared experience, our shared memories, and our shared grief create an unshakable bond of simultaneous joy and sadness. While this should be a wonderful opportunity to be supportive of one another, in reality, it is a mess of guilt, confusion, and hurt.

Since my mum died, I’ve done what I can to move on with my life. I’ve finished school with good grades, moved away for university, and started completely afresh. I’ve made so many new friends, fallen in love, and am the happiest I’ve ever been. But, in the back of my head, there’s always been this hum of guilt, as my grandmother remains stuck in 2010, unable to shake the cloud of negativity caused by her loss.

It’s not a hum, really. More like a shout. My grandmother reminds me of her pain constantly, informing me that I’ve left her behind and that all she wants is for me to care about her.

Distancing myself from her felt both liberating and constricting. I found myself feeling happier as I was away from a source of emotional anguish. Yet, I felt knots in my stomach when I would realise that she had not only lost her daughter but was now losing me, too.

There are days where I feel so anxious, angry, or just sad after my grandmother verbally attacks me over Whatsapp.

I realise how thankful I am that I am thousands of miles away from her. Does that make me a bad person? I can’t quite bring myself to shut her out completely—it just feels too cruel. So, I message her maybe once a month. She sends me a paragraph filled with sadness and manipulation. I don’t respond. She messages me again and I respond like nothing happened—and the cycle repeats. I would be lying if this wasn’t the coward’s way out. I have pages and pages of notes on my phone filled with everything I want to say to her. I’ve spent hours with my thumb hovering over the send button, before hastily deleting anything that might even infer that she’s done something wrong, throwing my phone across the room, defeated.

I wish this was a story with a happier ending. I wish I could tell you that my grandmother and I talked everything through and our relationship is stronger than ever, or that I finally realised enough was enough and stopped talking to her entirely. But, family has never been that simple. I don’t know if I’ll ever feel at home with my family, or if I’ll ever really know how to deal with my grandmother. I don’t think I’ll ever get to look forward to going to a family dinner. But, what I do know is that I feel at home here, with my new family, who make me feel happy rather than hurt. While I might not be able to shake the connection I have to my grandmother, I have been able to form new connections with a new family, in a place I can truly call home.

FEATURE: HOME VS HOME

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Manatu WORDS BY P3ATO

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I was raised in my Grandparents’ house. The walls clothed with pictures of scholars and gangstas alike, and the cupboard holding Mi Goreng noodles and Taiyo tin fish. A sacred centre to many, with no shortage of alowha, space, or mink blankets— with the tigers g, you already know.

My grandparents’ house is built on foundations of alowha, in it’s different forms; unconditional love, tough love, annoying love, and smash your face kind of love.

Like many others before and after them, my grandparents ventured to this land in search of the sweet wealth of opportunities available in this supposed land of milk and honey. They worked hard cleaning offices and panel beating, so that their next generations could reap the harvest. They opened doors for me, which never existed for them.

My grandparents keep me on the path. Just the thought of them and their voices on a Sunday evening induces the same feelings of warmth and comfort that they emulate. It sounds like fish frying on the stovetop, my grandparents cackling as they slam dominoes on the kitchen table, and the Tokelau radio station booming in the background.

My grandparents’ perspectives are best illustrated by their own lips. Two of my grandparents most frequent sayings/ lectures include: “Tokaga ki te aoga, ma makeke oi whano ki na lotu...” Commit to your education, and try your best to attend church... “Te tamaiti e uhitaki ki ona matua, e whakamanuia e te atua.” The child who obeys his parents is blessed by God. They’re always dropping these lowkey pieces of wisdom, just at random times. I often hear them but don’t really pay attention. They like to constantly tell me “go to school so you can get a good job”. It sounds straightforward, but it actually paints a larger picture of how further education acts as a catalyst for social mobility. My grandparents have a very strongly held perspective regarding education, namely western education. They tell me that it’s the path to finding a better future, impacting not only me but also younger generations of our family. In a way, it feels reminiscent of the journeys they both took in migrating to New Zealand —though to a lesser extent, of course.

Early mornings and late nights, I was a good college student.

I was a head student (ugh) and secured a couple scholarships to attend university. But in spite of those accomplishments, I recognised in silence that I was never made for school.

Every time I struggled academically, every time I took a look at my city, and every time I turned on the tv, the sad fact hit me harder than an eight-seater family van; that someone like me isn’t made for the academic world.

I still enrolled at uni with my tank running on E for expectations.

After my first trimester at uni, I made the decision that, like college, uni is shit and I wanted a break from New Zealand’s education system. I sat down with my grandparents and told them what I wanted to do. Long story short, they told me no.

So I stayed studying, though not so much for myself.

Towards the end of my second trimester of uni, my Grandpa passed away. As well as much sadness, his passing also brought about a season of reflection. During this time, I thought about his words of guidance and encouragement.

I unpacked every word, every facial expression, and every inflection to understand what piece of wisdom he’d shed on my situation or which direction he’d point me in. Amongst other things, I learned during this reflection that I was never running on empty expectations, it was always empowerment.

I only felt pressured because at a time where I lacked faith in myself, someone else’s felt foreign. The cultural values instilled in me by my grandparents taught me to pull through despite any deficits which exist in this country’s social structures. With the words of my grandparents etched into my mind, I work with “makeke” and the knowledge of the importance of education.

The most significant realisation I came to was that until my Grandpa's passing, I only ever took the time to bridge the gaps between our views. I never explored what existed in the va—the space—between our perspectives. Today, the exploration of that space between our perspectives still continues. And I think it’ll continue for a long time. The only thing I know for sure is that I was wrong, about many things— but that’s okay. Because life is life, and no matter how eeks or passionate one might be, it doesn’t turn back for no one. I learnt way back to just learn from the blows.

These days I approach uni, and learning in general, with a different mindset. I’m grounded, knowing that I still have a relationship with my Nana; one where I ask her about the spaces between our thinking and learn from her. I’m certain of my capabilities, and I know that my people and I are capable of accomplishing anything. I go hard cause at this point, I’m not just studying for myself. It’s about putting honour where honour is due, and being an example for the young’ns. And I’m skux.

But most of all, I'm grateful. I’m grateful to my giants, whose shoulders I stand upon.

FEATURE: MANATU

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Spaghetti WORDS BY SALLY WARD | SHE/HER

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I am about the same height as my nana Mary. I think about this often because we are not very tall. I like to imagine the way she moved about in the world. Did she have to take up the hems of her skirts like I do, or did they make skirts shorter in the 50s? I have a blue cable knit jumper that was knitted for her by my aunty. It fits me perfectly, as though it was made for me, too. It is distinctly grandma—feels like I should find some butter to churn.

My Grandparents lived in a homestead on Waiwhare Station.

Waiwhare is 45 minutes from Hastings. It probably took longer than 45 minutes to drive it in the 50s. The Old Coach Road they took has been replaced by a tar sealed edition, but you can still see its gravelly outline etched into adjacent paddocks. They went to town once a week in their ‘town clothes’.

Dad has also been known to rinse off-colour chicken in vinegar before serving. Regrettably, this always came out after I’d swallowed it. It is nothing short of a miracle I haven’t had food poisoning. When I approached Bernie for comment, he wanted it known that he would under NO circumstances feed this to dinner guests and believes it to be a “testament to intestinal fortitude”.

Going to lunch at my grandparents’ house was a big deal when I was a small person. The homestead had a large dining space and a tiny kitchen. The fire was always going.

Nana made spaghetti. Watties spaghetti with the sausages that are not really deserving of the word ‘sausage’. She made toast fingers slathered in butter and served them on her fine china with bone handle knives. The lemonade in the fridge was always flat.

The worst part is, I’m playing the same gambling game with my fridge. Milk a bit funky? Unless it’s curdling in my tea, I’ll be drinking it. I do this because of how Nana raised Dad. She lived 45 minutes from a supermarket with 5 children. You do not waste food. She lived her life on a wartime rationing attitude. It reminds me not to take what I have for granted.

And to use some old kitchen fixes to save bits and pieces from the bin. One must always have vinegar on hand.

I don’t know what it is about traditional men and their carving knives, but they’ve all got one. After the spaghetti, Grandad would cut the lamb. Slowly. He was also the slowest eater I have ever known, a trait my Dad seems to have inherited. So by the time the lamb came out, I’d been swinging my little legs off the edge of the red linoleum chairs for what seemed an hour. Nana’s spaghetti tasted better than any other spaghetti. Why though? It all comes from the same factory. I suppose when you have 5 children, you become an expert in heating up spaghetti.

***

Outside are citrus trees—grapefruit and a lemon tree. We would cut the grapefruit open, dunk them in sugar and eat them with teaspoons. We’d take buckets of sunshine lemons back to town. *** Nana was born during WW1, and lived through the depression and WW2. The legacy of these experiences has found its way into my deep disdain for waste. Dad’s fridge is full of food reaching expiry because he refuses to throw anything away, but doesn’t have the organisational skills to eat it before it goes off. He once fed us lamb sausages that had been in the freezer for 5 years, they were preserved but awfully freezer burnt. Once we had finished eating he said: Did those sausages taste funny to you?

Well, now that you mention it.

When she passed I was about six. I was given a pair of her gloves, a (not real) gold diamante necklace and clip-on earrings. I was not woman enough to wear these things, but I thought they were so beautiful I kept them in my special jewellery box, lest they got mixed up in my jelly bracelets.

When I was 9, my Dad and I moved to Waiwhare, into the cottage next door to the vacant homestead I had visited as a child, the house Dad had grown up in. I picked the lemons from the tree and tried to grow vegetables in the same soil.

I collected walnuts and dried them on her porch. When I felt isolated I thought about Nana, hanging out the laundry and feeding the lambs and tending to her hydrangeas. I’ve always admired the way hydrangeas grow in shade, blues and pinks blooming in darkness.

Perhaps I romanticise her life. It was hard. She couldn’t drive.

Not because no one was willing to teach her, but because she was too anxious to get behind a wheel. As someone who failed their restricted license THREE times before succeeding on the fourth, I can understand this. Nana had to rely on Grandad to take her into town, on those weekly trips. I think about what it would have meant to be a farmer's wife. I wonder if she had friends to call up on the landline to complain about the endless sheep shit finding its way into the laundry. When I drive to Waiwhare I look out for the stitches of the Old Coach Road, a path that no longer exists but remains all the same.

FEATURE: SPAGHETTI

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Going Nowhere VIC BELL | KĀI TAHU | SHE/HER

If you are lucky, your grandparents are alive and kicking, and they may come up or down the country to visit you in the big smoke. When they do, it is important to be armed with the right information so you can show them a Good Time™. Dig some dried apricots out of the bulk bin, we are rounding up the best places to take your Nan. Cable Car Old folks love stuff like this. Every year, the inside of the cable car’s bright red carriage is wall to wall fanny packs and sun visors. The cable car is one of those historic landmarks that always comes first to mind when compiling an itinerary for a primary school trip. It is quite the novelty, especially since the installation of light shows in the tunnels on the way up. Please check first that your old folk in question doesn’t suffer from epilepsy.

Mr Bun adjacent Cafe Wellington has been shaped by its cafe culture since the swinging sixties. It has provided a unique flavour to the city, allowing hubs of socialisation without alcohol, and a whole new way to be a snob. But your grandparents aren’t here for all that. Your Nan doesn’t know the difference between a macchiato and an americano. Your Koro doesn’t give a rat’s arse who has the best gluten-free brownies. They want a massive glass cabinet heaving with fluorescent yellow custard squares and biscuits you could break your dentures on. They want mismatched plastic seating and a C or D grade health rating. They want Mr Bun. Sadly the Mr Bun on Cuba St shuttered, so you will have to settle for Mr Bun adjacent establishments. Good approximations are Friendly Bakery and Cafe in Newtown, Newtown Bakery and Cafe, or Top One Cafe on Courtenay Place.

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ISSUE 10: COLUMNS

Gallipoli Exhibition—Te Papa I was about to recommend the Great War exhibit at the Dominion Building next to Massey University. But that closed at the end of 2018, so this will have to do. I sometimes struggle with Anzac Day. Jingoism is a type of Nationalism that uses swells in patriotism to justify an aggressive foreign policy. So the sometimes sentimental or glorifying ways we talk about the World Wars don’t sit right with me. But my Nan’s brothers fought and came back traumatised and silent, so it’s natural she wants to find out what really happened over there. So bite your tongue and keep your lefty opinions to yourself to make an old lady happy.

Blueberry Picking—Pauatahanui, Porirua My Nan insisted she only wanted a look around, so I shrugged my shoulders at the lady behind the counter and she kindly let us in. We wandered around the edge of the farm looking at the llamas and gardens, until I turned to my left and Nan had disappeared. A few feet away I saw she had plunged through the undergrowth, and had a fist full of blueberries. Nan! You can’t do that! Then, a few minutes later, she tried to climb an electric fence to get a better look at a particularly sexy fungus. Nan has a resentment against the Fungal Network of New Zealand as she’s sent away for it many times but they won’t issue her a membership. Anyway the point is it is a lovely day out but ensure to keep a close and watchful eye on your elder.

One of your lectures Hear me out. It is not the most obvious tourist attraction. But many of your grandparents may not have been afforded a tertiary education. My Nan was 14 when she had to leave high school as her parents could no longer financially support her. Be curious and find out what they’re interested in, then smuggle them into a lecture on campus (pending our return next trimester). They’ll likely be pleased you shared your world with them.

To Be Frank FRANKIE DALE | SHE/HER

This is To Be Frank’s first advice column. Take everything I say with a grain of salt as I'm that bitch who pours her milk before the cereal and wears socks to sleep.

I keep running into my ex and having really intense physical reactions and I feel like an idiot I feel your pain completely. There is nothing more disorientating than seeing an ex when you were least expecting it. Especially if you’re like me and tend to wear socks, sandals, and floor-length dressing gowns everywhere except work. My friend saw her ex at uni whilst she was holding her coffee, she dropped the hot coffee on herself and it fell to the floor—so cinematic. When I saw my ex on the street a couple of months ago my face went bright red (was partly embarrassed as I was holding a carton of lentils) and I literally bent down to do up my shoelaces so he wouldn't see me. I was wearing fucking slides.

My point is, the physical reaction is such a normal human reaction. I actually learnt about it in a first-year psych paper.

Long story short, your brain activates the areas that are associated with physical torment. This is why you feel dizzy, short of breath, and kind of like all round fucked.

What helped me get over the fear of running into my ex was actually confronting the issue. A simple text which may lead to a simple coffee is nothing to be scared of, just make sure that coffee isn't wine and you're in an open place, not their room. I told him I was feeling scared to walk anywhere from Riddiford to Cuba street and he actually felt the same way.

Now when we see each other, we acknowledge each other with the simple salute of two returned servicemen.

My dad is a conspiracy theorist and he won’t stop sharing dumb shit about COVID, HELP? Firstly, I completely understand your pain! I have an uncle who is the exact same. I find it quite a daunting experience having conversations with him about COVID as I am actually anxious about the reality we’re facing. I have come to realise that maybe this is their way of coping with the uncertainty they may be feeling in the current climate.

As humans, we try to make sense of things and maybe this is your dad's way of categorising and making sense of his stress. I know it can be uncomfortable to have an honest chat with someone who doesn’t see your way of thinking.

However, I think writing down how you’re feeling about his behaviour, and having him do the same could help you both find a middle ground. Maybe he needs to be reminded that it is okay to not be in control and give into the not knowing.

Believing that COVID is being spread by the 5G towers gives a common enemy and something to actually fight against, giving people a sense of relief and control in such uncertain times.

That’s it for today kids, if you have any grave concerns please don’t feel shy to send them through next time.

Whether it’s embarrassing or vulgar, there is NO SHAME when it comes to this column. I wanna hear all about your nitty gritty problems. If it's that you sleep between your parents or have an overwhelming foot fetish… send them through (editor@salient.org.nz). Thank you to the beautiful anonymous people this week. Lots of love xox

Please DON’T feel like an idiot. It is literally your body having a CHEMICAL reaction and I promise it gets better every time.

Even if your ex was a prick, keep in mind they are probably just as anxious to see your sexy ass walking down the street.

ISSUE 10: COLUMNS

29

Bachelor of Parenting

Student Wellbeing

ROSIE AND MIIA VAN BEUSEKOM | SHE/HER

SHALEENA RAVJI | SHE/HER

CLIMBING THE FAMILY TREE

YOUR LOCAL DAIRY

For us, connection with our extended families has always been difficult. One family is spread across the country, and comes together only on big occasions. One family is fractious, and despite their close proximity, gatherings can be tense affairs. As a result, our relationships with our grandparents (and much of the wider family) are tenuous.

In particular, our grandparents can be slightly intimidating, occasionally hard to follow, and often we know little to nothing about them as people. When we’re young, our relationships with our wider family are determined largely by our parents. They set the frequency of visits, and often the tone. As adults, we finally have the power to move beyond the confines of our parents’ relationships with wider family, and establish our own connections.

My grandparents are some of the most important people in the world to me. I have been lucky enough to grow up being around them in Wellington and have been immersed in their lives. In New Zealand, many of us are migrants to the land and each has a different story of how and why we came here. In light of the coronavirus, I have had the time to appreciate my ancestors for choosing to come to New Zealand to give me the life I have today.

We both missed out on a lot of opportunities to make memories and establish bonds with our extended family when we were kids. Taking the leap over the past year or so to build those relationships has only increased our desire to facilitate a relationship between our kids and their extended family. Unfortunately, some of our relatives have passed on before we got an opportunity to explore our connection in any depth or breadth. So the thought of our children missing out on the love of their whole family inspires a sense of urgency for us.

But it is also important that the relationships they have with their extended family are healthy. And with that, our own relationships with family must serve as a model for healthy dynamics with healthy boundaries. We want our children to know that just because we are related to someone, doesn’t mean they are necessarily good people. We want them to know that they don't have to have a relationship with them if they don’t want to. At the end of the day, sometimes the family that you choose is more valuable to you than your family by blood, and that's okay. Until they can make those decisions for themselves, our kids will have every opportunity to know the love of their whole family. Perhaps through providing those opportunities, we can make up for the time we have lost ourselves.

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ISSUE 10: COLUMNS

I am a second-generation Kiwi-Indian. My grandparents came to New Zealand as young children in a search for a better life and education. Each of my grandparents has a different origin tale but they are connected in that it wasn’t an easy transition. They came from living in a village surrounded by friends, family, and working on the farm to suddenly living in a cold country where there weren’t many other people of colour around. They lived simple and modest lives.

My grandparents didn’t stray too far from stereotypes.

They each owned your local corner dairy. As a kid, this was often joked about and I always used to wonder why every dairy was owned by Indians. We came to New Zealand not knowing how to speak English but had the skills in farming, trading, and being independent business owners. They worked hard from early in the morning to late at night and withstood armed robberies and racism to ensure their children had a good life.

Today, my grandparents' house is my happy place. Not being able to go there has been challenging over the past five weeks. We’ve managed to stay connected on social media and occasionally get a 1-second video that was meant to be a photo from them. Being connected to them whether physically or virtually though, is extremely precious. It allows me to discover my identity from my past through my culture and heritage whilst also challenging me to be a better person for myself and my future generations.

UniQ XAVIER BROWN | HE/HIM

REACHING OUT Family can be complicated.

It’s not just me saying that. We hear a lot of stories about parents and grandparents who “accepted my identity straight away, were so so supportive!” I love hearing those stories. They give me hope that in the future, more LGBTQIA+ people will be able to be queer and not lose their family along with that. But… in reality, that is not the case for everyone.

Along with these stories, I hear others. “My daughter came to me the other day and said, Dad, I… I think I’m trans. Well, I said, yeah, yeah. You don’t know what you want yet. You’re only 18, you’re too young to know something like that.”

Stories of heartbreak, losing family members who can’t accept a big part of you are perhaps a larger percentage of the stories in our community.

What happens when your immediate family cannot accept you? For me, after being hurt and feeling rejected by the whānau and religious community I grew up with, I didn’t want to have friends, or be close to my family. I literally shut myself away in isolation for over a year as a teenager.

So, why in 2020, was one of my New Year’s resolutions “getting in touch with Granny and Dad”?

Opening myself up to pain and rejection was one of the hardest things I’ve ever done. I’d been encouraged to stay away from my dad by my mother since they split up when I was 7. Over the years we lost contact. I hadn’t spoken to or seen him in years. My last remaining grandparent is my paternal grandmother. After I found her email address, I finally sent her a letter and photo, and asked for my dad’s phone number. Her response to my very emo haircut, which I had attempted to explain with a “I probably won’t keep this style forever, I just like it now, but sorry if you think it’s a bit awful” made me laugh aloud with joy. I hadn’t expected to feel so accepted in such an honest way.

“The hairstyle looks terrible to me but bear in mind that I’m 83 and definitely not with it, haven’t changed mine since I was about 25 so what does that say about being stuck in the mud? Enjoy being a bit mad while you are young and beautiful and fortunately, hair grows so you can have plenty of changes and choices in future. I will look forward to your next style with interest!”

My regular letters to and from my gran, and texting with my dad, have been a blessing I am very grateful for. I’ve kept in touch especially given the virus and am relieved to hear that my gran is happy with her life at her new home and that my dad has plenty of backup food in the freezer (even though hoarders had taken everything from his local supermarket).

Something I will never forget are these words of wisdom from Gran: ‘“Hope the world is treating you well and your studies at Uni are something that you can handle. Just say to yourself “Sure I can do it. I’m a Brown”’ Something that I had to tell myself sometimes and it came in very handy.

Actually, I must tell gran in my next email, just how embarrassingly often I say those words to myself.

Family can be complicated. But it can be beautiful. As I write this on Anzac Day, I am spending it remembering my brave Grandad and looking at stories of inspirational people who fought for our future. After seeing how supportive my Grandma has been, I want to, in the future, reach out to the elderly in our community, a collective whakapapa, without being afraid of rejection. Perhaps you feel similarly.

ISSUE 10: COLUMNS

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The places we have yet to go

She sailed in, on the words of her mother.

He sat in the islands made by his father, erected on the backs of the woman they made take their name Cross contaminated, we raced together to the shoulders of the atua we were born from.

Dust, light and love, everything I like about myself was given to me, I inherited the dream.

Nurturing and caring, she has been my protector.

Pushing me to be my best, he has helped me become better.

I use this as a time to say thanks, to those who are the reason I’m here, And I make it my promise that we will continue to grow, love and share.

Ma still struggles to digest the complexities of Harry Potter Baba swears by his new diet, and the Law of Attraction My parents let me see them as human, so I grew up having attainable goals Brown eyes still twinkle as they spot a hard-to-pronounce-name on a white page Our queen came from the first bus out of Huntly Dad lived everywhere, Tūākau to Te Atatū We come from hard workers, to put it bluntly Affording us the opportunities one could only dream of, for that, my gratitude What a dream that is, what a reality it will become.

Wherever we may travel, we take our family with us I am not the first, I won't be the last We progress, while upholding our tradition

Elisapeta Stowers Fion O'Casaigh Janhavi Gosavi Matthew Casey

Send your poems to poetry@salient.org.nz

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POETRY

The Man, the Myth, the Mó Cará

UNA DUBBELT-LEITCH | SHE/HER

You’re right, it doesn’t really make sense to be writing about a dead Irish musician during the height of NZ Music Month, but here we are. Let this be a reminder to savour every good thing you hear before it slips into the archives for 40 years until being miraculously discovered by a niche indie record label.

This is precisely what happened to the hypnotising music of Michael O’Shea. The self-described inventor, psychonaut, leather craftsman, hobo, catalyst, traveller, instrument maker, and musician slipped almost completely under the radar despite being in the thick of London’s music scene during the 1970s.

Many things come to mind when listening to the remastered 1982 self-titled album, recorded in one day with the Mó Cará. Mó Cará (pronounced Mo Chara) was the name given to the instrument that O’Shea fashioned out of a door, it translates to ‘my friend’ in Irish. The 17-stringed instrument has been described as a hybrid of the Algerian zelochord, the sitar, and the dulcimer, and is played with paint brushes, or chopsticks.

This means as little to you as it does to me. O’Shea’s music is hard to categorize. The sounds from the Mó Cará evoke as much a range in time and space as they do in style. His album has been described as Celtic, left field, experimental, proto-ambient techno, new-wave, ‘world’, percussion, avantgarde, psychedelic, weird, and drone folk—none of these are exaggerations. The album has a timeless, mythical quality that draws you in. The first side consists of the 15 minute track titled “No Journey’s End” which evokes the rhythmic quality of a raga. The two tracks that follow share this continuity, though in briefer pieces. “Voices” and “Anfa Dásachtach” have wavering tones of electronic music, fused with a percussive reverb, reminiscent of early Jon Hassell.

In these tracks, O’Shea manages to explore much more ambient noise with his handmade instrument and is a true testament to his ability to bridge genres. The music’s refusal

to be classified is what makes it so intensely interesting to listen to.

O’Shea has been somewhat of an enigma until very recently.

Since the album’s redistribution last year by AllChival Records in Dublin, various music publications have sought to retell his story. He was raised in the Irish Republic, and joined the British Army at 17 years old in the hope it would take him travelling. This was a short-lived journey for O’Shea as he was briefly jailed around this time. In 1972, he made his way to Bangladesh where he became ill and was forced to a year of convalescence.It was during this time of selfisolation that O’Shea learned the sitar.

With his background in Irish folk music and the recent discovery of Bangladeshi sound and ragas, it’s no mystery that he took a liking to the Indian lute, known for its complex depth of range and the refined skill required to play it.

George Harrison introduced the sitar and Indian sound into Western popular music, which made way for a wider range of experimentation. Spending years busking in London’s underground tube stations, Michael made a living playing his Mó Cará. It was at the Tottenham Court Road Station that he was scouted to perform at the famous Ronnie Scotts’ Jazz Club in Soho. There he carried out a residency, brushing shoulders with the likes of jazz legends Alice Coltrane and Don Cherry. The pinnacle of O’Shea’s career was opening for Ravi Shankar in 1980 One of his only on-screen appearances is on talk show The Live Mike, though patronised by the host and mocking audience, O’Shea plays with great affection. This gives a glimpse of his presence as a performer and his fame that could have been. O’Shea was tragically killed in 1991 when he was 44. Given his prodigious talent, it isn’t bold to assume that Michael O’Shea could’ve seen a musical legacy far greater than what he has left us.

REVIEWS: MUSIC

33

Vai (2019) dir. Nicole Whippy, Ofa-Ki-Levuka Guttenbeil-Likiliki, Matasila Freshwater, Amberley Jo Aumua, Miria George, Marina Alofagia McCartney, Dianna Fuemana and Becs Arahanga

LUKA AMBER LELEIGA LIM-COWLEY-BUNNIN | IA; THEY/THEM | VAIGAGA, SAANAPU, SAFOTU, FALELATAI, XIÀMÉN, KULDIGA

CW: Discussions of death, racism, colourism, ableism, cisheteroperisexism “For us, it’s never one issue. We live complicated lives. We’re constantly having to negotiate different challenges. And that’s my job […]. It’s to remind people of the complexity and not let them try to paint us with a single brush stroke.”

—Teresia Kieuea Teaiwa, 2015.

When watching Pasifika films, I often approach with a mix of celebration and apprehension. Considering the barriers to telling Pasifika stories via this medium, and our vivid absences in Pākehā media, that Pasifika films have been and continue to be created is laudable. Apprehension because… the ideas expressed in Pasifika films and I don’t always get along.

Vai was directed by nine Pasifika women directors, with stellar performances by the main actresses, and stunning cinematography. We are taken from Fiji to Tonga, the Solomon Islands, Aotearoa, Kūki ‘Āirani, Sāmoa, Niue, and then back to Aotearoa again, comprising nine stories, each about a Pasifika girl and/or woman named Vai experiencing significant life events, such as talking with a faraway relative (no spoilers), migration, and welcoming a baby into a whānau with four generations present. Themes discussed include family, culture, diaspora, and indigenous sovereignty.

This film got me in the feels so many times; it was amazing to hear Pasifika indigenous languages being spoken through much of the film. The most resonant chapter for me is the sixth. Here, a Sāmoan Vai in her fifties does a taualuga, in place of her daughter who never learned (fyi the reasons for this are often intricate, and assigning personal blame to youth for not knowing more about our cultures is counterproductive). In the few minutes beforehand, we see Vai fumbling through memories of movements, the numerous concerns of family members conveyed through a few mumbled comments. During her siva, however, her ancestors rise up from their graves to support her.

This scene brings up important questions about empathy.

Why do people empathise? If I can empathise with a story,

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REVIEWS: FILM

does this influence my perception of its value? I think we all know the answer. In Aotearoa-based Pasifika media, there are established patterns—because of New Zealand colonialism, racism, colourism, cisheteroperisexism, classism, and ableism—of portraying a narrow set of Pasifika lives and experiences.

Notably here, not all of the characters are from nations and cultures situated in Polynesia. Referencing South African anti-colonial languaging, these are ‘so-called’ Micronesia, Melanesia, Polynesia. As well as inherent racism, the reality of societies indigenous to Te Moana-Nui-A-Kiwa is beyond this three-part imposed paradigm, evidenced by the cumbersome necessity of the term ‘outlier’, *ahem* Rotuma—Happy Fäe‘ag Rotuma Week!

This next part of the review is perhaps less to do with this particular film’s directors and production, and more to do with larger orders in Pasifika art. I have no idea of the obstacles and struggles they went through to complete this formidable project, nor do I have knowledge of the discussions they had about how to tell these stories, so I commend them thoroughly for bringing Vai forth into the world, and mean no offence.

One of the issues with wide-platform Pasifika art is that people often expect “everything” Pacific to be delivered through engaging, entertaining channels: an enormous task—impossible, actually. However, the representations of Pasifika people in Pasifika films tend to have some or all of the following characteristics: Sāmoan and/or Polynesian, monoethnic (if multiethnic, lighter-skinned), ‘conventionally’ attractive, from poor and/or middle-class families, Christian, straight, cisgender, perisex (not intersex), non-disabled… the list doesn’t stop here.

All of the characters seemed to be non-disabled, although there are many indiscernible disabilities. While I was thankful for partial subtitles, given that there are Pasifika Deaf and hard of hearing communities, it would have been nice for these to continue through all parts of the film. Most of the characters appeared to be straight and cisfemale, with the exception of the eldest Vai’s granddaughter and her partner.

It is notable that, although the nine main characters of Vai could have been queer, trans, intersex, and/or disabled, none of them were explicitly portrayed in these ways.

I am Sāmoan: this does not qualify me to comment on all things Pasifika. Specifically for the Fijian, Tongan, Solomon Islander, Kūki ‘Āirani Māori, Niuean, and Aotearoa Māori stories, my general response is: “let someone who has more experience here comment”, and I apologise that there are not Fijian, Tongan, Solomon Islander, Kūki ‘Āirani Māori, Niuean, and Aotearoa Māori reviewers writing this with me.

Although, if I may, I was happy to see two yaca (namesakes, but this word means more than that) and something of their connection to each other with the first Vai in Fiji. Also, there are A LOT of ethnic groups and languages (~70, I think more) in the Solomon Islands, and rich and complex histories that could actually be their own film, so how and why this particular story was chosen is something I would be interested in knowing.

Representation matters because it is a space in which people can feel validated, understood, comfortable, where our beliefs and opinions can be affirmed—or not. While we might enjoy these familiarities, they’re not always good for us. Pasifika cishetperisex-enabled women often become positioned as the ‘sign’ for ‘all oppression’, and thus, universal resistance. This is misguided at best, and dangerous at worst, because of how consciousness of oppressive systems (and the need to dismantle them!) are erased through this elision. When I watch Pasifika films, I am often reminded of how many vital Pasifika voices aren’t here.

Yet. There are Māori-African-American children in Aotearoa who go to kōhanga reo, and are fluent in Te Reo Māori, as stated by Venise Clark. There are Persian-Sāmoans, people who are Māori and tauiwi Pasifika, and some of these people are queer and disabled. When we leave out these stories, what are we communicating? When in positions of power, who do we consult?

Because of Teresia Kieuea Teaiwa, whose quote began this article, and because of the I-Kiribati communities and their stories in Aotearoa, I was sad that these did not feature in Vai. Given that there are two Sāmoan Vai in this film, perhaps the university student could instead have been I-Kiribati? Or West Papuan, Kanak, ‘Ōiwi, Rotuman? Also, as my friend Leitumalo Parsons has discussed, many of us who are Pasifika students did not feel that this accurately represented our experiences. Perhaps this story resonated with some people, but most of the people I know had issues particularly with the portrayal of Vai’s friends as unsupportive and inconsiderate.

Films can change the world, and don’t let anyone tell you different. They can reflect our experiences so we know we’re not alone. Further than this, they can revolutionise our ideas about ways of living, relating to each other, and being in the world. In summary, Vai is a marvellous pivot which, to twist and steal from Albert Wendt, communicates some of our plumage, pleasure, and pain. But we want—we crave—more.

Alofa‘aga.

REVIEWS: FILM

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Occupation Station True or False Quiz Because this issue was very mentally draining and we all deserve some respite (courtesy of RadioTimes.Com)

1.

Cyclones spin in a clockwise direction in the southern hemisphere

11.

Japan and Russia did not sign a peace treaty after World War Two so are technically still at war

2

Goldfish only have a memory of three seconds

12.

The mathematical name for the shape of a Pringle is hyperbolic paraboloid

3.

The capital of Libya is Benghazi 13.

4.

Brazil is the only country in the Americas to have the official language of Portuguese

Charlie Chaplin came first in a Charlie Chaplin look-alike contest

14.

5.

The Channel Tunnel is the longest rail tunnel in the world

Michael Keaton’s real name is Michael Douglas

15.

6.

Darth Vader famously says the line “Luke, I am your father” in The Empire Strikes Back

Napoleon was of below-average height

16.

Donald Duck’s middle name is Fauntelroy

17.

The Statue of Liberty was a gift from France

18.

According to Scottish law, it is illegal to be drunk in charge of a cow

7.

Olivia Newton-John represented the UK in the Eurovision Song Contest in 1974, the year ABBA won with “Waterloo”

8.

Stephen Hawking declined a knighthood from the Queen

9.

The highest mountain in England is Ben Nevis

19.

The Great Wall of China is visible from space

10.

Nicolas Cage and Michael Jackson both married the same woman

20.

The first tea bags were made of silk

Answers: 1. True, 2. False – scientists have found their memories can actually last for months, 3. False – it’s Tripoli, 4. True, 5.

False – The Gotthard Base Tunnel in Switzerland is 4 miles longer at 35.5 miles long, 6. False – the line is actually “No, I am your father”, 7. True, 8. True, 9. False – Ben Nevis is in Scotland, 10. True – to Lisa Marie Presley no less, 11. True – the two countries have signed a joint declaration but not a peace treaty, 12. True, 13. False – he came third, 14. True, 15. False – at 5 ft 7 in he was slightly above average height for the time, 16. True, 17. True, 18. True, 19. False, 20. True 36

OCCUPATION STATION

Word of the Week: ‘family’

Te Reo Māori:

New Zealand Sign Language:

whānau

5/13/2020

Web Sudoku - Billions of Free Sudoku Puzzles to Play Online

5/13/2020

Web Sudoku - Billions of Free Sudoku Puzzles to Play Online

NZSL: https://www.nzsl.nz/signs/1636

Sudoku Easy Puzzle 5,562,253,501

2 1

1 2 6 3

3 4 6

3

2 9

2

8

5

4

2

9

7

7

4

7

3 9

1

3

2

5

6 1 4

1 Back to puzzle

Evil Puzzle 5,182,462,850

8 7

9 2

4 5

6 2

2

4

Easy

3 1

6 4 7 Back to puzzle

Print another...

4 5 7

5 8

9

3

8 6

8 9

3

2

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Not So Easy

© Web Sudoku 2020 - www.websudoku.com

© Web Sudoku 2020 - www.websudoku.com

https://www.websudoku.com/?level=1

3

2

Brain Teasers 1/1

https://www.websudoku.com/?level=4

1/1

1. Turn me on my side and I am everything. Cut me in half and I am nothing. What am I?

3. I Am Heavy And Hard To Pick Up, But Backwards I Am Not. What Am I?

2. You're in a dark room with a candle, a wood stove, and a gas lamp. You only have one match, so what do you light first?

4. If You Have Me, You Want To Share Me. If You Share Me, You Don't Have Me. What Am I? 5. David’s Father Has Three Sons: Snap, Crackle, And ________?

Answers: 1. The number 8, 2. The match, 3. A ton, 4. A secret, 5. David OCCUPATION STATION

37

Horoscopes MADDI ROWE | SHE/HER

Hi. I’m the messenger this week.

I talked to your ancestors and they said they’re really proud of you. They wanted me to pass this on to you.

ARIES You create fire.

CANCER Keep going.

LIBRA Take a step back.

TAURUS Your spirit is strong.

Don’t forget your words.

LEO Search deeper within.

SCORPIO Show love, always.

AQUARIUS You need you.

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HOROSCOPES

VIRGO Trust your ability.

CAPRICORN It will fall into place.

GEMINI

SAGITTARIUS Keep your eyes ahead.

PISCES Speak your truth.

The Team EDITORS Rachel Trow & Kirsty Frame DESIGN & ILLUSTRATION Rowena Chow NEWS EDITORS Te Aorewa Rolleston & Finn Blackwell

CHIEF REPORTER Annabel McCarthy

SUB EDITOR Alfred Dennis SOCIAL MEDIA & WEB MANAGER Kane Bassett PODCAST MANAGER Matthew Casey STAFF WRITERS Lofa Totua Sally Ward Shanti Mathias TV TEAM Charlie Myer & Julia Mattocks COLUMNISTS Vic Bell Frankie Dale Shaleena Ravji Xavier Brown Rosie van Beusekom Miia van Beusekom POETRY EDITOR Janhavi Gosavi REVIEWS EDITOR Brock Stobbs CENTREFOLD Jason Fastier @j_fassy DISTRIBUTOR Rebecca Trow ADVERTISING MANAGER advertising@vuwsa.org.nz

FEATURE WRITERS Lofa Totua Grace Clarke P3ATO Sally Ward CONTRIBUTORS Maddi Rowe Luka Amber Leleiga LimCowley-Bunnin Una Dubbelt-Leitch Azaria Howell Taylah Shuker POETRY Elisapeta Stowers Fion O'Casaigh Janhavi Gosavi Matthew Casey CONTACT US editor@salient.org.nz designer@salient.org.nz (centrefold artwork) news@salient.org.nz socialmedia@salient.org.nz poetry@salient.org.nz reviews@salient.org.nz FIND US fb.com/salientmagazine instagram.com/salientgram twitter.com/salientmagazine salient.org.nz

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