17 JULY 2017
Editors — Tuioleloto Laura Toailoa and Tim Manktelow
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About Us — Salient staff are employed by, but editorially independent from, the Victoria University of Wellington Students’ Association (VUWSA). Salient is a member of, syndicated, and supported by the Aotearoa Student Press Association (ASPA). Salient is partially funded by Victoria University students, through the student levy. Opinions expressed are not necessarily representative of those of VUWSA, ASPA, Service Printers, or the editorial staff. Complaints — Please email editor@ salient.org.nz and if not satisfied with response contact VUWSA. Salient — 17 JULY, 2017 Volume 80, Issue 13
CONTRIBUTORS & COLOPHON
CONTENTS Editors’ Letter.......................................6 Letters................................................60 Notices...............................................63 News General News.......................................9 DAM. Scheming in rural Hawkes Bay...........12
Politics Political Round-Up.............................14 The Party Line....................................15 Election Focus.....................................15 Opinion The Green Option...............................16 — Jack Rainbow Columns Presidential Address............................18 VUWSA.............................................18 Te Ara Tauira......................................19 One Ocean..........................................19 Access Denied.....................................20 From within the fallout zone..............21 The Queer Agenda..............................22 Shit Chat............................................22 SWAT..................................................23 Postgrad Informer...............................23 Features We are voyagers..................................24 — Kahu Kutia Motumaoho........................................28 — Elaine Gyde
Migration of Intimacies......................34 — Geum Hye Kim The things we share............................38 — Henrietta Bollinger
Polynesian Panthers............................41 — Laura Toailoa Arts Poem...................................................47 Television...........................................48 Games................................................49 Books..................................................50 Theatre...............................................51 Music..................................................52 Film....................................................54 Podcast...............................................55 Visual Art...........................................58 Food...................................................59 Horoscope..........................................56 Puzzles................................................62
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Editors’ letter Welcome back (though the break went so quickly it hasn’t really felt like a break at all)! Something that’s as obvious as it is complicated is that there is no one “New Zealand” identity or experience. We don’t have the same origin stories, and we arrived to these shores at different points in history. Obvious as it may be, the idea of being a “New Zealander”, of being a “Kiwi”, has, in recent history, presumed a story — a colonial story, a Pākehā story, of a people who came here and imposed themselves on a land and excluded the diverse stories of tangata whenua. The primacy of the Pākehā story today is felt in conversations around migration, as Elaine reflects on regarding New Zealand’s receptiveness to English migrants: “for whatever reason — either they’re white, or they’re skilled, or we feel some sort of colonial connection to them — we don’t associate them with stealing jobs or failing to assimilate.” The Polynesian Panthers were critical of this idea in the 1970s. When the majority of those with expired visas were from western countries, it was those from the Pacific who were labelled as “overstayers” and targeted for immediate deportation. As the visible other, the narrative of their “not being from here” is easy to fashion and spread. As an alternative way of understanding the movement across borders and seas, Kahu contemplates on the notion of manaakitanga — reciprocal respect and care, that is hospitable and mindful during the exchange of knowledge and the sharing of space. This requires a reimagining of land masses and borders: “No longer do the oceans separate us; they connect us. Not a barrier, but a mechanism to reach other corners of land, resource, and life.” — Tuioleloto Laura Toailoa and Tim Manktelow
NEWS CONFUSION OVER LIBRARY LIFTS CONSTITUTION UNDER REVIEW PACIFIC GREETINGS WALKWAY RENAMED WITH ARMS WIDE OPEN WOMEN'S ELECTION HUI SHOCK RETURN DAM. SCHEMING IN RURAL HAWKES BAY
POLITICS POLITICAL ROUND-UP THE PARTY LINE ELECTION FOCUS
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ability Services and VUW, ensures that patrons who are unable to use the stairs can still access the Library’s physical resources through a retrieval service. However, the service is only Confusion remains as to wheth- available during staffed hours. VUWSA President Rory Lenier the lifts in the Rankine Brown building will be operational for tri- han-Ikin said of the issue, “Yeah, we need the lifts back, like, ASAP.” mester one of 2018. — Thomas Croskery Director of Property Services, Stephen Costley, told Salient that VUW “is currently considering options for the reinstatement of the CONSTITUTION Rankine Brown lifts. We are unable UNDER REVIEW to provide a precise timeframe until this process is complete. We hope to have a lift service for trimester VUWSA is in the middle of a review one, 2018.” However, when a Salient reporter process, aiming to bring its constituapproached a staff member working tion up to date and remove sections in the library on July 11, they said that are no longer relevant. VUWSA President Rory Lenithat staff had been told that lifts were likely to be out of action until han-Ikin described the constitution at least May 2018, following a library as “the document which underpins all the services that VUWSA offers staff briefing on the progress. University Librarian Janet and the way in which it operates.” “VUWSA is constantly changing Fletcher would not confirm this and growing and we need to have a with Salient. The library building was base-iso- constitution that is growing with us.” The last review was conducted lated in 2011 to reduce earthquake damage, but the lifts were not in- in 2015. Upon realising this, Assocluded in this measure. As a result, ciation Secretary Joseph Habgood they remained rigid when the No- and Treasurer Secretary Tom Rackvember 14 earthquake occurred. This ley went through the constitution resulted in significant damage to the with a fine-tooth comb, identifying irregularities. lift shafts. For example, Section 3(5) of Part The VUW website states that the Rankine Brown lifts will be un- III grants the Executive the powavailable for “some time” due to the er to interpret the Constitution in accordance with “Section 9 of Part 2016 earthquake. In an update on June 6, VUW IX,” which does not exist. Despite said that they did not yet know how searching archived versions of previlong it would take to fix, but would ous constitutions and policy, Rackley let students know “as soon as we do.” said he could not find the section it “The lifts are a priority and referenced. “This is a material issue we need we can assure you we are doing everything we can to get them to address.” The Representative Groups in operational.” The lack of lifts presents not Schedule 6 also need to be updated only an inconvenience to students so as to reflect, for example, the reand staff, but also an issue of access cent name change of the Women’s for those students who cannot use Group to the Victoria University Feminist Organisation. the stairs. Substantive changes may occur A plan, developed between Dis-
CONFUSION OVER LIBRARY LIFTS
in Part V regarding elections, particularly to Section 9, which determines the rules about how VUWSA election candidates can campaign. “There is no mention of social media in the constitution,” Rackley said, highlighting the need for Part V to be updated. He suggested that the rules around campaign conduct might be better placed in a schedule to the constitution, or an internal policy, so as “not to crowd the constitution.” This would allow for them to be more dynamic, since changes to the constitution itself have to be formally passed at an Initial General Meeting or an Annual General Meeting (AGM) following a vote. Lars Thompson, the Editor of Rostra Victoria, also pointed to the need to review electoral procedure. In particular, he said that it needs to be made “absolutely clear” what happens “if a person runs uncontested, and how to reopen nominations.” “Currently there is no definition of No Confidence required on the ballot, nor a definition of No Confidence at all. I know some who see voting No Confidence as a ‘fuck you’ to a candidate, and there’s nothing to say otherwise.” Other areas identified for review include the financial supervision of Salient, and the ability of the Executive to budget for a deficit. Students had a two-week period to make submissions, which formally closed on July 1. A public meeting was held on July 3 where students and members of the VUWSA Executive discussed areas of the constitution for possible review. Rackley said the meeting was “productive” and “good for fueling us forward.” When asked of his thoughts on the review process, Thompson, who attended the meeting, said “the Executive has been putting a lot of thought into what they want to see change,” but added, “I think they’ve struggled to find time to properly
10 engage students and get feedback…. In fact the timing was terrible.” Rackley admitted the timing of the review, over the exam period, was not ideal. However, he said the Executive had little choice; the timeframe is “tighter” because the AGM will be held earlier this year due to the general election. Following the meeting on July 1, VUWSA allowed for further student submissions as it entered the re-drafting process. Of the total number received, Rackley said “I got more than expected.” Thompson iterated the importance of students engaging with the constitution, saying “the constitution is a fundamental safeguard that ensures [the Executive] remain accountable and dependable.” With areas having been identified and discussed, the wording of possible changes is being finalised and will undergo external legal review in the coming weeks. The draft changes will then be made public at least ten days before being presented by Rackley and Lenihan-Ikin at the AGM which will be held in the first half of trimester two. — Tim Manktelow
ogy (AUT), Waikato University, Whitireia, and VUW. The central theme, Te au tu kai akamatutu i te kopapa e te manako — food that strengthens the body and mind, was inspired by the Mental Health Foundation of New Zealand’s Five Ways To Well-Being. Co-President of VUWCIA Bethany Mataiti said of hosting the event, “my biggest lesson learned was to just roll with the stress and kind of immerse myself in the process.” The VUW Samoan Students’ Association hosted this year’s So’otaga from July 4–8, with over 200 students in total from UoA, AUT, Waikato, University of Canterbury, and VUW. The central theme for So’otaga, Tautuanā ne’i vale tu’ulima le tofi — be wary of the privilege passed down by hand, lest it be in vain, was carried through the lāuga, debates, and cultural performances. The Tongan Students’ Association (Victorious Stallions) travelled to Hamilton for their conference, Amatakiloa, hosted by Waikato University from July 6–10. There were around 200 students from UoA, AUT, Waikato, Otago University, Manukau Institute of Technology, Auckland Institution of Studies, and VUW. The theme, Filihia moe ‘eliPACIFIC GREETINGS li, is a Tongan proverb. Stallions Vice-President Mateaki Ahio explains that it derives “from a story Over the mid-year break, three of the fishing trail for a particular VUW Pasifika Students’ Associa- sea snail called ‘elili, found on rocky tions participated in their respec- shores in the higher intertidal zone, tive annual national tertiary student an environment of harsh extremes conferences: Taokota’ianga, So’otaga, and tidal excursion.” and Amatakiloa. The theme “encapsulates our The annual conferences allows journey in our academia world” and students across the country to cel- “is a great reminder to our Tongan ebrate cultural identity and discuss students that… our sacrifices are issues affecting their communities. worth it in the end.” The Cook Islands Students’ AsSo’otaga and Amatakiloa also sociation (VUWCIA) hosted this double as competitions in the four year’s Taokota’ianga from July 6–9. categories of sports, academic, There were over 60 students in total cultural performances, and Chrisfrom University of Auckland (UoA), tian-based performances. This year, Auckland University of Technol- both groups from VUW won their
News respective overall prize. The Stallions dedicate their win to a beloved member who recently passed away. “To our dearest Palei Tuiano, who will forever be remembered as the joyful and goofy member who never failed to keep the group smiling.” — Laura Toailoa
WALKWAY RENAMED The Boyd Wilson Walkway is set to be renamed Kake Tonu Way, as part of a community effort to reclaim the space. The set of stairs, spanning from the Boyd Wilson Field outside Te Puni Hall down to the Terrace, has gained significant attention after a number of assaults took place in the area. The walkway has come to be colloquially called “rape alley” by some VUW students, and is avoided by many pedestrians. In 2014, there were numerous reports of women being followed and assaulted on the walkway, and a woman was chased and assaulted by a man wearing a balaclava on the walkway in January 2017. On June 21, the Wellington City Council voted to rename the walkway Kake Tonu Way. Kake tonu means “ever upwards” in te reo Māori, and the choice was inspired by the nearby Te Aro Primary School, for which Kake Tonu is the school proverb. The renaming is part of a range of initiatives in the area aimed at improving visibility and making the space more welcoming for thoroughfare. In addition to the new name, CCTV and better lighting have been installed, maintenance has been increased, and earthworks will be taking place to increase visibility. VUWSA President Rory Lenihan-Ikin said that being a part of the project had been an “enriching” experience, and that it would “breathe
11 new life into the walkway.” “Hopefully it will be part of a culture change around assaults.” Director of VUW Student and Campus Living, Rainsforth Dix, told Salient “we are extremely conscious of student safety and we expect these measures to have a positive impact.” Olivia, a VUW student, told Salient that although it was good to see the Council making a conscious effort to improve safety, it will “take more than just a name change to make the path somewhere I’ll feel comfortable walking alone at night.” “I guess the change needed is less about that path specifically and more about addressing rape culture and the attitudes people hold on it.” — Hannah Patterson
News believe that students’ associations working together collectively stand the best chance of making a difference in the lives of students. We’re pleased that AUSA has reaffirmed its commitment to this collective and has decided to support the national student voice.” VUWSA President Rory Lenihan-Ikin reiterated this. “It is more important than ever that we have a collective voice, and we are heartened that AUSA have shown belief in this voice and a commitment to it.” Although AUSA was still seeking further improvements and discussion about membership cost, “generally, we’re really looking forward to a positive and productive relationship with NZUSA in the future, and we’re happy to be back.” — Brigid Quirke
WITH ARMS WIDE OPEN WOMEN'S ELECTION HUI Auckland University Students’ Association (AUSA) has formally cancelled its resignation from the New Zealand Union of Students’ Associations (NZUSA), choosing to retain full membership. The decision reverses the resignation given by the 2016 AUSA Executive, which required a one year notice period. The issues that led to AUSA’s resignation included “NZUSA’s communication, professionalism, effectiveness in working with government, and value for money,” according to AUSA President Will Matthews. The 2017 Executive had requested an extension of this notice period, to consider its position more fully. Matthews said that they had “engaged with NZUSA over the last year on these issues, and the Executive is really pleased to see some major improvements taking place within NZUSA to address them.” NZUSA President Jonathan Gee said that NZUSA was “delighted” with the move. “NZUSA is based on the core principle of kotahitanga, where we
ChangeMakers Refugee Forum hosted an event on July 6 to educate and empower women from a refugee background about civic engagement. The Women’s Election Hui was attended by over 40 women from the local refugee community, and included a speech from Vice President of New Zealand National Refugee Youth Council, Nasra Abdi; a question and answer session with deputy leader of the Labour Party Jacinda Ardern and Green Party MP Denise Roche; and performances from the Colombian Dance Group and the South Sudanese Dancers. Polls often show that the number of refugee women who vote is very low. The event was held to inform women of the importance of voting, and their right to do so. It was a message taken up by Ardern and Roche when they introduced themselves to the panel, with Roche stating of women voting, “there is a power in being able to determine your own destiny.”
Mozhdeh Wafa, Process Manager of ChangeMakers Refugee Forum, was happy with how the event ran, saying “we wanted to give [the women who attended] the empowerment of knowing their rights.” “Maybe they didn’t have the chance back in their home country, but this is something they are going to have for their new life in New Zealand, and as a citizen they have the right to vote.” Abdi, who is also a third year politics student at VUW, stressed the importance of young refugees voting. “Young refugees have a lot to share and a lot to say, and this is a great opportunity for them to say, I voted and I want someone who I trust and whose policies I know in government.” “When the election results come in you can definitely complain and say I don’t like who’s in charge. I don’t think people have that right unless you actually vote.” — Laura Toailoa
SHOCK RETURN Australian snack food company Arnott’s announced the return of Cheese & Bacon flavoured Shapes on July 11. A spokesperson for Arnott’s said that they were “happy to announce [that] the Originals range is now complete and includes Kiwi favourite Cheese & Bacon. The Shapes range now features Originals, flavour-hit variants, and Light & Crispy. It’s the best Shapes range for Shapes-lovers old and new.” Cheese & Bacon is one of the most popular Shapes flavours, alongside Chicken Crimpy. Salient asked a second year engineering student, who chose to remain anonymous, what he thought of the flavour’s return. “I didn’t even realise they’d gotten rid of it,” he said. — Brigid Quirke
DAM. SCHEMING IN RURAL HAWKES BAY
Prolonged periods of drought and intensified farming has led to an increased demand for irrigation, and the subsequent degradation of the quality of local waterways in the Hawkes Bay Region. The Ruataniwha Water Storage Scheme was developed by the Hawkes Bay Regional Council as a solution that would provide a secure and reliable water supply to local farms. The Scheme would involve damming the upper Makaroro river in the foothills of the Ruahine ranges to create a seven kilometre long storage lake, intended to provide secure irrigation for 28,000 hectares of associated farmland. The storage lake would be created by flooding 22 hectares of Ruahine Forest Park, land protected under the Conservation Act. Hawkes Bay farmer Hugh Ritchie intensively crops cereals and seed, and also runs a lamb finishing operation on his farm in the area. He supports the Scheme because it would supply his farm with consistent water for irrigation, and he believes that good management practice would allow farmers to meet environmental requirements, while increasing farming production. Ritchie said that alternatives to the dam, such as on-farm water storage, were not a viable option in the Hawkes Bay region. “There are some examples [in other parts of New Zealand] where people have built their own dam and things have gone quite well. Don’t get me wrong on that. But the reality is that you need a specific geological formation which suits storing water in order for it to be possible. Not everybody has access to surface water to collect over those high periods [of rainfall].” Conversely, agricultural systems specialist, Barrie Ridler, opposes the Scheme on the basis that the conditions of the Hawkes Bay region make the Scheme not economically worthwhile. “The increased irrigation from the scheme may add some extra feed or ability to grow crops or produce, but only in a few years out of ten.” Ridler criticised the projected productivity as “ambitious,” noting that the data collected by the Council when proposing the Scheme was only over a one year period. “They have not looked to what
those rewards may be over a period of years and different seasons.” Ridler criticised the GDP-centric approach focusing on general increased farm productivity, rather than profit for farmers themselves. “When you look at the full cost of irrigation, you have to pay the $0.27 per cubic metre fee, every year. You will rarely be able to cover the costs of the irrigation over a ten-year period. You have just put another mortgage on your farm — a fixed cost every year whether you use it or not. There might be more productivity, but the farmers aren’t actually going to have increased profit.” One of the major criticisms of the Scheme is its likely negative environmental impacts. Intensifying farming will result in increased effluent runoff and nutrient leaching. Ritchie believes that these issues will be negated, because some of the water used for irrigation will recharge the groundwater, and regular environmental ‘flushing flows’ will replicate natural river flows to wash out algae and slime. “To my mind, we are doing actual captures of water losses and drainage from our property in an intensive situation, and we’re losing very low levels of nitrogen. Doing things right, you can actually mitigate that and mitigate losses as well.” However, Ridler criticised this reasoning, and said that dissolved in-stream nitrogen levels in the Hawkes Bay rivers were already above the recommended maximum amount. “The same argument is being used all the time, that what we can do is intensify [farming] but recharge the aquifer or flush the rivers because we now have control over the water. But the economics of it mean you have to sell as much water as possible — so, retain all that water behind the dam for production — rather than allow it to flush rivers or recharge aquifers. It’s a very flawed idea based on GDP, rather than actual profit or environmental impact.” “A number of people are providing reports which give a very glowing answer to what they’re looking at, rather than a measured response.”
For the scheme to take place, it was necessary for DOC to revoke the protected status of the land under the Conservation Act. Acting as delegate for Minister of Conservation Maggie Barry, the Department of Conservation (DOC) Director General, Lou Sanson, ‘swapped’ the protected status of the 22 hectares of land for 170 hectares of private land, under the Conservation Act. Sanson said that, although the 22 hectares did have significant conservation value, the swap would create a net benefit because it would result in a “higher conservation value.” However, DOC’s process for approving the swap was successfully challenged by Forest & Bird in the High Court, a decision which was upheld by the Supreme Court on July 6. The Supreme Court found that the revocation of the protected status of the land was not lawful, because the Director General’s reasoning was not consistent with the Conservation Act. Revocation of protected status is possible only if the conservation value of the resources on the land “no longer justify that protection.” Because the 22 hectares retained ecological and landscape value, as accepted in DOC’s submissions, protection under the Act was still justified. Following the decision, Barry said that the Government would look at amending the Conservation Act to ensure that land swaps such as these could be undertaken. Barry claimed that the Government had long believed that the Conservation Act allowed the swapping of a low value piece of conservation land for a piece of land with higher conservation value, and that the Director General had “acted in good faith” when revoking the status. Hawkes Bay Councillor Paul Bailey told Salient that he believed this was “frankly disingenuous.” “They were backpedaling at 1000 miles an hour,” he said. “The whole thing with that land swap was about making use of conservation land for, essentially, private commercial purposes.”
Chief Executive of IrrigationNZ, Andrew Curtis, claimed that the test currently set out in the Act was unreasonable, and “did not meet international standards of best practice.” “The whole point of the legislation was to allow DOC to effectively manage its estate, [...] but the law here gets in the way of that.” “What’s being swapped at Ruataniwha is effectively gorse and pine trees on a river bed, which has low biodiversity value. But the problem is that according to the test, that needs to have lost its value completely. [...] A piece of asphalt could retain its conservation value and be protected.” Although a law change would not apply to the Scheme retrospectively, it would allow the Government to change the test for approving land swaps in the future to a ‘net benefit’ approach. “It’s very easy to value land from a dollars and cents perspective,” cautioned Ridler. “But we need to look at natural resource economics to ask what kind of value you’re actually looking at.” Ridler said that comparing commercial value with an environmental value system was unhelpful. “How do you capture the value of the experience of being in native bush, [...] of community values?” “Once it’s lost, the people who come through won’t understand what we’ve lost. To me, if in fact the government is allowed to override the community’s wishes to retain the environment, we’ll end up much worse off — and all for a few dollars.” — Brigid Quirke
14 14 knew about Barclay’s recordings and the settlement with Dickson, which, according to English’s texts, was “paid from the Prime MinisTodd Barclay ter’s budget to avoid potential legal Prime Minister Bill English came action.” under intense media scrutiny in A media frenzy ensued on June June when it was revealed that he 20, when English made a second had known of MP Todd Barclay’s round of dishonest statements to alleged illegal surveillance of an journalists. The PM originally deemployee since February last year. nied claims that he knew about On two occasions over two years, Barclay’s alleged recording of GleBill English had made dishonest nys Dickson’s conversations. Later statements to media about Barclay’s than day, however, he admitted to actions. media that Barclay had told him of Barclay and his office staff in the his recordings. English even released Clutha-Southland electorate devel- a police report which recorded him oped a strained working relation- telling police of Barclay’s actions. ship after he was elected in 2014, His credibility in tatters, Barclay prompting staffer Glenys Dickson apologised for “any misleading to resign. She made her decision to statements” he had made, and latquit after English called her saying er announced that he would stand Barclay had told him that he had down as an MP after the election. secretly recorded her private converMaking dishonest statements sations at the electorate office — an to media about the actions of a offence under section 216B of the disgraced backbench MP is not Crimes Act. the best way to garner confidence Dickson was then paid a resig- in an election year, but if English nation settlement out of former PM ever wanted to lose the nickname of John Key’s leader’s fund to prevent “Boring Bill”, the media interest in legal action on her part. The fund his role in the Barclay affair certainly is an allowance intended to be used helped. to support the PM’s parliamentary business and research — not as an Labour Interns employment dispute settlements Labour did not have much time budget. Dickson’s payout did not to score political points over the stop her from laying a complaint Barclay affair before it became emwith police, however. broiled in a scandal of its own. On English’s first bout of dishon- June 22, political news site Politik esty came as police began to in- revealed that unpaid foreign interns vestigate Barclay in March 2016. working on Labour’s “Campaign for The then-deputy PM was asked by Change” programme had met with journalists whether he had spoken Labour Party officials to raise comto Glenys Dickson over her resigna- plaints about their living conditions. tion. He denied speaking to DickThe interns came to New Zeason, despite being the person who land to help Labour mobilise vothad confirmed with her that tapes ers for the upcoming election. They of her conversations existed. Barclay, were housed in Auckland’s Awatameanwhile, refuted the allegations ha marae, the living arrangements of illegal surveillance. of which disillusioned some of the Media interest in the story re- interns, who complained about subnewed in 2017 when Newsroom standard facilities and confined livgained access to text messages sent ing quarters. by English. It reported that English Labour’s critics pointed out the
POLITICS hypocrisy of hiring unpaid student interns from overseas to work for a party which campaigned on reducing immigration levels by “the tens of thousands.” One critic of the programme, Māori Party co-leader Marama Fox, said that the scheme involved “slave labour.” Awataha marae spokesman Anthony Wilson said in an interview that while “we are not a five-star hotel […] we don’t think our facilities are substandard.” He added that the interns may have complained about the confined sleeping areas because they were unused to the marae practice of sleeping next to each other in the wharenui. One of the volunteers, speaking anonymously with media, said that the controversy had been caused by only a small number of disgruntled interns, and that while the cramped sleeping arrangements were “not ideal,” the idea that the interns worked in “sweatshop conditions” was “not true at all.” While the interns themselves disagreed on the suitability of the marae accommodation, Labour acknowledged that problems were rife within the “Campaign for Change” programme. Labour’s General Secretary Andrew Kirton apologised, saying that the scheme “got out of control.” Kirton flew up to Auckland and organised different accommodation for some of the interns. Hiring unpaid interns from overseas and housing them in what some described as substandard accommodation was not a good look for a party campaigning on reducing student visas and boosting workers’ rights, but Labour was lucky to have its scandal just a day after the headline-grabbing disgrace of a National MP. — Aidan Kelly
THE PARTY LINE In April four former wards of the state, Quentin Tuwhangai, Riwhi Toi Whenua, Eugene Ryder, and Hohepa Taiaroa, spoke to Mihingarangi Forbes on The Hui, detailing the physical, mental, and sexual abuses they and others had suffered while in state-run welfare homes. It is estimated that up to 100,000 children, most of whom were Māori, were taken from their homes into state care between 1950 and 1990. On July 6 a petition signed by over 5000 people was delivered to parliament, calling for the Minister for Social Development, Anne Tolley, to “set up a wide-ranging independent Commission of Inquiry into the historic sexual, physical, and emotional abuse of children in state care, to ensure these abuses can never happen again.” Should there be an independent inquiry?
Greens at Vic Absolutely. Denying an independent inquiry would be an insult to the survivors of this grievous abuse and a complete rejection that anything can be learnt from our shameful mismanagement of state care. New Zealand owes these survivors full recognition and compensation for the abuse presided over by both Labour and National governments. We can no longer turn a blind eye to the systemic abuse of our most vulnerable. We have to demonstrate a clear rejection of this systemic racism and sexual, physical, and emotional abuse.
Māori Party Announces New Candidate The Māori Party has announced Wetex Kang as their candidate for the Botany electorate in this year’s general election. Kang, who is of Malay and Chinese descent, will be the first Asian candidate to be selected by the party. He migrated to New Zealand from Malaysia with his family when he was 17-years old, and completed a Bachelor of Pharmacy with Honours from the University of Otago. He also completed a Postgraduate Cer— Kayden Briskie tificate in Education and a Graduate Diploma in Science at Massey University. Young Nats — Lower North Island He said that his candidacy symAny kind of abuse against kids in bolised “a historical moment where state care is abhorrent. There is a the tangata whenua of Aotearoa can system in place to assist those who formally express manaakitanga, arohave grievances. The Confidential ha, hospitality, generosity, and muListening and Assistance Service tual respect to all immigrants who’ve Vic Labour (CLAS) was set up as an independ- arrived in this beautiful land since In early July Deputy Prime Minister ent body and spent seven years lis- the 1800s.” Paula Bennett finally admitted that tening and learning from people Kang told Salient that while he systemic abuse of wards of the state who came forward. had always been interested in polioccurred here in Aotearoa. Despite The Service provided more in tics, he had been reluctant to join a this, the current National Govern- the way of help than an inquiry mainstream party. “Being a businessment has refused to make an official would, helping people access old man, the National Party’s policies apology or launch an inquiry into records, funding counselling ses- did appeal to me, but I didn’t want how and why this was able to occur. sions, and referring them to agen- to just be carrying someone’s suitcase This physical, mental, and sexu- cies for investigation. In 2015 the and water bottle for ten years before al abuse has had major, long-lasting Government introduced a fast track I even got announced as a candidate.” impacts on people’s lives — as was process, enabling claimants to have Kang was Tame Iti’s nutritionist evident in the recent documentary their claim resolved faster while still in the 2002. He recently reconnected with Mihingarangi Forbes. It is only receiving an apology and a financial with him, and the two began discusby understanding what occurred in settlement. As a result, the number sions about Kang standing for the the past that we can prevent such of settlements has more than tripled, Māori Party. horrendous acts from occurring now to over 1,400, all accompanied by an “I saw it as a chance for my voice and in the future. An independent apology. to be heard on a lot of the issues that inquiry would also be an important The new Ministry for Vulner- are dear to me — immigration, race first step in helping survivors heal. able Children, Oranga Tamariki, relations, cultural integration, and Labour stands with these survi- has taken on board the lessons law and order.” vors, Race Relations Commissioner learnt from CLAS. An independent Māori Party President TukoDame Susan Devoy, and more than youth advocacy service, VOYCE roirangi Morgan said that Kang 11,500 Kiwis who signed the “Never — Whakarongo Mai, has also been came from a land and people that Again” open letter, in calling for an set up to ensure the voices of young had a shared whakapapa with Māori, independent inquiry into the abuse people are heard. which “should be celebrated.” of children held in state care. — Sam Stead
OPINION OPINION OPINION OPINION OPINION OPINION
THE GREEN OPTION A debate has been spreading around the world about the failed war on drugs. Countries are increasingly liberalising their policies towards cannabis in favour of legalisation, with different forms of regulatory regimes governing its manufacture and distribution cropping up. I’m not here to argue the merits of this debate in relation to penal policy, although obvious benefits include a safer, regulated cannabis market, removing power from black market gangs, and addressing the racial disparity in drug arrests and incarceration rates. Advocates have been arguing these points for years with little traction. Instead, I will make the case for legal cannabis on the basis of the economic and environmental benefits it can reap. Many believe that this shift towards liberalisation is inevitable, and despite New Zealand’s reluctance to have any meaningful discussion on the topic, we will have to face it eventually. One vital consideration is often left out of the discussions around the world, but it is something New Zealand will need to consider when we finally face the issue — the implications for the environment. Richard Branson recently suggested that New Zealand consider cannabis cultivation as an alternative to dairy farming, citing dairy’s environmental destruction as an obvious reason for change. He is not the first to have said it, and his comments make sense. New Zealand is extremely well-suited to develop sustainable cannabis cultivation: we have the climate to grow it outdoors (indoor growth is extremely energyintensive), we have the infrastructure
already in place, and as a country with some of the highest rates of cannabis consumption in the world, we have the expertise to do it. As a transitional economic option, cannabis cultivation provides a much more environmentally conscious alternative to dairy farming. The environmental harms of continued and expansive dairy farming in New Zealand have been well researched and are gaining considerable media and public attention.1 Whether it is the ecological deterioration of our waterways caused by effluent and fertiliser run-off, or the hazardous rates of methane released by cows contributing to levels of greenhouse gas emissions, the dairy farming industry in its current form is not environmentally sustainable. Many defenders of the dairy industry rely on the belief that the industry is the “backbone of the New Zealand economy,” contributing billions of dollars to GDP. But the dairy industry is extremely vulnerable to external market forces, and having all our milk in one basket can have potentially devastating economic effects.2 Even members of the dairy industry see the need to diversify the economy, with some farmers expressing an interest in a legal market for cannabis cultivation.3 The largest recreational cannabis retailer in Colorado since legalisation there is an ex-dairy farmer from the Waikato, suggesting that the transition is not all that hard to imagine. Not to mention that the New Zealand tourism industry is increasingly challenging the dairy industry as our biggest GDP earner. The success of our tourism sector is premised on our
1. See, for example, Rachel Young, “Dairy Farming Harming Water.” Stuff. (Online ed). 21 November 2012. and Peter Fowler, “Scientist Warns of Ticking Time Bomb.” Radio NZ. 22 February 2016.
3. Charlie Mitchell. “Industry Calls for Kiwi Farmers to be Allowed to Grow Cannabis” Stuff. (Online ed, 24 April, 2016).
2. China’s dominance over dairy imports is evident by the impact of the ban on milk powder from New Zealand following the botulism scare: Naomi Tajitsu, “China Bans New Zealand Milk Powder Imports on Botulism Scare: NZ Trade Minister.” Reuters Business News. (Online ed). 4 August 2013.
A proper regulatory system will require a body such as a commission or authority that will grant permits and ensure compliance with regulatory standards. Part of this process could include environmental considerations such as limiting use of synthetic fertilisers or pesticides. Limiting the size of
— Jack Rainbow
Governments are placed in a unique position to create a robust regulatory regime before cannabis cultivation is legalised. This would allow issues of taxation, education, distribution and, importantly, the environment to be considered and dealt with from the outset. Rather than having to fix any problems once the industry is firmly established, policy can be put in place from the beginning to ensure that cultivation is sustainable and that the industry develops with minimal environmental impact.
While we’re a long way off ditching dairy, cannabis legalisation could provide opportunity to diversify our economy, reducing harm to the environment and ensuring the preservation of the beauty of Aotearoa, not only for the benefit of future generations, but also to continue setting an example to the world.
While not as harmful as dairy farming, cannabis cultivation is not without its environmental impacts. As with any large scale farming, it poses the risks of soil erosion, land degradation, and run-off from pesticides. Ecologists at the University of Berkeley conducted a study on the impacts of cannabis cultivation on surrounding ecosystems, and found that cultivation could potentially have a large impact on water resources in the area. They concluded that future policy on cannabis cultivation needed “both incentives and regulatory tools to prevent and mitigate the environmental damage.”
cultivations or incentivising small-scale farmers would also ensure that top-soil health is protected. Revenue from taxes can also be reinvested in developing and distributing best management practises and facilitating discussion between the industry, communities, and sustainability experts to encourage longterm sustainable growth.
image as one of the most naturally beautiful countries in the world. Our two largest earners are at odds, and continued environmental degradation from the dairy industry means that our 100% Pure campaign is not quite realistic — 60% Pure may be more apt.
PRESIDENTIAL ADDRESS Kia ora whanau and welcome back! Or if you are starting at Vic for the first time, welcome to Te Whare Wānanga o te Ūpoko o te Ika a Māui, and to VUWSA. Hopefully you all had some time to relax over the break, see family, or perhaps earn a bit of cash to help you through the rest of the year. Hopefully you also got the grades you were after! Well done for making it back in tri 2 anyway. It’s been a pleasure to meet a few of the new students who are starting at Vic this trimester. The excitement and optimism was delightful, and took me back to that first O-Week feeling that we’ve all had. Taking some time off over the holidays I had the chance to reflect on what an extraordinary job I’ve got, and how lucky I am to get to work alongside a fabulous team at VUWSA trying to make Vic a more exciting, more equitable, and more caring place for students. I am hugely proud of the things that have been achieved by VUWSA, and all the other student associations and groups we work alongside with, so far in 2017. This trimester is going to be a wild one. There is a general election, a flat hunting season, the launch of our new sanitary products scheme, a decision on Fairer Fares, an opportunity for progress on getting more decent student housing, and much more. With the start of a new trimester it’s a great time to get involved. We will be seeking volunteers for our general election campaign and other projects, and clubs are waiting for you to sign up, including the growing Student Volunteer Army. Don’t forget to check out what we’ve got going on in Re-O-Week, and if you were lucky enough to get a ticket for Lil Yachty, I’ll see you there. — Rory Lenihan-Ikin
VUWSA I’m not sure about you, but I found myself towards to the end of last trimester stuck in a bit of a rut. The majority of my days were spent working, studying at university, and subsequently lying in bed watching Netflix. Exercise and partaking in activities outside lectures was pretty much a non-occurrence. This trimester I have made it my goal to get involved in more activities that will help keep both my physical and mental health in order, which is essential when studying. But what fun activities are there during the winter months when all you want to do is sip on hot cocoa in bed? I recently started swimming at Freyberg Pool and Fitness Centre, just a couple of minutes from Courtenay Place. It’s a great way to exercise, feel refreshed, and keep warm in winter. You can get a week's free trial to use the gym and pool, and afterwards you can buy a 10 session card for only $54 (pool only)! My next recommendation would be to get seven of your (most reliable) mates together and enter a team in the netball league at VUW Rec Centre. The weekly games are only 30 minutes long so you can quickly get back to studying (or Netflix), and it's a bit of a laugh. Sign up during the first week of term as spaces fill up fast. Finally, I would recommend getting together with a friend for weekly runs or walks along the waterfront. It's surprisingly refreshing and the view of Wellington's waterfront at night is priceless. To ensure you actually go weekly, I'd encourage you to sign up for the Pencarrow Lighthouse runs (marathon, half marathon, or 10km) which are super affordable, and you get a medal! However, if none of those things stand out to you, go along to Clubs Week this week from Monday–Wednesday. More than 100 clubs ranging from politics and tramping to art and culture are there waiting for you to sign up and give something new a go. — Lauren Daroux Greig (Education Officer)
TE ARA TAUIRA Māori and Pasifika Student Interventions Review The Māori and Pasifika Student Interventions Review is currently underway. The Review Panel has already collected lots of information about a wide range of activities regarding academic and learning support, outreach and pathways, pastoral care, recruitment and liaison, and scholarships that are designed to help Māori and Pasifika student achievement. Over July and August, the Review Panel is keen to hear from people about how well they think the current interventions are working. In particular, the Panel wants to hear your experiences and evidence about whether these interventions are effective, efficient, coherent, relevant, and strategically aligned. The Review Panel is happy to receive written and/or oral submissions on any of these points. Send your written submissions to Elijah Pue in the Office of the Deputy Vice-Chancellor (Māori) via phone 04 462 6253 or email elijah. email@example.com. Email Elijah to find out how to make an oral submission, and to access copies of the terms of reference. For further information about the Review, or to pass on your feedback directly to a student representative, contact Review Panel members Maia Te Koha (Ngāi Tauira) on ngaitauira@ vuw.ac.nz or Sina Ah-Sam (Pasifika Students Council) on firstname.lastname@example.org.
ONE OCEAN A very warm welcome to all returning and new students. Hope you are all wrapping up warm in this wet, windy, and wintry weather. Rest assured in the knowledge that the love, support, and prayers of your family and loved ones will carry you through the trials and tribulations of another challenging trimester. Congratulations to those who did well in trimester one. For those of you who didn’t achieve your goals, move forward and use valuable lessons learnt from past mistakes and previous experiences. Stand tall, work hard, and persevere. All is not lost. Failures have pushed several individuals to try harder, work smarter, and read widely to broaden one’s horizons and with a sheer determination of purpose, perseverance, patience, prayers, and setting one’s priorities right, great results have been attained and maintained. As Teresia Teaiwa always reminds us, “we Pasifika people come from an incredible heritage of an intense relationship with the environment, full of diversity and rich of knowledge. The Pacific Ocean is the largest single geographical space on the planet, our ancestors found it, settled, and it’s a gift, we have a responsibility to look after with our minds, hearts, and spirit.” Pasifika students, we have a responsibility of carrying our people to success, let us not forget our prayer warriors and support that got us this far. We are conquerors that are born from the bloodlines of people that navigated such vast oceans, that have lived out in the dangerous oceans for months, but still remained alive. If our ancestors can do it with all that hardship, how can we not? Step up, speak up, take advantage of the services available, get to classes, and remember God is at the forefront of it all. May you all find comfort in the love and protection of our Father in Heaven. — Annetta Iakopo
Most of us don’t tend to analyse every single sentence that goes through our heads; we just go ahead and speak. But this isn’t always the best thing. While some words have clear meanings, such as “beautiful,” which expresses something explicitly positive, some words have historically been used to demean minorities and their use has now become normalised. These words include “lame,” “insane,” and “crazy.” No doubt you’ve heard or used these words in pretty ordinary contexts; “That’s so lame!” “Urgh, they’re crazy…” and “That’s insane!” They seem to be so deeply ingrained in our society’s lexicon that they’ve become the default, instead of saying “That’s so uncool!” “Urgh they’re unbelievable…” or “That’s ridiculous!” These words gained their negative connotations by being used to refer to people who had (or may have had) some form of disability. “Lame” for the soldier who badly injured their leg in a war. “Crazy” for the person who experienced trauma in the past and had flashbacks that caused them great distress. “Insane” for the person with mental illness. Although society has come a fair way in the acknowledgement of injuries that cause a person to lose some or all of their mobility, understanding how something like PTSD can cause major distress for a person, or how important it is to talk about mental health, is still something to be worked on. Ableist words are still bandied around as though there is nothing wrong with them. We need to consider how using these words as negative adjectives, casually and without thought, perpetuates discrimination against people with disabilities. And just because you didn’t mean it “that way” doesn’t mean that it doesn’t evoke a memory of oppression in disabled people that will make them feel unsafe around you. And now we can hear the cries of “But my free speech!” and “PC culture had gone too far!” Stop. You do have free speech; you’re not going to be thrown in jail for using problematic language and slurs. You have “the right” to use these words, but that doesn’t mean that people aren’t going to think you’re an arsehole. Just because you can, doesn’t mean you should. Try to educate yourself on the oppressive history that some words hold. If you can reduce the harm you do, why wouldn’t you? Not everyone has the privilege of being able to ignore bigotry. Putting your convenience over other people’s wellbeing is a pretty weak excuse. Let’s create a culture where we all feel comfortable calling out ableist language and all other forms of bigotry. We’re in a time that is increasingly intolerant of racism, misogyny, queerphobia, and other forms of bigoted rhetoric; let’s not let ableism sneak by unnoticed. Boldly stand up to ableism and all forms of bigotry, feeling secure that it’s the right thing to do. — Erin Page and Grace Visser
— Joe Morris
THE FALLOUT ZONE
In London, and coming from a city like Wellington, it’s easy to fall into a routine. Things aren’t so different to be shocking for long. Eventually you get on the same train to work, go to the same pub for the same guitar rock, with the same Kiwi mates. Contrary to those travel-inspo-insta blogs, you can’t be in a constant state of culture shock, and routines are one way of normalising and controlling it all. Another of these same routines is my running route, which has stayed North and East since we finally found a permanent flat. The route winds from Highbury through the burgeoning gentrification of Stoke Newington, on to the Orthodox Jewish enclave of Upper Clapton, finally along the River Lea to South Tottenham, and back again. The route cuts through a large swath of London’s class boundaries. While Britain’s class system can be seen through almost every demographic category, the geographic boundaries of communities are stark reminders of the much more extroverted class system here. Parked cars go from Porsches to push-bikes very quick. At first it was shocking to be running past *la fromageries* in Highbury, and ten minutes later be dodging flaming pig carcasses as they were blowtorched at Ridley Road Market in Dalston. Now I hardly notice the smell of burning pigskin — an altogether different smell from crackling under the grill, involving butane and burnt bristles. (As it turns out, the lack of any rail link between the two areas was the force behind their divide, and the recent opening of the Overground line will continue the “middling” of North East London.) Similarly, the smell of potpourri wafting out of rows of mirror image terraces in Upper Clapton doesn’t catch me like so many piles of rubbish in this city. And I now expect to be run over by 100 identical Bedford school buses, driven by 100 identical men, bouncing as they pull into private school driveways. I know, now, also to give plenty of room on the sidewalk. Otherwise you’re likely, at best, to wipe a sweaty arm on a passerby. It is an unsettling thing to be accidentally so physically intimate with someone and then incredibly relieving to be sent on your way with a smile, and a mutual “sorry” — the crux of every anonymous interaction in the UK. This route of mine no doubt misses the extremes in London’s class divide. The poorest have been forced into Tottenham proper a long time ago, and London’s ostentatious wealth seems to be fairly well hemmed-in to Western City postcodes. Even so, it is bizarre to be able to see such dramatic change in circumstances by travelling only a few short blocks.
THE QUEER AGENDA Every year UniQ kicks off trimester two with a bang. Since the VUW exam period coincides with international Pride Month, our forebears at UniQ decided that the best way to commemorate the Stonewall Riots and other historical moments for the rainbow community was to do so at the start of the next term instead. Thus, Pride Week was born, and it has been a UniQ tradition for as long as the current executive can remember! Pride Week runs from July 24–29 this year (so next week), and is traditionally composed of a whole host of events designed to cater to an array of tastes and interests in the rainbow community at VUW. The week ends on Saturday night with a party at Ivy Bar (the theme: DENIM). There is also a tea party happening during the day on Wednesday that can provide an alcohol-free social option, as well as a dedicated board games evening on Monday. We will also be running a series of educational sessions across the week, starting with a safe sex session featuring guests from Mauri Ora and the New Zealand AIDS foundation on Tuesday, a quiz night themed around queer pop culture and history at the bar Bad Grannies on Thursday, and a session dedicated to Aotearoa-specific queer/takatāpui history on Friday. We are also planning to hijack Ivy’s Wednesday karaoke night, by popular request. In addition to all these events, we will be taking over Salient next week. Dubbed Queerlient, we’re preparing a whole host of Quality Queer Content that will give Salient a Pride Week makeover. Further times, locations, and other details to come, so keep your eyes peeled for Facebook updates and campus postering. We’ll be kicking off this Friday with our first movie night of trimester two, Boy Meets Girl. Don’t worry — it’s not as straightforward as it sounds! We’ll be in CO119 from 6.00pm. Hope to see you there, and happy Pride Week in advance. — <3 UniQ
GO SPORTS! AND OTHER SHIT CHAT Welcome back to hell kids. In things that have remained consistent over the break: my cynical disposition; my touchy-at-best mental health; my inability to hand assignments in on time. Also the New Zealand Government pissing money at stupid shit while there are people in this country sleeping in cars and committing suicide. 20 things that are a better use of five million dollars than pledging it to Team New Zealand: 1. 62,523 life-size cardboard cut-outs of Nicki Minaj. 2. 106,406 copies of 50 Shades of Grey in hardback. 3. 250,000 treats from your local tinny house (always good to put money back into the local community). 4. 330,907 copies of Adam Sandler’s Click on DVD. 5. 125,000 brazilian waxes. 6. Would Winston Peters retire for that much do you think? 7. Would Aunty Helen come back for that much?? 8. 40,000 senior dogs adopted from the SPCA. 9. 500,000 jugs of Castle Point from the Hunter Lounge. 10. 550,000 bottles of Fat Bird “red”. 11. Chicken McNugget Hunger Busters for me and an exclusive 500,000 of my closest pals. 12. I bet you couldn’t even get within sniffing distance of Beyonce’s twins for five million. 13. Pay rise for the All Blacks? Poor buggers are a bit hard done by at the moment. 14. ~290 full body tattoos. 15. Like 62,500 tickets to Lorde’s Wellington show? Neat stitch-up Michael Fowler Centre. 16. 138,889 MAC lipsticks. 17. 44,647 years worth of Runescape subscriptions. 18. Only 4,170 iPhone 7s, holy mother of capitalism. 19. …would $5 million fix the elevator in the library? Can someone from architecture confirm/deny? I’d research it but I’m lazy... 20. You could literally withdraw the money in cash and burn it. Just fucking burn it.
Love u, XOXO — Sasha Beattie
SWAT We often want to do the best that we can. Whether it is academically, mentally, or physically, we desire to be the best that we can be. This can often result in comparing our progress to others. I am unbelievably guilty of constantly comparing where I am in my life to where my peers are. If they can run a marathon, does that mean I’m a failure if I can’t? If he answered that insanely hard question correctly and I got an incorrect mark, does that mean I’m not smart enough? With the mounting pressure of university, work, and relationships, it can become a habit to compare where you are to everyone surrounding you. As an outsider, you don’t see the struggles individuals face when they are alone. You don’t see the months of training and contemplation of giving up before the runner completes their marathon. You don’t see the hours of frustration your peer went through the night before the test to solve that one question you struggled to answer. We are our own biggest critics. If we fail to reach our goal we come down hardest on ourselves and mentally critique and question what we have achieved. We all have flaws, but that should not stop you from embracing your strengths. In a society where self-love is consistently questioned, we need to start accepting ourselves and loving who we are in this very moment. By no means is it easy — it is something incredibly difficult to put into action. But it is worth it. We are all at different stages and places in our lives, and the best thing you can start to do is embrace your strengths, accept your flaws, and focus on where you are in your life. Not your peers, not your family, your flatmates, or friends, but you. — Jaylee Rolleston
POSTGRAD INFORMER Academic life is challenging at the best of times. Juggling data collection, research, writing, teaching, marking, publishing, and conference attendance. Squeezing in a social life, meditation, perhaps a jog here and there, a call to your parents, some spinach. Managing wellbeing on an individual level is a testing part of the thesis writing process. If you feel that you are struggling with your hauora, there is a wealth of services at VUW that can give you guidance. Feel free to touch base with PGSA if you need any help connecting with university services. For students, and emerging academics with families in particular, academia can be an unfriendly environment. Social events often occur at night, and revolve around drinking; school pickups and sick days put a dent in productive time spent in the office; offices themselves are not child-friendly, nor the annual international conferences. Although schedules are flexible, and it is often possible to work from home, parents can be disadvantaged by the nature of academic life, as in the greater work force. PGSA is looking to do our bit to provide opportunities for whanau to be a greater part of the university community. We are looking to consult with students on this, and your feedback and guidance will be important in making sure that the events and initiatives we organise are suited to the needs of students and their families. Get in touch to put in your two cents, and make sure you get involved with our upcoming events survey. In the meantime, partners are welcome at our bi-monthly Interactive Forums, and you can look out for an update before the end of the year about the introduction of child minding at these events. — Jordan Anderson
V W O E Y A A G E R E R S
Written by Kahu Kutia
Tama-nui-te-rÄ . July 3, 2017.
We are voyagers
My dad’s lineage is Māori. The tangata whenua of this land. This whenua is our birthplace, but our roots are elsewhere. My mum’s ancestors are Pākehā who arrived in New Zealand a few generations ago to farm the land. If you follow those lines further, there is a wide migration through Europe, through Scottish backlands and Viking waters. A best friend of mine moved to New Zealand from South Africa nine years ago. She has almost entirely lost her accent, and will take any opportunity given to recite the karakia “He Honore” in front of us. My mum’s partner is a Punjabi man from India. He has, for a few years now, been working through the piles of paperwork required to even consider settling in New Zealand. As a biological “half-caste” I have been meditating on issues of movement and place my whole life. The movements that made me, the immigrants of various pieces of land that settled new cultures and identities. Last year I encountered an idea from academic Epeli Hau’ofa. He introduced to me the revolutionary difference between “islands in a far sea” and “a sea of islands.” This is the difference between the “Pacific Islands” (sounds small, cute, and quaint in the same way that Bulls or Masterton is) and “Oceania” (sounds very cool, definitely could be in a sci-fi movie). “It should be clear now that the world of Oceania is neither tiny nor deficient in resources. It was so only as a condition of colonial confinement that lasted less than a hundred of a history of thousands of years. Human nature demands space for free movement, and the larger the space the better it is for people. Islanders have broken out of their confinement, are moving around and away from their homelands, not so much because their countries are poor, but because they had been unnaturally confined and severed from much of their traditional sources of wealth, and because it is in their blood to be mobile. They are once again enlarging their world, establishing new resource bases and expanded networks for circulation” (Epeli Hau’ofa, A New Oceania: Rediscovering our Sea of Islands). This concept is so revolutionary because it imagines migration in a radically different way to what we are taught in school. No longer do the oceans separate us; they connect us. Not a barrier, but a mechanism to reach other corners of land, resource, and life. Hau’ofa’s re-imagining of the Pacific re-distributes power away from the continental land mass, and towards the cultural exchange between island nations. But how do foreigners fit in? As a person of this whenua, I have the assumption that I will inevitably be buried by my marae, on my soil, with all my family around me. It is an assumption I take for granted every day. My dad told me that the value of burial is that your bones have a final resting place, and if that is by your whenua, then your grandchildren always have a reason to return
We are voyagers
home. This is very different to the sacrifice immigrants make, whether you move here voluntarily or by forced migration. Unavoidably you are entertaining the possibility that your bones will never return to the same soil of your ancestors. For indigenous peoples whose islands are already sinking below the sea, this is not if but when. As someone whose life revolves so closely around the idea of homeland, I know I would find it difficult to make that same sacrifice. So often we say that immigrants to western countries are “lucky” to be hosted by the western world. But who is really lucky when you have to take on a new language, new practices, and put your own culture to the side? Assimilation is valued as the priority for arrivals to new shores. But assimilation dampens individuality and hinders cultural exchange, some of the most beautiful things that can arise out of global migration. In our cities where accommodation is cramped and rental prices are too high, it can be easy to become caught in the xenophobic fear that foreigners will take over our land. But Māori already know what that feels like. Our land has already been taken over by foreigners. Foreigners who have been here for centuries now, made their own roots, intermingled with the tangata whenua. People want refugees to come to New Zealand and speak English, but those people have forgotten that the English language smothered the primary language of New Zealand, which was Te Reo Māori. Being Māori fuels my personal desire to welcome other people to our land, to show manaakitanga. It does not hinder it. In the spaces where I have been privileged to share and exchange culture with other indigenous people, there has also been growth, and new learning. As we share ideas, we not only confirm ourselves but strengthen bonds of community. I understand the practical necessity to speak English here, but xenophobia is a hypocrite if it says we should all speak English. As a country we do not understand the value that other cultures offer us as a nation, because we do not understand the cultural value of our own tangata whenua in the first place. I think the revitalisation of Te Ao Māori and the welcoming of foreign people to our shores are interdependent movements. This is a migration not to be measured along national borders, but along the lines created by indigenous peoples long ago that do not separate, but rather connect us and tell the shared relationship and whakapapa of all things. Like Moana said, we were voyagers. It is inevitable that our lives will be influenced by global movements both ancient and contemporary. The human race is naturally migratory. We migrate out of our small towns that we thought we couldn’t bear, but turns out we actually really miss. We migrate from halls, to flats, to the first house that really feels like a home. We migrate from maraes to cities, and then to other countries to entertain new ideas. We migrate to merge with new families, to escape wars and rising sea levels. Optional or not, Hau’ofa is right when he says it is in our blood to be mobile.
MOTUMAOHO Written by Elaine Gyde
When I’m on the waterfront, I’m never really in Wellington anymore. The waterfront is the edge of Wellington and reminds me that 521 kilometres north, over Tongariro, Ruapehu, and Ngauruhoe, through Cambridge and left from Hamilton East, straight across the bridge that cuts the stream, past two farms and one lifestyle block, and down the round driveway, there’s a giant pair of gumboots by the door and the kettle is on for the second time because my dad, still in his thick gumboot socks and dirt smudged across his cheek, has fallen asleep on the couch and missed the first time it boiled. He’s tired because he’s woken up at 4.00am almost everyday since 2000. 521 kilometres to the heart of rural Motumaoho, takes you to the place where the Piako swamp was drained for farmland by Pākeha. Motumaoho is similar to other parts of rural New Zealand, with Keith Hay prefabs and old villas in the middle of paddocks and drains that run deep along the roads. The light is soft and the air is fresh; it’s quiet but you can hear the state highway. Nothing bad but nothing good happens in places like Motumaoho. You drive through them and that’s it. It’s what people call the regions. I’ve always had a difficult relationship with place, never feeling comfortable because I always seem to find myself at a crossroad. The year was 1999 and my future of being obnoxious and singularly English was set. We lived in a Georgian terrace house in Bristol, a city in the south-west, near Wales, famous as the film location for Skins. Unless you’ve been to a Catholic school, the importance of the following sentence will hit home a lot less but, basically, in Bristol I would have had a different life. There I would have been a big shot — I played Mary in the Christmas nativity play. That’s the kind of social capital and promise my future had. The confidence that the certainty of your place in a community affords is huge. The narrative arc in this story is that my parents, my Putāruru born and raised Kiwi dad and my Irish mum, decided to move to New Zealand. I don’t know the real reason why, but it appeared to be a search of a better, cleaner, more wholesome outdoor life. My dad was a New Zealander on his way back home, so we didn’t face any of the tests and calculations that people have to undertake if they’re applying to immigrate through the system. It’s funny the way that English people,1 and I certainly felt English when I moved, are a significant portion of new residents, but for whatever reason — either they’re white, or they’re skilled, or we feel some sort of colonial connection to them — we don’t associate them with stealing jobs or failing to assimilate. 1. 80,404 since 2006/2007–2016/2017 according to Immigration New Zealand.
But boy did I struggle to assimilate, even with my New Zealand dad and my New Zealand wider family. The first place you move to sticks with you and we moved to Whatawhata, where loamy hills unfurl themselves in between Raglan and Hamilton. I was afraid of the countryside. The river at the back of the farm was the quickest I’d ever seen and we were so close to it. I’d never lived so close to the outdoors; the UK isn’t really an outdoors place. It was unusual to take my shoes off inside, and then the idea that you could take your shoes off outside was just ridiculous. Trees brushed against my bedroom window in the middle of the night, and the night was the darkest I had ever seen. We were in a place that was too close to nature, and once I’d gotten over the thrill of splashing in puddles with Wellington boots or climbing through hay, all that was left was the feeling that we were far away. We were so far away that there are no Catholic schools in Whatawhata. I was too late to get into the closest Hamilton Schools so we took two buses through Melville High School, then Sacred Heart, to get to the Hamilton East Catholic School (Marian), the biggest in the diocese. I hated it. I have three memories from that first year: I broke my collarbone because I was pushed off some monkey bars (a bone which incidentally never heals completely); the girl who was supposed to be helping me settle in climbed out of a window and ran away; and got laughed at for my accent and that I wasn’t use to not wearing shoes. My mum struggled too I think. She broke her ankle and couldn’t drive while trying to look after my brother and sister, in the middle of the countryside, while my dad was in the shed or out in a paddock trying to figure out how dairy farming worked. Not only was I trying to navigate feeling English while having to become a New Zealander, I had a halfway life of living rurally and going to school in the centre of the city. I missed my friends in Bristol, I missed
my Gamily and Grandad in Dublin, and most importantly I missed the white chocolate mice that my dad would buy me. In some ways I missed him too because he was working so hard. After a few years on Karakariki Road, 40 minutes from the city, we moved to Motumaoho, a triumphant 20 minutes away. But we still lived in the countryside, and I still hated it. To get to high school I had to take a bus ride with girls who had all gone to school together, girls who knew each other since birth, who had these very complicated and large Dutch Catholic farming families. They were small town and defensive about it. I was jealous — they were consistent in who they were, they had all of their feet in the one place. They grew up on farms and unlike me in my ineptitude, they actually felt belonging in rural places. They knew each other; I was the weird girl, who wasn’t from there. Similarly, when I meet people who are from Wellington and are a part of Wellington, I get envious; they don’t seem to ever have to engage in that very New Zealand hand wringing, where you’re unsure if you ought to be proud or ashamed of where you’re from. It’s worth noting that I didn’t feel halfway between countries anymore; I was well and properly a New Zealander, to the point that I would sometimes forget that my mum was Irish. When people asked where I was from, I would say Hamilton. I still say Hamilton. I am a New Zealander I think — I’ve lived here for 17 years, I’ve got a passport — but sometimes when people say that I have an accent, or they ask where my fair features are from, I feel like the girl who got abandoned by her assigned first-day-at-school assimilation buddy. I feel like my status as a New Zealander is being questioned. And I’m white, so these experiences don’t even come close to the curious questioning and rudeness that nonwhite New Zealanders must face.
I think all these complicated feelings came to hurt the most when my grandparents in Ireland began to get sick, because they really did mean a lot to me, and I couldn’t be there. I was the first grandchild, and my grandparents represented the first time that I realised people could love you, for no reason, just that they did. If my family had had the hindsight to live all in the same place, or at least the thoughtfulness to live closer, I could have gotten my grandad a rasher of bacon and some eggs before the kidney cancer. We got to see my Gamily before she died. She had motor neuron disease, and we went over for six weeks in my first year of high school. Motor neuron is where you’re still yourself inside, but your muscles disappear. On our last night I fell apart. I wanted to stay in Dublin because I knew when we said goodbye to go home, it meant goodbye permanently. For the first time instead of feeling confused or uncertain about place, I became angry. How dare my parents make us live far away. Far away and having people you love between two places sucked. We still flew home though. So now 521 kilometres away, once the kettle has boiled for a second time and a cup of coffee has been made and drunk, it’ll already be time to head back to the farm for afternoon milking. The soft sun through the willows, across the driveway, while my dad leans against his dusty ute and waits for our farm dog, Blue, to complete his routine of sniffing every tree in the garden. New Zealand, but more specifically across the stream in rural Motumaoho, is my dad’s home. When he was in England, he was far away from home too. I’ve always had a difficult relationship with place, but migrating somewhere when you’re young teaches you that home can be mostly wherever you want it to be, so you might as well try and make it not feel far away.
Thomas Kelly email@example.com
MIGRATION OF Intimacies Written by Geum Hye Kim
I came down to Wellington after hastily signing a tenancy agreement with two home-owners who could speak five languages between them. Little did I know that I would soon think of them as an Uncle and Auntie, rather than the given names printed neatly under the terms of our agreement. I had barely paid my third week’s rent when my newfound Uncle and Auntie began referring to themselves using those terminologies of kinship. The purpose of this article is not to argue for a homogenous experience for immigrant families. This narrative is simply based on my own experience and words from people around me and those who I interviewed. We mostly belong to the category of universityeducated East Asian 1.5 or secondgeneration immigrant youth in their early twenties. This is my reduction of our shared experiences and I put aside any claims of objectivity. What I am sketching out here, instead, is a kind of undefinable intimacy that is shared within a family of immigrants — which is a unit of people who are
considered to be transient, foreign beings regardless of their citizenship status or how far they assimilated into the society they migrated to. Uncle speaks Thai most fluently. He communicates with his wife and their children mainly through a combination of Khmer and English, and he translates what Auntie wants to say into English for me. I’ve so far picked up only one word in Khmer — yam bai, which literally means “eat rice”, according to Google. The actual meanings of the word are “come eat”; “you could share this plate”; “are you full?”; and “did you have a dinner?” I don’t exactly own that word. When I attempt to utter the word, I merely echo Auntie’s accent and intonation from memory. I explained to Uncle that I was writing about how multilingual immigrant families communicate at home and experience intimacy. As immigrants, our intimacies are defined in terms of shifting boundaries that make themselves apparent only when one
Geum Hye Kim
steps over it — and we integrate well, dreaming one dream of “one big neighbourhood.” I asked him if he would like to be part of it. I could ask for anything I need, he said, and did I mind having fragments of multiple languages spoken around me? We both knew I didn’t mind. Perhaps that’s the reason why we signed the tenancy agreement without a fuss. There was an implicit understanding between the similarities in our cultures and our experiences. The minor differences in our customs, or the lack of a shared language, was brushed off as irrelevant.
Migration of Intimacies
became aware of herself speaking a “language of intimacy,” which is more of a colloquial, non-grammatical English that one picks up at home and is reserved for “family talk.” The English she speaks at home with her mother is not the same as the one she picked up through education and uses to express herself at work.
Immigrant families are families in a mid-flight. Having left one land, these families have not yet come to a complete settlement in another land or lost ties with the land they left behind. Each member of an immigrant family will experience the process of migration in a slightly different way. Compared etching out sk am to their children, parents may lean I at h ...W ind of k a is , d towards the familiar ways back home. ea st in here, at th y ac m ti The 1.5 generation children, or the in le undefinab of y il m fa a elder siblings who already started their in h it is shared w a is h ic h education in their homeland, may w immigrants — ho are stay more conscious about different w unit of people ansient, modes of cultural interaction. The e tr considered to b ardless of second-generation children, or those reg foreign beings who experienced the shift at an r o s statu their citizenship ilated into impressionable age, may feel an urgent sim need to define their own identity how far they as igrated to... m based on their rich and mixed heritage. the society they The task of translating a simple New Zealand English sentence into a home language, for instance, would lead to the eldest sibling, the middle one, Around me, I often see other immigrant and the youngest sibling coming up families slip into what may be called with different formulations. The eldest a “home language,” adopt a different might translate “How are you?” into a diction, or perform a cultural handshake, culturally equivalent term or phrase and with threads of conversation in of greeting; the middle one might English weaved in smoothly. Amy Tan, attempt something more literal like who explores the tensions between “How are your situations this week?”; Chinese mothers and their US-born and the youngest would just settle daughters in the novel Joy Luck Club, for “How are you?” It is based on the also wrote about this similar experience fact that each of these siblings has in an essay titled “Mother Tongue”. varying levels of cultural understanding, In the essay, Tan confesses that she linguistic abilities, and life experiences.
interactions enabled by the language they speak. It just helps to get points across to others, and we don’t usually reflect on our attitude towards language. Has/have + be(-en) + -ing The truth is, we don’t usually take the time to reflect on the fact that we instinctively choose to speak English with our siblings, while we talk to our parents in their native language. When you are dealing with the typical generation gap, a coming-of-age conflict, and a mixture of love and disdain that only comes from having lived with someone for so long, the subtle linguistic negotiations in our everyday conversations can be easily overlooked. However, I am curious about these subtle undertones of immigrant intimacies. Why do we gravitate towards one language over another? If you find it more comfortable to speak New Zealand English than your other language, would you be more likely to start conversations with your sibling than with your parents? If you are experiencing a problem related to New Zealand culture, are you more likely to talk about it with your sibling, your parents, or someone outside your home? These questions were largely unanswerable in discussions, partly because our approach to language is often utilitarian. My interviewees seemed to express the view that language is simply a tool to convey their meanings. The majority of interviewees also answered that they don’t often stop to examine their own usage, or the social and cultural implications behind the everyday
Only to some families, the ability to speak multiple languages attains a mild significance as a distant reminder of a homeland or as a sign of a symbolic victory. For some, the ability to speak more than one language is even seen as a competitive advantage in the labour market, while for others, the inability to speak a language is a source of embarrassment. For the 1.5 generation immigrants, speaking outside home may involve a process of translation. In that case, the concepts they picked up through interactions at home, and the way they arrange the complex web of relationships between objects and people, need to be filtered and moulded into the language they learned through grammar books and dictionaries. This is why you will hear someone speak in chunks of perfect grammar mixed with inappropriate prepositions and punctuation in the middle of a sentence, splicing together the concepts they intend to express and the proper grammatical structures they memorised. Has/have + be(-en) + -ing makes a present perfect progressive tense, and the addition of an article before a noun determines whether the noun is countable/uncountable, specific/ generic, designated/undesignated. These grammatical structures function as crutches when these children play the role of ambassador for their parents, providing translations for the family, and supplementing their parents’ understanding of the official, English documents on important occasions. The experience they gained from the
Geum Hye Kim
outside world is translated into the colloquial terms of filial conversation around the dinner table. What remains untranslated gets digested with the home-cooked meal, leaving open a space for signature dishes interlinked with memories, exasperations, and longings.
Migration of Intimacies Features
surroundings. The parents of immigrant families tend to speak English quite well, perhaps better than they believe. The only problem is that they may have a different level of fluency for speaking, listening, writing, and reading, and strangers are quick to assess your ability over a single stutter, or a different For the second-generation immigrants, accent. With intimacy comes the ability the language they learned from everyday to overlook those minor mistakes. interactions with their parents may At home, and with friends, we fill in also be the language reserved for the gaps in each other’s words, instinctively community of family friends who share supplying the correct meaning for a the same background. This kind of colloquial sentence, an incorrect use community may spiral out over time, of synonyms, or habitual slip of tongue, as the friendship of the parents subconsciously changing “affect” gets handed down to children who into “effect” based on the contexts, grew up like cousins, and as these and glossing over culturally different children subsequently develops treatments of negations such as “yes, friendships and romantic attachments I don’t” — which would actually mean outside their local community. Small “no, I don’t.” Those who love us, and talk and everyday conversations flow have known us for longer, are able to see out seamlessly, with only occasional through those impurities. halts over complex or abstract terms embedded in one culture or the other, One evening, the house had a power such as those of feminism or politics. outage for a few hours. I stepped out with a smartphone torch and saw When you are with your parents, Auntie sweeping a dim flashlight around siblings, friends, community members, the corridor. I spoke English into the professors, roommates, distant dark, and she spoke back in Khmer. relatives, strangers at a bus stop, Together we went on a search for a exchange students, you would need to better flashlight and lit three candles choose which language to reach out in. sourced from various nooks around the This choice is often a reflex based on house speaking different languages at your knowledge of the other person, each other. The electric ceiling lights and the underlying assumptions about buzzed back to life just as Auntie went which language you and the other to rummage through a drawer in the party finds more comfortable. Intimacy living room, which was still dark. makes such choice easier, and may even I tripped over a cat while trying to tell make you gravitate towards a particular her. She looked up and saw the light language without hesitation. streaming in from the doorway. At that moment, I had an odd sense that what I In the meantime, the choice to speak shared then was a family-like moment. New Zealand English may come with a tension, as your fluency is judged harshly outside the intimate
THE THINGS WE SHARE Written by Henrietta Bollinger
Arrival of ship, Wanganella, in Auckland Harbour. 1933. Alexander Turnbull Library.
As a Pākehā kid, when I first learnt to mihi, I found that building a sense of my own whakapapa was a kind of patchwork, something I could stitch together by pulling threads from family stories. The waka I chose, or borrowed from my father, was called the Wanganella. That was the ship that brought my paternal grandmother and her family to New Zealand from Germany, a short month before the outbreak of World War Two. It was certainly the most significant ship in my heritage from where I stood. Strangely, my German history fit easily here. I always felt closest to this “foreign” part of myself when speaking Māori, a language and oratory grounded here in Aotearoa. Unlike the arguments I found myself falling into in my English-language classes about why it was important to me, my interest in my history was encouraged and never questioned here. At the time I was piecing together my mihi I had already been learning German for a number of years. My grandmother Marei, a former primary school teacher, had patiently taught me some sentences but insisted that she only spoke Kinderdeutsch — children’s German. She was only three when she arrived in New Zealand and had all her formal education in New Zealand schools, so felt more at home in English in many ways. I hungered after more than simple expressions, and over the years I had a series of wonderful teachers, eventually enrolling in a correspondence school German course and finally a major in German at Victoria. My decision to pursue the language was intriguing to people. I’d chosen a language often characterised as harsh, difficult, and one which of course carried the heavy history of Holocaust. So I found myself frequently explaining my history.
The things we share
My family were German-Jews. This is the most succinct explanation, though the reality is more complex. My family were German-Jews in the eyes of the Third Reich. My great-grandmother had been brought up in Berlin, not Orthodox, but very connected through her parents to the rest of her Jewish community. She converted to Catholicism at eighteen and later married my great-grandfather who had been brought up Catholic. Yet it was Jewishness that would force them to leave their home in search of a new and safer life. Identity labels ascribed at either the will or grace of others were a feature of their story. My great-grandparents were expected to report to police frequently when they first arrived in New Zealand. Having fled from Germany they were suspected by authorities, because they might be spies for that same country. So, the road, which ended in their naturalised citizenship, was an uneasy one — despite New Zealand wishing to view itself as a gracious place that opened its arms to refugees. It is them I think of when looking at global politics today. I attended the Women’s March with a sign saying I was marching as the queerdisabled-granddaughter of a refugee. I thought of them when looking at the images of JFK airport. Closer to home, I thought of them as we debated our own refugee quota and when our Prime Minister failed, in my view, to respond to Trump’s refugee ban with adequate energy. The lack of response prompted me to write my first ever letter to the Prime Minister. We see the issue in such a different light from one another that I am skeptical whether my letter had any impact. I received a reply on his behalf assuring me that the Office of the Prime Minister were satisfied with their own level of response. However, I felt an urgency to convey that there is a heart-wrenchingly human side to the issue. This was once my family, and could well be me. It is easy to get lost when important debates like these are discussed in language of quotas and everything is so carefully measured. While some of this may be prudent, in terms of making sure we are providing for all citizens, it can also be a way of hiding. What we lose behind the statistics is that these are the lives of real people. Real people are always going to be harder to discuss; they cannot be as easily categorised or dismissed as numbers. I read somewhere that statistics are people with the tears wiped away. Real people have to be looked in the eyes. I think that braver and more empathetic leadership when responding to a refugee crisis or developing an immigration policy with heart requires putting real people back into the discussion. For a start, I would like to hear the word “people” used more by our politicians and media than quota, group, or population. I come back to the people present in my own history. My greatgrandparents Maria and John Dronke were exceptionally grateful and affectionate citizens of a country which, in accepting them, had saved their lives and the lives of their children. My great-grandparents went on to make
significant contributions to the arts. Maria worked as a drama teacher and in later life completed a Master’s in German poetry at Victoria University of Wellington. John was a founding member of the National Orchestra and later went on to work in the law as he had done in Germany, making contributions to New Zealand’s original patent law. This is another aspect of the debate I do not feel is highlighted enough: what we stand to gain from willing contributors to this country, and, furthermore, their right to contribute. So often, in a neoliberal climate that characterises human nature as inherently self-interested, we appear to measure the worth of people in negative economic terms: what they will cost the state. This discourse is heard in debates about many areas of life. It seems particularly loud in relation to the issue of refugee resettlement. It seems imperative to me that the debate needs changing. The other side of the coin is the ways in which our country could be enriched. Recently, I went to an event that involved both refugee and nativeborn New Zealanders sharing food from their childhoods. We met each other over this shared meal and the stories that come with it. I introduced myself briefly and indicated the packets of Jaffas I’d brought along as evidence of where I’d come from: a very safe, Wellington-based childhood full of rainy days at the movies. Many other people had brought family dishes passed down through generations. My grandmother too had identified first and foremost as a New Zealander. The last election she participated in, she had cast a vote for the then fledgling Mana Party due to its commitment to upholding Treaty values, values generally summarised as a commitment to biculturalism. Faced with a necessarily multicultural society, there seems to be a strain of fear that the values and aspirations that new arrivals have for the country will be radically and destructively different to the aspirations of those living here. This neatly ignores that all of us at some point in history were descended from newcomers. And maybe this is where we need to meet refugee resettlement as an issue too; face-to-face over the things we share.
Polynesian Panthers Written by Laura Toailoa
My imagination of New Zealand history rarely includes the role of Pacific migrants during the growth of New Zealand’s economy in the 1960s, their subsequent racist treatment through to the 1970s, and the organised and effective action taken by the children of those migrants to combat New Zealand’s systemic racism. I knew next to nothing about this part of New Zealand’s history from the media I consumed, in the schools I attended, or the conversations I’d have with friends and family. Will ‘Ilolahia, co-founder of the Polynesian Panthers, remarked, “It sometimes hurts me seeing a lot of young people not realising their own history.” The Polynesian Panthers (officially The Polynesian Panther Party) were a group that pioneered collective, organised, Pacific activism. Founded in 1971 by Pacific youth (averaging at 20-years old), the group created services to support their communities who were victims of the government’s systemic racial discrimination, and no help was available. The Panthers started programs and advocated for causes that have affected New Zealand’s history, though they are not known widely around the country, even among Pacific communities. Five years after leaving, I found myself back at my old high school, sitting in on a class listening to four of the Panthers, Will ‘Ilolahia, Tigilau Ness, Alec Toleafoa, and Dr Melani Anae, sharing their experiences with students. The students’ excited expressions and questions showed enthusiasm about a history subject that I’d never seen in my time at Manurewa High. Indeed, the teachers confirmed that the pass rate in this topic soars in comparison with other units. Worried about widespread complacency in those who benefit from privileges granted to them by the sweat and blood of previous generations, the Panthers were encouraged by the enthusiastic engagement from the classes they spoke to at Manurewa High. It’s amazing what happens when the subject you teach connects with students on a deeper level, not just a means to pass an assessment.
During the 1960s, New Zealand looked to the Pacific to source cheap labour to grow the economy. The government waived strict immigration regulations for Pacific immigrants coming to work in factories and other labour-intensive industries to perpetuate growth. Government and manufacturers turned a blind eye to the expiration of work permits, because it was beneficial for production of goods and the delivery of services. However, when New Zealand’s economy took a hit following
the 1973 oil crisis, the demand for cheap labour dropped, and immigrants became the scapegoats for the country’s economic and infrastructural failings. Pacific migrants were subsequently the target of “dawn raids” — spontaneous police raiding of their homes, demanding proof of legal residency or citizenship. The failure to produce the required documents on the spot meant an instant arrest. Carrying these invasions out at dawn ensured that police were able to catch people off-guard and cornered. Nevermind if people didn’t have proper clothes on, if children were woken up and crying, if the elderly were disturbed, or if people had no idea what legal processes and fair treatment meant. Nevermind that the number of overstayers from Australia, the United Kingdom, and South Africa were higher than those from the Pacific Islands, which only made up about 5% of those found guilty of illegal residence. “When we had a discussion about the dawn raids, by that time [the Panthers] were five years old, and the community were starting to see that we were not a gang… That was probably the first action that we were told by the community to do something about.” Will described how some of the members wanted to sort the problem out in a big physical altercation, while others wanted to write letters to politicians against the raids: “It was a leader of one of our youth chapter who said, ‘Why don’t we raid the ministers?’” In a documentary created for Māori Television, Will recounts one of their reciprocal dawn raids of a minister: “We had the lights blaring, in our black gears, loud hailers saying, ‘we’re members of the Aotearoa Liberation Movement, you have 24 hours to prove that you are rightfully allowed in this country.’ Fortunately enough, I had a friend working at Radio Hauraki at the time who rang up the minister on air, asking him what was happening. And he said on live radio, ‘How dare these people come at an ungodly hour!’” It took just under three weeks, following this, that the dawn raids ceased. If officers weren’t barging in at the crack of dawn, there were still issues with landlords and the substandard housing given to Pacific migrants. There was no Tenancy Tribunal at the time for anybody to raise legitimate complaints about unfair treatment by landlords and living conditions, which were “just derelict. Ordinary Kiwis wouldn’t live here.” So the Polynesian Panthers set up the Tenancy Aid Brigade (TAB). The TAB gathered legal information about what the standard of housing ought to be, and conducted rent strikes with tenants — refusing to pay rent until adequate maintenance work was done on the houses. The TAB resulted in the creation of the Tenancy Protection Society and, later on, the Tenancy Tribunal. This is one major instance where the Panthers’ action resulted in a change in the system that now benefits people across the country. There were many times when people didn’t understand the legal processes they were going through, the appropriate channels to get assistance, and legal aid was not readily available from the state. Together
with lawyer David Lange (who went on to become Prime Minister in 1984), the Polynesian Panthers created and distributed a Legal Aid booklet outlining the rights that their communities weren’t aware of due to language barriers and a general lack of accessible legal information and support.
When speaking at Manurewa High, the Panthers drew attention to two cultural values they saw growing up with their migrant parents: respect for authorities and respect for hosts. When you go into someone’s home or village, you follow their rules, respect their authority, and you are grateful for the hospitality you receive. However, in the context of immigration, and particularly the circumstances Pacific families faced in the 1960s and ’70s, people weren’t treated with reciprocal respect and dignity. Pacific workers were sources of cheap labour and not much else. The cultural gaps between the generation who were born and grew in New Zealand, and their parents who’d come from the island, often led to disagreements about what doing the right thing meant. For their parents, fighting for your rights seemed to be a form of disrespect for authority and ingratitude to hosts. To have been allowed into the country at all, and having some sort of job and some sort of shelter, was all that you should need. The idea of challenging official authorities, protesting, and risking getting arrested in a fight against social injustice was seen as causing unnecessary trouble. “[Our parents] only hoped for our protection, only fought for our good,” Tigi tells the class. Those who grew up in New Zealand were aware early on that life in New Zealand meant living under unfair treatment based on racial biases. Once the young Polynesian Panthers were able to demonstrate and highlight that the New Zealand government’s treatment of Pacific migrants and their children was unfair and dangerous, the older generation began, slowly, to understand where their children were coming from. The Panthers were always trying to find the balance between “informing ourselves about who we are, and dealing with a racist government, and educating our parents.” Alec Toleafoa described a mass arrest at a social hosted by the Polynesian Panthers; people were held in jail without charges, and with no knowledge of why they were arrested. When Alec explained to the parents of those unfairly arrested what was going on, and that their children weren’t in the wrong, “...they saw for themselves, that these things do happen, that authority does make mistakes, and they’re not always right. That’s when I think, at least for those parents, something changed for them.”
The Polynesian Panthers drew initial inspiration from the Black Panther Party, as a group who organised and built solidarity among communities being systematically discriminated against under public and private
laws and regulations. However, Will stresses the differences between the oppression faced by Black Americans and the Pacific communities in New Zealand. The term “Polynesian” sought to encompass not only the Pacific migrants but also tangata whenua, to show the necessary solidarity across the Pacific Ocean and the shared identity, at least to that extent, with Māori. Will remembers that “there was a little bit of friction between Māori and Pacific” due to the differences they perceived of each other, created by the perpetuation of stereotypes of immigrating Islanders coming to take land and jobs, and of Māori as lazy indigenous people who couldn’t do the jobs the Islanders were brought in to fulfill. “We needed to come together, as Polynesians.” Although the Polynesian Panthers worked heavily in supporting their Pacific communities — in legal areas, education, housing, and making available transport for families to visit loved ones in prison — they realised the importance of standing alongside other groups fighting systemic racism and the oppressive structures of power that had been cemented in the process of colonisation. They stood alongside Ngāti Whātua in the 18-month occupation of Bastion Point, protesting against the selling of their land to property developers. Will recalls his father asking him, “Why for you go up there? You’re not a Māori.” Will replied by asking him how he would feel if the same situation was happening to their land back in Tonga. “Three weeks later [his father] convinced his church group, and they sent up six trucks of food.” The Polynesian Panthers had been building relationships with Māori communities and activist groups such as Ngā Tamatoa and, when it came to the march and occupation of Bastion Point, there was a strong sense of solidarity between them and tangata whenua. One of the biggest and final protests the Polynesian Panthers participated in was during the Springbok Tour of 1981. For the Panthers and many others, South Africa’s racially selected team was an extension and reinforcement of Apartheid. Led by the Panthers, Hone Harawira, and other close allies, people mobilised a large group of protesters against the tour outside Eden Park, showing solidarity and support for those facing much harsher realities than being excluded from a sports team. “It wasn’t just a venting of frustration and anger. No. Apartheid was the beast we had to slay,” Tigi reflected in 2010. Following those protests some people were arrested and charged with unlawful assembly, assault on police, destroying government property — among them Will and Tigi. Tigi and others were sentenced to some time in prison. Will and Hone endured two-year trials. It was a character testimony by South African Bishop Desmond Tutu that was the pivotal move in Will’s trial, and he walked free, after fighting for the freedom of others. Will commented that, though Pacific communities face new issues nowadays, old ones continue too, such as crime recidivism and education failing rates. Ongoing racism and xenophobia have continued the rhetoric that minorities are the causes of social and economic disparities, despite
Polynesian Panthers Features
the fact that they are the ones who bear the brunt of negative effects. Pacific migrants were the scapegoats of the 1970s, and today immigrants from other nations are blamed for New Zealand’s problems. Tigi warns, “there’s always the chance of this happening to them, and we can’t let it.”
Talking to the Panthers, one of the biggest messages they promote, especially for Pacific youth, is the importance of education. Knowledge is power and people can use what you don’t know against you. Dr Melani Anae took to academia as her way of continuing important work that started with the Panthers. As the Director of Research of Pacific Studies at the University of Auckland, her research and teaching tackles issues of history, language, and identity of the Pacific diaspora, as well as research methodologies and how knowledge is valued, gathered, and passed on. Some of her students, inspired by the work of the Polynesian Panthers, created the student initiative I, Too, Am Auckland, a campaign promoting the collaboration of Pacific Island and Māori students at the University of Auckland to address issues of racism still prevalent within the university context and beyond. Will found that “something that’s very influential — outside of government and people in power — in making a change is media. We had our own little Panther Rapp newspaper and that was my first example of seeing how effective having a newspaper was in getting the word out.” He currently works in media encouraging Pacific people to take control in crafting the narratives about themselves, not leaving it to the hands of those who can only brush general images based on uninformed stereotypes. This is particularly important, as education doesn’t happen solely in the classroom or tertiary institutes. Tigi emphasised, “I was politicised by the Polynesian Panthers… something I never got in school.” He read lot of books, from the Black Panthers, socialist philosophers, and other texts that analysed patterns of social structures that he recognised in his own realities. Tigi also learnt about his heritage and language from his family, encouraging the class to “look deeper in your history.” “A lot of people still don’t know, because it’s not the kind of group that anybody in power would like to promote. But since last year, or the year before, it’s now an NCEA topic — the dawn and the Polynesian Panthers. That’s why we’re getting an increase in the number of schools wanting us to talk, and we’re telling everybody, ‘hey, use us while we’re still alive.’ Soon, you’ll be having to read articles from the Salient.”
Bogan Beautiful (The Musical)
CW: Drug use and violence
Baby I’m bogan beautiful My mum always gave me grief for the clothes I wore She didn’t understand I had to stand out. (Hi-vis can be a fashion statement) So I’m used to the raised eyebrows, But I pay them no mind unless they’re shaved. I’m too wrapped up in my puffer jacket, feet squeezed into jandals as I play with the red, green, and yellow beads in my rats tail. I am neck tattoos, hand tattoos, face tattoos I’m a snapback on a Saturday night and grubby shoes that have walked across one too many paddocks. I’m the scent of hand-rolled cigarettes and the deft movements of nail-bitten fingers I’m the grin of the Zig-Zag man, And hurried sprays of Lynx to hide the telltale scent of alcohol, Nevermind the bourbon cans rattling in the work van. I’m the doppling roar of the speedway and the stink of burning rubber, I’m the dust in a scout hall appropriated as a boxing club. I’m the patches of affiliation, gang signs in the WINZ queue, and daily calls to Rimutaka, See how the family is holding up. I’m the perpetual grey sky of the Hutt Valley, And the unconstrained bedlam of the district court at 8:30 in the morning. I’m a pair of meatworks gumboots on a threadbare pub carpet, or I’m Nike slides and tattered socks, But I’m always a flashing pokie machine, tripping the light fantastic. I’m a neon ‘open’ sign in the window of a chinese takeaways and fish and chip shop, and I’m the skinned knees of the children darting in and out of the streamer curtain. (If your fish and chip shop doesn’t have the fisheries poster, leave immediately.)
I’m barefeet on greasy lino, And the spark of a lighter on a lightbulb in a dilapidated bungalow in the backblocks of Naenae. I’m burnouts in a carpark, And a good shirt for a date (pity it’s with the Court Registrar). I’m breakfast on the porch, A milky tea, piece of toast, and a cigarette. I’m a widow checking the death notices, Us all outliving our mokopuna and cleaning up the perpetual mistakes of our men. Broken glass, bruised knuckles, and bloodied faces. I’m a new convert to Christianity, The TAB or the collection basket; the taxman has many guises Pick the one that’s less painful. I’m beautiful in my belligerence, Born to live and die somewhere between fourth and fifth gear. I’m a rambling family tree, Some branches blooming, burdened with fruit Others wilting, parasite-laden. But I won’t be sequestered into a tidy garden plot, Nor made to constrain my celebration, What can noise control do? You see I cannot be kept down for too long, The light will catch my hi-vis, soon enough. — C. K. W.
Twin Peaks — Season Three, Episode Eight I wasn't planning on writing about Twin Peaks until the third season was well and truly done and I had time to digest it. The beauty of David Lynch’s work is best grasped when viewed as a whole — season one is a mundane affair until episode three, when the first sighting of Bob really fucks you up, and, without seeing the second season, it ends on a fairly unsatisfactory cliffhanger. But the reason the show is so revered is due to the complete picture. As a body of work, the first two seasons of Twin Peaks are relatively peerless in the realm of television mystery. Season 3 up to this point has managed to stay grounded in the extended universe of the world, and no matter how strange everything seems, there is an explanation for it that fits within the context of the show. Then episode eight comes along. I liked to think I'd steeled myself to Lynch’s work, that it would be fairly hard to be shocked or made to feel way out of my depth. Perhaps the best way to explain this would be to imagine a scenario. You're at the center of a room that is inexplicably large, about a kilometre wide whichever way you look. Next to you is a clock that, unknown to you, is missing a gear, and so while it ticks, the minutes and hours never actually pass. The room is dark, windowless, lit only by the occasional 40 watt light bulb (some are fixed with a bayonet clasp, the majority are screw, however). You can aimlessly wander the room and never really feel like you've gone anywhere, but if you walk with purpose, in a straight line, you might find a wall, perhaps even a corner. Ultimately, however, this effort achieves nothing. You can scour the walls, walk the entire radius of the room, and you've still learnt no more than if you'd simply wandered aimlessly. That's how this episode made me feel. I thought I'd found the corner, that I was going to learn something and maybe finally understand what the fuck is going on in this stupid-ass little
town. But all I got was a dimly lit surface that went straight up, instead of sideways. I'd picked out all these tiny details that looked like clues, but ultimately I know no more than anyone else. If I'd wandered aimlessly, I might have stumbled across some mysterious trapdoor, but by powering ahead, I completely missed seeing where I was going. Originally, I couldn't decide if this episode was the best of the season so far, or the worst. It seemed like Lynch had thrown absolutely every convention (that he actually follows) out of the window, and I wasn't really sure how to react. But where else does he really have to go to shock an audience anymore? A complete left turn like this one is something that Twin Peaks thrives on, and I can only hope that with future episodes I maybe won't feel so completely and utterly lost — Robert Barratt
GAMES Crash Bandicoot N. Sane Trilogy Developer: Vicarious Visions Publisher: Activision Platform: PS4
I cannot emphasise enough how much of an impact the Crash Bandicoot series has had — not just on me, but on gaming in general. The little orange marsupial quickly became iconic in a time when every console needed a mascot and, sure enough, Crash is synonymous with the PlayStation brand to this day, with the original trilogy of 3D platformers putting Naughty Dog on the map. Yet, times have been tough and the journey has not been easy for Crash. Once Naughty Dog moved on to greater things, the series was pawned off to various hands who could never quite capture the magic of the original games. As the years wore on it seemed inevitable that an icon would simply fade away. However, this is 2017, where ’90s nostalgia equals big bucks in the eyes of many. The overlords at Activision, who picked up the series in 2008, must have realised they were sitting on a goldmine that hadn’t been touched in years. People were clamouring for a new Crash game, or at least the opportunity to play old ones on their PS4s, and so Activision, being a merciful and gracious deity, finally said “here you go, now stop bothering us so we can go back to milking the Call of Duty cow.” Thankfully, they didn’t screw it up. The N. Sane Trilogy consists of the first three Crash games, rebuilt from the ground up for a new generation of consoles and players. No bollocks, no major changes, just pure Crash with a hint of modern graphical polish. To be perfectly honest, I would have been just as happy if the original PS1 versions had been put on the PS Store, but to have so much work put in to bring Crash up to modern standards while remaining faithful to the series’ roots is something to applaud, even if it means forking out a little more money that you might expect for 20-year old games. That dedication most prominently shows itself in the gameplay, which has been virtually unchanged — for better or for worse. You’re still running through linear levels, breaking
crates with your spin, and collecting Wumpa Fruits (NOT APPLES YOU HEATHENS), Gems, and Crystals. However, the platforming does show its age, occasionally feeling imprecise and unfair in ways that were fixed years ago. While other nostalgic properties tried to push themselves as the revival of a genre only to fall flat (lookin’ at you, Yooka-Laylee), the N. Sane Trilogy only really promises to recreate the originals, which it does perhaps too well. Because oh my goodness, these games are BRUTAL. Many of you will be thinking while playing: “I don’t remember Crash being this hard!” Well, let’s just say comparisons to Dark Souls are inevitable; they’re possibly a little unfair, but so is the “The High Road” level in the first game. That’s not to say these games are any less fun; standards for difficulty have simply gone down over 20 years! There are some little improvements made to each game to make the package a little more cohesive, such as time trials in every game, and the ability to play as Crash’s sister Coco in every level; these are much welcome and brings you back to play the levels over again. Oh, and you can now save at any time in the first game, something which, previously, you had to complete bonus levels to do. There’s no cheats though, sorry. If this collection is signalling the triumphant return of one of gaming’s most beloved mascots, then that message has been received loud and clear: Crash is back, and no crate will be left untouched. Let’s just hope they get to remastering Crash Team Racing soon enough. — Cameron Gray
The New Animals — Pip Adam Some weeks ago I conducted my first interview with a published writer in a café when the sun had gone down. It was utterly glamourous. We spoke for an hour and a half and failed to discuss her book. When I made clumsy attempts to direct the conversation towards it, she wasn’t that interested. She said later that she moved on emotionally and mentally from each book once printed. Our conversation didn’t want to be confined to a conventional interview structure. She was a writer, I was a writer — we were something like Green Gables’ Anne and Diana, kindred spirits. It was a great kind of relief to talk to someone who understood the weird, specific oddities of writing books; the oddities that my mum doesn’t 100% relate to, even though she enjoys my rants. Pip inspired me. She made me think that I might not be delusionally ambitious after all. She was amazingly happy that I wrote, and I could see the teacher in her. I know as many New Zealand authors as I have limbs. I have all my limbs, but no more than that. She could list them for days, names that meant nothing to me, but to her they were the lifeblood of New Zealand literary culture. It was nice to see this, because I think New Zealand writers have a complicated reputation in that they often don’t have any reputation. She had a contrasting opinion that was much more optimistic and excited for them. In a lot of reviews, especially of young celebrities, the reviewers will describe their surroundings in effervescent language — the light caresses her softly blushing skin with transcendent lightness, like the streaming sunlight through the windows of the Louvre follows the white curves of the Venus de Milo… We drank steaming mugs of leafy tea, just two human beings alive for a moment in a quiet bubble of serenity as the L.A. Traffic screamed past the window, as if to cry, how dare you be at peace? So, I don’t want to do that. But we did have drinks, and she spilled
hers and was apologetic, called it an ocean’s tide when it began to slowly flow down the tilted table top towards me. That was her: polite and impassioned. We discussed postmodernism, how David Foster Wallace blew her away with his non-fiction and then stressed her with his novels, but she still loved him. She loved the struggle of writers, the tearing away at the innards to get at the truth. She loved the poetry of language. She had dropped out of high school at a young age, she wasn’t a typical bookworm, but she’d fallen for this writing thing and it was a source of joy. I was sent the blurb of her book before the interview: Carla, Sharon, and Duey have worked in fashion for longer than they care to remember. For them, there’s nothing new under the sun. They’re Generation X: tired, cynical, and sick of being used. Tommy, Cal, and Kurt are millennials. They’ve come from nowhere, but with their monied families behind them they’re ready to remake fashion. They represent the new sincere, the anti-irony. Both generations are searching for a way out, an alternative to their messed-up reality. Pip Adam’s new novel walks the streets of Auckland city now, examining the fashion scene, intergenerational tension, and modern life with an unflinching eye. From the wreckage and waste of the 21st century, new animals must emerge. Pip said to me that it was funny how when you publish, people will suddenly rush to explain to you exactly what your book is about. I can only hope that it will happen to me someday. Thank you to Pip for being gracious enough to agree to speak with me. It was a delight. To everybody else, either read this book or please, don’t be afraid to write your own. — Kimberley McIvor
THEATRE WEED — Anthony McCarten Olive Say what you want about Anthony McCarten. Literally, say what you want, there’s a good chance he can’t hear you; there’s a good chance he’s laughing his way to the bank off the success of his screenplay for Stephen Hawking biopic The Theory of Everything. WEED, originally written and performed in 1990, stands in stark contrast to that particular poignant punch as a comedy revolved around elderly farmers in New Zealand who, falling on hard times, swap farming their usual carrots for the Devil’s lettuce. The opening is more than a little awkward. A semi-monologue regarding the functionality of a shed and a ramble about punching lawyers is certainly a unique way to begin a production, but it doesn’t quite pay off. The short prologue, in which Henry Donovan (Gavin Rutherford) fields questions regarding the sustainability of his farm at a New Zealand Farming Conference is a shaky introduction to McCarten and Ross Jolly’s (original director) vision of 1990s New Zealand. McCarten says in the programme notes that WEED is “a comedy, no more no less, it’s duty… to entertain,” which does little to explain the relative lack of big laughs in the first Act (having a tough crowd is no excuse, given that the couple sitting behind me seemed as high as the show’s characters, giggling incessantly at the end of each line even though no one around them joined in). In fact, the first half of WEED feels almost exactly like trying to converse with someone very much stoned when you are very much stone cold sober. It’s funny, even interesting to engage for a little bit: they have a few charming quirks, and you might even find their clumsiness strangely charming. But in the end it’s not much use trying to gleam anything tangible from them; they’re in a bit of state, not exactly firing on all cylinders, and only laughing at their own jokes without having the capacity to share the punchline. There are some lovely moments: the physical comedy of the piece shines, with leeks, pens, suitcases a la Pulp Fiction, and more being used to glorious aplomb, but these moments are too few and far between.
To take this forced analogy to its logical end, the second Act of WEED is like speaking to the same individual, only they’ve already sobered up and they’re trying desperately to regain their street respectability. The characters that once appeared annoying or irritating, McCarten now goes to serious lengths to make them at least empathetic if not lovable. Turei’s previously naive Terry is given a backstory as a somewhat failed artist, being “used to rejection” and unable to stay still for fear of wasting her life away (like Henry has?). Hugh is transformed from a slackadaisical stoner to someone addicted to making money and making his success by any means necessary, outgrowing his family’s honest legacy. Henry and Jack become foe, then friend, then foe, then friend again, all the while displaying some of the finest acting to grace a New Zealand stage. It doesn’t completely make up for the lackluster first Act, but it does it’s best. WEED doesn’t stay too long in the system. In fact, it doesn’t make you laugh half as much as you might have been led to believe. But WEED does provoke reaction; if it’s not always laughter, it’s thought, whimsy, nostalgia, or all of the above. It takes a while to kick in, perhaps a bit too long given how strong it’s expected to be due to the nature of the supplier. But it gets there in the end, and WEED even manages to surprise you with how it makes you feel — not quite what I expected, but nice nonetheless. — Sean Harbottle
I was working the camera at a livestream for 95bFM up in Auckland when I first saw Fazerdaze play. It was in the middle of a 20 Bands in Two Hours event for the NZ music show, a little over halfway in. Amelia Murray played a semi acoustic version of “Shoulders” (having only named it that day) using a drum machine app on her phone and accompanied by bandmate Mark Perkins. I’m not going to pretend I immediately knew that the Fazerdaze project would take off like it has in the last couple of months, but Amelia’s performance and obviously remarkable skill definitely lifted the mood of an otherwise slow two hours of stripped back indie rock. I met up with Amelia during the break, just after she returned from a month long tour of the UK and Europe. It’s the biggest tour she’s been on with the band so far. “I get really anxious before I leave because it’s really hard to imagine doing it and being overseas and playing shows until you’re actually there,” Amelia said. “So I was pretty stressed out before leaving, but once I was there I got really into it and adjusted to tour life — sleeping in a different bed every night, late nights, lots of travelling. I got into the swing of things. And it’s kind of nice touring because when I’m at home in Auckland I feel like I need to be working on music all the time, but on tour I can just listen to albums — I listened to way more music on the road — and read way more. In some ways it’s almost more relaxing.” It took Amelia a little while to get her music off the ground after moving from Wellington to Auckland to study music. Moving cities is a pretty familiar experience, and Amelia went through some typically challenging times. “I moved to Auckland five and a half years ago. Wellington starts to feel small after a while, and I needed a change of scene and a fresh start. Studying music was just something to focus on so I wasn’t just floating about when I got there. Moving cities, it can take a long time to get established and meet your kind of people. It’s been a slow settling-in process in Auckland. And Auckland’s kinda hard I reckon; it’s a tough city if you haven’t grown up there and you don’t
have childhood friends there. I was trying to be in bands for the first two years, maybe two and a half years, and then I realised, this isn’t working. Everything just fell apart. I’d go to a few practices and then a band would fall apart. So then I thought ‘screw this, I’m going solo.’” The Fazerdaze project began with the first EP in October 2014, which was released on handmade CDs and cassette tapes. When I mentioned to Amelia I had bought one of the original tapes, she was typically humble and genuinely stoked. “I don’t even have one of those!” she said. I asked if there was a point with the early tracks when she realised what kind of music she was trying to make. “I think the very first song I wrote for the project was ‘Tired Of Waiting’ on my EP. I remember liking really fuzzy wall-of-sound guitars and then really dreamy vocals. When I wrote that it was a good production exercise. It wasn’t so much about the song itself, it’s more like me making something I really wanted to hear. I wanted to hear female vocals and heavy guitar but still have it feel light in a kind of emotional way.” “The EP I recorded on this USB microphone, and then when I went to record my album it was breaking. The first track I recorded was ‘Lucky Girl’ and the mic was on its last legs. It was breaking but I was like, I’ve gotta get this take, so I just recorded the whole demo. Then it came to doing the final recording and I was replacing everything, but I thought it was cool how distorted it sounded, so I took the demo vocals and put them in the final recording. The chorus is really distorted and it’s basically just the microphone clipping. I copy and pasted the length of the distortion into the chorus, so that’s why there’s that white noise sound.” Right now the video for “Lucky Girl” has nearly two million views on YouTube. Amelia edited the video herself. “I did that because the first edit of that video came through and I hated it. Someone else edited it, and it’s quite hard to be in front of the camera and let someone else depict who you are. I said ‘I’m not going to release the music video unless I get to edit it.’ I’d never edited a video before but I managed to get the footage and I did my own cut. I’ve actually found I quite like editing.”
Fazerdaze’s debut full length Morningside came out in early May this year. I asked Amelia what her vision and influences were in terms of progressing from EP and single releases to the full album. “At the time I was pretty much just obsessed with Frankie Cosmos’ album Zentropy. I remember when I was first listening to it, nobody in Auckland knew who Frankie Cosmos was. I was obsessed with it and showed it to Mark and everyone I knew. I like that there’s a collection of songs. It’s very much a song-bysong album. Now I’m very interested in albums like Connan Mockasin’s where he references an idea later on in the album and stuff like that. I think I subconsciously based Morningside off that kind of album type, so every song holds on its own.” There’s been a lot of buzz online over Morningside. It has sat at the top of the Auckland and New Zealand Bandcamp best selling charts pretty much since it came out. Various interviews with high profile international blogs and publications have been popping up in print and across YouTube too. “I did a week of promo, no shows, the label flies you over, it’s so weird, but you do interviews from 9.00am to 5.00pm like a job.” Amelia explained, “It was nine days — Berlin, Paris, and Munich. In Germany there was this magazine, Mac Demarco was on the cover, and then I opened it and there was this two page spread of me. It was like, what am I doing in this same magazine!” I asked Amelia how she feels about the influence the music media has on her image both musically and as a person, with writers gravitating towards phrases like “dreamy,” “indie darling,” and stuff like that. “I find it really weird,” she said, “but I’m also learning to get better at not caring about things that are beyond my control. If I worry about that stuff I’d have no time for music and I’m just trying to save my energy for making music. Everytime I see an awful press photo or someone calling Fazerdaze a band project rather than a solo project I just let it go. I can’t do anything about it.” Amelia opened for Frankie Cosmos and Connan Mockasin when they played shows in Auckland. I asked her what it’s like to reach a point where the musicians she admires start to become more like musical peers. “It’s amazing,
it’s so exciting when your idols get in touch with you or when you become friends with them. When we played the show in London, all of The Veils showed up. I grew up listening to
you guys, what are you all doing at my show!?
When Connan’s in the country we hang out. I went and visited him when he was staying out in Anawhata by Piha. I was editing my video and he was working on some art. We had a really nice day hanging out doing our thing.” Fazerdaze will be playing two shows in New Zealand this September, before heading back to the UK for another two weeks in September/ October. In terms of what she’s up to musically right now, Amelia said, “I’m working on some new stuff. One of my idols got in touch with me and was like ‘do you want to work together?’ I don’t wanna jinx it ’cause I don’t know if it’s going to happen or not, but when I go back to London I might stay an extra week and work with this artist. At the moment though I’m working on a cassette release album, like really rough and scrappy. I don’t want to release it digitally. I might just do fifty copies or something and sell them at shows. Songs I haven’t used and probably won’t go on the next album. I like the idea that there will only be a certain number of copies. It’s weird when you make an album and it goes into the hands of people who think they can review it, when really I’m not making it for them. I’m making it for the fans. I want to make an album that’s not for the press and not for my career but just for the people who like my music.” Listening to Amelia’s songs, you get the feeling that she’s already established her own niche in the indie / alternative scene, like she’s been kicking around releasing music for a while. But it’s really only been a whirlwind couple of years for Fazerdaze. It’s an exciting time for her and her fans, and after talking to Amelia or attending one of her shows, it’s hard not to be swept up in her positivity and excitement about the music she’s making and the places it’s taking her. — Olly Clifton
FILM MY LIFE AS A COURGETTE — CLAUDE BARRAS All I have to say about the film tonight is that I’ll be astounded if you don’t all love it. When I got an email from the New Zealand International Film Festival organisers, I was saddened that the first sentence of their message did not contain the words “free tickets.” My spirits were however lifted almost immediately as the next sentence contained the very similar phrases “free food and drink, and a free screening.” I turned up to the official programme release, and happily indulged in a French animation (with an American overdub) entitled My Life As A Courgette (or Zucchini, for American audiences). Animated films are often wonders to behold, both mainstream and experimental, and this film is no exception. Set in a bleak world from a nine-year old’s perspective, there is a narrative that is short, sweet, and offers a remarkable thesis on life and love through the dialogue and antics of a handful of orphans and strays. Evidently the world is a dark, unloving, adult place to these children, and they know they certainly won’t find a place within it easily. What they can do, however, is to learn to love themselves and each other. In typical French fashion, the satisfaction here comes from the contrast of joy and sadness. Every scene has shadows pooled in the corner, and the comedy is blissfully naive as often as it is sullenly dark. The characters themselves are also far more disturbed than any of their Disney contemporaries, so any catharsis or emotional gratification comes as a sharp relief and brings the film to a perfect balance. It is refreshing to find a film for young ages that is not afraid to admit that life is dark, unfair, and sad, but encourages us to make the best of it and keep moving forward. Christ, dozens of films for adults can’t even admit that. The most that characters in rom-com dramas often have to deal with is “why won’t they love me back!?” and “why is life so hard!?” These characters are seldom deserving of the sympathy that I gave so willingly to this particular band of animated French miscreants. There’s not much to say plot-wise — I called the film short and sweet; it is literally an hour long — but every little moment and sequence builds the characters and takes the audience on an emotional voyage far greater than such a run time would suggest. It is a film that could only come from France, a country that seems to draw its strength somewhat from keeping issues out in the open rather than bottling their feelings up. Many French films address depression, grief, sex, longing, isolation, inadequacy, passion, and more in matter-of-fact ways, and this film addresses at least four of these concepts. All I can say is that, to me, it’s about as refreshing as cinema can get. — Finn Holland
Moving has never been easy. For thousands of years people have packed their bags and begun a journey for a better home. And by “people” I specifically mean YOUR ancestors. These journeys are often hindered by war, politics, geography, wealth (or lack thereof ), family, and bureaucracy — yet the prospect of safety and prosperity is too enticing. The stories of immigrants are valuable. The obstacles faced by those searching for a better life remind those with settled lives to be grateful for the opportunities we have had, and should compel us to improve the experiences of immigrants. In Maeve in America, comedian Maeve Higgins candidly explores the immigrant experience with her guests. The podcast features two or three interviews each episode which are edited around a theme, like the intersection of migration and creativity, or growing up in an immigrant family. Higgins is joined by a different co-host each week, usually another comedian, to discuss the big things (Trump’s border wall) and the little things (quirks of Irish customs officers). Higgins is very funny and direct. She is also excellent at making fun of herself, and very aware of her own privilege while discussing her immigration background (born in Ireland, Higgins now lives in New York). The range of guests are incredible — some are established names like Chris O’Dowd or Neil deGrasse Tyson, but there are also lesser known gems you’ll love hearing from, like Aparna Nancherla, or Majid Naficy. The podcast isn’t shy to delve into stories of tragedy or injustice. That’s important, as xenophobic and racist rhetoric gains traction in New Zealand and abroad despite there being 65 million people who are currently forcibly displaced from their homes due to war or persecution. However, the show tries to balance the grim reality of immigration stories in 2017 by ending each episode with a “Cheer Up Charlie” segment, where stand-up comedians, poets, or musicians from immigrant backgrounds perform. Maeve in America is a superb podcast that marries humour and pathos to share powerful stories. Start with “Children of Immigrants: Listen to Your Parents.” — Annelise Bos
55 55 55 Friday:The Beths // Hans Pucket // girlboss — Keep it two-thirds local and go see cool Wellington bands Hans Pucket and girlboss play with also-cool Auckland band The Beths at Meow during this cool season. Starts at 8.00pm. Saturday: ’Scuse Me Tour 2 — These dudes really need to change the name of the tour… but if you’re into hip-hop the Tug Boat is the place to be, with a lineup including KVKA, Beach Boy, and Name UL. Doors open 10.30pm.
PODCAST Maeve in America
Saturday : Draghound ~ Moody.V and The Menstrual Cycle ~ Gregoncé ~ And The Winner Is — If you hate hip-hop and/or Beach Boy, definitely check out this gig at Caroline and soothe yourself with this mixture that combines to something between grunge, funk, and pop. Don’t be late, doors open at 8.00pm, ’cause “4 Rad bands = rad times.”
We hope you are feeling emotionally healed after the full moon on July 9, a nice university break, and the release of Lorde’s Melodrama. — Aubergine and Celeste
Cancer: Jun 21–Jul 22 Retrograde planets are absolutely ruining your emotional stability, which isn’t good at the best of times anyway. It is a time to get innovative though, if that is something. Leo: Jul 23–Aug 22 Hey Leos, look like you’re realising that other people are sort of important for once. You will focus on your family and the pursuit of a greater set of beliefs this fortnight. Virgo: Aug 23–Sep 22 Here’s to your health gal pal, ’cause it is really the only positive thing our celestial overpowers are bringing you this week. Keep hooning that #quinoa #smoothie #vegan #livelaughlove life! Libra: Sep 23–Oct 22 That agonisingly slow-forming love relationship will continue to slowly form, but is it really worth it? Lucky your sign is a scale because it means you’re really good at weighing up decisions!! Scorpio: Oct 23–Nov 21 Saturn and Mars really have it in for your health and career this fortnight, but don’t worry, at least Jupiter has some financial treats planned. Look at Saturn and Mars as your distant parents, and Jupiter’s riches as the open ended credit card they give you to try and compensate.. Sagittarius: Nov 22–Dec 21 No one is having luck in love this sun star cycle, but you are having less luck than most. Embrace the lack of a love life by investing all your emotional and physical energy into work because love doesn’t matter and it’s all a lie and in the end all that matters is getting a good degree and love can come later right?
Capricorn: Dec 22–Jan 19 Horny certainly has a double entendre for you this fortnight Capricorns (get it — like sexually active, and your star sign is a goat)! As always we would like to take this time to remind everyone that contraception is freely available from Student Health, Evolve, and Ivy. Aquarius: Jan 20–Feb 18 Pluto isn’t even a real planet anymore, but rest assured it can still fuck with your career growth this month. Sorry. Pisces: Feb 19–Mar 20 You are an absolute emotional rollercoaster this fortnight, but in a charismatic and magnetic way. Stay creative, stay true, stay you. Aries: Mar 21–Apr 19 Moods are fluctuating this fortnight for you, especially as the Sun and Mars create a “petulant energy.” Luckily, your moody ass will have lots of money to spend on angsty things because the stars are reeling in the cash for you. Taurus: Apr 20–May 20 Your love life is going to continue to be agonisingly non-existent, so distract yourself from that by embracing the fact that your career is going to go okay. That’s all the stars have for you, we are very sorry. Gemini: May 21–Jun 20 You know how the old saying goes: “who needs love when Saturn is realigning your money and career strategies.” A very reputable source says you should invest in the stock market.
WHAT IS YOUR PASSION? Is it languages, cultures and literature, the creative arts, cultural anthropology, history in practice or international relations and political science? Find out where your passion can take you at Victoria’s Faculty of Humanities and Social Sciences Postgraduate Evening. When:
5pm, Thursday 27 July
Where: MCLT103, Maclaurin Building, Kelburn Campus RSVP:
Email firstname.lastname@example.org with ‘Postgraduate’ in the subject line by Tuesday 25 July
Chat with Quishile Charan and Salome Tanuvasa (Namesake)
Namesake is an exhibition created by close friends Quishile Charan and Salome Ofa Tanuvasa. Using textiles, audiovisual, and illustration, Quishile and Salome explore ideas of cultural heritage, a sense of home and displacement, and thinking about the different creative sites of knowledge that aren’t always considered legitimate. Sitting on the floor of the gallery threading the last few beads of Quishile’s textile work, both artists talked with me about their exhibition and why this work lies close to home. Quishile highlighted the functionality of cultural creativity as a way of organising communities, interacting within these communities, and passing on family and cultural history. “I’m interested in colonial shame and how that’s affected my [IndoFijian] community and myself. [...] So I work with visual narrative through textile making that relies on flora and fauna, and one element of our textiles is telling our stories, the traditional knowledge systems. But I also want to offer a place of grieving, healing, because it’s not something my community has been offered and it’s something we’re still trying to work through.” In preparing for this exhibition, Salome highlighted feelings of isolation during art school that is carried through into the wider art industry. Engagement with colonial and postcolonial disruption of a sense of self and belonging are few and far between. Working on this has “heightened the lack of support and a space that’s been safe to have these discussions. There’s a lack of space for people who are going through similar issues either in their art practice or daily lives.” Salome describes going to university and being told to value only a certain kind of knowledge from a certain group of academics, and slowly losing a sense of value of the knowledge passed down from her ancestors. “Institutions need to help — earlier on — and communities need to help promote the value of different structures and sites of knowledge” “When we were talking about the name of this exhibition, it was nice to acknowledge and think about where we come from, and how our names are preconceived by family members who have good relationships with their greatgrandmothers and great-grandfathers, and it’s a connection I wish I had. So ‘Salome’ is from my mother’s mum’s name, and she lives in Vava’u in Tonga, where my mum grew up. And ‘Ofa’ is my dad’s mum’s name, and dad’s from Samoa in Nofoali’i. To have these names given to me, and knowing these connections, is very humbling”. Quishile explains where her hybrid name comes from: “Around the ’80s, parents gave their children names that were different, and sometimes squished a bunch of names together, or alternative spellings of Hindustani names… With my name, it starts off with a boy’s name — Kushaal — and it means ‘the happy one’. My family always tells me stories that my father took a really long time deciding my name, and he thought it was important to have my aaji’s (grandmother) name, Shila, in mine.” Quishile’s aaji told her one day, “in your name, that’s where I lay. This way I know, someone will never forget me.” Namesake is currently showing at Enjoy Gallery until July 22, free entry. On July 22, 11.00am, there will be an artist talk with both artists. — Laura Toailoa
FOOD K C C af é KC Café is the place to go if you were disappointed that your university career has not lived up to the reality the cover of the prospectus your mum got for you in high school painted: multicultural study sessions on hills in the sun. Sure, you won’t be studying or on a hill in the sun, but if you have learnt anything from our reviews, it’s that what we say isn’t 100% accurate, much like the careers advisor at high school. Regardless, KC Café is the place to go to experience culture in Wellington if you’re feeling particularly white bread. From the meat on rotisserie in the front window you can conclude it may not, however, be the best place to bring the Tinder girl who keeps telling you to watch Cowspiracy and listed chickpeas as a hobby for a first date. You know from the hanging ducks by the counter that you’re in for something different to avocado toast and halloumi salad. Walking in to no music, just the sounds of the kitchen and distant chatter of families and flavourful first dates, you know it will be good. The menu is the size of my list of regrets for 2017 so far, and has about 100 different dishes listed on it. I can’t even cook three meals properly, and the chefs and kitchen hands at KC Café can remember how to cook over 100. If that’s not versatility, I have no idea what my family want from me. Instead of the chow mein and Diet Coke (the favourite of fucking Chad), Kii ordered the duck with oyster sauce and Thomas had some black bean beef with vegetables. The flavours in both dishes were only surpassed by the quality of the meat in the dish. Thinking about duck cooked and marinated in oyster sauce makes you think about the whole surf and turf vibe at any 3+ star wine & dine environment, but it’s far better than a bloody steak covered in 1.5cm shrimps from the west end of the Waikato River. The combination of the soft duck and the oyster sauce was such a strong flavour it gave me flashbacks to farming ducks in my other life,
only created in a world inside KC Café. Thomas' dish was immaculately presented for the ’gram; the beef and vegetables came in a clay pot that your aunty would have in her china cabinet but would never let you use. 9/10 for the food — we honestly haven't had any better Asian dishes. KC Café gives you a hefty amount of food for any dish around $14. The dishes you get will come with either rice or noodles, and have the deepest and most consistent flavour throughout the entire meal. From the portion sizes they hand you, you could rightfully assume that it is illegal to leave KC Café without being totally stuffed and regretting not ordering something smaller. Overall, it is a staple and has easily been the best place we have reviewed so far. — Kii and Tom You can catch Kii and Tom on SalientFM (88.3) on Mondays, Wednesdays, and Fridays 6.00–8.00pm. Find them on Facebook: “Kii and Tom”.
60 If you don’t want to write for us — write to us! Salient welcomes, encourages, and thrives on public debate. Send us your honest feedback, be it praise or polemics. SUBJECT: WE ARE VERY SORRY BUT THERE ARE TWO IN THIS ONE! HELLO WHAT THE FUCK HAPPENED TO THIS WEEK’S  CROSSWORD I AM EXPECTING A BUMPER CROSSWORD ISSUE NEXT TRIMESTER PLEASE CROSSword-er P.S. brilliant bunch of issues this trimester, kudos, UNTIL NOW.
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SUBJECT: FIRST DAUGHTERS Hi Laura! 10/10 opinion piece for this week’s Salient. As the subject suggests, never before did I think an opinion mattered as much as rn. It is almost as if you read the minds of me and my friends with this well thought out and researched piece. You did great and I hope to read more of these thrilling film comparisons of yours. ty.
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12 MONTH GRADUATE VISA
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Study for the new Bachelor of Health at Victoria in 2018 The first life youâ€™ll improve will be your own. LEARN MORE AT victoria.ac.nz/bhlth
1. Severus Snape, according to a Harry Potter title (4-5,6) 9. Period when Hitler was in power (3,5,5) 10. Clothing item often abbreviated to its first letter (3-5) 15. Dr. Jekyll’s counterpart (2,4) 17. Burgers whose French counterparts are referred to in ‘Pulp Fiction’ (7,8) 19. Infuriates (6) 22. Lenses that are okay if you enjoy poking yourself in the eye (8) 28. M. Night Shyamalan’s breakthrough film (no, not ‘The Happening’) (3,5,5) 29. Decimal total of the fractions in 1, 9, 17 and 28-Across (3,5,3,4)
Sudoku difficulty: Easy
Make as many words of three letters or more as you can. Each word must contain the letter in the central square. Target goals: Good: 24 words Great: 27 words Impressive: 29 words
1. Ma-Ti’s power on ‘Captain Planet’ (5) 2. Coffee that often comes with foam art (5) 3. Type of tree from which we get the word ‘book’ (5) 4. Different (5) 5. Nemo’s forgetful friend (4) 6. Harder to find (5) 7. Cacophonous (5) 8. Ones who repeat (7) 11. Winner of a 1932 Australian ‘War’ (3) 12. Start a tennis game (5) 13. Results of a brainstorm, hopefully (5) 14. Start of a brainstorm, usually (5) 15. Wear black and stay inside, maybe (5) 16. ‘___ Gabler’ (Ibsen play) (5) 17. Audi model that means ‘four’ in Italian (7) 18. Templeton from ‘Charlotte’s Web’, for one (3) 20. Birds in a skein (5) 21. Safari animal, for short (5) 23. Beginning (5) 24. Dance stereotypically performed with a rose (5) 25. “Ah, mon ___!” (5) 26. Work on, as a crossword (5) 27. Amaze or tase (4)
1. Word that’s both a synonym and antonym of ‘blow’ (4) 3. Displaying ostentatiously - it’s a term employed by those awful pick-up artists* (10) 10. Draw in (7) 11. What a robot is, generally speaking (7) 12. British Christmas dessert* (4,7) 14. Age (3) 15. With 17-Across, location for rafting* (5,5) 17. See 15-Across 20. Short promise of repayment (3) 21. ‘A Midsummer Night’s Dream’ fairy that made Bottom’s “eyes water”* (11) 24. An extreme amount (3,4) 26. Like some DVDs with titles written on in Vivid (7) 27. 1998 techno-thriller by Tom Clancy... or a good description of the suspects in the starred clues? (7,3) 28. Coloured part of the eye (4)
1. It was an ‘A’ affixed to Hester Prynne* (7,6) 2. Pet part that has toebeans (4,3) 4. “Dig in!” (3,2) 5. URL concluder, often (3) 6. Desert flora (5) 7. Cupcake topping (5) 8. Climate change agent, named for its effect* (10,3) 9. Japanese theatre (6) 13. Morning moisture (3) 16. Greek letter between two letters that rhyme with it (3) 18. It’s measured by Geonet (6) 19. Batman villain that I’d really love to have seen get the Christopher Nolan treatment... Jim Carrey could still play him, though (7) 21. ___ Land March (hikoi led by Dame Whina Cooper) (5) 22. Damp ___ (failure, slangily) (5) 23. Site of the world’s tallest building, the Burj Khalifa (5) 25. “In what way?” (3)
CROSSWORD: ‘THIS PARTY IS DEAD' 
NOTICES PARTICIPANTS NEEDED FOR A READING STUDY
If you are an undergraduate student and your native language is English or Chinese, you are invited to take part in this reading study. Participants will receive $50 in supermarket vouchers. What’s involved? Two reading sessions — about two hours each (on consecutive days) and a third session of one hour (after two weeks). The sessions are held on Kelburn Campus. Please email Natalia.Beliaeva@vuw.ac.nz
VICINSPIRE GRAFFITI NIGHT
VicInspire is holding a Graffiti Night on Friday, July 28, at Edisons Superette! Come along and draw whatever you want onto each other’s shirts while having a blast! Funds from this event will go towards sending gifts to children overseas at the end of the year! Tickets are $25 each! You get a t-shirt (we will be in contact with pickup details), markers, food, and cheap drinks! Come have some fun and support a great cause. Email firstname.lastname@example.org for tickets! A listing in our notices section is free for all VUW students, VUWSAaffiliated clubs, and not-for-profit organisations. If you would like to post a notice please email email@example.com and include NOTICE in the subject line. There is limited space in this section so notices will be prioritised at the discretion of the editors.
Schedule 2017 july
week two 17TH
CAMPUS EXPO - PIPITEA 11AM RUTHERFORD HOUSE
CAMPUS EXPO - KELBURN FEAT. BARGAIN BUYS!
11AM - 2PM MACLAURIN FOYER
12PM THE BUBBLE
5.30PM ADAM ART GALLERY
11AM - 2PM MACLAURIN FOYER
THE MEDICINE COMEDY SHOW 8PM FRINGE BAR
Feat. Rhys Mathewson $10 for students, tickets on the night – ﬁrst in, ﬁrst served
DANK COMEDY SHOW
9PM FRINGE BAR
Feat. Jerome Chandrahasen & Tom Sainsbury Tickets from Eventﬁnda
8PM THE HUNTER LOUNGE
Feat. The Upbeats, Trinity Roots, Yoko-Zuna and more. Tickets from Eventﬁnda
DISASTERADIO ‘OH YEAH’ SINGLE RELEASE PARTY
Tickets from alowhum.com
CAMPUS EXPO - KELBURN FEAT. BARGAIN BUYS!
ART GALLERY EXHIBITION WALK THROUGH
QUIZ NIGHT 7PM THE HUNTER LOUNGE FREE
CAMPUS EXPO - TE ARO 11AM - 2PM TE ARO FOYER
THE TOMORROW PEOPLE EXHIBITION PRE-OPENING 6PM ADAM ART GALLERY
8PM HUNTER LOUNGE
Here for One Night… Sold out, giveaways on our account page