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ParentsSeptember 20, 2017

No, poor NZ families don’t just need to make ‘better choices’

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Parents in low income families are always being told that they’re making bad choices in the supermarket; many wealthy or comfortable families seem to believe they’d be better able to survive and thrive. But, as Rebekah Graham explains, her research with New Zealand families shows what’s really happening.

To protect the privacy of research participants, pseudonyms are used throughout this article.

Previously: No, poor New Zealand families can’t just ‘grow their own vegetables’

Lea walks 45 minutes from her small flat to access the closest and cheapest supermarket. At her weekly shop she selects filling, inexpensive items that require minimal power to cook (such as tinned fruit), will last the week without perishing or needing refrigeration (such as the UHT milk), and can be used to make a complete meal (the bacon-and-egg pies, for example, can be microwaved to create one hot meal per pie). At the checkout, Lea has to return several items in order to stay within her meagre budget. The checkout operator treats Lea with barely concealed contempt. Such judgements make an already difficult task even more distressing.

With little food in the house, the groceries from this shopping trip will be all that is available to feed Lea and her teenage daughter for the week. Along with Anna, who I introduced here, Lea’s shopping trip exemplifies the reality of day-to-day survival for many low-income New Zealand families today.

Lea’s shopping

Nestled between a dollar loaf of bread and a tin of home-brand peaches in Lea’s shopping trolley is a small, inexpensive cake. Lea has brought this for a neighbour who has recently lost their parents. Despite not having enough funds to purchase every item in her trolley, Lea keeps the cake, delivering it to the family on the way home. This small act of care indicates the important social role of food and that food-related choices are not just about nutrition and sustenance. Being able to host or gift food to others is essential to social relationships and well-being. In choosing to purchase – and gift – the cake, Lea is able to contribute to the care of a neighbour, and in doing so reinforces her sense of self as a contributing member of society.

The cake for a grieving family

Available food choices for Lea are constrained by the cost of the power required to cook and store food. She is not alone in having few food choices. Recent NZ-based research shows that low-income families are typically having to choose between food and heating the family home, decide whether there is enough food for all or just the children [PDF], or choose between paying for health-related items such as prescriptions or purchasing food [PDF]. Some parents even report taking sleeping medications when the children are away on weekends so as not to risk eating precious food resources.

Parents on low incomes are often berated for making ‘poor choices’ when it comes to food. Proposed solutions typically include nutrition education classes and/or cooking programmes. Such ideas, while well-intentioned, overlook existing research which shows that people living with poverty already have healthy food aspirations, are more concerned with stretching available resources, and often have other, more pressing, matters to worry about, such as making rent. While many low-income parents are aware that the food they are buying is not ideal, their options are constrained by their low budgets [PDF]. Lea’s diet of cheap carbs is a realistic response to ongoing hardship. All the nutrition education in the world won’t give people like Lea and Anna the ongoing resources that they need to be able to purchase better quality food.

Meeting nutritional guidelines is difficult on limited means. The University of Otago 2016 Food Cost Survey shows the expected weekly spend required in order to meet basic nutritional needs. For an adult woman, the required spend is $55 a week. On the week we went shopping, Lea had just $25 for her weekly groceries. Choosing to fill empty bellies as best as possible while stretching insufficient funds is a key survival strategy. Belittling the food choices of people who simply cannot afford to follow nutritional guidelines further isolates and stigmatises people in an already stressful situation.

Growing numbers of New Zealanders frequently have no choice but to rely on the charity of others to eat [PDF]. Charitable food provisions such as foodbanks typically offer limited food choices to people in need. The commonly accepted proviso is that beggars can’t be choosers. Lea survives thanks to a local charitable meal (pictured below). She walks 45 minutes (each way) to access what is often her only ‘proper’ meal each day. The community meal offers more than just food. It provides an inclusive community space for otherwise excluded people. The creation of a welcoming space provides the opportunity for people such as Lea to engage in positive social interaction over a hot, filling meal. Humanising spaces such as the meal help to alleviate the social isolation experienced by low-income families alongside hunger and food insecurity.

A local community centre providing meals

There is a fundamental contradiction between the societal dictate that “beggars can’t be choosers” and nutritional advice that people in hardship simply need to “make better food choices”. Food insecurity is a far-reaching social issue that is not reducible to notions of individual choice. Indeed, blaming individuals for not growing their own vegetables or for making “poor choices” on limited means merely perpetuates the shame and stigma associated with food scarcity.

In a country flowing with milk and produce, it is shameful that we no longer ensure that all citizens can access sufficient nutritious food for themselves and their families.

Previously: No, poor New Zealand families can’t just ‘grow their own vegetables’

Rebekah Graham is a PhD candidate at Massey University (Albany campus). Her research with families documents the lived experiences of food insecurity within the context of poverty. She lives in Hamilton with her husband, four children, and a very large orange cat.

Kimberly Jackson is a PhD candidate at the University of Waikato. Her research looks at the historical context of milk in New Zealand schools along with experiences of poverty and hunger in families today.

Keep going!
A scene from “Let’s Haka Dance!”
A scene from “Let’s Haka Dance!”

ParentsSeptember 19, 2017

The ‘Māori’ episode of Justin Time is really, really messed up

A scene from “Let’s Haka Dance!”
A scene from “Let’s Haka Dance!”

If you’ve seen the ‘Māori’ episode of kids show Justin Time Go, you’ll know how batshit it is. Steph Matuku breaks down the mess that is ‘Let’s Haka Dance!’

I don’t care what the experts say, telly is a great babysitter. That’s especially true in the hell zone from 5pm when my kids are tired and cranky, and I’m knackered and have to make three separate meals: one for my daughter who is going through a “only fings what are yellow, bananas don’t count” phase, one for my son who loathes everything that isn’t pasta, and one for me, which is usually chocolate biscuits furtively scoffed with the tap running to drown out the creaking of my ever-expanding undies elastic.

Thank God for the kids’ selection on Netflix – mostly entertaining, sometimes educational – but always a 5pm lifesaver.

Unless of course, you’ve sat on the remote with your ever-expanding arse and accidentally switched on Justin Time Go, Season 1, Episode 8. It’s called “Let’s Haka Dance!” the title of which should already be sending shudders down your patriotic Kiwi spine. The words haka and dance should never be uttered together, much like eat and poo, or National and awesome. It’s just wrong.

A scene from ‘Let’s Haka Dance!’

Justin Time is a kid who has to learn boring kid things – sharing, teamwork, friendship, blah blah. To do it, he travels around the world and through time with a blob called Squidgy which, by the way, is an awesome method of dealing with shit. Hate your workmates? Go overseas! Friendship gone bust? Go back to Roman times and have them torn apart by wolves! There’s a lot we can learn from Justin.

In this particular episode, Justin gets jealous of his mate who has a dope cyber-bot mask. So naturally Justin travels to New Zealand to get a mask for himself. This is because our historic tradition of mask making is internationally lauded and pretty much all we’re known for. It’s just what we do.

A scene from ‘Let’s Haka Dance!’

Anyway, Justin meets up with his mate Olive (she turns up in every adventure. She’s not a crazy psycho stalker, she’s actually a figment of Justin’s imagination who helps him solve his problems which is so deep, I can’t even), and this other guy called Tommy. Tommy is Māori and wears a little kilt over bike shorts, and a hot topknot with a bone through it. He also speaks with a jarring South African accent which kills the hotness of the topknot stone dead. He should never speak again.

Olive is about to enter the haka dance team tryouts and Justin figures he’ll give it a go. Tommy says they’ll need three things – a haka chant, haka moves and a haka face. If only I’d known this in school kapa haka, perhaps I would have made it out of the back row.

Tommy smugly puts on his purple haka dance mask which looks like it was made by frazzled parents for a last minute school gala day stall. It has a protruding tongue that clacks and waggles from side to side, and eyes that swivel around in the head like loose change in the washing machine. Thus properly attired, Tommy breaks into a stomping chorus of “Tika tonu u e! Tika tonu u e!” followed by something that is perhaps Afrikaans. (“Tika Tonu u e” is the title of an actual real, awesomely inspiring haka composed by Waimarama Puhara for his son way back in 1914 or thereabouts, and can be translated as “what is right is always right!” which is pretty bloody ironic in this case.)

https://twitter.com/EmilyWritesNZ/status/904440072015028224

Justin gets immediate haka FOMO and Tommy tells him to follow the kiwi to see the Mask Maker. Because New Zealand is renowned for their Mask Makers. It’s just who we are.

Justin, Olive and a Kiwi (she’s called Coral but I think they mean Koru), traipse through the jungle to the Mask Maker’s hut. On the way, they stomp over stepping stones in a hot pool (tika tonu, u e!) and laugh at Coral who grimaces and farts every time she eats sour purple pūkana berries. (At least, I think it’s pūkana. They rhymed it with guarana which was new and interesting).

But Tommy is all shit, ow. The Mask Maker isn’t home and his hut is just a facade which Squidgy accidentally pushes over a cliff. With no Mask Maker, how will Justin get his haka face on?

Tommy waits down on the beach for them. There’s nobody else trying out for his haka dance team. Maybe they all think it’s a stink idea. Maybe they think Tommy’s a lying dickhead. But Justin, Olive and Squidgy are still keen as. And guess what? With the farty berries that Coral the kiwi found, they can paint their faces with the juice! And every time they eat one, they can pull a haka face! Because the berries are so sour! And their tongues come out! Get it? Get it? Genius!

It’s actually not genius. It’s horrendous. Especially for my Māori kids who are watching this show with an expression usually reserved for broccoli. They’re only little but they know what a haka is and they know that this isn’t it. All the haka they’ve ever seen have been serious, spine-tingling events, performed for a genuine, valid reason, never as a mockery or a parody, and never as American entertainment for the blissfully unaware. I couldn’t let them watch the whole thing. I couldn’t let them see themselves like that.

I wanted to get hold of the writers – Daytime Emmy Award nominees Craig Young and Michael Milligan – and ask them about their writing process for this episode and if all the Māori consultants in the nearby vicinity had suddenly died or exploded or eaten too many pūkana berries or something. But as I brainstormed questions to ask, I could only come up with one. What the FUCK were you thinking??

In case you cared, Justin went home, got some paint and smeared it on his face. His mate with the dope cyber-bot mask thought Justin looked cool and immediately wanted to play with him.

This is the power of the haka mask. This is who we are.

Steph Matuku is an award-winning writer from Taranaki. In 2016, Steph won a place on the Maori Literature Trust’s writing incubator programme ‘He Papa Tupu’, and wrote her first novel, Flight of the Fantail, to be published by Huia Publishers. She has two children, a messy house and lots of books.

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