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PartnersMay 12, 2022

The Far North iwi making kaitiakitanga a cross-generational project

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In this story from the Electric Highway, Don Rowe heads to the Far North to learn how Ngāti Kuri are keeping an eye on the future.

It’s a long way to the top, and nowhere is that more true than here in Aotearoa. For most of my life I had a mental image of the upper North Island as Auckland, Waipu, Whangarei and then… something. But having spent a little more time in the Far North, it really is an astoundingly vast region and every bit as beautiful as the mountainous south. And incredibly, just 20km from the tip of the country, the ChargeNet network has EV drivers covered at Te Hāpua.

For the past two summers, Ngāti Kuri has taken over management of the area. From the campground at Kapowairua, to the dunes at Te Paki, to the sacred Te Rerenga Wairua, Ngāti Kuri’s kaitiaki manaaki the thousands of manuhiri who journey to the place where the Tasman Sea meets the Pacific Ocean. They look like rangers in their utes and khaki, but the hospitality is taken very seriously.


This story from the Electric Highway is brought to you by BMW i, pioneering the new era of electric vehicles. Keep an eye out for new chapters in Don’s journey each week, and to learn more about the style, power and sustainability of the all-electric BMW i model range, visit bmw.co.nz or click here.


For Reg Lelievre (Ngāti Kuri), who returned home to help manage the campgrounds in 2019, going back to the whenua was a revelation. “I never, ever thought I would come back here. I was a city boy hard, living in Auckland and loving the dollars. Now I just can’t believe I was so stupid.”

The campgrounds help fund Ngāti Kuri’s conservation work in the Far North. The area is rich in endemic species and a partnership with Auckland Museum means scientists and botanists are regular guests in the rohe. 

“There’s stuff up here that you just don’t see. And so they’re very keen, as are we, to make sure those taonga are retained and don’t get lost – or eaten. They all need special attention, which is what this is all about. These endemic species in the Far North are taonga that we are really keen on looking after, to make sure that they don’t disappear.”

Ngāti Kuri also brings in tamariki from kura across the rohe to learn about conservation, water quality and the local ecology, laying the groundwork for the next generation of kaitiaki. “It’s all about the kids, they are the future. We’re gearing them up and getting them onboard before it’s too late for the lot of us,” says Lelievre.

“And these kids know the area, they hunt here, they were brought up here and they know the place like the back of their hand. They don’t need to be DOC rangers, they already know where these key places are, they just need the funding and tools to do the job. They’re perfect for it, who can look after a place better than your own people?” 

The legendary sand dunes at Te Paki (Photo: Don Rowe)

In te ao Māori, Cape Reinga/Te Rerenga Wairua marks the place where Māori spirits descend into the underworld along the roots of an ancient pōhutukawa. They emerge at the Three Kings Islands, looking back from Ohaua, before returning to their tupuna in Hawaiiki-A-Nui. The place is silent but for the roaring of the wind and the waves. Out to sea, the huge tidal forces create whirlpools and rapids. 

New Zealand’s trail, Te Araroa, starts here. And for some unprepared hikers it ends here too, on the endless stretches of sand. Kaitiaki from Ngāti Kuri sometimes find them, I’m told, burned and dehydrated, victims of the merciless heat and sun. There’s not much phone reception and the whenua retains an element of the frontier, that special sense of timelessness you find in places like the East Cape. 

With the BMW iX parked up at Te Paki, I set off to climb up the famous dunes of golden sand. And up, and up, and up. Size and distance seem to lose meaning there, the true scale of the place distorted like the mirages which hover above the ground. Operators in the area rent boogie boards for tourists to slide down on. I borrowed one and, being mindful not to “scorpion” my way to a broken neck, zipped down the tallest dune I could find. The exhilaration was equalled only by my despair at then having to walk the board back up to its owner, waiting at the top.  

I’d bought a fishing rod on the drive north. I’ve never been much of a fisherman, something I’ve always chalked up to a lack of patience and ignoring all the sage wisdom like “it’s not about catching fish”. But it certainly felt like it was about catching fish at Kapowairua, as schools of kahawai swam back and forward just metres off the rocks, oblivious to – or disgusted by – my offerings. It’s one thing to plumb the depths, waiting for the sweet rush of a bite, oblivious as to what lurks beneath. It’s another kind of hell entirely to see the fish in their hundreds, taunting you with every shimmering scale. 

And then, ecstasy. The line went taut and the fight began. Man versus fish. It had to be huge, a leviathan, some primordial beast. I slipped about in my Birkenstocks, tripping over half-frozen bait and narrowly avoiding the $2 kitchen knife and chopping board containing my tackle. On the same beach where Celebrity Treasure Island was filmed, I felt like Chris Parker, only without the talent or charisma. Was it a record-breaker? Maybe not, it was a reasonably juvenile looking thing. But it was mine. 

The campground at Kapowairua (Spirits Bay). (Photo: iTravelNZ)

I took it back to camp, where Ngāti Kuri’s kaitiaki live during their shifts in a compound of portacoms and big canvas tents. 

“Tangaroa was good to you, my bro,” Lelievre said “This fulla has been persistent, I’ll give him that.” 

Lelievre taught me how to fillet, and then wrapped the fish in newspaper – it wasn’t much of a contribution, a bit of manky kahawai in a bounty of crayfish, smoked mullet and wild beef the kaitiaki had prepared. We spoke deep into the night about the history of the area, about the tupuna interred on the hill and the spirits the locals say frequent the empty beaches at night.

The Far North is the kind of place that stays with you, a place where manaakitanga is still a way of life. Kapowairua is an appropriate name – the whenua is thick with wairua. And so while I drove south in the iX, with my kahawai on ice in the back, I took more with me than fish.

“You leave knowing what we’re all about,” Lelievre told me later. “It’s very cool. It’s very empowering.”

Keep going!
(Illustration: Daniel Ido)
(Illustration: Daniel Ido)

PartnersMay 11, 2022

Long distance life: Three students navigating the pandemic far from whānau

(Illustration: Daniel Ido)
(Illustration: Daniel Ido)

For the thousands of students in New Zealand their tertiary experience has been heavily impacted by Covid-19. For international students, that impact has meant separation from family, friends and familiarity.

The pandemic hasn’t been easy for students. While tertiary institutions moved to accommodate online classes and remote assessment – in theory keeping things moving relatively smoothly – the reality of study-from-home was often more fraught and complex than logging into live-streamed lectures and continuing as normal.

For students across Aotearoa, lockdown meant working from and being confined to their flats and halls of residence – with those in the former sometimes contending with substandard heating and patchy internet connections to boot. And with situations and guidance changing often, students complained too of unclear direction from institutional leadership throughout the period. For international students, those issues were exacerbated by their own unique challenges – having to settle simultaneously into a new culture and a “new normal”, all while living oceans away from their loved ones and home comforts. 

While the specifics of their situations can vary widely, for many international students the story of the past few years is one of resilience. And in many cases, that resilience has been enabled and reinforced by strong support networks within and around the international student community.

The Spinoff talked to three international student leaders about why they chose to study in Aotearoa, and how building connections has helped them to stay afloat during the Covid era.

Kedi

(Illustration: Daniel Ido)

University of Auckland communications student Kedi Zou has been living and studying in New Zealand since 2019. She works in the marketing department for the University’s Chinese Student Union, creates blogs and vlogs to share her experience of studying in New Zealand, is a student ambassador for StudyAuckland, and a 2022 Kiwi Ambassador for Education New Zealand. While this isn’t her first international study experience, Zou says the warmth of New Zealanders has been a real comfort over her time here. Small things can have a big impact.

“The most impressive thing is that people will say thank you to the bus driver when they get off the bus,” says Zou. When her key got stuck in the corner of the bus floor and the driver parked up to join her on his knees to fish it out, “no one [on the bus] complained!” she laughs. 

When the pandemic hit, Zou was stuck in China, studying online for 16 months as she waited for a border exemption to allow her to return. She arrived last August, but after two weeks of quarantine, Auckland announced another set of lockdowns that lasted until December. “The period was really challenging for me,” she admits. 

Continuing to attend “Let’s Talk” workshops over Zoom – designed for international students to practise their English with volunteers – Zou met a retired primary school teacher. “It’s really helpful for my English speaking but also my mental health, to talk to someone.” Once lockdowns were over, Zou met up with her new Zoom friend, who showed her some new Auckland haunts.

She’s also found Auckland to be a good balance between nature and cityscape, with lots of opportunities for outdoor activities – through student clubs, Zou recently tried out paddle boarding and skiing – and to meet new people. 

In contrast to what she describes as the more rigid expectations of growing up in China, Zou says that New Zealand culture is friendly, chill and adventurous. And in being immersed in a different cultural mindset, she’s started to see herself in a different light. 

She encourages students thinking of going on exchange to step out of their comfort zones and embrace the differences in culture that they will experience – and the kindred spirits they’ll find in the process.

 Bryann

(Illustration: Daniel Ido)

When Colombian scientist, UN-recognised solution maker and PhD engineering student Bryann Avendano-Uribe decided to study abroad, he needed somewhere that could provide a flexible study programme and holistic approach to education.  He also needed somewhere he could connect with small local governments for his thesis on building resilient communities and cities. 

Aotearoa is one of the few places where his studies could bridge the gap between engineering and science, Avendano-Uribe soon found himself at the University of Canterbury, exploring Christchurch as a city still healing from the 2011 earthquakes.  It took some work for Avendano-Uribe to adjust to New Zealand’s slower pace of living, but over time, that slow pace became an opportunity in its own right – time to socialise, to read and to explore.

Avendano-Uribe was grateful to have his university supervisor’s support during the pandemic, and the two would catch up every day to chat. He also made the most of exploring and hiking in different parts of the country, especially the South Island, and was able to tap into his love for climbing. “It’s a different way to explore the land, you see another perspective.” 

Fittingly, given the significant role that farming plays both in Aotearoa and in many Latin cultures, Avendano-Uribe sums up his appreciation for his adopted home with a very agricultural simile: “New Zealand is like a big farm that feeds the world: with food, innovative ideas and a balanced lifestyle.” 

He managed not to get too homesick during the Covid-19 lockdown, because his friends and mum in Colombia were just a click away online. He’s also found a supportive Latin American community in Canterbury – and has even been able to find some of his Colombian comfort foods locally.

“I feel like because we are so far away, Latin Americans build a strong community,” Avendano-Uribe says. Those connections with people from all around his home region have helped him to stay positive despite all of the disruption, and the common ground they’ve collectively found has helped to help them all feel a little less far from home.

Minnie

(Illustration: Daniel Ido)

Minnie Kalo Voi has always been outspoken, and has long been a leader. Growing up in Papua New Guinea with five younger siblings meant she was often responsible for everything from helping with school homework assignments to cooking dinner for the family. It was tough at times – “I’m sure many first-born daughters in brown families can relate,” she says – but she acknowledges too that having that early responsibility gave her a solid grounding in leadership.

Currently the Vice President of the New Zealand International Students’ Association (NZ ISA), Voi wants to make sure women are always present in decision-making roles. She has held representative roles at Massey University and the local Pasifika Association and throughout her various positions has pushed for her community’s needs, including advocating for international students to be able to go home as pandemic-imposed border restrictions have lifted.   

She’s the second from her family to study in New Zealand, following in her father’s footsteps to study a Bachelor of Business Management and Economics at Massey University after receiving a scholarship from MFAT. She points to his experience and her family as a key motivator for her own. “They always said ‘when God created the world and made it good; He took his time with New Zealand, because it’s just so beautiful’.”

But living in New Zealand it hasn’t been an easy few years for Voi. Her brother passed away last year while New Zealand was still in lockdown, and unable to travel home, her mental health took a dip – and with services already stretched, it took weeks for her to be able to access counselling through the university.

“It was heartbreaking for me,” she says. “I was going through a really rough time. Like a deep hole.” It’s reflective of a challenge that Voi says is one of the most significant faced by the international student community: finding a sense of belonging in a situation which can naturally be quite alienating.

“Māori people are indigenous to Aotearoa, so coming here, I thought, ‘You’ll be fine, there are people that look like you. They have the same skin colour as you.’ But people still look at you with stereotypical views or unconscious bias in the lecture rooms.” 

Despite those difficulties, Voi is motivated by the drive to provide a better life for herself, her family and the rangatahi who’ll be inspired to follow in her footsteps. In late 2020 she was honoured by the Pacific Cooperation Foundation for her work as a young Pacific leader, and has subsequently adopted her younger sister to provide her with the opportunity to also study abroad. And once she’s completed her studies, she hopes to take her Aotearoa-gained expertise back to Papua New Guinea and help the community that raised her.

While all of these students’ stories are unique, it’s easy to see how that common thread of resilience ties them all together. It’ll always be a challenge, of course, to travel thousands of kilometres from home and to immerse yourself in an entirely new social, cultural and educational climate, but for Voi it’s a challenge well worth taking on.

“You get to start your own life, build your networks, find friends and community here,” she says. “It’ll give you life lessons that you’ve never had before.”

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