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Design: Archi Banal.
Design: Archi Banal.

SocietyMarch 6, 2023

Courageous kōrero is the first step to overcoming intergenerational trauma

Design: Archi Banal.
Design: Archi Banal.

At a wānanga between gang whānau and a Royal Commission of Inquiry, a talanoa occurred on violence committed by the government towards gang members as children.

Shortly after 9am on a crisp February morning, a karanga rang through the air in Manukau. A pōwhiri under Tainui kawa was beginning the proceedings on a historic day. This groundbreaking occasion saw – for the first time ever – representatives from the Royal Commission of Inquiry into Abuse in Care, Māori gangs (and their Moana cousins), community groups and churches share one room. On the invitation of Hikoi Nation – made up of senior members of the Mighty Mongrel Mob (MMM), Black Power and King Cobras – the Royal Commission was there to listen to how government actions caused intergenerational trauma and mamae. Since 2018, the Royal Commission has been researching this kaupapa, and they were keen to hear how the government could avoid repeating the same mistake in the future. 

The tangata whenua of the pōwhiri collectively represented many of the hundred lovers of Tāmaki Makaurau and the manuhiri came from across the motu. As such many whānau, hapū and iwi were present. When the manuhiri crossed the makeshift marae courtyard – a gravelly carpark strewn with motorcycles – one guest responded to the karanga with whaikōrero. Once inside the makeshift marae – an events centre – whaikōrero, mihimihi and waiata were exchanged between the tangata whenua and manuhiri. To round off the formal opening, a Pai Mārire karakia was recited in unison. 

Representatives of the various rōpū sat among one another to frankly kōrero and talanoa. From current and former gang members, lawyers and media to anti-violence campaigners, politicians, protestors and academics, the room was a site to behold. In it, courageous conversations were being had. Sir Pita Sharples, Tigilau Ness and Tracey McIntosh shared the room with survivors of vicious violence. Ness, representing the Polynesian Panthers, said he was “standing here as a witness to the unending injustice” and mentioned, “they tried to lock you up, but you are resilient.”  

Some Might Mongrel Mob members at the wānanga. (Photo: Tommy de Silva)

The voices that bounced off the walls were vulnerable, talking about traumatic episodes of violence – all in the hope that moko and mokomoko wouldn’t have to go through it too. But those future generations were also present, chasing each other around, subconsciously learning about a dark truth of colonisation – systematic, racist violence, even against children. One speaker from the Aiga Trust said, “I brought the next generation here to see what we’re doing today,” adding that “it’s a historic day.”

This talanoa required revisiting generations of trauma for those the state was tasked with “caring” for. “It wasn’t care – don’t call it that!” yelled one whaea, filled with anguish. “I live with the trauma from 45 years ago still today,” said one kaumātua. Representatives from the Royal Commission were there to hear about the long-term effects of government actions.

It is no surprise to anyone to say that some gang members commit violent acts upon others – that is a fact. But another fact that would shock most New Zealanders is that as tamariki many gang members were abused – physically, mentally and sexually – by so-called carers on the government payroll. Once out of state or faith-based care, formerly abused children rallied together out of shared experience, forming or joining gangs – a safety in-numbers gig. These were some of the sentiments shared not only by the gangs but by the Royal Commission officials, the media, the faiths and all present at February 20th’s “Abuse in Care” wānanga. 

A graph visualising the staggering difference in incarceration rates of Māori and non-Māori who were in state care. (Graph: Abuse in Care – Royal Commission of Inquiry into Abuse in Care)

According to the Royal Commission, 80-90% of members in Māori gangs were in state care. The commission accepts that state care played a role in creating the gang landscape of today. According to a King Cobras representative, the state system was a horrible place that normalised cultural alienation and dissociation. It has been said that the gangs fill the cultural hole that hapū and iwi once inhabited. A MMM rangatira noted that “state care led to lifetimes of poor health, drug and alcohol dependency and repeat offending.”

But the agenda of the wānanga wasn’t only to restate facts that everyone in the room already agreed on. Instead, the wānanga was an opportunity to call out the government to spark a concerted effort for change. It was about moving progressively forward by taking into account past atrocities.  

Rua Maynard, an anti-violence campaigner, said that raising awareness about hard-to-talk-about kaupapa – like violent trauma – was an excellent first step towards mitigating further violence. However, he hoped it would be the first step of many. In that way, the courageous conversations on February 20 were the foundation for overcoming intergenerational trauma. Royal commissioner Ali’imuamua Sandra Alofivae said that abuse has deeper intergenerational impacts than we currently understand. 

Survivors of abuse were at the wānanga to “tell our stories so we can move forward,” said a third-generation state ward, who was “in it for my kids; I don’t want a fourth-generation state ward.” A MMM rangatira spoke about the day being “about protecting the tamariki and mokopuna.” One reformed former violent offender mentioned that in the community mahi he now does, he works four generations into the future to keep mokopuna safe. By centring on the next generations, the gangs were just as focused on solutions as they were on sharing their stories.

The gang whānau were unequivocal that the solutions must come from them, not the state. One kaikōrero said that if the government tried to tell the gangs what to do, they wouldn’t do it. “How can the paedophiles and the abusers determine the payout?” questioned one MMM leader. Commissioner Alofivae added to this kōrero. She noted that gang whānau are marginalised voices who – from their experiences of abuse in state care – rightly don’t trust the system. The solution must be “bottom-up policy change that reflects the reality of lived experiences,” Alofivae argued. She also said that “we need to treat gangs as the legitimate parts of society that they are” – designing their own solutions to problems they know best is a good start.

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Cultural reclamation was the primary solution discussed by the gang whānau to stop intergenerational trauma. Many speakers talked about how reclaiming the culture stolen from them by colonisation sparked their journeys away from violence. Alofivae believes that the use of one’s reo profoundly grounds people. There were mentions of language classes and cultural groups inside of prisons that reformed abuse survivors from violent individuals to peaceful and deeply culturally and spiritually literate people. The Royal commission’s chair, Judge Coral Shaw, said that state care forcefully disassociated tamariki from their whānau, iwi, hapū and aiga. Disassociation caused “spiritual and cultural isolation from their whakapapa,” she said. To find solutions, Shaw believes “Aotearoa-New Zealand needs to learn, listen and respond [to gang whānau] so future generations don’t also suffer abuse in care.” According to Phil Paikea, a well-known anti-violence campaigner and former Black Power rangatira, to end the violence the government must give gangs more resources.

Gang whānau are eager for solutions, hence why they participated in the wānanga with the Royal Commission representatives. The first step towards salvation is having the courage to kōrero, as many of the traumatised men did both at the hearings and at the wānanga. They spoke about historically taboo topics, not only for their individual benefit but for their kids and their kids’ kids. 

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Arjuna Oakes (Photo: Supplied / Design: Archi Banal)
Arjuna Oakes (Photo: Supplied / Design: Archi Banal)

Pop CultureMarch 5, 2023

The diverse and delightful soundscapes of Arjuna Oakes

Arjuna Oakes (Photo: Supplied / Design: Archi Banal)
Arjuna Oakes (Photo: Supplied / Design: Archi Banal)

This Titirangi and Te Whanganui-a-Tara musician’s work is ‘genreless’ and constantly evolving – if you’re not already a fan, you’re missing out, writes Tommy de Silva.

At my whare, the music of Arjuna Oakes blocked out the sound of howling wind during Cyclone Gabrielle. He’s one of my favourite musicians. Hailing from Titirangi, West Auckland, he’s been performing since childhood but burst onto the scene playing the keys for The Shambles. These days he performs across the motu under his own name handling the keyboard and lead vocals duties while being supported by a talented band. Arjuna is part of the “genreless generation” of musicians – the ones not allowing themselves to be shackled by one label. That’s not to say that old-school musicians never crossed categorical boundaries, but it seems more prevalent now. Being part of this genreless generation, Arjuna crosses the strict classifications of music en route to creating thoughtful, beautiful and moving mahi.

Since the Titirangi native now lives in the capital, I tracked him down for a Zoom interview. We had a thought-provoking kōrero about Arjuna’s mahi, a focus of which was this genreless form of his artwork. Arjuna told me, “genre is a great categorisation and way to understand things, but it sometimes limits the understanding and people’s perception of what music is.” To him, “music is about emotion, about expression, about feeling. And sometimes when people put all these words in front of you, it stops you from actually experiencing that.” The musicians he admires the most are those who can “transcend genre”. Although they must acknowledge their genres of inspiration, Arjuna says by transcending categories an artist can be a more honest version of themself. His inspiration is diverse, from pop, R&B, soul and jazz, to rock, folk or classical, and even Latin/South American music. When writing music, he says he doesn’t think, “I’m going to make soul today”; instead, it comes to life more naturally, reflecting what’s happening in his life and what he’s listening to. It’s no surprise, then, that Arjuna’s soundscape is so diverse. 

Arjuna released his first EP, The Watcher, in 2019, recorded with a talented group of Auckland musicians. The sound of The Watcher is bathed in the smooth tones of soul, jazz and funk. Arjuna’s gorgeous vocals are on full display in this EP, as heard above in Old School Heart. I am a shit dancer, but this EP fills my gangly, uncoordinated body with an uncontrollable urge to boogie, as do the sounds of the Recovery Part 1 and Part 2 EPs. But Recovery Part 1 and 2 can’t be classified purely as soul, jazz and funk. Some songs, like, Watch the World Burn, are stylistically similar to The Watcher. But these two EPs dive deeper into Arjuna’s bag. Songs like One For and As I Am sound so different from The Watcher that you would be forgiven for thinking another artist performed them. But that’s where Arjuna’s greatness lies, the courage and skill to engage with various sounds. Given that his music reflects the events in his life, it makes sense that Recovery Part 1 and 2 are different to The Watcher. By the time he produced these EPs, Arjuna had moved to Wellington and was performing with a new band: Harrison Scholes (bass), James MacEwan (trumpet), Jo Jenkins (guitar) and Sam Notman (drums). Their live performances are art in motion, particularly when they return to their jazzy roots through improvisation. 

Arjuna found a home among Wellington’s inclusive young music scene, where “all the musicians know each other, whether they’re punk musicians or jazz musicians, whatever it is… everyone jams with each other.”  He’s begun collaborating with Callum Mower, who performs under the moniker Serebii. The pair have produced two EPs, First Nights and Final Days. According to their label Innovative Leisure, they share songwriting duties “with Oakes handling most of the singing and all of the keys and synths, and Mower leading the production duties and playing almost all the guitar and bass parts.” Right now, Arjuna’s Spotify top 10 is dominated by his work with Serebii, and for good reason. Their combined work is beautiful, with a dreamy, sexy, synthy sound that can’t be pigeonholed into a single or even several genres. But Arjuna’s latest work is his most ambitiously divergent project yet. 

Arjuna and world-renowned Greek-New Zealand composer John Psathas released their EP Future Lullaby just before the New Year. Long gone are the soulful and funky foundations of Arjuna’s earlier works – the soothing sounds of Future Lullaby are something else entirely. Arjuna said, “the music I make with John, I’m incredibly proud of. It’s very moving”. John, a mentor and friend to Arjuna, rose to fame composing music for the 2004 Athens Olympics Games. Arjuna feels “incredibly grateful” for John’s guidance, which he told me is based on “mutual respect”. Arjuna said to me that it’s “it’s so wonderful but kind of ridiculous” that an artist as acclaimed as John treats him “like an equal” because, after all, “I’m just a kid”. But with his awe-inspiring, majestic musicianship, 24-year-old Arjuna rightly deserves not only John’s respect but that of the whole of Aotearoa. 

Arjuna Oakes continues to improve his craft and evolve his sound, and he deserves Aotearoa’s attention and support. Although his music sounds equally gorgeous online or on vinyl, he is a natural performer who is at his best in front of a crowd. To see him in his element, keep an eye out for his 2023 shows before he heads overseas later this year. Arjuna will be playing at the Last Stand festival in Titirangi (Auckland) this April, and performing with John Psathas and the New Zealand Symphony Orchestra in Wellington in June.

Keep an ear open for Arjuna’s next projects, too, including his debut album and a collaborative project with Wellington’s Gallery Orchestra led by Leah Thomas. I already know I’ll be listening to these and all his other future releases on repeat. 

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