Improving The Lifelong Outcomes Of Tamariki

Meet The Team

Our Kootuitui Whaanau and their Stories

Written by David Kemeys

Abi Bond

CEO

Adventure brought Abi Bond to Papakura, and love keeps her here.

The Kootuitui Trust CEO left her Colchester home more than two decades ago to travel, and today she says loving her work, colleagues, and community keep her in a town she has come to love too.

“Papakura is amazing, and it’s the people who make it. I’ve come to care deeply for them
and the community they adopted me into.”

But like any journey, the mother of two’s rise to steering the Kootuitui waka has not been
easy.

She had an extensive background in mental health services in her native England and quickly found work as a new arrival, adjusting to the challenges of new ways of doing things, and to working for and alongside Māori.

Abi’s roles eventually led her to the General Manager’s seat at the Kaupapa Māori mental
health provider, Mahi Tahi, and today she’s grateful for the faith others put in her and says learning from different cultures that solutions come in many shapes, was a gift that widened her world view.

She was spending hours running her girls to school and commuting. “I wanted to simplify my life, but I wanted meaningful work that would allow me to be there for my daughters.”

Along came Kootuitui, and having met then chair Leigh Auton thanks to his role at Emerge Aotearoa, she found herself in an interview with the late Ardmore School principal Grant Barnes.

“What a wonderful man, he was. We talked about the organisation and its mission statement – supporting the wellbeing of children in Papakura to reach their full potential. It just made sense, and I knew I wanted to be part of it.”

Soon after Abi was in the hot seat – but then Covid hit. “I had just started when the lockdown came in, so there was me, sitting alone at Papakura High School. We had to change everything we did.

“The first thing I learned though was that I couldn’t pass the bills to an accountant, I was
sending them to myself. You get good at budgeting, practising what you preach. Money is tight so you keep track of every dollar, and that’s still true today for us, and the people we work with.

“My first year we worked with Xmas in a Box and got all the packages out. There were two
bits of pork left, and I took them home knowing I’d gift them to someone. That night I got a call about a woman who had nothing. The tears she shed when we helped her have stayed with me.”

Abi thought, thanks to her career in mental health, that she had seen it all. “But when I saw those tears, I finally understood how different my life was. It’s a lesson I’ve never forgotten.”

It’s a lesson that’s also left her unashamedly short-tempered with some of what she hears around poverty, and the people who live it daily.

“We all know about a bad day, week or month when there’s bills you’re struggling with. But that’s not what we are taking about. When you witness intergenerational poverty, you come to understand how that affects people.

“Imagine what it does to your world view. It’s horrible witnessing the sense of hopelessness it leaves people with. It robs them of the ability to dream, to aspire to something more.

“There’s no sugarcoating it, we see addiction, poverty and disease. But we’ve made
progress too. We did about a dozen warm dry homes in 2019, now we’re at 250 a year,
that’s a lot of kids less likely to get sick, and to be at school.”

Despite its work, Abi says Kootuitui is unlikely to do itself out of a job. “No one is pretending
it’s not a complex problem, but that mission statement I mentioned talks about allowing
children to meet their potential. That is a goal worth pursuing.” And while she may get frustrated by the knocks, she’s also heartened by how many people want to help.

“We’re working with Thriving Communities Aotearoa companies that believe all customers should have fair access to services. Putting it simply, they don’t want to cut your water or power off and will work with you to make sure that doesn’t happen.

“These are profit-driven companies sure, but they’re also good people who will help if they can. This is New Zealand and the country I came to 22 years ago believed everyone should get a fair go.

“When I joined, I asked myself what had I done? Now I understand exactly why I joined. This is my home, my community and my neighbours. I can try to make things better, that’s something I’m not going to give up on.”

Jan Piahana

Innovations Strand Leader

After 30 years in Papakura, Jan Piahana is as passionate about the community as ever.

With whakapapa to Ngāti Wai and Ngāti Rehua, she is Chair of Aotea/Gt Barrier Island’s Kawa Marae, but most days you’ll find her in a Māori Warden’s uniform, at Papakura Marae, or behind her desk at Kootuitui ki Papakura, where she is the Innovations Strand Leader.

Every day presents a challenge she’s happy to accept on behalf of others.

It’s all about a basic human right – shelter. “We all deserve a warm dry home to live in, a
place where we can raise our whānau, be safe, establish roots… things most take for
granted.”

It’s those who can’t, she’s most interested in.

“People who think there is no poverty aren’t living in the real world. I don’t criticise them for that, it’s just that they have a different life experience.”

Jan’s team administer the three Warm Dry Homes stages– behaviours, assessment and
installation. But before they can do that, they first run workshops so people, often referred through medical carers and schools, can understand how Kootuitui and its wrap around model can help.

“We try to get to know the people, because there can be whakama / embarrassment when you need help. But if you know them first, the door opens, and you see where you can help.”

That help might centre around behaviours. “It’s things like having airflow in the home,
mopping moisture from windows, and making sure mould that damp causes gets wiped
away.

“We have to make sure our advice matches people’s needs, and that it’s practical. You can’t say to a working mum whose got $5 left each week after paying the rent, feeding the kids and putting money aside for the bills that they need to go and buy curtains and rugs, or a dehumidifier.”

One home Jan’s team visited recently had no window surrounds, the curtains damp, with
mould appearing. “We were able to bubble wrap the windows as insulation, so the curtains weren’t up against glass. Things like that can raise the temperature in a home quite a bit.”

She says its common to visit homes where the oven is the only heat source, families
cramming together to share the warmth, but a sure-fire way to spread illnesses.

“When we have addressed the behaviours, we assess homes and see what’s happening. It could be anything from no beds, curtains, blankets or insulation, to broken walls and
windows, poor electrics, no heating, overcrowding, the list goes on.

“You wouldn’t believe what we see. There might be laws about rental standards, but you
would be foolish to believe everyone meets them. Some of the properties we see are poor, but often families won’t complain for fear of being evicted, or move, because rents tend to be lower.”

The install stage attempts to match people’s needs with available resources. “It has to be about low to no cost. Would we like double glazing, sure? But we can’t pay, so we make do with bubble wrap. At the same time, we have Energy Mate, who can help with energy
saving, ensure the power plans families are on best suit their needs, and with budgeting.”

You could be forgiven for thinking it might wear you down, but Jan remains relentlessly
positive.

“People want the same things, a home, a place for family, for their children to be well, and
when you can do something that eases the burden, the pay-off comes. It might be a smile, a hug, a wave in the street. Whatever it is, it gladdens your heart. There is nothing more rewarding than helping someone else.”

Melame Taupo

Financial Wellbeing Advisor

There was a time when “having a few miles on the clock” was a badge of honour that
confirmed extensive life skills and the wisdom that goes with that.

Kootuitui ki Papakura recruit, Melame Taupo, who raised 13 children while juggling driving
thousands of miles in a 40-year trucking career, is living proof of that.

She’s no stranger to life’s bruises, losing her husband Don when he was just 44, leaving her to run the family and business, but today as a financial mentor, she keeps it simple: “There’s no-one who can’t be helped”.

She says her life lessons mean she’s well-placed to understand dealing with hard times.

“When you come from a big family and have one yourself you learn that there’s always
room for more. You become an expert in making ends meet and in ensuring no-one misses out.

“Poor people are great at juggling what little they have so they can pay the bills and put food on the table, but the reality is that a lot of us are living week to week. I’d back them to be
good with money ahead of those with more coming in but no idea where it all goes.”

Named for the wartime airport on Crete where her father served with his brother, Melame’s sister Selonika is also named for the island. “Melame was the last place Dad saw his brother, who died in the war, so I’m proud of my name. Nothing is more important than whaanau.”

That love of family continues to drive her. “Who knew that when I was carrying produce out of Pukekohe to East Tamaki it would lead to a career in the transport industry? I wanted to be a truckie because it was one of the few jobs then where women could earn the same as a man.”

But it’s also notoriously competitive and when an Australian company massively undercut the family-run business, it was another economic lesson.

“We had to move to long-haul runs, and I’d drive every day from Auckland to Turangi and back. It taught us that nothing stays the same. Our position changed in an instant.” Don’s sudden death reinforced that and Melame remains grateful for her faith and church, which preached self-sufficiency, a lesson that would see her study at Waikato University.

“We had a friend who got into difficulty back in the day and Don and I were able to help him. Don was always a believer that if you could help, you should. He was always bringing home strays and asking me to set another place at the table.

“I think back about how I used to wish he wouldn’t do it, but you can’t turn kindness off, and I wouldn’t have wanted him to. Those meals, the support we give others, those helping hands make us who we are.”

When her youngest moko went to school, Melame knew it was time to step up and help others.

“I had this need to be useful and Kootuitui helps me do that. You can’t solve the world’s problems, but you can help put people on a path so that they can solve their own problems.

“You want to be able to get to the end of the day and be able to ask, ‘did I give it my best today?’

“I have nothing but admiration for those who come to us and ask for help. That’s courageous because it’s not easy to admit you need help. But it’s like I said, anyone can be helped and there’s always room for another one.”

Tamara Tairakena

Financial Wellbeing Advisor

Watching her daughters’ tears motivated Tamara Tairakena to attend a workshop centred around chromebooks in schools that was the first major Kootuitui Papakura project.

“She brought home these letters about it and I didn’t really do anything too much until one day she came home crying and said if I didn’t sign and go the meeting she wouldn’t be able to have a computer,” the now budget advisor says.

“It certainly woke me up and I went and met Jan Piahana. We talked all about Kootuitui and I was blown away. I thought it was just amazing that here were all these people who only wanted better things for our tamariki.

“It was all about helping whānau to shape their own futures.”

That was almost 10 years ago, and Tamara is helping shape a few futures of her own now, with a permanent role at Kootuitui.

“After that first meeting I was hooked, attending a few meetings with various agencies about how Kootuitui might look and work, and it changed my mind about them.

“I was guilty of thinking the worst of people when there were so many good ones who only wanted to help, to see better things for our kids.”

Not long after came a change in family circumstances, illness ending her husband’s full-time employment, the family needing to survive on a sickness benefit.

“We were going under when someone told me about the Westpac Money Skills programme. It was amazing. We were talking as a family about bankruptcy and the next minute I was setting up payment plans and learning about budgeting.

“I’m not saying it was easy. It wasn’t. It was hard work, but we slowly paid it all off – and I mean slowly, it took ages, but then one day we were out from under.”

That’s when the penny really dropped for Tamara.

“I’m no wizard with money and I’m no smarter than anyone else, but I realised that if I could do it, I might be able to help other people do it too.”

Westpac stepped in again, offering to train Tamara and others like her, to become advisors themselves.

“My absolute passion became Money Skills and I’m still learning. Every person I work with teaches me something new. Most of those struggling with debt are good money managers because they know all about borrowing from Peter to pay Paul, juggling accounts and keeping the wolf from the door.

“But different generations have different views about money and in an ever-changing world not everyone understands things, and they can be simple things like Paywave, which charges you every time you use it, when you can avoid that payment just by swiping your card.”

Tamara says she still enjoys working with one Kuia who has always managed to get by using the old system – a few dollars in this envelope for the power, a few in this one for the water, and a few in another for groceries, and so on.

“It might seem old-fashioned, but she is on top of her bills and understands that you have to be disciplined.”

It was a lesson Tamara learned herself, desperate to visit Invercargill for her father’s 70th birthday.

“I put a picture of an Air NZ logo on my account so every time I went to spend something I would ask myself if would be better to save it to get me one step closer to seeing my parents?”

Those are the kinds of skills she puts to use for those who visit the Kootuitui Budgeting Service.

“We have a very plain approach – help, not judgement. People can walk in here and know no-one is going to tell them they shouldn’t have done this or that, because we can’t influence that. We can only put people on paths to better ways to cope so that their situation improves that little bit every week.”

She says desperation is a terrible thing. “We see people who are desperate, who are at rock-bottom, who don’t think they can find a way forward, let alone get out of debt.

“But they can. There is always hope, and there is always help here.”

Alongside her budgeting role, Tamara is also now a Kootuitui Trust Board member.

“That was another big learning curve for me, being with all these people who had all sorts of things to offer and skills that I didn’t, but it was just like that first Kootuitui meeting I went to – full of people who wanted to help.”

From helped to helper, Tamara remains committed to making that aroha go a little further.

Teremoana Te Hira

Kaituitui Coordinator

Teremoana Te Hira doesn’t believe in trauma, just lived experience.

It’s a positive view of life the Kootuitui ki Papakura counsellor brings to everything she does, despite, or perhaps because of, having had to ‘grow up fast, mostly without role-models’.

“I had to learn on my own and I’ve argued with tutors who say some of my life events were trauma. I refuse to be put in that box. They’re just lived life. Sure, some of them have
brought challenges and weren’t great, but we all understand and process our feelings
differently.”

It’s a view befitting a woman who has walked her own path.

“I whakapapa Ngāpuhi and Cook Islands but grew up in Glen Innes in a Ngāti Pākeha / Kiwi way. I don’t really recall even hanging out with many Māori. I didn’t even like Māori much because my experiences hadn’t been good. That changed when we moved to Manurewa, which I thought was a wonderful place, full of rebels, not like me, a good girl.

“At GI it was school, home and athletics, but in South Auckland I discovered fun.”

At 16 she quit school life at James Cook, forging her mum’s signature to do so. “Mum found out and got me a job where she worked, but I hated it and decided to do my own thing.”

It was a decision that would see her enrol to study social work at Auckland University…at
least until the baby came.

The young mum soon found herself at Play Centre, where she began to develop an interest in early childhood education, charting the course for more learning, that saw here undertake a Tiriti ō Waitangi workshop with her fellow students.

“They were shocked at what they heard, and by what had happened. I realised my thinking had been coloured by my experiences, and that I had judged everyone on the actions of a few. I was bit older and understood that my past couldn’t colour my thinking on my own people.

“My mindset was always positive, believing I could do anything, and I still didn’t settle, going on to work in finance, even though I knew nothing about it, just winging the interview, then on the trains and in elderly care.”

Having done a crash course, it was a role she loved, and which took her into dementia care.

“It was so rewarding but at the time I was doing bar work at night too, meeting totally
different people, and it was getting too much. A neighbour showed me a job in Māori mental health at Mahi Tahi, and I can remember doing a terrible interview and thinking they wouldn’t want me.

“But I got offered a role as an Iwi Support Worker and I started to get more confident,
especially around the older ones, who I realised were teaching me more than I was giving them. They taught me a lot about empathy, about listening and being there. And they taught me about being Māori too.”

Her next role took her into the housing sector as a Community Support Worker. “It opened my eyes and gave me a much wider view of things than I had held until then.”

Now completing a Bachelor of Applied Counselling at MIT that sees her working with
Rosehill College students as part of her course work, she’s looking forward to applying her
skills with Kootuitui whānau too.

“It might have been a roundabout path, but I still think I picked the right one, since it’s led me here.”

Now a mum to four children, and a nana to six moko wahine, with a tane on the way, she’s confident her experiences – the ones her tutors called trauma – will stand her in good stead in her Kootuitui counselling role.

“Nothing is insurmountable, no matter how terrible we think it is.” Teremoana should know, since another of those live experiences taught her a valuable lesson about judging others.

Now in a same-sex relationship, she had to ‘come out’ to her mother and stepfather.
“I was terrified they wouldn’t understand, even that they might not accept me, since there are no other gay people in our family. I took them out for dinner and swallowed a bit of liquid courage and told them I was gay. My mum just said, ‘yeah, we know’, and my dad laughed.

“We are all on our own journeys, we are all just people, and none of us is perfect. But there
is an old saying about a problem shared being a problem solved. I hope I can be a way for Kootuitui whānau to share, and to work out a way forward.

“This is an amazing place, full of good, kind people. It might have taken me a while to get
here, but like I say, I’m in the right place.”