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STAKES IS HIGH: STRAINED RELATIONSHIPS IN THE MOANA Something is always happening in our sea of islands. In the Solomon Islands, for example, March 16 saw the shock resignation of 10 MPs in an apparent government takeover by the People First Party (PFP) against Prime Minister Manele’s OUR Party. This comes after Manele survived multiple votes of no confidence in Parliament, and as the Solomon Islands remain split on their relationships with places like China and Australia. Opposition MP Peter Kenilorea Jr was quoted by The Guardian  in January saying there is a “battle for the hearts and minds going on” when it comes to the competition for influence in the Solomon Islands. As all sides increase their policing and defense ties with the Solomons, it doesn’t look like this political turmoil will cease for these islands anytime soon. The Solomons are not the only place being forced to confront these ideas. Cook Island’s Prime Minister Mark Brown was in Aotearoa recently, but interestingly decided not to chat with Luxon, despite him recently returning from his trips to Sāmoa and Tonga. His Sāmoa trip, by the way, was a mess before he even stepped foot in the 685. After it was falsely claimed by the Sāmoan government that Luxon requested to have a Sāmoan title bestowed upon him, the descendants of the title he would be receiving began a legal case to stop the ceremony. The ceremony was conducted anyway, and Luxon is now an official holder of the Tuisinavemaulumoto'otua title. I think Luxon’s dance moves during the ceremony show how deserving he was of this.  Tonga’s meeting was far less dramatic, with Tonga's Prime Minister Lord Fakafanua welcoming the Lux and showing his support for easing restrictions around Pacific people traveling in and around New Zealand. Tonga is, of course, also stuck in a political middle ground, as the USA’s increasing anti-immigrant sentiment affects Tongans and other Pacific peoples, and as their debt with China grows (reaching $112 million according to World Bank data from November 2025). King Tupou VI of Tonga met with President of China Xi Jinping last year, where Xi pledged that “No matter how the international situation changes, China will continue to support Tonga in safeguarding its national independence and sovereignty.” So if you trust the Chairman, then Tonga has absolutely nothing to worry about. But back to the Cook Islands. The Cook Islands were once a part of New Zealand back in our empire days, but now they exist as an independent state in ‘free association’ with New Zealand. This vague description of the two countries' relationship has led to a long year of back and forth between Winston Peters and Mark Brown, as the Cook Islands sign deals with China and host sanctioned oil tankers linked to Russia and Iran. A pause in aid was the response from New Zealand, and at this moment it has still yet to be resolved. Former New Zealand Prime Minister Helen Clarke has argued that the causes for concern on New Zealand’s side have not come from thin air, citing parts of the China agreement like “a clause that says the two countries, Cook Islands and China, undertake to support each other's candidates in international organisational elections where they're both members”, something she claims New Zealand would never agree to. She also believes the relationship is salvageable, but only time will tell there.  Mark Brown did meet with our mate Winston informally to discuss the cross-roads our two nations find themselves in. Brown clearly wants the Cook Islands to be afforded a level of autonomy that any other independent state would get, while New Zealand seems keen on maintaining a status quo that it doesn't see any issue with. While speaking in Aotearoa, Brown stated that “there are times when we must pause and consider whether the conventions and evolved understanding between our freely associated states remain aligned…we find ourselves in such a moment”—a clear message of intent if ever there was one. Regardless of whether or not you think New Zealand was right to react to these dealings the way they did, there is no denying that this moment cannot be erased from our collective memories. That paused aid won’t materialise out of thin air for the Cook Islands, and I can think of a certain People’s Republic in East Asia that may be ready to pick up where we left off if this one doesn’t get sorted out. In this constant game of power-politics, it can be very difficult for these island nations we inhabit to keep our voices at the forefront of issues that matter to us the most. Climate change, for example, is a front line issue for many small Pacific countries, but one that is caused largely from the decisions of external, much larger states that will be insulated from some of the more extreme results for longer (although, everyday that timeframe gets shorter). COP31, the 31st annual meeting between nations to discuss climate change, is to be held in Turkiye this year. This is in spite of the fact that Australia and the Pacific have been agitating for it to be held in a Pacific nation, where the immediate issues can be made clear to those visiting. The consensus for that was not reached, and Australia was forced to compromise with only a pre-COP meeting to take place in the Pacific before COP31. Taken in tandem with the US’s attempts to block global climate action (which I mentioned last week for those who read it), it becomes clear that on the global stage, not all voices are truly equal. Insert shocked surprise face.  Our leaders seem very aware of the fact that the world landscape is changing. As the climate battle rages on in the political realm, war and unrest continues to expand in the physical. Recent developments in West Papua, for example, remind us that the scourge of colonial violence is not something our region can leave in the past. After a February 11 attack on an airport left two civilians dead, the Indonesian government has pledged to crack down on what they see as a rising security issue in West Papua. The attack was carried out by armed rebels who came into existence after Indonesia’s annexation of the western part of the Island of Papua last century— an annexation that was carried out with no legal basis and little support from the indigenous peoples of West Papua. Benny Wenda, President of the United Liberation Movement for West Papua (ULMWP), has publicly decried the accused bombing campaigns the Indonesian government has been carrying out in West Papua since January—“According to Human Rights Defenders on the ground, the Indonesian military used drones to drop bombs on the refugee camp in Kembru District, forcing civilians from nine villages to flee into the forest. These are mostly women (some of them pregnant), children, and elders: defenceless people who have already been displaced from their homes by previous military operations.” Wenda’s claims are far from baseless, with ample evidence of this type of violence from the Indonesian state being brought to the forefront over the decades. Indonesia continues to deny such claims. Much like Palestine or Sudan, most places would rather not think about it. This old-school colonial conflict is going on in an island directly above Australia, a clear sign if ever there was one that things are not all goods in our region. The stakes have never been higher for us, and the rest of the world, perhaps since the Pacific was embroiled in the second World War and decolonisation. As the more influential states (New Zealand included) throw their diplomatic weight around to try and shape our region in their image, we must remember that this isn’t new. A lot of these states used to belong to global empires before gaining independence, and while some still have yet to reach that point, the way the Pacific looks today is proof that big powers don’t have to win big power politics, and sometimes they can even lose. As a wise man once said: “any nation that oppresses another, forges its own chains.”

Mā te huruhuru ka rere te manu Alonso Meija-Ball To some, heritage means nothing beyond the colour of your skin or the spelling of your surname. Not being able to speak the language of your ancestors is forgivable if your family was built on the backs of migrants. There is no standard to uphold if even the people who raised you can’t speak their ‘mother tongue’. I say this primarily thinking of ngā Tāngata Pākehā who are of European descent, whose rangatira hail from Germany or France—they don’t know a lick of the language and that’s acceptable. Although, there can always be exceptions. But for Tāngata Whenua it’s different.  There’s the idea that if you’re Māori, and you can’t speak the ‘reo’, then you’re ‘plastic’. Some sort of ‘other’ . I’ve talked to individuals who degrade themselves when the topic of culture comes up, almost racing before anyone else can beat them to the punch, by cutting off their own poppy heads. It is fair to say, no one should be blamed for the sins of their parents, because parents who chose to educate their children in the tongue of their colonisers haven’t done anything wrong—it’s the result of grandparents and great grandparents being shamed and beaten into silence.  Whina Cooper was responsible for the 1975 Māori Land March and was one of the key figures that helped usher in a new founded strength in kotahitanga Māori, helping underpin movements like the Māori Language revitalisation movement. This started with Kōhanga Reo nearly 50 years ago, which led to te reo Māori being recognised as an official language during 1987.  Some odd 50 years ago is both such a short time and a lifetime ago—I feel as though some people really don’t comprehend that fact. And 50 years is all it took. Some consequences are still trickling down, where Tāngata Whenua are but a stranger to their own language due to a suppression they had no play in.  Yet there’s an idea, a theory proposed by Theodore Newcomb, that says we are drawn to the people we subconsciously believe we will relate to the most. And when proven true, the connections built will be that much closer and more intimate than any mere acquaintance. So when you’re surrounded by strangers, and long for conversation—who do you gravitate towards first? Those who speak the shared reo Pākehā or those who speak the language that reminds you of what you have lost? Or perhaps you don’t choose and remain an ‘other’ . The loss of language shouldn’t be a divisive topic. If anything, it should be a moment meant for reflection. Especially in the current climate, where our understanding of connection has become defined by our identity as the whole person who we are, and not what we’ve lost. I understand that too. Knowing who you are gives a sense of security, a place to stand in an at times unreliable world.  Ahakoa kāore ōku toto Māori. Nō Amerika ki te Raki tōku whaea, ā, nō Amerika ki Te Tonga tōku pāpā. He tāne Pāniora ahau. So when I’m choosing who to talk to, I always hesitate. Be patient with yourself. Understanding your history is important as it still holds relevance. Understand that what has been done is done, and now we merely begin again. Constantly analysing the why will only lead you towards insanity, really. The world, this country, whoever you deem as ‘your’ people, can be far more forgiving than you anticipate.

An office move for the Vice-Chancellor and the rest of Te Hiwa cost the university $411,000—despite an initial budget of just $267,000.  The Vice-Chancellor and the rest of The Hiwa (Victoria University’s senior leadership team) have relocated to a refurbished space in the Robert Stout building, documents released under the Official Information Act (OIA) reveal.  Why? To give each Te Hiwa member their own office. The move, the university says, would improve productivity, privacy, and—somewhat more abstactly—uphold manaakitanga.  “This project will enhance the working environment for Te Hiwa members, by providing individual offices for all members,” reads a university memorandum released under the OIA. “One advantage of this relocation is that it will significantly increase the privacy for each member, enhancing confidentiality.” The budget did not hold. While initially set at just under $270,000, the final cost reached $411,000 after a series of unbudgeted additions.  Furniture alone cost $49,000. A further $95,000 went to IT infrastructure and security.  In a statement, a university spokesperson rejected the idea that the project had gone over budget—framing the additional spending as separate. “There was no overspend in the refurbishment and relocation of Te Hiwa offices. The costs referred to were additional costs including consents, security, loose fittings and furnishing, carpets, painting IT and infrastructure, which were funded through other maintenance budgets and excluded from the business case estimates.”   The spokesperson added that meeting the same requirements in the Hunter Building would have been “considerably more” expensive, citing the need for further construction work. Internally, the university assessed the project as carrying a “medium” reputational risk, with a communications plan prepared in the event of media scrutiny. The move was also framed as contributing to Māori students' wellbeing. “Allowing Te Hiwa to work efficiently and collaboratively together, allows under the Mai I te iho ki te pae framework the top tier of the institution, to deliver, not only better outcomes for Māori at the University, but for the wider university as well,” the memorandum states.  “‘Relevance to Māori’ is standard in business cases, to ensure we continually consider the impacts and outcomes of our actions on our Māori students and staff,” the spokesperson said. Please feel free to writ e Salient l etters (or opinion pieces) if you have other ideas on how to spend $411,000 to enhance Māori wellbeing at Vic. A 2025 briefing by the Tertiary Education Commission described Victoria University as a “high-risk institution” financially, noting that many of the factors influencing their assessment sit outside the university’s control.

In nomine Dei, miseratoris, misericordis. Hajji Abdullah Drury Easter, or the Feast of the Resurrection, occupies a central place in the Christian liturgical calendar. This year, it will occur a few weeks after the end of Ramadan, the Islamic month of fasting during daylight, and the Muslim festival of Eid al-Fitr. Commemorating the resurrection of Jesus Christ on the third day following his crucifixion in AD 33, Easter is regarded (alongside Christmas) as one of the most significant religious observances in Christianity. Given that Jesus (“Isa” in Arabic) is also a revered prophet in Islam, the question arises: what significance, if any, does Easter hold for New Zealand Muslims? Today the Muslim population, numbering over 60,000, reflects a complex interplay of migration, conversion, and generational development. To the untrained eye, New Zealand Muslims may seem a little aimless. However, this community may be broadly categorized into four sociological groupings.  The first includes immigrants from diverse regions, spanning both recent arrivals and long-established families. The second comprises refugees (African, Asian, and European) whose resettlement is shaped by displacement and humanitarian policy. Third are converts, predominantly from Anglo-European and Polynesian backgrounds, drawn to Islam through spiritual conviction or marital ties. Fourth are New Zealand-born descendants of these groups, including children of mixed heritage, who embody evolving, hybrid identities.  This layered demographic challenges reductive narratives of religious minorities and invites a more nuanced understanding of belonging, citizenship, and cultural negotiation. As these communities continue to grow and adapt, they contribute to the redefinition of New Zealand’s pluralistic landscape, raising critical questions about national identity, civic inclusion, and the future of religious diversity. While Easter itself is not observed within Islamic tradition, the figure of Jesus is deeply respected. Numerous Muslims bear his name, and the Quran affirms his status as both a nabi  (prophet) and a rasul  (messenger) of God, specifically sent to guide the Children of Israel. He is described as Kalimatullah  (“God’s Word”) and referred to as al-Masih  (“the Messiah”) eleven times. The phrase Isa ibn Maryam  (“Jesus, son of Mary”) appears thirty-three times throughout the Islamic scripture, underscoring his theological prominence. However, the Islamic conception of Jesus diverges significantly from Christian doctrine, particularly regarding his death and resurrection. The Quran explicitly denies the crucifixion, asserting instead that Jesus was neither killed nor crucified, but that it merely appeared so to his contemporaries. This theological distinction serves as a critical demarcation between Islamic and Christian understandings of Jesus. Most Muslims believe that Jesus was miraculously raised to heaven by God and remains alive, awaiting a future return during the eschatological “final days” to defeat the Dajjal  (antichrist).  The identity of the substitute—who was crucified in Jesus’ place—has been the subject of considerable speculation among Muslim historians. While some posit a willing volunteer, others suggest divine retribution upon an adversary, with Judas Iscariot frequently cited in popular folklore. It is worth noting that interpretive diversity exists within the Muslim world. The Ahmadiyya community, a Muslim minority sect originating in South Asia, maintains that Jesus was indeed crucified but survived, later migrating to Kashmir under the name Yuz Asaf. According to this narrative, he lived out his days in India and established a local lineage – an account that remains controversial and is rejected by mainstream Islamic scholarship as cognitive dissonance. Despite doctrinal differences, Christianity and Islam share historical and theological intersections. Both traditions affirm the prophetic mission of Jesus, his miraculous birth, and his ethical teachings.  In this light, Easter (though not commemorated by Muslims) can serve as a reflective moment for interfaith dialogue. It highlights the shared reverence for Jesus and invites deeper understanding of the theological nuances that distinguish the two faiths. I read a lot of history books and my own thoughts here turn to the popular song “ Aiwa Saida ” that New Zealand soldiers sang whilst in North Africa during World War Two. The lyrics—replete with references to an Arab musician named Ali Yusuf—hint at the close relationship that once existed between different peoples fighting fascism together.  So then, the Islamic perspective on Jesus is increasingly relevant in public discourse in this country as religious pluralism becomes more pronounced. A concerted effort to foster mutual respect and theological literacy has become essential. Ultimately, while Muslims do not celebrate Easter, the occasion offers an opportunity to acknowledge the profound commonalities between Christianity and Islam, and also the differences. Both traditions, despite their serious doctrinal divergences, affirm a vision of Jesus that continues to inspire billions across the globe. As the Quran teaches Muslims: “The closest in affection to Muslims are those who say: ‘We are Christians’” (5: 82). Hajji Abdullah Drury is a Hamilton Muslim and author of the book A History of Christchurch Muslims – Integration and Harmony  (2024).

Bram Casey i don’t know anything / i get so cold / i’m not universally recognisable just yet but more than ordinary can i put your jacket on / all my friends are so much older than me so much more aware / internal so much further inside themselves if i burned down a house in the suburbs would you look at me like the glowing sky after the party / if i started crying when the sun came up / would you kiss my neck on your mother’s doorstep / would you / i’m always so confused do you actually like me? you said you did but only because i said it first / the other day lily said she saw a dead black swan wash up on freyberg beach if i had a house / and it was full of people / would you make them all get the fuck out / so i could watch the sky slice itself into soft wet silver pieces / massage my temples and sit with my feet tucked under my ass as the morning explodes Bram Casey is a 19-year-old Theatre student at Te Herenga Waka, and originally hails from Ōtepoti, Dunedin. He really loves Ella. Like, SO much. He is of Irish, Norwegian, and Ngāti Maniapoto descent. You can read his work in bad apple, The Free Body Problem, and an issue or two of Salient from 2025.

Victoria Cantalapiedra Mateo ‘ Mientras uno está vivo, uno debe amar lo más que pueda. ’ ("While one is alive, one must love as much as one can") (“BAILE INoLVIDABLE”) Bad bunny’s parting words echoed across Sydney’s Engie Stadium as 90,000 fans gathered across two sold-out nights for his long-awaited Australian debut. Tickets vanished almost instantly, setting audience records and marking the first time a Latin artist has sold out a stadium in Australia.  Crowds of all ages and nationalities — from those who had been loyal since his trap beginnings in 2016, to those who had been enticed by his Super Bowl performance at the start of the month — boarded buses, planes, and trains to see Spotify’s Global Top Artist. Sydney marked just the fifth stop on the originally 23-date Debi Tirar Más Fotos World Tour — his first-ever world tour — which has since expanded to more than 45 shows across four continents.  De Puerto Rico, para el mundo entero. (From Puerto Rico, to the entire world ) “Benito, hijo de Benito, le decían "Tito"El mayor de seis trabajando desde chamaquitoGuiando camiones como el pa y el abueloAunque su sueño siempre fue ser ingeniero”   (“LA MuDANZA”) ("Benito, son of Benito, he was known as Tito, The oldest of 6 working since he was a child Guiding trucks like his father and grandfather before himAlthough he had always dreamt of becoming an engineer.") In “LA MuDANZA”, Benito Antonio Martínez Ocasio (aka Bad Bunny) traces his family’s working-class roots in Puerto Rico, honouring their sacrifices that shaped his upbringing in the country that raised him. His homeland has long been central to his music, but it reaches its peak in his latest Grammy winning album DeBÍ TiRAR MáS FOToS , the first ever Spanish-language record to win Album of the Year.  The album plays like an extended love letter to Puerto Rico, blending traditional genres like plena, bomba, and salsa with his signature reggaeton and trap. Across its 17 tracks, Bad Bunny sings, raps, and dances alongside national musicians, who all come together to pay tribute to their long-suffering homeland and celebrate its culture and history.   While many listeners may not be familiar with Puerto Rico’s place as an “unincorporated territory” of the United States, they know Bad Bunny—the 31-year-old global star whose name stems from a childhood photo of him dressed, and visibly unimpressed, in a bunny costume. What began as a memorable username on SoundCloud and Twitter (now X) quickly became a brand. In 2016, his breakout single “Diles” secured him a deal with Hear This Music, launching a career that would redefine Latin music’s global presence. Since then, Bad Bunny has released seven solo albums and one collaborative project with Colombian artist J Balvin. A total of 113 of his singles have entered the Billboard Hot 100, with 29 songs superpassing one billion streams on Spotify. Following his Super Bowl performance, his Spotify streams surged by around 470% in the U.S. This boost also benefitted other Spanish-language artists, including featured halftime performer Ricky Martin (+145%), and even prompted improvements to lyric translation features on the platform.   This wasn’t always the case. I can vividly remember laughing at the boys in my Year 10 class who proudly proclaimed themselves “Los Conejos”  (The Bunnies; the collective term for followers of Bad Bunny) and hopped into lessons quoting his early trap lyrics. A “trap house” is slang for a ramshackle residence where drugs are illegally bought and sold, a term that originated in Atlanta, Georgia. These environments inspire trap music, a subgenre of Southern hip-hop that often centers on themes of violence and sexuality. In Spanish, these themes remain largely the same, and the songs are frequently labelled vulgar or crass.  I’ll admit that I didn’t see his appeal at first. That changed in 2020, when I was a fresher at university and one of the girls I really wanted to be friends with wouldn’t stop talking about him. Naturally, I did what anyone would do and immediately started listening to his music, just so I’d have something to talk about with her. Somewhere between our Bad Bunny-fuelled “study” sessions and our official flat going-out playlist, I began to understand the hype. Around this time, Latin music was steadily gaining global traction. It arguably began with Luis Fonsi and Daddy Yankee’s “Despacito” in 2017, which later featured Justin Bieber as its streams skyrocketed internationally. Bad Bunny, meanwhile, was transitioning from the “King of Latin Trap” into the reggaeton scene. Reggaeton itself originated in Panama during the construction of the Panama Canal, when migrant workers from the West Indies adapted their musical traditions into “reggae en Español.”   (Reggae in Spanish) This sound fused with Jamaican dancehall, Puerto Rican underground music, and U.S.hip-hop to create what we now know as reggaeton. Its signature “dem bow” (Twerking) beat and suggestive lyrics also gave rise to “perreo”, a sexually charged dance style that emerged in San Juan’s infamous nightclub The Noise.  Today, reggaeton has softened considerably from its misogynistic and homophobic roots, as more and more women have center stage. Artists like Karol G, Shakira, and Natti Natasha have shifted the narrative from male objectification to female empowerment. “Perrear”  (The act of dancing perreo) is no longer an expectation, but a skilled expression of sexual autonomy. Bad Bunny himself has consistently shown his support for women, feminism, and the queer and trans community. Despite operating within a typically hypermasculine music industry, he challenges gender norms by wearing make-up, nail polish, skirts and dresses — most notably during his 2020 Tonight Show Performance, where he wore a skirt to honour the trans woman Alexa Negrón Luciano who was murdered in Puerto Rico. In the music video for “Yo Perreo Sola” (I Twerk Alone) , which promotes consent and a women’s right to dance without harassment, he appears in full drag as part of his ongoing advocacy for gender inclusivity.  At the end of the day, Bad Bunny’s music brings people together. I was lucky enough to experience this cross-cultural phenomenon first-hand in Sydney, dancing alongside thousands of others who had been moved by his songs, whether they understood the language or not. Aside from a few English-language collaborations, Benito performs almost exclusively in his native tongue —specifically Puerto Rican Spanish, which has historically been looked down upon by other Spanish speakers. Unlike many Latin artists who switch to English to reach wider audiences, Bad Bunny has never released a fully English-language song. Some of his most powerful and politically charged tracks, such as “LO QUE LE PASÓ A HAWAii,” addresses issues like gentrification and cultural erasure. He draws parallels between the forced displacement of Native Hawaiians under U.S. colonisation and his fears for Puerto Rico’s future. Across the Americas, many listeners will recognise these anxieties, and hearing the artist both celebrate and mourn his homeland is bound to strike a chord.  We may also have reached a point where anyone willing to publicly denounce global injustices while spreading joy is quickly exalted. Is that such a bad thing? You don’t need to understand the words to be captivated by Bad Bunny’s enthusiasm or feel the rhythms of his music. As Benito and his band tour the world, he carries his message of love and unity —delivered entirely in Spanish—to millions of fans.  In the final song of his show, “DtMF,” he reminded us to embrace the people we love and live in the moment—because once they’re gone and moved on, you’ll only be left wishing you had taken more photos. A picture does speak a thousand words after all — no matter the language.  “Debí tirar más f-Gente, los quiero con cojone, los amoGracias por estar aquí, de verdadPara mí es bien importante que estén aquíCada uno de ustedes significa mucho para míAsí que vamo pa la foto, vengan p'acáMétase to el mundo, to el corillo, vamoZumba”  (DtMF) (Debí Tirar Más Fotos – I should’ve take more pictures, I should’ve taken more f-, People I love you so much, I adore you, thank you for being here, truly it’s so important for me that you all are here each and every one of you means so much to me so come on let’s take a picture, come over here. Everybody get in, the whole crew come on Zumba."

Abbi Maidment An anti-woke US influencer brought to New Zealand got a small but appreciative university crowd in Wellington last week. Peter Boghossian was one of two “anti-woke” international speakers hosted at Te Herenga Waka’s Pipita Campus on Friday, 20 March.  Brought to Aotearoa by the Free Speech Union New Zealand and hosted at the university by Generation Screwed (a subsidy of the taxpayers' union), Boghossian and Marian L. Tupy spoke to a group of around 30 people, including students, staff, and members of the public. The aim of the event was to “Challenge pessimism about young people’s future and to create space for rigorous, good-faith debate on the ideas that shape it.”  Marian L. Tupy is both an author and the founder and editor of Human Progress. In his writings and public appearances, Tupy has expressed his belief that overpopulation is a myth and aims to promote optimism about humanity's future.   Peter Boghossian describes himself on his Substack as a philosopher and author who aims to “restore free speech” and “reveal the implications of far-left ideological takeover”.  He has amassed over 700,000 followers across his social media platforms, with some of his most popular YouTube content receiving over 2 million views. His YouTube videos consist of him conducting thought experiments on the streets by asking people to share their opinions on controversial topics such as “Should trans women compete in female sports?" and “Is America racist?” and engaging in debates about these subjects. He has coined the term street epistemology to describe these encounters.    Topics of discussion included the censorship of discourse on subjects such as race, gender, and ideology, the progress of humankind, and avoiding ‘over-correcting’ on issues like climate change.   Attendees showed broad agreement with the pair’s ideological beliefs and shared concerns about a rise in public censorship of viewpoints that are not currently considered “morally fashionable”. Tupy concluded the event by encouraging attendees to remain hopeful about humanity's future, emphasising that all challenges can be overcome through human ingenuity.   Tupy and Boghossian attended another event hosted by the New Zealand Free Speech Union and Generation Screwed on Tuesday, 24 March at the University of Auckland.  It is expected that Boghossian filmed one of his street epistemology videos on Cuba Street while in Wellington.

Hajji Abdullah Drury According to the most recent national census, the Muslim population of New Zealand exceeds 60,000 individuals. This figure reflects not a homogeneous constituency but a complex social formation shaped by successive migrations, refugee resettlement, conversion, and the maturation of locally born generations. Whilst first-generation migrants remain numerically prominent, refugee communities have introduced additional linguistic, ethnic, and theological diversity; converts to Islam (many of Anglo-European or Polynesian heritage), together with their New Zealand-born descendants, have further contributed to the emergence of layered and hybrid identities. The resulting demographic configuration complicates reductive accounts of religious minorities and highlights the fluid interplay between faith, ancestry, and civic participation. As Muslim communities consolidate institutional and generational continuity, they increasingly participate in national debates concerning pluralism, integration, and the place of Islam within the country’s constitutional and cultural framework.   The origins of an enduring Muslim presence in New Zealand can be traced to April 1854, when Wuzerah and Mindia migrated from India to Canterbury with their children. They entered the employ of Sir John Cracroft Wilson (1808–1881), a retired Anglo-Indian administrator. Settling in Cashmere, near Christchurch, the family contributed labour to local infrastructure projects, including the transportation of stone for the Anglican cathedral. In 1862, one of their sons, Piro, drowned—an event widely regarded as marking the earliest known Muslim burial in the country. Wuzerah himself remained in Canterbury until his death in 1902 and is interred in Sydenham, signifying nearly five decades of continuous Muslim residence in the region.   Further migration from Punjab and Gujarat gathered pace in the late nineteenth century. Early arrivals were predominantly male sojourners engaged in trade and labour; from the 1930s onward, family reunification gradually reshaped these communities into more stable domestic units. Organised religious life followed demographic consolidation. In 1950, the New Zealand Muslim Association was established in Auckland, becoming the first enduring Islamic institution in the country. At that time, the Muslim population numbered only a few hundred. Post-war displacement also affected New Zealand: refugees from Eastern Europe arrived in 1951 aboard the MS  Goya , among them Avdo Musovich (1919–2001), who later served for many years on the Association’s executive committee. His son was the first identifiable Muslim to enter the New Zealand military, in the late 1960s. In 1959, premises in central Auckland were acquired as an Islamic centre, and in 1960 Maulana Ahmed Said Musa Patel (1937–2009), trained in Gujarat, became the country’s first formally educated mullah or imam.   Conversion to Islam formed another strand in the historical development of the community. Among the earliest recorded converts were the Marsack brothers of Remuera, educated at King’s School and King’s College in Auckland, who adopted the names Shemseddin and Boureddin. In 1965, the first interment in a designated Muslim section at Waikumete Cemetery was that of Victor Henderson, known as Abdullah Kassim. Subsequent burials included Ian Alvin Newman (Mohamed Musa Amin, 1941–1987) and William Pettingal Dyer (Mohamed Ali, 1928–1988), amongst others.  In 1969, a Second World War veteran, Neil Dougan, embraced Islam whilst abroad and assumed the title and name Sheikh Abdullah Isa. Later he led a Sufi (esoteric) study circle in Auckland numbering more than 200 participants and wrote the first account of a New Zealander performing the pilgrimage to Mecca, the Hajj, in 1974. One member of his group, Abdul Salam Drake, designed the first purpose-built mosque erected by the New Zealand Muslim Association in Ponsonby in 1979.   Māori engagement with Islam began to emerge more visibly in the late twentieth century when several individuals embraced Islam during the 1970s. In 1985 convert George Te Heuheu was interviewed in the newly built Christchurch Mosque on Deans Avenue. More formal interaction developed in 1990, when the Federation of Islamic Associations of New Zealand convened the first formal Muslim–Māori meeting at a Wellington marae. An informal Māori Muslim Association was established in Hamilton a decade later, with Te Amorangi Eshaq Kireka-Whaanga appointed as president. In 2003 he and other recent Māori converts participated in a “Māori Muslim Day” organised by the Christchurch Mosque management and hosted in part at the national marae, Nga Hau e Wha. Despite these initiatives, sustained institutional support from immigrant-led Muslim organisations remained limited. The Māori Muslim Association, maintaining an exclusively indigenous membership and orientation, did not receive the consistent backing required for significant development. Public discourse has also posed challenges. Media commentary frequently conflated the Māori principle of political self-determination with reductive interpretations of jihad, reflecting broader misunderstandings of both Māori aspirations and Islamic conceptual terminology. The 1960s and 1970s were marked by institutional proliferation. The International Muslim Association of New Zealand emerged in Wellington during the early 1960s, and the Muslim Association of Canterbury was formed in 1977. Migrants from Fiji, including Abbas Ali and Hajji Mohammed Hussain Sahib, played a pioneering role in introducing commercial halal slaughter processes within the meat industry, linking religious observance with export economics. Additional arrivals from South Asia, the Balkans, Fiji, and elsewhere broadened the social base of local associations. The first visit of the Tablighi Jamaʿat occurred in 1969, and annual national gatherings were convened from the mid-1970s, reflecting transnational religious networks.   By 1979, the Muslim population had reached approximately 2000. That year witnessed the creation of a national coordinating body, the Federation of Islamic Associations of New Zealand. Its inaugural president, Mazhar Krasniqi (1931–2019), a perspicuous Kosovar Albanian refugee and entrepreneur, was succeeded by Hajji Abdul Rahim Rasheed (1938–2006) of Fijian origin. In 1982, Sheikh Khalid Kamal Abdul Hafiz (1938–1999), educated in Saudi Arabia, settled in Wellington and became a senior religious adviser to the Federation. From 1984 onward, the Federation administered halal certification for export meat, institutionalising a system that combined theological oversight with significant economic implications.   Immigration intensified during the late 1980s and subsequent decades, particularly from Asia, the Middle East, and Africa. Population growth stimulated the expansion of educational, charitable, and cultural institutions, especially in Auckland and presently there are over 30 Muslim agencies and mosques in the city. For instance, the Islamic Education and Dawah Trust, founded in 1990, established Al Madinah School and Al Zayed Girls College in Mangere, embedding Islamic schooling within the state-integrated sector. Sectarian diversity also became more visible; in 2008, Auckland’s Shia community, organised through the Fatima Zahra Charitable Association, publicly commemorated ʿAshura on an unprecedented scale. Amongst the many Muslim refugees to arrive in the 1990s were the entire Kafedzic family from Sarajevo in Bosnia-Hercegovina, whose ordeal was detailed in the first book of its kind Goodbye Sarajevo  (2011). Also hailing from Bosnia, Jusuf Dzilic arrived a few years later and carved out a career in New Zealand as a musician under the provocative moniker “Genocide”. Regional consolidation continued beyond the main metropolitan centres. The Muslim Association of Canterbury constructed the South Island’s first mosque in the mid-1980s and later hosted a national conference for converts in 2004. The Otago Muslim Association was formally registered in 1995, followed by the Southland Muslim Association in 2008, demonstrating the geographic diffusion of Muslim settlement and organisation.    A watershed moment occurred in March 2019, when coordinated attacks during Friday congregational prayers at two mosques in Christchurch resulted in the deaths of more than fifty worshippers. The iniquitous perpetrator, an Australian national, was subsequently sentenced to life imprisonment. This atrocity, whilst exposing the precarity faced by visible minorities, also elicited widespread public solidarity and international attention. It situated the history of Muslims in New Zealand within broader global narratives of migration, minority citizenship, and the challenges confronting plural democracies.   Taken together, these developments, predilections, and proclivities together chart the transformation of a small, scattered population into a nationally organised and demographically diverse religious community. Through migration, institutional innovation, and generational succession, Muslims in New Zealand have become an established—though continually evolving—component of the country’s increasingly complex social fabric.     Hajji Abdullah Drury is a Hamilton Muslim and author of the book:  A History of Christchurch Muslims – Integration and Harmony (2024).

IRAN, ISRAEL AND THE PACIFIC    The United States has been making their presence known in the Pacific as of recent. Billionaire Jared Novelley has just been announced as the new American ambassador to New Zealand, and he has already made clear the goals to further deepen New Zealand and the USA’s defence ties and open us up for some more good ol’ fashioned resource extraction.  The USA's Deputy Secretary of State Christopher Landau has also been doing the rounds in the Pacific Ocean, going from state to state to take heart-warming photos shaking hands with our various political leaders. One of his goals in this mission is to reassure Pacific nations that whatever mess the USA has made in the Middle East, it “doesn't stop American diplomacy in the rest of the world” (according to a post on reputable news site, X). The United States has always considered the Pacific to be an incredibly valuable region, but why do they see themselves to be so essential to this place we live? And with the latest developments in the American-Israeli war on Iran, should this special relationship really be something we treasure with all our hearts?    This isn’t an article detailing the insane events happening in the Middle East, but for those who somehow missed it, here’s a brief summary. The United States and Israel have begun a war with Iran over the perceived threat Iran’s nuclear program presents to Israeli and American interests. The war began with the insane immediate assassination of Iran’s leader, Ayatollah Ali Khamenei, via Israeli bombing on February 28. This war is ongoing, constantly changing, and there is no consensus on where any of this is heading. That does mean that by the time this article is released some of this may be very out of date, so apologies just in case. You might be thinking that, as horrifying as endless war in the Middle East may be, it can’t really be that connected to this ocean on the other side of the world. But that ignores our region's long-standing ties with the USA, our trade connections, and the implications for American foreign policy going forward.     Firstly, to properly frame this, let's quickly examine how much of the Pacific is straight-up a part of the United States. Hawai’i, once a sovereign kingdom, is now an official state of America thanks in part to a coup in 1893. They also have the eastern islands of Sāmoa, the island of Guam and the Commonwealth of the Northern Mariana Islands (CNMI) as unincorporated territories, as well as a series of uninhabited islands and atolls that pepper our region. The two most powerful countries in the region, Australia and New Zealand, are both key allies of the United States, going all the way back to World War II when they helped expel Imperial Japan from this region and large parts of Asia.  This relationship is far from benign, and you don’t have to look that far to see how. After the initial strikes on Iran by the United States and Israel, alert levels across America’s Pacific territories were raised, and military build ups and reviews were kickstarted across the CNMI and Guam. Our good mate Landau who I mentioned up top was also recently in independent Sāmoa, where the two nations celebrated an ‘open skies’ agreement allowing for less restrictions on American vessels in Sāmoan airspace, while also further increasing their defence and policing ties. “Not just diplomatic, it’s personal” were the words Prime Minister of Sāmoa La’aulialemalietoa Leuatea Polāta’ivao Schmidt used to describe the relationship between the two countries.  While many Pacific politicians seemingly welcome all these developments with open arms, others have their doubts. The war in Iran will have ongoing effects on the global supply-chain of oil, with Pacific nations on high alert as to how rising prices and a lack of supply may hurt their peoples and economies for however long this war will take. Lawyer and CNMI Democratic Party member Michael White has predicted that these strikes will increase the “already-oppressive economic burden on our people” through the effects the war will have on gas prices in particular. This is a worry shared by many across the world, not just around here.    With this military buildup also comes the expectation of cooperation, and Trump has made it clear how he feels about those who would rather not get involved. He has brazenly threatened to cut off trade with Spain after they refused to let American vessels use their bases, and he’s publicly decried Keir Starmer for deciding to participate in too late a fashion. While Trump is famous for saying literally anything he wants at any moment with no follow through, these types of threats should not be taken lightly. His administration is currently weaponizing these types of diplomatic moves to blockade Cuba, with the increased economic isolation imposed by the USA leaving many Cubans without power and decent food. American diplomacy in full effect, everyone.    While yes, it is true that holding American planes may come in handy one day, I doubt the benefits outweigh the means. I mean, Donald Trump just pulled America out of several international agreements that commit those included to fighting against climate change, an issue of significant importance for the survival of the Pacific region. This goes in tandem with Trump’s global agenda to find new sources of rare-earth minerals, which includes the mining of the seabed of the Pacific Ocean. Deals with Tonga, the Cook Islands, and others are in the works as we speak. They have also exited from the Secretariat of the Pacific Regional Environment Programme (SPREP) and the World Health Organisation (WHO), two organisations who provide opportunities for Pacific students to obtain scholarships, with China stepping in to fill this gap.     The United States has also been busy blocking a Vanuatu-led U.N. resolution that would classify failing to protect people from the effects of climate change as violating international law. According to a message from the U.S. State Department obtained by the Associated Press through a cable, “President Trump has delivered a very clear message: that the U.N. and many nations of the world have gone wildly off track, exaggerating climate change into the world’s greatest threat.” Despite the push from Vanuatu, and pushback from U.N. experts, the Trump regime seems hell bent on draining our region for their own benefit.    Right-wing think tank ‘The Heritage Foundation’, most famous for ‘Project 2025’, an ideological platform that has influenced the Republican’s moves through the last election cycle, has now set its sights on influencing movements within the Pacific region. ‘A Charter of Pacific Values for a Prosperous Pacific Future’, released on the 5th of this month, outlines a proposed charter that, when read carefully, basically argues the Pacific needs to avoid China and stick with their bros in the Western world. A Trump-aligned think tank that helped give us the latest iteration of the Republican Party trying to influence the political decisions of Pacific leaders, around the same time a global quest for rare-natural resources has started among all of America’s allies, is surely cause for some alarm.    Their track record in the past is also in shambles, whether it be the legacy of nuclear testing near inhabited islands leaving generations with horrific medical issues, or the unlawful and oftentimes violent acquisition of their Pacific states and territories. Frankly, the history of American foreign policy in the Pacific is too large for a single article in a student newspaper, but hopefully I’ve painted a clear enough picture for you so far.    I have barely even mentioned the other partner in this war, Israel, who has also been doing its part in increasing its ties to the Pacific. Fiji and Sāmoa are opening/have opened new Embassies in Israel, and as the Israeli government’s genocide of the Palestinian people has progressed, many Pacific states have voted alongside the USA and Israel in blocking U.N. action aimed at protecting civillians and holding Israel to account for their conduct. The influence of certain evangelical strains of Christianity on the politics of the Pacific contributes to this strange relationship, and the influence of the United States also plays a large part. While these political decisions may not reflect how the people of the Pacific feel about these global events, this is the message heading to the world stage from many of our leaders.  Our friends in the USA are not going anywhere anytime soon, but in the wake of all of this, there is no better time than now for all of us to collectively re-consider who we call our bros on the world stage, and whether our leaders are reflecting how we feel about this. Our collaboration, our support, and our resources may be on the list of America’s most wanted, but before we hand everything over on a silver platter, let's think about what we actually want.

Ash Buick Just from reading the title of this article, you might be wondering: “ Tumblr? That’s still a thing? ” And yes, dear reader, I am proud to announce that I am one of the over 130 million active Tumblr users. The cultural icon of the 2010s is still alive and kicking. Johnlock  even made it into the top 100 ships of 2025 (if you know, you know). Even though I only joined the site in 2019, my status as a survivor of 5 November 2020 means I feel comfortable calling myself a Tumblr veteran. (Yes, I’ll stop with the references now.)  You might also be asking: “Ash, why did you do this to yourself?”  The simple answer is that I’d just had my wisdom teeth removed and had nothing better to do. The real answer is more complicated.  Around September, I heard news that a prominent blog had been deleted from the platform. This was notable partly because the blog was run by a trans woman. The blog’s name was   isuggestforcefem . At the time, I didn’t pay much attention to the news. It was well-known that trans women were sometimes banned from Tumblr for reasons that seemed to amount to little more than being openly trans. So I went on with my life. Things got more interesting after my surgery. One blog I followed started vague-posting about a group of trans men who, in their opinion, were behaving like “Men’s Rights Activists.” Around the same time, I began seeing unfamiliar acronyms appearing in posts and people’s bios: TMA  and TME .  In the background, a number of blogs clearly modelling themselves after isuggestforcefem  started popping up—and the things they had to say were... really something. Many of them argued that transgender men were not oppressed to the same extent as transgender women. Some even claimed that trans men possessed male privilege. As a transmasc nonbinary person who likes to believe they’re a little less chronically online than these people, I found myself wondering: how do you end up with these opinions?   And so I dove headfirst into the rabbit hole. Immediately, there were some really clear parallels between whatever this was and the infamous “ ace discourse ” of the 2010s. The first similarity was the effort to remove a group—previously widely accepted—from the LGBTQ+ community. The second was the method: denying that this group experienced the same level of oppression as “the rest of us.” The third, and perhaps most egregious, was interpreting the group’s lack of visibility as evidence of privilege.  During the ace discourse, ‘critics’ focused heavily on asexual people’s presumed inherent lack of sexual relationships, arguing that this made them “harder to clock as queer.” But flying under the radar is not the same thing as privilege. Much of society—including significant parts of the medical community—still treats asexuality as something broken or pathological, rather than simply another way of existing.  Eventually the discourse cycle burned itself out. The vast majority of people agreed that asexual people were, in fact, queer, and that the whole debate had been a waste of time. The gays of Tumblr collectively held hands and agreed that we wouldn’t let anything this asinine become a big thing ever again.  But of course, it happened again. So… why? While Tumblr has a large queer user base, only a relatively small number of people regularly post in queer-related tags. My own avoidance of searching those tags directly is reaffirmed whenever they trend: the preview images are often dominated by bots trying to lure users off-site. After a while the bots become part of the furniture. (That 130-million-active-users figure is probably a little optimistic.) Their prevalence is partly a symptom of Tumblr’s inconsistent approach to “mature content.” No, they didn’t un-ban porn—but “female-presenting nipples” quietly returned in 2022. We take the small wins. Instead of focusing on the bots, the platform often seems more interested in cracking down on trans people talking about being trans. In its current state, Tumblr can be an oddly hostile environment for its queer users. If you wanted to publish a nuanced essay about queer theory, Tumblr probably wouldn’t be your first choice. You’d start a Substack. The result is a fairly insular group of people trying—often very hard—to say something profound. In other words, perfect conditions for an echo chamber. As the space becomes more insular, subtler forms of bigotry can slip through unchallenged. Eventually you end up with situations where a generation of queer youth believes misogyny is acceptable, provided you clarify that it’s directed at white women. Tumblr also has an old inside joke: it’s the “piss on the poor” website. The phrase comes from a famous misreading of a post from 2012 saying the average Tumblr user has piss-poor reading comprehension . Someone reblogged the post saying “ how dare you say we piss on the poor”  and thus, new slang was invented. Tumblr’s also a really good place to observe bean soup theory  in action: you might post about how much you like pancakes, and someone will appear in your replies accusing you of hating waffles. More broadly, it’s a sense of “what about me?”-ism, where people feel compelled to make every post they encounter directly or indirectly related to them. They can’t just quietly reblog something, they need to at minimum add some commentary in the tags.  This tendency certainly distorts discourse—but it isn’t the whole story. Until around 2021, Tumblr didn’t have a robust recommendation algorithm. Users mostly discovered content by following specific tags, or by following the right people. Even now, many still use the platform in this “traditional” way. The result is that if a large blog posts a slightly questionable take, it can reach thousands of readers—while hundreds of thoughtful responses languish unseen in a niche tag. So what was it actually like to doomscroll the transandrophobia  tag for a month? To be frank, it was bleak. As you might expect from a tag centered on bigotry, most posts involved people venting about the discrimination they’ve encountered. This usually meant screenshots of other posts, accompanied by a bit of commentary. There were also trolls and bad-faith arguments—but that’s simply the internet. Still, the experience wasn’t entirely negative. I learned more about systemic discrimination against the intersex community and the ways their experiences are often overlooked—even in mainstream discussions of sex and gender within the trans community. I also began noticing a broader pattern: attempts within online trans spaces to create new, more “woke” versions of the gender binary. AMAB  and AFAB , terms originally used by intersex people to describe being forcibly slotted into the sex and gender binary, had been diluted into shorthand for “non-binary boy” and “non-binary girl.” Transmasc and transfem became synonyms for trans man and trans woman.  This change in language makes it overall more difficult for queer people to talk about their experiences online. Some of these terms were specifically created so things wouldn’t get lost inside mainstream discourse. And now as they are folded back into the mainstream, people now have to look in more places to find the same things. Everybody loses. In my view, though, the most troubling terms were TMA  and TME , standing for transmisogyny-affected and transmisogyny-exempt. These categories lump cis women, cis men, and transmasculine people into the same group, with the curious caveat that if a cis person has been mistaken for a trans woman—they are now TMA. The framework therefore only has a few specific applications, and relies on a very narrow definition of transmisogyny as transfem-specific transphobia. Without that definition the whole structure begins to wobble. With all this in mind, I looked back at my introduction to the discourse in a new light. The alleged groups of “trans men’s rights activists” were extremely small—if they existed at all. TME was often being used as a stand-in for trans men, effectively giving old TERF rhetoric a new coat of paint. Meanwhile, isuggestforcefem  had been able to leverage Tumblr’s real mistreatment of trans women to win sympathy—even when she would have been cancelled for some of her takes under other circumstances. Realising how much I’d initially missed felt strange. But it reflects a broader problem on the internet: if something is easy to fact-check, most people won’t bother. Instead of looking directly at what was happening in the transandrophobia  tag, users relied on second-hand accounts filtered through the biases of whoever was posting about it. And thus, a game of telephone began.  “Hey, isn’t it weird that so much transandrophobia goes unchallenged in transfem-centric tags?” became “ transmasc vs transfem infighting .” “We should have a term to talk about our group’s specific collective experiences” became “ transandrobros and their victim complex .” “Hey, it’s weird that ‘kill all men’ including trans men is considered a normal thing to say” became “ the TMEs are minimising the struggles of trans women. ” Not only were the original conversations being distorted—they were being pushed toward increasingly extreme directions. Who benefits from that?  Tumblr, certainly. It can serve me plenty of ads while I scroll through my dashboard. But more broadly, politicians attempting to strip trans people of their rights benefit from a community too busy arguing with itself to organise protests or build solidarity. The main thing I’ve learned from this month of doomscrolling is the importance of stepping back and looking at the bigger picture.  When I was talking about this discourse with a friend—who is also trans—she seemed puzzled that it was happening at all. To her, the question “Does transandrophobia matter?”  had an obvious answer: of course it does. Intersectionality tells us that different aspects of our identities shape how we experience discrimination. Having language to describe those differences is useful. But transphobes, ultimately, don’t care what specific sub-type of trans we are, they hate us all the same.  Which makes community infighting feel a little besides the point when we have bigger fish to fry. Will I do something like this again?  Absolutely.  Do as I say, not as I do. Put down your phone (which you’re hopefully doing right now) and go talk to some real people. You’ll have a much better time than arguing in a comment section, I promise.

Part two of a three-part opinion series exploring affordable food options on campus at Te Herenga Waka This week, I continued my search for affordable eats, heading into the world of stressed-out architecture students perpetually behind on an assignment. That's right, dear readers — I hit the streets. The street of Vivian, that is. The goal: to see what fuels Te Aro Campus and, more importantly, whether it’s actually affordable. Te Aro is unique in one key way: it’s the only campus without any on-site cafés or food options. That being said, this hasn’t stopped a large number of students from spreading out across the lawn, armed with a myriad of nearby Cuba Street offerings. What immediately stood out was the number of Scopa pizza boxes in circulation. For a moment, I wondered if they were being repurposed into first-year chair projects. When I asked, one student set me straight: “Scopa’s Margherita Tuesdays! Only $10!” From 11:30 a.m. to 3 p.m. each Tuesday, Scopa offers $10 Margherita pizzas, and Te Aro students have clearly embraced the deal with open arms (and empty wallets). Outside of Scopa, however, the sentiment echoed what I heard over at Pipitea — Cuba Street is expensive.  “It’s too expensive, so I just bring food from home,” one student told me.  Another admitted they simply “suck it up and eat before or after being on campus.”  Not exactly inspiring. Still, there are a few relative bright spots. Students pointed to Subway across the road as a reliable option, with a $7.50 sub of day. St Pierre's Sushi also came up frequently as a go-to for something quick — if not always cheap. Best Ugly Bagels was mentioned as an occasional treat, though at $9 for a simple cream cheese bagel, it’s hardly a budget staple.  Following a tip-off from a kind third-year architecture student, I was told that the best value could be found at Babylon Kebabs — where I decided to have lunch. With snack kebabs coming in at $11 and regulars at $13, I wasn’t expecting much. But when my kebab arrived, it was easily twice the size of a Best Ugly Bagels order and far more filling, making it one of the better-value options I’d come across around Te Aro. So what’s the verdict? Te Aro students are resourceful — but it comes at a cost. The lack of on-campus options pushes students into one of three camps: deal hunters, occasional spenders, or dedicated meal-preppers. Yes, there are more affordable food options here than at Pipitea —but once again, students are largely left to fend for themselves.

Taine Knox ALBUM REVIEW: CABIN IN THE SKY  (2025) Cabin In the Sky  was born after nearly a decade of hardship and struggle for hip-hop veterans De La Soul.  After their 2016 album And the Anonymous Nobody…  the trio continued their battle with Tommy Boy records to get their legendary catalogue cleared for release on streaming services.  THE BREAKDOWN - CABIN TALK In an age where new sounds were emerging each week, De La Soul struggled to maintain relevancy—and the fight to win back the rights to their music, to many, seemed impossible. But in late 2022, seemingly out of nowhere, the news emerged that the Long Island trio had won. Within weeks their music would be available on streaming services, elating fans across the world. 3 was once again the magic number, and 03/03/2023 was the date every D.A.I.S.Y. Age child marked on their calendar. But, only weeks before the release, fans were blindsided by the death of founding member Dave “Trugoy the Dove” Jolicoeur after a long and troubled battle with congestive heart failure. Suddenly, the conversation around De La Soul changed—an undeniable, looming air of grief and sadness hung amongst the celebrations of their hard-fought victory. They slowly re-entered the mainstream throughout 2023 and 2024. Then suddenly, last year, New York icon Nas’ label Mass Appeal announced a new series of releases titled “Legend Has It…” which was slated as 7 new albums from 7 iconic acts. Amongst legendary names like Big L, Ghostface Killah, and Slick Rick was De La Soul. That November, they would release their most ambitious album yet. Cabin In The Sky  is an hour-long emotional rollercoaster strung together perfectly. It expertly builds on And the Anonymous Nobody… ’s styles of live orchestra instrumentation to produce  a lustrous sound that’s fitting of the rap veterans, who have now embraced the process of aging.  It becomes clear that Trugoy’s death caused both Mercer and Mason to reflect on their own mortality, with faith and life recurring as themes on the album. As Posdnuos says in “ Cabin In The Sky”, "But still in disbelief, lost my brother Dave / But what keeps me sane from the grief/ Is to stay rooted in if the wind gets severe / Every line in the song holds love in the tears" And though posthumous albums are very, very  hard to do well, De La Soul manages to pull it off in a way that feels authentic, adding a depth that makes for a one-of-a-kind listening experience. Their take on grief expressed on the album is refreshingly soulful, with the group stating in many interviews that through the process Dave was “right there with us, doing the songs.” And they’re not just saying it—they back it up, too. To maintain artistic truthfulness, every song that featured work from Dave were songs he had worked on before his death. The end result is a wonderfully cohesive album, and a masterful evolution of the group’s iconic style. THE TRACKS - BALANCING SUNNY STORMS “Cabin Talk (Intro)” - 7/10 Long, but rightfully so. Sets the tone and introduces the extensive talent with a hand in the creation of the project. Retains De La Soul’s classic sense of humour. “YUHDONTSTOP” - 10/10 A beautiful recollection of De La’s legacy, amongst the mountainous task of dealing with the bitter and deafening toll of grief. Tearjerker #1. “Sunny Storms” - 8/10 DJ Premier features on production, underscoring rhymes from Posdnuos. Though the first beat is better than the second, the messaging within the lyrics remains fervent and emblematic of the album’s message as a whole. “Good Health” - 6.5/10 An okay song. Dave’s first appearance, but far from the strongest. “Will Be” (Feat. Yummy Bingham) - 7.5 A return to De La’s classic skits. A light-hearted and upbeat effort from Posdnuos, Maseo, and returning collaborator Yummy Bingham. “The Package” - 9/10 Took some time to grow on me. Can be an emotional listen if you read into it a lot (as I do). Tearjerker #1.5. “A Quick 16 for Mama” (Feat. Killer Mike) - 8/10 Killer Mike in his element. An ode to motherhood and the strength and effort it requires. Gratitude and mindfulness. Luxurious production. “Just How It Is (Sometimes)” (Feat. Jay Pharoah and Gareth Donkin) - 8/10 A tale of a cheatin’ ass man and modern relationship politics, including social media witch hunts and more. Jay Pharoah’s outro is a highlight.  “Cruel Summers Bring FIRE LIFE!!” (Feat. Yukimi) – 9.5/10 A personal favourite—short and sweet.  “Day in the Sun (Gettin’ Wit U)” (Feat. Q-Tip and Yummy Bingham) - 10/10 Wonderfully summery and laid-back. Q-Tip, as per usual, nails his verse whilst Yummy expertly lends her talents to a beautiful chorus. Happy times. “Run It Back!!” (Feat. Nas) - 8/10 For most, the album’s standout effort. Powerful and punchy. “Different World” (Feat. Gina Loring) - 10/10 Tearjerker #2. An emotional message to their lost bandmate, friend, and brother. One of the darkest parts of being human, made a little lighter. “Patty Cake” - 7.5/10 A very solid Dave appearance; few old-generation rappers can fit in seamlessly on a modern lo-fi-esque beat, yet both Dave and Pos do so effortlessly. “The Silent Life Of A Truth” - 6/10 Not a bad song, but it just doesn’t feel necessary. Forgettable. “EN EFF” (Feat. Black Thought) - 9.5/10 Black Thought from the legendary Roots crew. DJ Premier production. De La Soul. Nothing more to say. “Believe (In Him)” (Feat. STOUT and K. Butler & The Collective) - 8/10 Soulful and innovative gospel-infused hip-hop. “Yours” (Feat. Common and Slick Rick) - 8/10 A passing of the torch. A reminder that the future is in the hands of the next generation, which doesn’t feel like a patronising talking-to but rather a blessing. Common is welcome as always. “Palm Of His Hands” (Feat. Bilal) - 8/10 The album can get a little tiring by now, but that doesn’t diminish the undeniable quality of the production and Bilal’s vocals. “Cabin In the Sky” - 9/10 The title track tackles the most direct address of the loss of Dave, the ensuing grief, and the process of coping afterwards. An introspective reflection on the matter of mortality that arrives at a beautiful conclusion amidst the hurt and pain that death causes. “Don’t Push Me” - 10/10 In context, one of my favourite songs of all time. Dave only—produced, written, and rapped by Dave. Completes the concept that death is not the end. We get to continue doing what we love, unhindered, in a better place. And though the physical absence is noticed, our spirits will never truly cease to exist. Penultimate tearjerker. OVERALL RATING – 10/10 A revelation on the concept of grief and mortality marked by outstanding orchestral work and thought-provoking lyricism. Read more at themindstate.substack.com