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Feminism, a powerful movement advocating for women's rights and gender equality, has taken many forms worldwide. In the Māori world, the understanding and expression of feminism weave through the rich cultural fabric, deeply rooted in Whakapapa, Tikanga, and Mātauranga Māori. For many, it is about reclaiming the Mana of Māori women, who historically held significant roles in their communities, ensuring that these positions of strength and influence are recognized and restored in contemporary Aotearoa. Māori women have always played vital roles in Māori society. They have been the guardians of knowledge, keepers of sacred traditions, and leaders in their own right. The concept of Te Whare Tangata, the house of the people, symbolizes a deep reverence for women as the bearers of future generations. The womb is considered tapu, positioning women as protectors of life and carriers of whakapapa, a lineage central to Māori identity. Historically, Māori society was more egalitarian in its gender relations than colonial structures imposed upon it. Māori women enjoyed autonomy, actively participating in decision-making, leadership roles, and spiritual responsibilities. The colonial era brought profound disruptions to these dynamics. British laws and Christian values imposed patriarchal structures that undermined the roles and influence of wāhine Māori, reducing their status within both Māori and broader New Zealand society. This legacy of colonization continues to manifest in the persistent challenges Māori women face today—systemic inequities in health, education, employment, and justice. Yet, in response to these challenges, there is a growing movement to revitalize mana wāhine, the concept of Māori feminism, which celebrates the inherent strength, resilience, and leadership of Māori women. Mana wāhine is a framework that honours Māori women’s experiences, rejects imposed colonial gender norms and seeks to uplift the voices of wāhine Māori within the broader feminist movement. Mana wāhine is deeply connected to decolonization, as it challenges not only gender inequity but also the colonial systems that have shaped much of the contemporary Māori experience. Māori feminists assert the need for a movement that is intersectional—one that recognizes the interplay between race, culture, and gender. Mainstream feminism often fails to account for the unique experiences of Indigenous women, whose struggles are tied to both sexism and the ongoing impacts of colonization. The resurgence of mana wāhine is seen in the arts, academia, political activism, and community leadership. Māori women such as Dame Whina Cooper, Meri Te Tai Mangakāhia, and contemporary activists like Pania Newton have played pivotal roles in advancing the rights of Māori women. Their contributions underscore the continuity of wāhine leadership and the centrality of Māori women in movements for social justice. In the contemporary Māori world, feminism is not just a fight for gender equality; it is a fight for the recognition of whakapapa, the honouring of tikanga, and the restoration of the balance between tāne and wāhine. As more Māori women reclaim their mana, they remind the world that feminism in the Māori context is about restoring harmony and honouring the legacy of wāhine toa, the true bearers of the future.  Noho ora mai,  Shay McEwan |  Te Aitanga-a-Mahaki, Ngāti Pāhauwera, Ngāti Porou

On day one of Pōkai Tuhi, I sat in a room full of people who I chronically admired—nervous, and feeling like an imposter. But my fear of not measuring up to the greatness in my midst dissipated as soon as the first joke cracked through our collectively awkward apprehension. From then on, I knew these Moana authors were the creative aunties, uncles and tuākana I had been longing for.  On day two I visited Taitoko School, with the effervescent Kiri-Michelle Mohi on a rosy-nose, blue-sky sort of morning. We cautiously stepped into a classroom of suspiciously quiet tamariki. Sensing that they had been eagerly awaiting our arrival, I was overwhelmed with gratitude for their invitation.  A Samoan boy sat upright at the front of the class and only took his eyes off me to study the upu pouring from his pencil. I watched as our oceans cascaded into dilated roots. He wrote a poem in both of his languages and read his words to us. Then, I knew I was in the right place—this was why we came.  On day three I solved all the issues of the universe on a long walk with my art-as-education sister, Emele Ugavule.  On day four I listened to the fiery wisdom of my publishing-as-activism idols, Nadine Anne Hura and Anahera Maire Gildea.  On the final day, I wept. No part of me wanted to leave this better world we had forged together.  Pōkai Tuhi was an opportunity for Moana authors and learners to engage in creative experiences that centered our ways of knowing and being. Together, we used literature as a tool for liberation. We continued our ancient tradition of storytelling on our own terms, and we shared our strengths with the next generation of knowledge leaders.  Te Kahu Rolleston (Ngāi Te Rangi), Brianne Te Paa (Ngāti Kahu, Te Rarawa, Ngāti Whātua, Te Aitanga-a-Māhaki and Te Whānau-a-Apanui), J. Wiremu Kane (Ngāpuhi, Ngāti Toro, Ngāti Manu, Te Mahurehure), Kiri-Michelle Mohi (Ngāti Rangiwewehi, Te Arawa), Maria Samuela (Kūki 'Airani), Emele Ugavule (Tokelau, Fiji) and Inangaro Vakaafi (Niue, Kūki 'Airani) took all my mamae and made it sparkle. These powerful tagata o le Moana illuminated the perennial mana of all my ancestors and led me home.  By Danielle Kionasina Dilys Thomson (she/her)

DAN MOSKOVITZ (HE/HIM) The inaccuracy of AI detection tools is obvious. It’s obvious to students, it’s obvious to Vic (who doesn't use them), and it’s even obvious to our Parliament’s select committees. So, much like at Vic, if you write a submission to one of them, you won’t be checked by an AI-detector.  Select committees are groups of MPs who review proposed laws and recommend adjustments. They’re required to consider submissions made by the public, so anyone can write to or speak in front of a select committee regarding a proposed act. And unlike Vic, select committee submissions don’t use Turnitin, said Parliament’s Clerk Dr David Wilson.  What is a parliamentary Clerk? Basically, Dr Wilson’s role involves advising the procedures of Parliament and running the team which makes Parliament tick. And according to him, there are no rules against using AI to submit. In fact, there are pretty much no hoops to jump through.  “We're pretty liberal about who can make submissions and who can petition Parliament,” says Wilson. “Anyone of any age can. We don't verify their identity.”  Parliament has no requirement for a human to write a submission. The written submissions will usually indicate who gets chosen to speak to the committee, and each committee has experts in the subject matter. So if an AI-generated (or human-generated) submission is inaccurate, they just won’t be chosen to speak before the committee.  It’s also worth noting how AI isn’t necessarily all bad news; there are opportunities, too. AI could allow those who don’t excel in writing the chance to submit.  And while someone nefarious could use AI to generate thousands of supposedly different submissions, Parliament could use AI right back to reduce the workload elsewhere. “There are no more MPs, budget, or staff,” says Wilson. “So if we receive hundreds of  thousands more submissions, things will slow down. AI could make that difference, but it could also help us manage it. “At the moment, people look at every submission before categorizing, sorting, and choosing who will appear before the committees. In the future maybe AI could do that initial sorting and categorization much faster, alongside other repetitive tasks which people don’t enjoy but have to happen.”  This still remains an entirely hypothetical discussion for the moment, but Wilson says it is a discussion happening between Aotearoa’s Parliament and other overseas parliaments, meaning NZ should have examples to work off of if it moves in this area. Still, Wilson is aware Parliament is coming against its budget. As an entity independent from government, Parliament successfully dodged any funding cuts, which puts it in an envious position compared to most of the public sector.  But the flip side of the coin is that Parliament’s budget has been static for some time even while its workload is continuously increasing.  “We’re in a constrained financial position,” says Dr Wilson. “Everyone is. So one of the imperatives for us is going to be finding ways of doing our work more efficiently. AI is one possibility.”

Words by Xavier Farrow-Francis , Charlie Doble At a certain stage in one’s life, there comes a time where you get a jolt. A realisation of the world at large. The stark reality of the political climate and social surroundings. For us, music had a large part to play in the awakening to this, specifically music with an agenda. Like a lot of great art, 'protest' music encompasses some of the greatest, most immediate and important music ever recorded, but is unfortunately ruined by the public's general impression of it (and fans too, frankly). The good stuff's really brilliant though. Here are some that have impacted us throughout our lives. When I was a kid, I think the first time I really became aware of the political implications of music was via an old tape my dad had of protest songs from the Vietnam-era. A lot of the songs on it were rubbish, but it had some great stuff: the sort of music that you can't ignore, that stares you down and either makes you weep or absolutely furious. Marvin Gaye's 'What's Going On' was one such song, as powerful a single as it is on the 1971 album of the same name. Like a lot of really terrific protest songs, it's undeniably of-its-time, yet every bit as powerful to a layman (for example, an eight-year-old kid fucking about with his dad's tape deck some 40 years after the song's release); an ode to tolerance and peace at the height of political turmoil and senseless warfare. If you've not heard any of the songs mentioned in this article, this is the one to listen to, I think. A perfect bit of music. Gaye's song is an utterly sincere and beautiful process of pain, but that's not to suggest that all politically-minded music has to be that way. John Waters' assertion that the best way to get someone to hear you out is to make them laugh is, in my mind, absolutely true, and it would seem that Jello Biafra, frontman of San Francisco punk group Dead Kennedys, thinks so too. The band played a big part in my political development as a teenager—Biafra's words mean more to me than any self-serious, warbly folk singer you can throw at me (I love Bob Dylan and Phil Ochs, but most of that stuff is crap, sorry!), and his marvellous song 'Kill the Poor' is, for me, the epitome of a great punk record. A fierce and slightly terrifying lead vocal, brilliant surf-tinged guitar, and hilarious lyrics that hit more or less every deserving target of the time—the political elite, ineffectual celebrities, well-meaning but misguided middle-class Americans—the lot. Real anger, neatly delivered. English singer-songwriter ANOHNI (known for her intimate chamber pop musings on queerness) announced that her album HOPELESSNESS would feature relentless enviro-political themes and a dense electronic palette. A key track and the album’s opener, 'Drone Bomb Me' is a direct response to then-president Obama’s usage of drone warfare, but this song opts for a particularly poignant perspective. ANOHNI chooses to frame the song as if she’s an Afghani girl whose family has been killed by drone strike. The song is uniquely haunting, as ANOHNI frames it all as a twisted love song backed by a triumphant yet grievous instrumental. She wants to die, she believes she deserves to die, and we must sit and listen as she awaits her fate. I’ve never heard anything like 'Drone Bomb Me'. It’s a song that sounds so innocent, but resonates with the listener in such a despairing and guilt-striking way. In a similarly sharp musical shift, M.I.A. was fresh off the success of 'Paper Planes' in the late 2000s, and while the message of the smash hit was written about her experience as a Sri Lankan refugee and is undoubtedly socially conscious, I’m sure that’s not what you remember about it. So when she released 'BORN FREE' as the lead single from her abrasive and aggressively political album MAYA barely two years after, it turned many heads. A controversial music video depicting a genocide against red-haired people and M.I.A. loudly denouncing the Sri Lankan government, she caught a lot of flack from many American media outlets who opposed the 'graphic content' of the track and its accompanying video. M.I.A. wanted the record to cause a ruckus, and that it did. It came to me at a formative point in my life where I was learning more about the world beyond my personal experiences. It severely resonated and gave me a lot of necessary food for thought about the rights of others, and the treatment of people living under a brutal regime far different from mine. For many years, the album was wickedly divisive, but in recent years has been cited as a daringly bold and influential experimental hip-hop LP. There’s a slew of Nina Simone tracks that we could talk about here. She was well-known throughout her career for her unyieldingly mighty vocal performances and political attitude. However, my standout pick is her take on 'Strange Fruit'. Originally recorded by Billie Holiday in 1939, Nina strips the song back to lonesome and barren piano, and a vocal track. The song’s imagery is unsettling as she describes a scene of a lynching. The sight, the smell, the moroseness… Nina Simone is perhaps one of the most prolific protest artists of all time, and I think that her rendition of 'Strange Fruit' really encapsulates the power of her signature performance style, and the raw emotion she injects into each one. Getting into jazz as a teen was a big deal for me, too—I think you can learn pretty much everything you need to know about life by listening to someone's top 20 jazz LPs. One that'll always find a place in mine is We Insist! by jazz drummer Max Roach—a savage indictment of 60s America, and one of the great works of art of the civil rights era. Roach's band is incredible, and featured vocalist Abbey Lincoln delivers some of the most incredible performances you'll hear on a jazz album of the time. A lot of these records are not ones you would immediately think of when trying to canonise protest music. They are, though, the particular ones that have changed the way we think about the world. The track that had the most significant impact on me as a young person was probably The Specials' 1981 single 'Ghost Town'. Made at the tail-end of their initial run, it sounds every bit as fresh now as it did decades ago, detuned horns and all—it's perhaps one of the better-aged records of the Two-Tone era in a musical sense, with its dark cabaret inflections and surprisingly crisp production. But of course, it's the blend of this theatrical musical style with the band's haunting lyrics that give it its sharp political edge, painting a fierce portrait of a deserted Britain, bereft of opportunity and systematically starved of cultural and political expression; a point that resonates with listeners today when they consider the song as the band's final effort, and Margaret Thatcher's brutal defunding of the arts sector in ‘80s England (the effect of which is still felt today). A song so effective in its eeriness that it has become a Halloween staple all over the world, while remaining perhaps the ultimate protest song to come out of the UK in the late 20th century. Having your cake and eating it too! What is amazing about protest music is that spark it creates. Despite whatever sentiment the artist is crafting, we as listeners are given the opportunity to fight for the rights of the earth, of ourselves, and of those with lesser power. This year, Armenian artist KÁRYYN released her song 'Anthem For Those Who Know'. It was immediately touching as a song dedicated to the crippling feeling of oppression, but ultimately choosing resistance and evoking the power we have in unification. That is the most important thing.

By: Ben Drury (they/them) Last year, nearly 50,000 people were convicted, almost 2500 personal grievances were laid against employers, and 4821 people took their landlords to the Tenancy Tribunal. The law is always present, like the mold in your bathroom, yet it often feels inaccessible. Legal advice can be expensive, and most lawyers are more accustomed to dealing with big banks, wealthy clients, and nice little canapés. So where can you turn for accessible legal help? Community Law is a nationwide charity that provides free legal services. Established in the late 1970s by a group of law students determined to break down the barriers to justice in Aotearoa, Community Law has been serving the most vulnerable communities for over 40 years. With support from local law firms and volunteer lawyers, Community Law handled over 52,000 cases last year alone. There are 24 Law Centres across the country, including two in the Wellington region—one on Dixon Street in Pōneke and another in Te Awa Kairangi (Lower Hutt). The easiest way to get help from Community Law is to go to a legal advice session. There’s 12 sessions held each week, where you can chat privately with a lawyer about your situation and explore your legal options. While all sessions have generalist lawyers, each session also has a special focus, such as family law or employment law. It’s best to attend the session that matches your specific need. For instance, if you’re deadline with landlord issues, the housing legal advice session on Monday nights is the place to if you need to talk about some shenanigans your landlord’s getting up to. The full session timetable is available via a QR code at the bottom of this article. Before seeing a lawyer, you'll need to fill out a form with your contact details, a brief description of your legal issue, and information about any other parties involved. This is because lawyers must follow certain rules when giving legal advice. If attending a session isn't convenient, you can also seek advice from Community Law’s Pou Whirinaki team. Co-founded in the 1980s by Moana Jackson, the Māori Law Centre in Wellington laid the groundwork for Pou Whirinaki, which continues to offer a kaupapa Māori approach to legal assistance. If you’d prefer to be seen by Pou Whirinaki, simply let the receptionists know when you arrive or email them at pouwhirinaki@wclc.org.nz . You don’t even have to visit a Community Law office to get help. The Law Manual Online is packed with free information about your legal rights in everyday situations and how to enforce them. It’s written in plain English, making it easy to understand your options. Just Google ‘Law Manual Online’ to find it. If you prefer speaking with a lawyer over the phone, you can request a callback by filling out the ‘Remote Advice Request’ form on www.wclc.org.nz . However, please note that there might be about a week’s wait. Community Law aims to be a welcoming, inclusive place to get legal help. If you’re unsure how we can help, or whether or not it’s even a legal issue you’re dealing with, come have a chat or give Community Law a call—our team can point you in the right direction.

Where to Eat Without Breaking the Bank Words by Maddy Swa I’m a self-proclaimed foodie and a student; I know how difficult it can be to find places to eat that won’t break the bank. Harder still if we ignore the cheap, innutritious, fast food outlets we default to. This is something we all struggle with constantly, so I’m here to introduce you to five of the best and cheapest hidden gems in Wellington. I’ll show you just how much our little city has to offer—and that it doesn’t have to be expensive… 5. Lulu Restaurant & Bar Starting out strong with Lulu Restaurant & Bar right in the heart of Wellington on our beloved Courtney Place, Lulu is the perfect Friday night spot for a $10 marg (in happy hour) and some delectable dishes. Offering some unique South Pacific and Aotearoa flavours through their modern share plates, Lulu just can’t get it wrong. Some of their star dishes include: the pork belly donuts with kewpie, pickled cabbage and sesame; the prawn roll; tuna poke on crispy rice; and their rēwena flatbread—to die for! If you happen to venture here on a Wednesday, Thursday, or Sunday night, you’ll find all of these, and more, for only $10; such a steal. PLUS discounted drinks—it just can’t get any better. 4. La Cloche If you’re searching for French food in Wellington, look no further than La Cloche. This French-owned chain cafe & patisserie serves up authentic and hearty, rich, and flavoursome food that just whisks you right to France. Take one look at their pastry and baguette-filled cabinet and you know you’re in for a treat. A very special item featured on the menu is their escargot—not for the faint-hearted, but absolutely scrumptious when slathered in garlic butter on a piece of bread. With everything made in-house and an extensive menu catered for all, what more could you want from a French excursion in Welly? 3. Raglan Roast Although it’s technically not food, you know I have to include some of our city’s legendary coffee in here, and my personal favourite is Raglan Roast. Wellington actually has five different locations that serve this amazing coffee—and you guessed it; it’s cheap. Forget about $7 coffees in this economy—I even paid $5.80 for an americano once, literally just coffee and water, it’s ridiculous! At Raglan Roast you won't find a coffee over $4.50, and you’ll experience a high quality, decadent roast. 2. Ombra I’ve found that a lot of Italian restaurants tend to do the same thing; which, don’t get me wrong, are incredibly comforting and classic, yet Ombra just takes that next step to above and beyond. They have the most uniquely interesting Italian menu you’ve ever seen—divine small plates, such as: fresh rosemary focaccia with the fluffiest whipped cod; arancini balls; and polenta chips, with truffle mayo (my favourite). Their pizzette’s and polpette’s (meatballs) are also a must-try. What really makes Ombra stand out is their aperitivo hour; something you don’t often find outside of Italy’s own bars and restaurants. At Ombra, aperitivo hour is from 3-6pm daily, and you can indulge in $10 aperol spritzes, $9 prosecco and FREE small bites that are passed around the bar—need I say more? 1. Hideout You know we had to save the best for last and Hideout is what I consider to be one of Wellington’s best-kept secrets. This cheap and tasty slice of heaven is tucked away at the end of Courtney Place and is a must-visit for all. Students especially are the target here with no dish over $20, no cocktail over $16, and no wine over $12; it is such great value for the portion sizes and service. Some of my must-try favourites include the Korean BBQ fried chicken—some may say basic, but at Hideout it is a classic that they execute so well, with a crispy coating and a juicy inside. The homemade dandan noodles and chilli oil dumplings are also exquisite, and I’m sure everything else on the menu lives up to these standards. Wellington provides a mouthwatering selection of budget-friendly dining spots that satisfy both taste buds and wallets. Whether it’s the Friday night dinner spot, or Saturday morning coffee, students can indulge in flavourful meals without overspending. The city caters to every palate without compromising on quality or nutritional value and its dedication to these diverse options not only enriches the dining experience but also supports a vibrant student lifestyle. It’s a city where every meal offers a chance to explore new flavours and cultures, making it the perfect location for students seeking affordable and delicious eats.

By Dan Moskovitz (He/Him) The avian pandemic bird flu has gone worldwide over the past few years, leaving millions of dead birds and mammals in its wake. It has not yet landed in Australia, New Zealand, and the Pacific. This means Australasia has been given a vital grace period for disease preparation. Leading the preparation efforts is the Zoo and Aquarium Association (ZAA) Australasia. Currently, their main work involves helping zoos create biosecurity plans. “Biosecurity plans can include a lot of things, but at this stage, it’ll be mainly about mapping out any areas of risk such as waterways or wetlands near zoos,” says Helen Church, communications manager at the ZAA. “These can also include the sources of food for the animals and whether there are wild animals around the zoo. “Bird flu often spreads via feathers, droppings, or contact with wild birds. So something we’re really focusing on is keeping our aviaries safe by building barriers; the virus can’t spread through thick meshes or plastic. In more severe cases, we might move an animal undercover so it’s in less contact with wildlife.” One of the ZAA’s key priorities is conserving threatened species. As such, Church says the ZAA is watching DoC’s vaccine trial with interest. While wide-scale vaccination of wild birds is impossible, it could protect small populations under intensive management—which is exactly what a zoo provides. If wild bird populations were to crater as a result of a pandemic, zoo populations could serve as a potential source of genetic diversity. Still, don’t expect any imminent announcements. DoC’s vaccine trial, while showing initial promise, has a year left to run before DoC can claim success. In addition, any vaccinations would need the Ministry of Primary Industries’ approval. Routine usage of bird flu vaccines is usually prohibited because this complicates disease detection (DoC got a special permit for the trial). Notably, birds taken to wildlife hospitals showing symptoms must be euthanized. However, when asked if the same was true for zoo birds, Church said it would depend on the species. “Some species can recover from bird flu. Others we've seen basically have a 100% mortality rate,” said Church. “What we're making sure of is that all of our zoos have strong biosecurity at their wildlife hospitals and in their aviaries, so any birds brought to a wildlife hospital won't be putting other animals at risk regardless of whether they're positive for bird flu.” If you encounter a bird showing symptoms of avian influenza, please take a video and call Biosecurity New Zealand on their hotline: 0800 80 99 66. Symptoms include falling over, twisting their neck to look upwards, lethargy, and drooping heads. Finding three or more dead birds in one area is also a reason to contact Biosecurity. Transmission of bird flu to humans is uncommon but not impossible. However, its mortality rate in humans is 52%. Do not touch any bird showing symptoms.

By Dan Moskovitz (He/Him) While Metlink reports an overall 79% satisfaction with its public transport service, public transport advocacy group Better Buses Ōwhiro Bay (BBŌW) argues their suburb is being left behind. Mimicking the questions Metlink uses during its satisfaction survey, BBŌW’s own survey found 84% of Ōwhiro Bay residents were dissatisfied with the coverage the suburb receives. Comparatively, only 10% of Metlink’s region-wide survey recipients expressed dissatisfaction. The BBŌW survey, part of a larger report on Ōwhiro Bay’s bus services, recorded 207 responses from residents in a suburb with a population of just under 2,000. By contrast, Metlink’s Wellington-wide survey had 2,830 respondents. Ōwhiro Bay is serviced by the 29 and 39 buses. The 39 route suffers disproportionate bus cancellations, and there aren’t enough 29 buses, with several terminating before Ōwhiro Bay. Despite a recent meeting with Metlink, BBŌW co-founders Arunan Noble and Jack Graham don’t expect any changes soon. “Metlink didn’t take on what we were saying,” said Noble. “They acknowledged their operational problems but didn't acknowledge the institutional problems in the network, which is the main focus of our report. “Unfortunately, Metlink doesn't seem to want to change.” BBŌW has since launched a petition calling for improved services to their suburb. To add insult to injury, Metlink won’t even spell Ōwhiro Bay correctly. Ōwhiro is spelt with a tohutō/macron, but on Metlink’s webpages for the 29 and 39 routes, you’ll see the “word” “Owhiro” used. According to Te Aka, the online Māori dictionary, “Owhiro” is not a word in Te Reo Māori. Internal Metlink email correspondence, obtained under the Local Government Official Information and Meetings Act (LGOIMA), shows it wasn’t until BBŌW reached out to Metlink they began using “Ōwhiro” with the tohutō in their internal communications. In their LGOIMA response, Metlink assured Salient, saying, “We acknowledge the official name is Ōwhiro Bay and we will ensure the use of the macron in Ōwhiro Bay will be applied consistently going forward.” Salient received Metlink’s LGOIMA response on 15 May. Three months later, and while Metlink’s map is now using a tohutō, the “word” “Owhiro” is still used on Metlink’s website. “With the kind of progress we're seeing around te reo in wider culture you would hope place names would be treated with a bit more respect. The fact that we're not seeing that from Metlink is quite disappointing,” said Noble. According to Metlink group manager Samantha Gain, the reason is that Metlink’s Real-Time Information System (RTI) can’t handle macrons or special characters of any kind. “Work is currently underway on the Metlink website and app to add the correct macronised spelling of place names to data not used by our RTI system,” she said in a statement. According to Gain, the use of special characters would risk corrupting RTI data. However, Metlink is currently working on a new RTI system that will handle special characters such as the tohutō. Metlink expects it to be operational by 2026.

By Ethan Rogacion (He/Him) Since 2011, the University has sent post-graduate students studying political science and international relations to the United States, with the intention of placing them in internships with America’s top political brass, serving under actual American members of Congress. This is a highly sought-after opportunity, especially given that the vast majority of Aotearoa’s political internships presumably involve sprinting down the hallways of Parliament’s library, trying to outrun the ghost of Robert Muldoon. However, students from Te Herenga Waka have found themselves with fewer options this year, after the University’s announcement to stop funding for the programme. In a statement to Salient , Provost Prof. Bryony James explained that, “The costs of this programme are significant, and are shared between the NZUS Council and Te Herenga Waka.” Te Herenga Waka’s decision to pull out of the programme means that the University of Auckland and the University of Canterbury are the only schools sending students on the internship. NZUS Council Executive Director Fiona Cooper told Salient that each University involved contributes $10k per intern, while the Council covers the balance of the programme costs. Cooper also said that, “While it is disappointing that VUW was unable to participate in the programme this year, we hope they will be able to take part in future years as circumstances allow.” One student that spoke to Salient about the issue said that the University’s decision to pull out of the programme was “extremely disappointing”. The internship programme is well-regarded in the field, they told us, and provides students with “great [opportunities] for learning, networking and promoting VUW overseas.” They also told Salient that the decision has seemingly been kept under wraps from students by the University. “In previous years comms about the opportunity have been sent out in August,” they said, but so far, they had not received any information about the programme from the University. The programme thrusts students into the heart of American politics on Capitol Hill, providing them with hands-on experience in the labyrinth of US politics: both physically and metaphorically. One former participant wrote on MyView, Te Herenga Waka’s student blog, about their experience, saying that, “There is only so much you can learn in a classroom.” “The real education happens in the maze of basement corridors snaking beneath Capitol Hill as you struggle to find your way to countless meetings and committee hearings.” Prof. James told Salient that, “We know, and understand, that students will be disappointed by this decision. We take enormous pride in the achievements of our congressional interns, and wish we could offer this opportunity this year.” “Te Herenga Waka is continuing to maintain our relationship with the NZUS Council and is looking forward to participating in the programme again in future.”

Called by Jasmine Starr | In partnership with Forest and Bird Youth What makes a truly magnificent bird? Is it their call? Their legginess? Their behaviour? How majestic they are, how gracefully they move? Is it how long, after they sneak into Jim Henson’s studio, they could pass for a muppet? Well, Matuku-hūrepo,  also known as the Australasian bittern, fulfils all of these categories. It is a majestic muppet of a creature, and yet it hasn’t won Bird of the Year even once. It’s a complete and utter travesty, and you all should be ashamed of yourselves. The matuku is a long-legged and long-necked bird, beautifully striped with various shades of brown and white to blend in with the grass and rush of their wetland habitats. They have a light stripe by their yellow eyes, giving the impression of perennially confused eyebrows. When threatened the matuku will freeze, stretching their long, long neck straight into the air, higher than you’d ever think possible. This makes the stripes running down their neck vertical, helping them blend completely into the rushes and sedge. A matuku’s diet consists mainly of fish, but they also feed on various insects, spiders, molluscs, worms, crayfish, and even frogs, lizards, and eels. Matuku live in densely vegetated freshwater wetlands of southern Australia, Tasmania, New Caledonia, and Aotearoa. All the bird guides say you can find them in Northland, Waikato, the east coast of the North Island, and the west coast of the South Island, but they’re known for their mysterious nature, brilliant at camouflage and living in impenetrable wetland, so good luck trying to spot one.  You may, however, be able to hear their call—a deep, thrumming tone that sounds somewhere between a human humming and a vibrating cell phone. Each individual bird has its own pattern of calls, between one and ten calls per sequence, although most birds average at around three.  In South-Eastern Australian Aboriginal mythology, unfamiliar calls were often attributed to the mysterious and dangerous swamp-dwelling bunyip—often our little muppet matuku. During mating season, the deep, vibrating ‘booms’ of the matuku are something to behold. Around 20% of the total population resides in Whangamarino wetlands in the Waikato, a wildlife refuge run by the Department of Conservation. But 20% of our country’s matuku population is, sadly, still not a large number of birds. Their species is critically endangered. There are less than 1000 total matuku remaining in Aotearoa, and around the same number in Australia. The current estimated population in New Caledonia is less than 50 birds. The presence of matuku is a great indicator of freshwater wetland health, as they cannot live in a habitat without sufficient biodiversity, thick and native vegetation, and good water quality. Matuku love a good, dense wetland, filtered and shaded by native plants with plenty of room for foraging and nesting. The health, size, and native plants of these habitats are dwindling, and the population of the matuku is declining alongside it. Humans have not been especially good at preserving freshwater wetlands. We have now rendered over 90% of the matuku’s habitats in Aotearoa New Zealand uninhabitable, clearing them for farming and agriculture. Of the remaining wetlands, many have been salinised, drained, eroded, or filled with runoff from nearby farms. The native plants matuku depend on for shelter and camouflage can get overrun and destroyed by invasive species. Changes in water levels, a big problem for the ground-nesting matuku, affect even the Whangamarino conservation wetlands. These factors also drive out the creatures these birds feed on. To tack on yet another problem, introduced predators—the usual suspects of rats, stoats and cats—eat the eggs of the matuku. This problem is only worsened by increasingly shrinking habitats, and the resulting loss of hiding and camouflage spots provided by dense native vegetation. With this beloved bird facing all these plights, it’s no wonder they’re critically endangered. The good news is, we can help. It’s not too late for the matuku.  You don’t have to wait for the government to make changes—although protesting and political publicity is always important, it’s tiring to feel like all the change lies out of your reach. You can do so much good for the matuku and the rest of our creatures with your own two hands. You can participate in trapping for Predator Free 2050, by joining your local community group, or backyard trapping egg-eating pests such as mustelids and rats. You can keep your cats indoors, or find them collars that prevent them from munching on the native fauna. Participate in rubbish  cleanups! Raise money! Join a conservation group such as (ahem) Forest and Bird! If you live near a wetland, you can greatly help the matuku’s habitat by weeding, getting rid of invasive ‘temporary fix’ species such as grey willows, and sowing naturally filtering native plants, such as the matuku-favourite rushes and sedges, that improve water quality. Even simply putting a fence around a wetland helps significantly. There is funding available, from the Department of Conservation and some regional councils, to financially support your wetland restoration. Matuku will travel long distances to find a suitable habitat. Who knows? You might start to hear a ‘booming’ call from your very own neighbourhood. If you don’t have the time or energy for hands-on work, you can help by donating money to conservation efforts, helping out Give a Trap, or giving these efforts publicity, even just through social media, so others can trap and donate, too. Something as simple as voting for Bird of the Year later this year helps bring awareness to birds that desperately need our attention, help, and donations. We all love a good kākāpō, but there are so many underrepresented endangered birds that also need the support that comes with public recognition, donations, and habitat restoration.  Critically endangered birds need our help, before we lose yet another glorious feathered member of Aotearoa to extinction. So why not, this year, choose to support the magnificent muppet matuku?

Words by: Izzy Christie At the beginning of Guru of Chai , a storyteller chai-wallah (tea-seller) promises the audience that "your problems will be gone; tonight, your loneliness, your emptiness—all gone!" He promises a night of absurdity, magic, and escapism. Guru of Chai delivers on this promise unequivocally and surprises its audience with genuine emotion and real heart. The production is a tightly honed technical feat. The set, lighting, and sound all work together expertly to create a tactile cityscape of modern-day India. Several forms of puppetry and close-up magic are utilised, adding to the effervescent, infectious quality of the production. The powerhouse of this play is the performer and co-writer Jacob Rajan, who embodies some 17 characters throughout the production without missing a beat, pushing against the boundaries of what an actor can achieve. He never breaks character and is a skilled improviser to whom an obnoxious ringtone is a comedic gift. Jacob Rajan plays quirky, dirty, and sincere, but his greatest quality is that he is a captivating storyteller. Guru of Chai is about human connection through storytelling and... chai! Before the play, this drink was served, and during the play, it was prepared on stage, fostering manaakitanga and connection. The intoxicating story is spurred by characters who seek out and flounder into connections. The greatest connection, however, is the one Rajan fosters with his audience. I have never been to a play with such a reactive audience, and to say people were cracking up is a gross underestimate. At times hilarious and, at times, profound. The production convincingly holds humans' universality and eccentricity. I began writing this review at my desk, but my toes felt like they would turn an iceberg blue, so I am now in my bed finding solace with my electric blanket. As I try not to freeze over, all I can think about is the warm, bustling world Guru of Chai invited me into and how I would like to return there, even for a moment. I urge my fellow Wellingtonians—do not spend your nights shivering in your cold, damp flat! Modern India, world-class theatre, and cups of warm chai are waiting for you at the Hannah Playhouse!

Words by Ryan Cleland (he/him) What is a sandwich? That's the ultimate question. One I ask myself everytime I step into the green and yellow entrance of my local Subway—as I’m sure you, my dear reader, do as well. And so I went to the expert on the matter, The United States Department of Agriculture. The USDA defines closed sandwiches as containing "at least 35% cooked meat and no more than 50% bread" and open sandwiches as having "at least 50% cooked meat." However, the same USDA manual categorises burritos and fajitas as "sandwich-like" and frankfurters as "sandwich type." So it seems as though there is no definition that is correct because clearly frankfurters are not sandwich type! (get it together USDA, I am not mad, merely disappointed).  Okay, so if the U.S Government cant help on the matter, then surely Great Britain can. Well as a matter of fact they are the alleged inventor of the sandwich! Or rather John Montague, the 4th Earl of Sandwich, is the “alleged” inventor of the sandwich. Rather famously, the story goes, that ole Johnny boy loved the pokies an extreme amount, would gamble for hours at a time and, much like those in the throes of IBS, refused to leave his seat. Thus he would request his servants to bring him meat placed between two loaves of bread. And while this myth is very much surrounded in a shadowy mist of what we in the journalism call “extreme embellishment”, it has immortalised Montague's name in sandwich history. In honour of the great Earl of Sandwich, I have scoured the far outer reaches of Wellington, in my quest for the ultimate sandwich! Without further ado, and in no particular order, I present my top nominees. Subway - Kelburn Campus  Italian BMT on Roasted Garlic - $9.30  So I know what you're thinking. Ryan! A subway sub is not the greatest sandwich of all time. And to that I say dear reader, there is a baseline that we must measure everything by. For every luxury yacht, there's a humble fishing boat. For every couture gown there is your favourite pair of jeans. Subway is humble and homely; it knows it is not a Michelin star restaurant and yet it delivers. My friends “allege” that, much like John Montague’s gambling vices, my vice is the lovely Subway of the Easterfield Building. When you first step into those sliding plexiglass doors, you are greeted with the heavenly aroma of freshly baked ‘bread’ (In 2020 the Irish Supreme Court ruled the bread-like substance to be closer to cake). What’s not to love? And that is why Subway always holds a place as the constant of the sandwich family; you can find it everywhere, and you know that you will be in the safe (freshly gloved) hands of a certified Sandwich Artist, at a reasonable price. Fred’s - Cuba Street  Fred’s Pastrami Melt - $15.50  As I step into the orange and white pastel aesthetic of Fred’s vintage food bar, a single sign above reads: ‘Sandwiches’. It knows exactly what needs to be said. Fred’s offers a variety of both untoasted and toasted options. Settling into the Pastrami Melt, I sat there reading my weekly copy of Sandwich Digest ,   and prepared to digest a local delight. Fred’s is known for its melts, and it is clear why. The golden brown bread is Wellington-made sourdough in what I assume is called "Well-Bred, Well-Read, Ready for Spread Fred’s Bread”. Their special sauce oozes out of the crust and makes for a delicious sandwich—for a modest price in today's anti-sammy economy. Fred’s is the king of the toasted sandwich, and its fantastic ingredients and calming decor make you feel like an English record producer and DJ—the way you want to go to Fred Again. Romeo’s - Te Aro  Romeo’s Deli Roll Sandwich - $18.00  Hidden Just off of Cuba Street you can find a quaint little hole-in-the-wall: Romeo’s Deli and Bar. A somewhat secret sandwich locale, Romeo’s had a delectable display of options accompanied with a busy drinks menu, for that ‘it's 5 o’clock somewhere’ vibe.  “Oh Romeo! Oh Romeo! Wherefore art thou Romeo?”  “ 3/126 Vivian Street!”, an eerie voice replies. Romeo’s has Jenga and Snakes and Ladders, to fill the time while you wait for Head Chef Romeo to whip you up a sammy. Also, there’s a 10% student discount—so be sure to wave that ID before purchasing. Romeo’s sandwiches tend to straddle the line between toasted and fresh—and who cares? What's in a name? A sandwich by any other name would taste as good. And whilst Romeo’s asks a high price, the student discount helps it recover. It gets the Montague seal of approval. Good Boy Sammies - Newtown  Steak, Onion, Shallot and Padano Sandwich - $18.00  Local Newtown sandwich bar Good Boy Sammies has earned a reputation as one of the top sandwich spots in Wellington. Located near Wellington Hospital, Good Boy Sammies was founded by former music students Alexander Green and James Paul, who aimed to craft unique and elaborate sandwiches each week. At GBS (Acronym pending I’m sure), they offer a rotating menu featuring two meat options and one vegetarian option, ensuring there's always a new ‘sammie’ to try. However, if you find a favourite, you might have to wait a while to enjoy it again. While Good Boy Sammies has high prices, they justify them with the most versatile and exciting menu among local sandwich options. Good Job, Good Boy Sammies! Sir Breadwins - Lambton Quay  Sir Gallahad on Long Bread - $14.50  In the far off land of Lambton Quay, nestled between fabled JB Morrison Lawyers and Jean Jacques Hair Design, stands a charming sandwich shop called Sir Breadwins. Sir Breadwins serves some of the best untoasted sammies in all the land, each with invariably punny names. You can order, from the round table that is their menu, a Sir Gallahad or even a Sir Lancelot to start your day. Delivered on either Long or square Molenberg or rye bread, the options are limitless at Sir Breadwins—you can even construct your own ‘Sandwich of the Round Table’. A combination of healthy ingredients and a good selection of non-sandwich goods make Sir Breadwins a hidden gem of sandwich royalty.