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Raved by   Jia Sharma (she/her) Photograhed by Michael Thomas How do I even begin to describe this band? I’ve been dying to write about Lipstick since I saw them for the first time at Valhalla in April. Without a doubt, Lipstick has become my favorite band to see live, and I’ve been hooked since that very first show. Since their debut as a band at the end of March, they’ve become a prominent presence in the gig scene—and for good reason.   Most of the band members met in high school, but it wasn’t until last year that they began playing together as a group. Watching them on stage, you would think they had been performing together for years. The energy they bring to their shows is electric. The chemistry among the band members is evident, and their interactions during performances make it feel like you're watching a group of friends jamming in their garage—an insanely talented group of friends, that is. Their sound is reminiscent of early 2000s alt-rock, with infectious energy and rhythm that makes it impossible not to at least nod your head along. Lipstick’s debut single “Party” is set to be released on the 31st of May, and I couldn’t be more excited. The song is a narrative in itself, with lead guitarist Harry describing it as a story of “juvenile love and heartbreak” which, after listening to the song, is a perfect description. Produced at Massey University’s studio by Anton Parker, the single has a distinct 80’s feel and was recorded to authentically capture the sound of their live performances. Hearing “Party” live at Valhalla and San Fran was sick, and now I’m thrilled to be able to listen to it anytime I want. The song brims with energy, and the guitar instrumental is particularly standout. You can hear and appreciate each instrument in the song, which is one of my favorite things about Lipstick. Each member gets their moment to shine.  The band also has an EP that is set to release soon, and I already have a list of their live songs I can’t wait to hear recorded. I'm eager to see if they continue to replicate the vibrant live sound they've perfected. Lipstick is a band I cannot recommend you see enough. I find myself mentioning them in every conversation I have about Wellington’s music scene. Few bands have as much raw synergy and authenticity as Lipstick. According to lead singer Oliver, “The people deserve Lipstick”, which could not be more true. Be sure to keep an eye out for their upcoming gigs and remember to pre-save “Party” for when it comes out on the 31st of May.

Words by Rex (he) there’s a beautiful myth wherein werewolves are simply men in love, and if those whom they love call their names, they can reverse their monstrosities and make them man again. a myth is a story which concerns the histories of people, usually involving supernatural beings, or events. usually they are lies. interestingly enough, i don’t think this one is a myth, because every time you say my name i forget what it’s like to rip muscle and tendon with my teeth.  i would bleed for you. that’s silly to say. bleeding here is such a vague term. when i say that i would bleed for you, i mean that if i needed to, i would kill for you. we haven’t known each other very long, that is true, but what is time if not an endless cycle, and why should it matter in the face of love? why must a certain amount of time pass before i can tell you that my heart beats in my chest for only you? that i’d cut it out and give it to you if you asked?  time is too short to not allow myself to feel this. to not allow myself to feel my claws sink back into my fingers at the sound of your breath. time is too short to wait months until i can tell you what it’s like to be in your presence, staring at the clock with my teeth bulging out of my too-small maw, drool pooling at my feet as the seconds tick by. apparently, it’s the “appropriate” amount of “time.” what is “appropriate” to a beast like me? if time is so endless, if nothing really matters anyway, why should i care? i will let you call my name, and when i am a man again i will give you my heart, and hopefully then, you’ll understand.

Spiced up by  Sean Burnett   Dugdale-Martin  CW: Spoilers for Dune extended universe I recently read Frank Herbert’s Dune , much like many others would have after the release of the films. However I didn’t stop with the first one! I read through all six of Herbert’s original sci-fi saga and, even though the first three were quite queerless, the last three books actually kinda slayed? I became excited reading them—I started to think the queerness explored in the second half of the series was almost a critique on how queerness was depicted in the first half of the series. There was a non-binary sandworm emperor, a lesbian army, and hot takes on homophobia in the military. After I had finished all six I ended up doing some sleuthing about the author and… Turns out Herbert was a homophobe. How did I get such a misguided idea from Herbert’s work? In the Dune universe, the two films currently released tell the story of the first novel. From here there are two sequel novels, Dune Messiah  and Children of Dune . Then, there is a three and a half thousand year time jump into God Emperor of Dune , and another one and a half thousand year jump into Heretics of Dune —which flows immediately into Chapterhouse: Dune . Sound complicated? It is.  Within the first three books there is only one example of queerness and, considering the historical context in which it was written, it’s not a great one. The Baron Harkonnen (character) was a homosexual paedophilic sadist who had young boys sent to his room where he would have sex with and torture them. Not great! In the film this was shifted into a heteronormative dynamic, but the torturous aspect was kept. Boo!  Since this was written in the 60s I can imagine that the character was given this queer spin as a way to make them seem more immoral. Think Ursula from The Little Mermaid! That was pretty d-buzz to read, particularly because I could understand where it came from. As I continued to read I had accepted it as a huge flaw in a classic novel (which pretty much all age poorly) and largely ignored it, so that it wouldn’t frustrate me. That was until the big time jump into the second half of the series. God Emperor of Dune , Heretics of Dune and Chapterhouse: Dune are huge novels, spanning continuations of the universe Herbert created. These three books, for me, served as a detailed response to many of the flaws in humankind set up in the first three books. Fair warning: from here on out I will refer to characters by their actors (if they have been cast) since that’s the only way my partner (and probably you) will know who I’m talking about. What follows is my initial reading of these final three books. God Emperor of Dune  is about Timothee Chalamet and Zendaya’s kid, Leto II. They moulded themselves with a million little sandworm babies at the end of Children of Dune ,   and have since lived for thousands of years, because of the regenerative benefits of the baby worms. It’s explicitly mentioned that Leto II is a very large “more worm than human” creature, with no genitalia. As a child of Timothee Chalamet, Leto II also has the ability to predict the future. Timothee Chalamet wasn’t great at this, but because Leto II has had it since birth and has lived with it for thousands of years they have achieved omnipotence and can see entirely into the future. Herbert, strangely, uses he/him pronouns for a genitalia-less worm-person. I know genitalia does not designate gender, but it’s interesting to note that, while Herbert and his characters refer to Leto II as he/him, Leto II refers to themselves as other, or without binary.  Another consequence of Leto II's omnipotence is that they also contain every consciousness from every ancestor in their head. It’s explained that the consciousnesses communicate not just to Leto II, but to each other, and are a way of keeping dead ancestors alive. Think Avatar the Legend of Aang!  (is anything original?) So, to recap: Leto II is a gender-morphing genitalia-less omnipotent God Emperor of the universe who controls all the spice on Dune and can see into the future. Herbert, by my reading, built this character as a response to the errors of Timothee Chalamet. Leto II, being able to see into the future and know all, is orchestrating a galaxy in order to correct the mistakes of his father. This is referred to in the books by Leto II, when they mention humanity would be extinct without Leto II’s intervention. This is where my interest really started to kick in. As a genderless person myself I began to relate to Leto II in a weird way. I wondered if Herbert was perhaps suggesting that to know more about the world and the future is to end up abandoning gender and its binary. I started to allow myself to engage, as my hope grew in the final three instalments. In this, the fourth book in the franchise, Leto II has an army of women called Fish Speakers, and routinely brings back to life Jason Momoa to be his personal friend and bodyguard. Jason is quite challenged by how much lesbianism is going on in the army, and it’s explained to him that suppressing homosexuality was a tool used by ancient militaries in order to make their soldiers more powerful, since those who are being tortured or suppressed emotionally are more cruel because of it. The God Emperor, by virtue of their omnipotence, has no real enemies—so there is no reason to have a strong army, and no reason to suppress homosexuality.  The thing is—I misunderstood. I had misread the conversation between Jason Momoa and the right-hand of Leto II. I had read Leto II as a non-binary true leader who I thought was the omnipotent saviour correcting the tragedy set in motion by Timothee Chalamet.  I wished I had not learned more about Herbert.  Hell, in the fifth and sixth books Jason Momoa outlives Leto II and is trained in the ways of sex magic so that he can defeat (have sex more ‘powerfully’ than) sex witches from deep space. That isn’t a joke. It got very weird. I have never read a sex scene so explicit as the one at the end of Heretics of Dune. Why does it have to be written by some homophobe?  It was a bitter taste to realise I had misinterpreted his writing so badly. I have since resolved to look upon the books as I wish to. Herbert may have been homophobic, but I guess since he’s dead now he won’t be getting any royalties from me! The author is literally dead, so our queer readings of Dune  can be as valid as we want.

Lovingly Crafted by Dan Moskovitz (he/him) In the undergrowth, there is a predator. Silently waiting, it eventually senses its prey. A soft step on one leg. A second on another. More on the third, fourth, and fifth legs. Then, suddenly, it shoots two jets of white sticky fluid which traps the unfortunate beetle. The fluid keeps the beetle immobilized while the peripatus injects its catch with saliva, which digests its soft tissue. The peripatus then sucks it all out, as if drinking through a straw. I love peripatuses (ngāokeoke). They’re small nocturnal caterpillar-like creatures with stubby little legs and antennae, usually sporting a spotted dark velvet skin. I had never heard of them until last summer when I was frantically applying for an internship somewhere, anywhere. I stumbled upon one all about peripatus in VUW’s own school of biology. While applying, I looked them up and quickly got obsessed. It didn’t take long to realize how I wanted the internship more than anything. I was lucky enough to get it, and since then my love for these creatures, also called velvet worms, has only grown.  A peripatus. Image credit: Perran Coppard. Ngāokeoke inhabit forested areas, usually inside a bit of rotting wood. They head out at night to hunt and require humid, damp, and warm conditions. As peripatuses’ pores are perennially open, they have no mechanisms to stop themselves from drying out—hence why they spend most of their time nestled in a nice damp rotting log. They are native but not endemic to New Zealand, and are usually between 2 to 8 centimeters long, though ones in the Caribbean can get up to a whopping 22cm.  While called velvet worms, peripatus aren’t worms, and you should feel silly for thinking so. They may look like caterpillars, but they aren’t those either. Rather, ngāokeoke is something far odder. Neither worm nor insect, but something in between.  To be between a worm and an insect is a whole order of uniqueness. Peripatus are in their own separate phylum, Onychophora. Which leads to the creature with already too many names also being called Onychophorans. But more importantly, a phylum is about the highest level of biological categorisation there is. Peripatus constitutes one, insects are in another, and the true worms are split up between four other phyla, but that’s a different kettle of chordates. For comparison purposes, humans sit in phylum Chordata. Our flatmates in phylum Chordata include all other mammals, birds, reptiles, amphibians, fish, tunicates, and lancelets. Tunicates, for reference, are immobile marine filter feeders. That’s our flatmate.  To put it another way, a peripatus is as similar to a worm or an insect as you are to a starfish. Being between worms and insects on the evolutionary ladder also means peripatuses are extraordinarily old. 500 million years old, in fact. Dinosaurs didn’t even arrive on the scene until 230 million years ago. Even more remarkable is how peripatus haven’t changed much over the years; they look pretty much the same now as they did back then.  But let’s go back to their projectile slime I described in the hook. This is one of the most distinctive things about peripatuses. So much so that the Wikipedia page for Onychophorans has the subheading “slime” alongside the more scientifically titled headings, resulting in a hilarious discordance:  Screenshot from Oncyohpora Wikipedia page. As ambush predators, ngāokeoke shoots said slime to catch their prey. Range varies, but has been reported to usually be around a centimeter—a big shot for a small invertebrate. The closest analogue to said slime is spider silk. Which is why I like to describe velvet worms as spiders with guns. Can you imagine the fame a creature like this would have if it wasn’t tiny? Imagine a lion prowling the savannah who will shoot you from range, immobilize you, inject you with spit, and then watch and wait while you are digested alive from the inside out. That’s what we’re talking about on the small scale.  The uniqueness of peripatuses doesn’t end there. You may recall from high school biology how one of mammals’ distinctive traits is our ability to give birth to live young. Well, we’re not special. Velvet worms were doing it for millions of years before us. In fact, the females of some species have two uteri (uteruses). Meaning they can be raising different baby onychophorans at different stages of development. This is one area of extraordinary diversity throughout the Onychophorans; some lay eggs. Some have eggs which hatch inside the mother’s body before she gives birth to the young. One (non-NZ) species even reproduce through parthenogenesis, an interesting and complicated method of reproduction where young grow from unfertilized eggs and males are not required.  One area of my research is: ‘where on earth are Wellington’s peripatuses?’ . We know they’re hanging out in rotting logs in both Zealandia and Ōtari-Wilton’s bush, but beyond that, dunno. Do they prefer native bush or introduced flora? Also no idea. Because like most invertebrates, they’re criminally understudied. Vertebrates tend to get six times the overall financial investment of invertebrates. Personally, I find that really sad; velvet worms are just one example of the incredible biodiversity lurking in our undergrowth.  Who knows what other amazing things are beneath your notice.

Night buses to be phased out from October  DAN MOSKOVITZ (HE/HIM) Students having a night out will soon no longer be able to take the night bus home, after the  Greater Wellington Regional Council agreed to scrap the service last week. Neither VUWSA nor  Te Tira Ahu Pae—the Massey equivalent—were consulted on the changes.  Metlink’s night buses run between 1 and 4.30am on Saturday and Sunday mornings, providing a cheap(ish) option for students and others in town to get home safely.  With low patronage, Metlink made the call to ax them in favour of high-frequency (the 1, 2, 7, ect.) services running later into the night and starting earlier in the morning.  “We are more likely to provide a safe way home for more people if the existing bus services go later at night and start earlier in the morning than if we carry on with a service which isn't getting used,” said councillor Thomas Nash, who is head of GWRC’s transport committee.  As Nash points out, night bus patronage has fallen 76% since 2006. “If you know your regular bus service is on the timetable and just running later at night, we think you're more likely to actually use it,” said Nash. Students’ fondness for town is a subject of much renown—they will thus be disproportionately affected by Metlink’s changes. However, both VUWSA and Te Tira Ahu Pae were caught off-guard by the announcement, as neither association was consulted about the changes. “While it is unfortunate that the Night Bus program will be coming to an end, we recognise how its declining patronage may make a replacement service more feasible,” said VUWSA’s Pierson Palmer in a statement.  “We urge GWRC to ensure they have a replacement ready to start, ensuring a smooth transition and preventing both students and the rest of the general public from being caught out.” Palmer expressed hope for Metlink’s on-demand service currently being trialled in Tawa as a potential replacement, but Nash poured cold water on this idea, saying on-demand only worked in “specific situations with specific circumstances.”  Te Tira Ahu Pae’s Wellington president Tim Wilson was more critical of the reforms.  “Cutting the night bus services will put vulnerable Massey students at an increased risk of harm. If students are now forced to walk home during these hours, they face a multitude of different harms. “I believe cutting night bus services will particularly put young women and our rainbow community at an increased risk of violent attacks,” he said in a statement. Part of the issue stems from the way the council operates - we don’t know the exact timetables the replacements will be running on. This is because, according to Nash, GWRC needs to make the initial change of ending night buses in their Regional Public Transport Plan before they could work on creating the replacements.  The changes will begin in October, with later and earlier 2s and 4s replacing the N2 and N3. However, these bus routes are not identical. The N3 services the area around both Wrights Hill and Mākara Hill, an area which neither the 2 nor the 4 covers.  The rest of Wellington city’s night buses will be phased out in 2025, and those servicing Porirua and the Hutt to follow after that.  For the Porirua and Hutt Valley replacements, Metlink indicated later rail services could also be an option alongside later buses.  Most bars and clubs are on Courtenay Place which, according to Google Maps, can be as much as a 26-minute walk to the train station.

But for Birds DAN MOSKOVITZ (HE/HIM) It’s a pandemic’s decade, and we’re living through it. First came COVID-19—still going strong despite reduced attention. Monkeypox also had its moment in the sun a while back. Now it's bird flu’s turn. Also called avian influenza, bird flu is the flu… but in birds. There are many variants, but H5N1 is the one currently getting attention due to its fast spread and lethality. Millions of birds have died and only Australia, New Zealand, and the Pacific remain H5N1-free.  Given how many endemic birds Aotearoa has at low population levels, the government is obviously concerned. Because of the risk H5N1 poses, Biosecurity New Zealand took the unprecedented step of allowing the Department of Conservation to trial bird flu vaccinations. Usage of bird flu vaccines is usually prohibited, as doing so complicates detection of the disease.  Five species of bird are the guinea pigs; Takahē, Tūturatu (shore plover), red-crowned Kākāriki, Kakī (black stilt), and the Kākāpō.  “This is an efficacy trial, rather than a real-world trial,” said DoC’s Ecology Technical Adviser Bruce McKinlay. “We chose a range of species which were in captivity or under close management so we could learn about the efficacy of this vaccine in New Zealand.”  “The trial started at the end of January, and all of the birds have now received their second dose. There seem to be no adverse effects so far.  “We’re now collecting blood out of the birds looking for antibodies, and once we get that data we’ll analyze it. In about three or four months we’ll be finished.”  This isn’t a population-wide trial; just ten birds from each species are undergoing vaccinations. And realistically, even if things go swimmingly, few species can be vaccinated. It’s just logistically impossible to vaccinate a population of wild untrackable animals, especially considering the vaccine requires two shots. Instead, as DoC’s vaccine trial fact sheet  states, “vaccination might be an effective tool during outbreaks to protect a core breeding population to prevent species extinction.”  “Internationally there's been massive amounts of bird loss, but there haven't been any actual extinctions,” says McKinlay. “What we're concerned about is where we’ve got birds in close contact with each other—like in captivity—we might have a significant amount of mortality. “For wild bird populations, we have limited tools. We’re going to have to look out for those birds and see who survives at the end.” Successful vaccination of a wild bird population has occurred just once before; in America with the California Condor.  Bird flu wiped out 21 of the 350-strong population; a disaster in ecological terms, producing fears a subsequent outbreak would obliterate the population. Successful trials convinced the US government to vaccinate the entire population, which is still ongoing. However, testing on already vaccinated Condors has shown some have since caught bird flu and survived. Condors are already a highly monitored species, and these vaccinations wouldn’t be possible in a species with a higher population or lower levels of management.  The population of the Condors is similar to the species DoC is running its trials on, and McKinlay says the American results are informing DoC’s work.  If you encounter a bird showing symptoms of avian influenza, please take a video and contact Biosecurity New Zealand on their 0800 80 99 66 hotline. Symptoms include falling over, twisting their neck to look upwards, lethargy, and drooping heads.  Transmission of bird flu to humans is uncommon but not impossible. However its mortality rate in humans is 52%. Under no conditions touch any bird showing symptoms.  Headline credit: Ash

Words by Josh Robinson (He/Him) | Ngāti Ranginui  I didn't know if I was Māori. I didn't grow up knowing my whakapapa, iwi, or hapū, much less knowing how to recite my mihi. My father was adopted at birth. For most of my life, no one knew the source of my whānau’s brown skin.  Te Ao Māori can feel intimidating to disconnected Māori. As someone who has lived in constant search of themselves, I thought it would be appropriate to write a column that a young version of myself would have sought comfort in. Perhaps someone else out there will, too.  I first remember questioning my identity as Māori in primary school during a maths test. I opened the front page of the test booklet and stared at the two ovals. One with ‘NZ European’ written beside it, and the other ‘Māori’. Sometimes I shaded both, sometimes I only shaded one. Throughout my childhood, it became apparent these ovals meant more to me than the actual test.  Similarly, when my sister and I were asked “how Māori” we were, we recoiled with “half a teaspoon”. We laughed, but the internal questioning grew louder. Being called a “half-caste” was something we just became accustomed to. We were mutts. We were not purebred, and it felt as if no matter how hard we tried we would not be let into either club. We weren’t enough of either.  It was only when my whanau gave their DNA and money to a corporation that we finally found who we were. A sterile, profit-oriented exchange is far from the organic Māori upbringing, but it is to be expected in this Treaty-ravaged Aotearoa.  I find a twisted solace in now realising that colonialism has had a huge effect on me and my whānau. Needless internal turmoil over my identity, sexuality and mental health can in some way be attributed back to old white men, whether that be in 1840 or 2024. In 1877 Chief Justice James Prendergast referred to The Treaty as “a simple nullity”, but at a stroke of a pen countless generations of Māori were stripped of their future as proud takatāpui, and of their right to customary spiritual avenues to addressing mental health.  In pre-colonial Aotearoa, my father likely never would have been adopted, and thus we never would have been raised outside of our whakapapa. The customary practice of Whāngai would have protected us from being disconnected from our whenua.  Indeed, the term “half-caste” is not relevant in Te Ao Māori. No matter “how Māori” you are, you are still Tangata Whenua. Not just by the virtue of what your DNA says, but through the shared experience of what that whenua has seen and experienced over the past 184 years and before. This is what connects us. That is to say there is no such thing as ‘disconnected Māori’. It is but a simple nullity.  The David Seymours of this whenua would have it that we didn't have this connection. It is only when we finally realise how truly connected we are that we can stamp out the hatred and bigotry that these old white men have imparted on us, whether they came from England on ships, or from our supposed house of representatives.  As the only Māori on the VUWSA exec, takatāpui no less, it is safe to say my relationship with Te Tiriti has been interesting. To the privileged Pākehā, Te Tiriti can seem like a burning gas giant light years in the past, better to be steered clear of and left untouched. Māori on the other hand, we live close, our retinas burn, but we are not blinded.

Nā Te Mana Ākonga The weaponization of Pākehā tears are the most dangerous weapons to ever befall Aotearoa; more dangerous than our patu, more dangerous than our taiaha, and more dangerous than their muskets.  Māori tertiary education has long been plagued with external critiques, and cries of perceived privilege. From opposition against the establishment of our Whare Wānanga, to the historical exclusion of Mātauranga Māori, to the modern day protests against Māori student spaces in our Universities. Despite the theft of our everything, this still fails to fill the insatiable hunger of a group that has left us nothing.  The irony of superimposing colonial institutions over Māori land, and then claiming that the Māori spaces within those institutions are unequal, is violently hypocritical. Modern day Māori tertiary education shows homage to the protest movements of the 20th Century, where our kui mā and koro mā fought for the right of Māori to enter and succeed in higher education. Mā te ture anō te ture e āki. By utilising the tools and institutions which oversaw our colonisation, ākonga Māori are able to repurpose said tools to benefit our own people. Turning tools which were meant to destroy and assimilate into pathways of hope, and promise. For too long indigenous histories have been written by colonial hands. For too long indigenous knowledge has been discarded by colonial minds. For too long indigenous peoples have been silenced by colonial tears.  Akona is a fundamental Māori value which means to learn. This value is embroidered in the walls of our marae through our tukutuku panels. Additionally, akona also means to unlearn. Unlearning bias and entitlements which were engraved by society. Unlearning privilege and expectation. Unlearning the insatiable hunger to take all and leave nothing.  As envisioned in the third article of Te Tiriti o Waitangi, Māori and Pākehā will be treated equally. In colonial institutions where it is inherently unequal to be an ākonga Māori, they way to alleviate inequity is through avenues such as Māori student spaces, supporting Mātauranga Māori and ensuring that our ākonga Māori are not only present, but are thriving.  Nei he mihi mākoha atu ki ngā rōpū tauira Māori o te motu, e whawhai ana mō ā tātou tamariki mokopuna, mō tō tātou ao mātauranga, mō tō tātou āpōpō.

Rosa Hibbert-Schooner | Te Arawa, Ngāti Whakaue, Ngāti Awa Graduate from Te Puna Wānaka o Ara, Te Tohu Ohoka They come to talk. To stumble around the philosophies so false they cannot even trace where they come from without our land they stole. Lives built on being better than others, without realizing they still do not understand anything without us.  We come to connect, to feel the very breeze of the sea our ancestors once knew as one. The legacy they left so far intertwined into our whenua it cannot be undone. We know this to be true. We are loud about that too.  They see our past and present as mouldable, buyable and sellable. Usable always but never quite doable. They see our tikanga, reo, ahurea as commodities and smile with their clenched teeth through a “mandatory” waiata. Though they are the ones who claim to the cameras watching the next day that we were the ones to make mockery of our customs.  E noho… the waiata rings  We understand the future we need and the urgency of this. So close we can smell it but you push it further away.  They see urgency as a tool to undo everything about us. Wipe us from existence again, they will try.  They join international alliances to do the same to Iwi taketake across the world. How dare they decide such a thing on this whenua? The same papa that knows what aroha ki te tangata is. The same papa that watched Te Tiriti be dishonored time and time again. She holds the secret that spread as long as her, never ceded, never ceded. Always seed her.  It never worked the first time. It won’t work now. We turn up, white flags raised, together. Indigenous, tangata whenua, tangata Tiriti alike. Rising like te Rā, consistent, ia rā, ia ra. Our tipuna are watching us as we lay the legacy alongside them. Will our tamariki be smiling when they look back on us?

Te Waikamihi Lambert  |  Ngāti Awa, Tūhoe, Ngāti Ruapani, Ngāpuhi Ngāi Tauira—Māori Students Association at Te Herenga Waka—represents Māori students and works closely with Te Aka Tauira—VUWSA—as treaty partners on various boards and committees. Our purpose is to make Māori students feel culturally safe in a western institution, and serve as a family away from home through our range of services.  The purpose of this article is to share with the general student body how Ngāi Tauira and Te Aka Tauira—VUWSA—work together as treaty partners in the realm of student governance, as we navigate how to effectively embody the principles set out Te Tiriti o Waitangi within decision making processes.  Our partnership is in essence co-governance at a student level, which is based on the principles of tino rangatiratanga vs kāwanatanga as guaranteed in Te Tiriti o Waitangi. VUWSA recognises Māori as tangata whenua of Aotearoa, with Ngāi Tauira having tino rangatiratanga over Māori student affairs. In turn Ngāi Tauira recognises non-Māori as tangata tiriti with VUWSA reserving the right of kāwanatanga—governorship over decision making regarding the rest of the student body.  I’d like to reaffirm that there is a significant difference between having a relationship and having a partnership. A relationship generally implies a connection or interaction, which can be formal or casual. A partnership, by contrast, involves having a formal and structured collaboration aimed at achieving shared goals or objectives. Although most of the time we operate on a good faith basis, we do have key written documents which are at the core of our partnership. These documents include an MoU (memorandum of understanding), VUWSA’s Te Tiriti o Waitangi statute, and a document outlining the tikanga and protocols of their gifted name—Te Aka Tauira.  It is also important to note that disparities of funding and resources still exist between Ngāi Tauira and VUWSA. For example, although Ngāi Tauira and VUWSA are equal partners who do the same hours and work on almost everything together, the Ngāi Tauira executive is currently not remunerated for their work, whereas the VUWSA executive is. This is due to the complacency of the University to formally recognise the work and value Ngāi Tauira offers. VUWSA trust has graciously decided to remunerate the NT presidents for 2024, with the hopes that the university will pick this up in 2025—and eventually remunerate the whole executive, too. The documents outlined in this article provide a framework which aims to eliminate these disparities.  He Whakapūmautanga I Te Hononga I Waenga I A Ngāi Tauira Me VUWSA  This document establishes a written and formal agreement between both parties that is mutually productive, beneficial, and seeks to realise the articles of Te Tiriti o Waitangi in the context of the University. A few key features include: Section 2.3 . Ngāi Tauira and VUWSA recognise each other’s autonomy as student representative bodies—particularly for Ngāi Tauira, as not subordinate to VUWSA.  Section 3.3 . Eventually, we hope that Ngāi Tauira can stand alongside VUWSA as partners with equal resourcing and representation, to effectively carry out its business and represent tauira Māori at this university.  Section 5.3.1 . Ngāi Tauira and VUWSA recognise the importance of whakawhanaungatanga and strong relationships between the two organisations. These relationships should seek to go beyond simply professional.                                                                                   Te tiriti o Waitangi statute This statute affirms VUWSA’s Te Tiriti obligations using principles, and is intended to help VUWSA apply them. A few key features include:  Section 1.1.1 . VUWSA has an obligation to conduct itself in a way which reflects the mana of its gifted name—Te Aka Tauira.  Section 1.1.1.1 . If for any reason VUWSA fails to conduct itself appropriately the Ngāi Tauira tumuaki tuarua reserves the right to restrict the use of the name and instigate a wānanga to rectify the issue.  Section 3.2.1 . VUWSA will advocate for the appropriate funding, resourcing, and representation for Ngāi Tauira, Māori roopu and all tauira, to help ensure that Māori have access to adequate resources to pursue their aspirations.  Te Aka Tauira: Tikanga & protocols of Te Aka Tauira The name Te Aka Tauira refers to the pūrākau   of receiving the three baskets of knowledge in Māori culture. ‘Te Aka’ refers to the vine that Tāwhaki or Tāne climbed down to Earth from the heavens after obtaining the three baskets, and ‘tauira’ commonly translates to students. Thus, ‘Te Aka tauira’ refers to the path that students take to receive and pursue mātauranga or knowledge.  The gifting of this name denotes VUWSA’s active efforts to stand as a confident, supportive and able Te Tiriti partner alongside Ngāi Tauira, and recognises the historical contribution of VUWSA to Ngāi Tauira in terms of advocacy, support and championship.  This tikanga naming document outlines the terms in which the name Te Aka Tauira may or may not be used, and why.  Ngāi Tauira recognises the name ‘Te Aka Tauira’ as being tapu, which can be referred to as an intangible force often interpreted as ‘sacred’ or ‘restricted’. The antonym of tapu is ‘noa’ , another intangible force meaning ‘common’ or ‘unrestricted’, the two cannot co-exist. Therefore, the name ‘Te Aka Tauira’ which is considered tapu cannot be used or weaponised in any noa context. To do so would invalidate its tapu , and thus, be considered a breach of trust and undermine the good faith relationship built between the two associations.  We’d like to publicly acknowledge and give thanks to Te Aka Tauira—VUWSA—for their support and partnership with Ngāi Tauira over the years, and we hope it may continue to grow stronger in the years to come.

Words by Teddy O'Neill (he/it/ia) | Ngāpuhi  Kia ora koutou, and welcome to Te Tiriti 101. This feature is supposed to teach you all about what Te Tiriti actually is, what is says, and how colonisers fucked us Māori over. The first thing to cover is that Te Tiriti is still widely regarded as the only founding document of Aotearoa. If you think that, though, you’re wrong.  He Whakaputanga In 1831, 13 Ngāpuhi chiefs wrote to King William to request an alliance and protection. In 1835, He Whakaputanga o te Rangatiratanga o Nu Tireni  was signed. He Whakaputanga is often forgotten, but was the first legal document to recognise Aotearoa as a sovereign nation ruled by Māori. It was drafted by 34 Ngāpuhi rangatira, and one British representative, (James Busby.) It was signed by Te Whakaminenga. He Whakaputanga contains four articles, and states that sovereign power and authority   (‘Ko te Kingitanga ko te mana i te w[h]enua’) lies with Te Whakaminenga, and that foreigners can’t make laws. Most Māori saw He Whakaputanga as a way to properly ally themselves with Great Britain, and to show the wider world that they had authority. The British saw He Whakaputanga as a step towards making Aotearoa a British possession.  It has been suggested that the Declaration was only taken seriously by the British in 1840, when it proved to be a hindrance to the annexation of Aotearoa. Before sovereignty could be transferred to the British crown via the Treaty of Waitangi, the Declaration had to be revoked. This is why rangatira who had signed He Whakaputanga, or their successors, were the first to be called to sign the Treaty. Te Tiriti o Waitangi In 1840, up in Kororāreka, the British settlers were being little shits, (drinking, murdering, etc.) Rangatira asked the Crown if something could be done about their subjects and their behaviour. The Crown already had an interest in monopolising Aotearoa, and replied with the Treaty of Waitangi. On the 6th of Feb, the Treaty was signed. The issue here lies in the differences between the Reo Māori and English versions.  In Article One, the English version states that Māori leaders gave the Queen, “all the rights and powers of sovereignty ” over their land. In the Māori text, Māori leaders gave the Queen “te Kawanatanga katoa”, or the government over their land.  Reo Māori didn’t have a translation for sovereignty, because rangatira had authority over their own whenua but there was no one ruler of the country, so the concept of sovereignty didn’t exist. The English translators instead used the word ‘Kawanatanga,’ which led Māori to believe that they would hold onto their power and that they would be agreeing to let the Queen could govern her own subjects while they lived in Aotearoa, with Māori letting those subjects live in Aotearoa, in exchange for protection from the Crown. The Waitangi Tribunal have concluded that Māori never ceded sovereignty to the Crown.  In Article Two, the English text states that Māori were guaranteed “exclusive and undisturbed possession of their lands and estates, forests, fisheries and other properties”. It also states that the British exclusively can purchase Māori land. The Māori text states that Māori were guaranteed “tino rangatiratanga” over “taonga”—which would mean that Māori had full authority over anything Māori deemed of value. And while this includes land, properties and fisheries, it also includes knowledge and language. Māori also agreed to give the Crown the right to buy their land if they wished to sell it, but it’s not clear if the exclusivity of Crown purchases was made apparent to Māori.  In Article Three, the Crown assured that Māori would have the Queen’s protection and all rights (tikanga) accorded to British subjects. This is considered a fair translation.   Not everyone signed Te Tiriti on the 6th of Feb, though. Nine copies of Te Tiriti were made, only one in English, so that they could be taken around the country to other rangatira to sign throughout 1840. Some iwi didn’t sign at all. Over the course of the next century, the promises made within Te Tiriti were ignored by the Crown. One of the biggest broken promises was the undisturbed possession of Māori land. In the 80 years between 1840 and 1920, Māori went from owning 100% of Aotearoa, to only 8%. By 1903, the usage of Te Reo Māori as a means of communication and instruction had been banned in schools, where Māori children were beaten and otherwise disciplined for using it. Many older Māori generations therefore grew up without Reo Māori, jeopardising our culture and directly violating Article Two.  Today, though Te Tiriti is more recognised, the promises within are still not fulfilled. The disestablishment of the Māori Health Authority will be detrimental to the healthcare of Māori. Right now, the ACT party wants to implement the Treaty Principles Bill, where they will be “defining” what exactly Te Tiriti means in order to create “equal rights for all New Zealanders.” The platform that this proposed referendum would be giving to those who   want to remove protection and equity for Māori is worrying.  Te Tiriti is the primary document. Te Tiriti is the document Aotearoa should be living under. Decolonise Aotearoa. Toitū Te Tiriti. Wānanga with treaty experts rather than men who don’t know anything about what they’re talking about.

On the daily, I’m constantly having to justify the value and investment in our culture. I’m asked to fit a template not suited to us, not created with us or for us. Deadlines nearing, pressure rising with a kupu here and there, auē! On the daily, I’m asked to write in English to explain the meaning of our culture. I’m asked to help cultur-ify a report. I’m expected to front cultural hui. I’m begged to translate. Our culture is always on call. On the daily, I’m told I’m too passionate, I need to step out of my feelings and to pull back on my activist views. They try to keep me quiet but my ancestors won’t let me. This voice will be heard. On the daily, I share my cultural intelligence with those willing to listen and those that have no idea. I challenge the system to change. I challenge the people to think of the people, not just the timelines or outputs. On the daily, I seek equity and justice. My advice is more than just ticking the box. Our culture is more than a ‘whakatau’. Our identity, language and culture are the foundation to all our solutions. Our culture is our strength, our value add. On the daily, My cultural hat is unremovable. My whakapapa runs strong. I will fight for the people, be the rangatira our tamariki need us to be and ensure their daily is better than mine. We are the change agents of now. Ia te rā, ia te rā Tūrou Hawaiki! - Kara Nepe-Apatu, Chair Te Rau Hihiri Our ancestors dreamt of us—the leaders of today and tomorrow. They paved the way for us, and now it's our turn to carry the torch forward. From knowing our values to backing our opinions, from hard work to being part of a broader network, these are all integral to working in government—be it at the central or local level. But what sets us apart, ingrained in our DNA, is our embodiment of culture, creativity, calibre, and connection. Kara Nepe-Apatu, Chair of Te Rau Hihiri, shares a kōrero she had before entering the public service, echoing the sentiments of Tariana Turia, affectionately known as Nanny Tari. She emphasises the importance of recognizing our value and purpose in every room we enter. According to Nanny Tari, we are chosen for the unique skills and perspectives we bring, and it is our duty to make them count. She urges us to be tactical, to learn the language and skills of our environments, and to use them to elevate our voices and enhance our impact. As uri working in government, Māori hold a unique position—a position of influence and advocacy. They serve as bridges between government structures and community aspirations, leveraging their insights to drive positive change. In doing so, they honour the spirit of partnership outlined in Te Tiriti o Waitangi, fostering collaboration and mutual respect in all their endeavours. Our ancestors envisioned a future where Māori leadership thrives—a future where Te Tiriti o Waitangi is not just a document, but a living covenant guiding our actions. Today, we stand on the shoulders of those who came before us, tasked with carrying their legacy forward. Let us embrace this responsibility with pride, drawing strength from our whakapapa and forging a path of excellence for future generations. In this pursuit, the words of Nanny Tari resonate deeply—to never doubt our worth, but instead, to embrace our purpose and make it count. Together, we can honour the spirit of Te Tiriti o Waitangi, empower Māori leadership, and create a future where excellence knows no bounds. Our part of this legacy has only really just begun We know that we need to shift the dial We need to lead the design of policy and operations Be at the table making decisions Infiltrating and dominating The time is now! We have to do this together We can enable our people Be empathetic and aware Come with solutions and put in some real effort. If not now, when? If not us, who? If not this, what? We can do it Te mana o te takitini! Tēnā koutou katoa! Te Rau Hihiri is a charitable trust passionate about Māori succeeding as Māori. Through their work, they strive to create pathways for Māori working in and with the public service to thrive, guided by the principles of Te Tiriti o Waitangi. Te Rau Hihiri, with support from mana whenua Te Āti Awa and Ngāti Toa Rangatira, are hosting He Māori Ahau, an event designed to uplift and support Māori working in and with the public service ensuring kaimahi Māori can perform in their respective roles while, at the same time, safely pursuing mana motuhake.  26 June at Tākina. Find out more and purchase your ticket at www.terauhihiri.com