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When your humble author awoke on Friday, 13 March with tonsils the size of Luxon’s bald head constricting her inflamed airway, some more superstitious readers might blame the unlucky date. I was certain, however, that a call to Student Health might provide some relief from the raw, burning pain I was experiencing with every breath and swallow. How sorely mistaken I was.  Calling just before 10 a.m., I was quickly informed by the receptionist that urgent same-day GP appointments were already completely full. Anecdotally — via the two different receptionists I spoke to — the service had received a record number of calls that morning, akin to flu season.  My options were: wait and call again on Monday at 8:30 a.m. (70 hours away), call Healthline for advice, take myself to After Hours, or book a phone appointment with a nurse. When I asked whether the nurse could prescribe antibiotics or anything stronger than the paracetamol, ibuprofen, and lidocaine spray I was already taking, I was told that wasn’t possible.  Upon seeing me sweaty and slightly tearful for the second time that morning, the clerk at the University Unichem pulled his mask up a little higher and suggested that, yes — I probably needed something stronger. Feeling panicked, unable to afford a regular GP, overwhelmed and let down, I decided to push through the day on over-the-counter medicine alone. I diligently conducted a COVID test in the Salient  office and attended my three-hour mandatory tutorial that afternoon.  By evening, however, it became clear that the pain wasn’t going anywhere — it was getting worse. Spurred on by my friends, (“Dude, you need  a Doctor”), I let my flatmate drive me to After Hours at 8:30 p.m., figuring a few hours wait would be better than nothing at all. Imagine my surprise, then, when we were told at the desk that After Hours was shutting for the night due to staff shortage. I was directed to the Emergency Department. I arrived to a full waiting room, feeling slightly ridiculous — yes, I am here for a sore throat, but no, I don’t have anywhere else to go. The triage nurse was dubious, but after shining a light down my throat (the first physical examination I had received all day), she told me that I should stay, on account of the tiny hole that was supposed to be my functioning airway. Nine hours after my arrival, I finally left ED at 6 a.m. with a generous supply of prescription pain medicine. The following days were spent reflecting, in a codeine-fuelled haze: what is going on with the New Zealand healthcare system?  The issue is broader than any individual experience. It rests not with the incredible doctors, nurses, and other medical staff that bend over backwards every day to ensure that as many people as possible receive high-quality care, but with a general lack of funding and infrastructure. Staff are burnt out, hospital beds are full, and appointments are in overwhelming demand. Workforce shortages place increasing pressure on the system as workers continue to head overseas for better wages, hours, and conditions — and who could blame them?  New Zealand’s healthcare system is primarily government-funded through taxation. It saw a budget increase of $5.5 billion for hospital and specialist services, primary care, and community and public health in 2025/26. There was a 6.43% increase in general practice capitation funding, alongside $180 million in new funding for general practice. While this sounds promising, it’s important to remember that healthcare funding must keep pace with population growth, meaning increases are expected every year.  Clearly, the current uptick isn’t enough.   On Tuesday, 17 March, health minister Simeon Brown announced an additional $25 million investment to boost hospital capacity, increase staffing, and prepare for winter demand. Again, this sounds substantial — but when spread across the country, the impact is minimal: just 12 additional winter beds for Wellington and a 0.47% increase in staff nationwide. While a step in the right direction, it is, at best, incremental—like peeing on a house fire. Or, as Salaried Medical Specialists executive director Sarah Dalton more eloquently told RNZ: “I wouldn’t call it an investment or a plan, I’d call it a band-aid.”  Fleur Fitzsimmons, National Secretary for the Public Service Association Te Pūkenga Here Tikanga Mahi, was similarly critical: “Minister Brown cannot claim to be preparing hospitals for winter while his Government has spent the past two years imposing cuts and job losses right across Health NZ. You cannot gut the workforce and then paper over the damage with a press release.” And it’s true. The same minister also asked hospitals to cut back $510 million late last year in “efficiencies”, claiming that “back-office waste” could be “re-invested straight back into patient care.” That amount makes Tuesday’s bonus look hardly mollifying. Brown has also begun decentralising Health NZ, with the aim of allowing regions and districts to recruit and deploy staff independently, while maintaining central oversight for strategy and standards. In 2025, it was revealed that Wellington hospitals were, in some cases, waiting up to six months for approval to begin recruiting frontline staff. While decentralisation may improve responsiveness, it also risks creating uneven capability and workforce gaps between regions. Mauri Ora Student Health & Counselling specifically is funded largely by the student-paid Student Services Fee, with 59% allocated to health services, counselling, and pastoral care. Routine medical appointments are generally free for domestic students, though charges apply for international students and specialist services such as medicals, ECGs, minor surgeries, and some vaccinations. Here too, additional funding for staffing would ease pressure, freeing up additional appointments for distressed students.  Wait times for counselling and routine medical appointments in 2025 typically sat at six to seven weeks. March and April are traditionally busy months for the service, as new students must see a GP before prescriptions can be issued. Same-day urgent appointments typically fill by noon — though on my ill-fated day of March 13 they were all gone by 10 a.m. This is in part due to a reduction in same-day triage appointments from 22 at the end of last year to just 12 per day over the past two weeks, in an effort to prioritize continuity of care.  Mauri Ora now walks a tightrope between reactivity (same-day care, triage) and proactivity (ongoing care, scheduled counselling)—one that may be fraying under the strain. Yes, my tonsillitis was not life-threatening, and I won’t pretend others haven’t endured far worse. But it was painful, prolonged, and—critically—difficult to treat affordably and accessibly. Internationally, New Zealand is still seen as a safe, stable, and liveable country, with a healthcare system comparable to Canada, the UK, and many Nordic countries. Increasingly, however, it feels as though that reputation no longer reflects reality.  Funding, policy, and workforce strategy must change—and quickly—if Aotearoa wants to maintain a healthcare system that is truly accessible.

An account of a mature student returning to study after 30 years in the work force Marek Pipi If you had said to me in 1996, when I graduated with a B.A., that one day I would return to Vic for postgraduate study, I would have told you where to go. As much as I loved my time here, I was on a mission: get my teaching diploma and become a mover and shaker in the classrooms of Aotearoa, New Zealand. Now, at fifty, I find myself once again walking past the Hunter Building each morning, making my way to a lecture. What bought about my change in attitude—or rather, who—was my grandmother. At ninety, she began asking me to return to university. A great educator herself (and a Dame), she told me she had the perfect thesis waiting, along with all the material I would need, sitting neatly in her home office.  I was too respectful to tell her  where to go, but managed to change the subject every time the topic arose. Why on earth would I forgo a stable salary to become a poor student again? No thank you. Last year, at ninety-five, she passed away. I was overcome by a deep sense of regret. Why on earth had I not fulfilled her wish when she asked? I returned to school and informed the principal that I would be going back to university. I was coming back to study, by hook or by crook. At the end of the year I resigned officially and spent Christmas packing boxes and moving furniture into storage. Then my pay stopped. I had a mild panic attack.  At the same time, I was trying to navigate a new way of applying for courses, loans, and allowances. In the nineties this was all done on paper—forms, envelopes stamped. No log-ins, no passwords, no mysterious links. They say the digital age is supposed to make things easier, not harder. I still prefer paper. I arrived from Hawke’s Bay and set off to the train station for my first day back as a university student. Until recently I had been the Year 9 Dean at school. This, I realised, must be what my girls felt like on their first day. Then there was public transport. I needed lessons again. We used to buy ten-trip tickets that the conductor or bus driver would punch in with a little click.. Someone showed me how to buy a Snapper card, download the app, and load money onto it. Thankfully the automated message on the train reminds us that “if you are using a Snapper card, please remember to tap off.” Wellington has changed, so has Vic. The city is slower, quieter.The walk up Lambton Quay no longer feels  so rushed. On Fridays, it almost feels like a Sunday, with so many people working from home.  At Vic in the nineties, there was no Hub, no docking stations, no monitors or vending machines on every floor. Only one place sold coffee, in the courtyard outside the library, and I recall there only being only two eateries on campus. Our readings came in a heavy booklet of photocopied chapters called a multilith . Te Kawa a Māui, Māori Studies was a group of quaint villas in front of the Marae, where today stands the three-level, modern, art filled building known as Ngā Mokopuna. One of the most obvious and beautiful changes I have noticed in my first weeks back is how safe and natural it is to be part of the rainbow community on campus. The self-expression and freedom to openly be yourself, without judgment, shows me how far we have come as a society. When I was here for the first time, I used to mince around these hallways in sarongs, wraparound skirts, and all sorts of eye-catching get-ups. But that came from personal confidence,  not because I was seeing others like myself. In my day, no one had sent out the memo that it was okay. In other ways Wellington has not changed at all. My favourite clothes store, World, is still open.So is Logan Brown. Slow Boat Records—an inner-city institution—still spins jazz records as you walk through the door. The colored buckets still tip water noisily along Cuba Street. Buskers still sing at the train station and on street corners. And the weather—this weather—will never change. As I sit on the sixth floor of the library looking out to the harbour, there is a calm within. Who cares if I dropped from a $3,000-a-fortnight salary to $300 a week (that I have to pay back)? Who cares if I have my first assignment due next week and haven't started yet? Who cares if I’m surrounded by students who are the age of the Year 13s I was teaching just months ago?  All is well.  I am supposed to be here.  My course-related costs and living allowance appeared in my account today. Once I submit this annotated bibliography I’m going to head down to the Puffin Wine Bar and buy myself the most expensive cocktail they have. I’ll raise the glass and toast my grandmother. Look Nan. I’m finally doing it.

Dan Moskovitz Over the past five years, bird flu has ravaged bird and mammal alike across the globe. Over 180 million poultry birds have died, as well as untold numbers of wildlife. Human infections, while rare, have a fatality rate over 50%. Mainland Australia, New Zealand, and the Pacific remain the only flu-free regions. But with the Australian-owned subantarctic Heard Island now reporting the virus — an island which many of Aotearoa’s migratory birds visit — it’s a question of when, not if, bird flu arrives in the country. And given its persistence in wild birds, once it arrives, it’s here for good.  So right now the country is in prep mode. DoC is figuring out how to protect our native birds, MPI is preparing the poultry industry, and regional council’s job will be to protect us.  “One Health New Zealand — that's Health New Zealand, DoC, and MPI — are advocating for bird carcasses to be left in place to naturally decompose,” said Roger Uys, a senior ecologist at Greater Wellington Regional Council.  “This reduces the risk of human infections, and it doesn't spread the disease around. The reality, though, is if we have dead birds in a playground or along the beach, we risk exposing the public unnecessarily.  “If a dog goes and picks up a dead bird, it can get sick and make its owners sick. So this is where we'd remove and dispose of the carcasses.”Regional council will divide its land into back and front country, based on the levels of foot traffic. In the back country, which has less visitors, dead birds will result in council erecting signage. In the front country, a carcass — even just a single one — will trigger removal.  Interestingly, there isn’t a firm number which divides the front from the back.  Birds do die naturally from other causes. But once bird flu is confirmed to be in Aotearoa, if there’s a rotting carcass anywhere in the front country, regional council will be removing it, whether we know how it died or not. Council is currently anticipating lots of call-outs for a single corpse, rather than apocalyptic scenarios involving beaches covered in dead birds. It’ll be expensive though, as council is currently guesstimating costs of around ten thousand per call out. Still, this is one funding crisis council isn’t worried about, for a change of pace.  “We do carry contingency for this sort of thing,” said Andy Brown, Greater Wellington’s Risk Management and Resilience lead. “And if we got into the worst-case scenario, we’d be looking at redistributing budgets to respond.  “We'd also be expecting if we did end up in that worst case scenario, there’d be an all-of-government response to bird flu.” “But we can certainly manage the smaller events within our current budgets.” If you encounter a bird showing symptoms of avian influenza, please take a video and call the biosecurity 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.

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

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

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

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

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

“Within the span of a week, I’ll be trying to accomplish a long-term task just to see if it’s possible, and to see what I can get out of it. Life lessons? Skills? Resilience training? The stimulation alone should be enough motivation.” This week I set out on an adventure I’m proud of: trying a coffee from every store on Cuba Street. This has been on my bucket list since I moved to Welly, and as a caffeine fiend I usually have about 2-3 cups a day. I made the rules easy enough: have a medium flat white from every place on Cuba Street within seven days. Sunday, March 7th I began the first day by analysing Google Maps for every place I could get a flat white. As I started noting them, I realized… these aren't all the coffee places on Cuba street. I could name five extra places off the top of my head. I knew it was up to me to create Pōneke’s definitive list. After an hour, I had a rough sheet of 20 supermarkets, tea shops, restaurants, and cafes where I could get a cup of coffee on Cuba. That meant that I should have between 3 to 4 cups a day until Saturday if I want to succeed. However, I’d soon find out that there are well more than 20 coffee spots on Cuba Street. Monday, March 9th On the second day, I began my drinking right at the top of Cuba at Martha’s Pantry, the high tea shop. My first flat white of the challenge? Cheap and delicious. Only a million more to go. My next immediate stop was Orange Cafe, which was great not only because the drink was also cheap, but there was a dog  named Ringo ! I st opped at a couple restaurants whose coffee didn’t quite taste as good and aren’t worth mentioning.  At Nolita, I sat down to get a pizza as well to soak up the coffee. If they were trying to impress me, the long wait was definitely worth it because that flat white was one of the best. At this point, I was five cups in and getting a bit spacy. Even though I thought I was ahead of the curve, five cups would soon feel like light work in comparison. Tuesday, March 9th Turns out, there's weird places you can get a flat white on Cuba Street - such as the “Do It Yourself” machine at Fresh Choice, the bar in Naumi Hotel, and COSMIC vape shop. I also discovered some staples of Cuba Street were closed the week of the challenge. To the many diehards of Fidel’s, Black Lion Bakery, and Stories Espresso—I tried. Sorry. But I’m kind of glad, because my list had jumped in size as I kept finding more and more restaurants to get a coffee. Like, The Flying Burrito Brothers, for some reason? Wednesday, March 11th Three days into coffee chugging and my body started to feel the repercussions. My mind was constantly foggy and spaced out. While I had a lot of great drinks (Hamodava, Midnight Espresso, Samick) and some not-so-great ones (Kaffe Eis, Hei Restaurant, Santeria Pizza), the tastes started to fade into the same. Something I don’t recommend is getting both a pint and a flat white from JJ Murphy & Co. You’ll be tipsy and buzzing at the same time, which my undiagnosed ADHD took as a sign to talk non-stop for 20 minutes. Thursday, March 12th This was the day I discovered the best coffee on Cuba Street. After getting a great breakfast at The Oatery and having two coffee dates at Zelati & LEVEL UP, I found Miss Fox Hairdressing. They give a free coffee to customers who get their hair done, and they graciously offered me a free flat white to try. I sat myself in front of the mirror with a golden cup and saucer. It was the best flat white all week. And it came from a place full of leopard print and cerulean wallpaper! Maybe it’s the espresso talking, but I highly recommend getting your hair done there if only to have the  most frothy, delicious coffee in the CBD. Saturday, March 14th This was it; the final day. By now I had knocked off every cafe, teahouse, and sandwich shop, but there were still the big beasts—restaurants that open at 5 p.m. I now have beef with places like El Matador & Liberty Restaurant, because why are you guys only open for four hours? And you serve coffee yet can’t do takeaway?! I had to sit my ass at the bars with a flat white alone in the evening, looking like the most performative bachelor ever. I might as well have pulled out my Sally Rooney novel. I powered through eight coffees that evening, and the very last place I had on my list was Mother of Coffee, the Ethiopian restaurant notorious for strong joe. I jittered my way inside with two takeaway cups in hand, and the lady behind the counter asked if I was alright. I begged her to make the weakest drink she possibly could. I finally finished the weekly challenge, basically convulsing at the bus stop with a constant panging in my chest. Yes, I won. But I didn’t get to sleep until well past midnight. Conclusion: This week I spent a whopping $152.70 on coffee alone. But I also discovered some great gems that made it totally worth it! I visited 29 places, yet every single  service worker who took my order had a smile on their face and was beyond lovely. I know hospitality blows and doesn’t pay well, but part of the reason I’ll be coming back to some places is because there were great people to have a yarn with and who thought the challenge was hilarious. However, everyone should go to these places to enjoy a coffee on my behalf, as I’m currently on a detox and don’t feel well at all. The Cuba Caffeine Crawl  Ranking Every Place That You Can a Medium Flat White (Subject to opinion. Based on cost, hours, & atmosphere) Rank Name of Store Address Av. Open Av. Close Notes: Cost 1 Miss Fox Hairdressing 45 Cuba St 10:00AM 8:00PM Closed Sun. Flux. Hours “Free” 2 Nolita 203 Cuba St 8:00AM 10:00PM $6.00 3 Orange Coffee Shop 268 Cuba St 8:30AM 2:00PM Closed Mon $5.20 4 Midnight Espresso 178 Cuba St 7:30AM 1:00AM $5.50 5 Martha’s Pantry 276 Cuba St 9:30AM 3:30PM Closed Mon & Tues $5.00 6 The Oatery 8 Left Bank 7:30AM 1:45PM Closed Mon & Tues $6.00 7 Samic Cafe & Bar 136 Cuba St 10:00AM 4:00PM Actual Close: Late $5.00 8 Hamodava Cuba St 202 Cuba St 8:00AM 4:00PM Closed Sat & Sun $5.50 9 Zelati Dessert Cafe 179 Cuba St 12:00PM 10:00PM $6.00 10 Mother of Coffee 210 Left Bank 12.30PM 10.30PM Closed Sun & Mon $4.50 11 Floraditas 161 Cuba St 7:00AM 11.30AM $6.50 12 JJ Murphy & Co. 119 Cuba St 9:00AM 3:00AM $4.00 at 9AM-11AM/2PM-3PM $6.50 13 Ombra 199 Cuba St 12:00PM 9:30PM $6.00 14 LEVEL UP by Axel Coffee 116 Cuba St 10:00AM 6:00PM Closed Mon $5.50 15 COSMIC Vape & Coffee 99 Cuba St 8:30AM 6:00PM Student coffee is $4.20 $6.00 16 Night ‘n Day Cuba Street 139 Cuba St N/A N/A Open 24/7 $5.00 17 Fred’s Sandwiches 149 Cuba St 10:00AM 3:30PM $6.00 18 Cuba St Tavern 172 Cuba St ? ? Weirdest Hours Ever WTF $6.00 19 Highwater Eatery 54 Cuba St 5.00PM 10.00PM Closed Mon & Sun $5.50 20 FreshChoice Cuba St 250 Cuba St 7:00AM 10:00PM Self Service $1.00 21 Kaffee Eis Cuba Street 146 Cuba St 7:30AM 10:30PM The seats were comfortable $5.50 22 Hotel Bristol 131 Cuba St 12:00PM 12:00AM Closed Mon $5.50 23 Hei Restaurant 126A Cuba St 11:30AM 2:30PM Closed Sun. Flux. Hours $6.00 24 Naumi Hotel 213 Cuba St 5:00PM 9:00PM In the Lola Rouge Lounge $5.00 25 The Flying Burrito Bros 182 Cuba St 5:00PM 10:00PM Closed Mon $4.50 27 Santeria Pizza and Pasta 247 Cuba St 4:00PM 10:00PM Flux. Hours $5.50 26 Loretta 181 Cuba St 5:00PM 10:00PM Flux. Hours $6.50 28 Liberty Restaurant 227 Cuba St 5:00PM 9:00PM Closed Mon $5.00 29 El Matador 196 Cuba St 5:00PM 9:00PM $6.50 Note: Crouching Lion, Fidel’s Cafe & Stories Espresso Bar were not open. Second Note: I was also coked out of my mind on coffee when I drank them all.

On a windy Wellington afternoon, the after-work crowd spills out onto Lambton Quay—suits, sneakers, tote bags, the hum of buses and the harbour wind. Somewhere in the middle of it all, a saxophone begins to play. And moving slowly through the rush of commuters… is a tree. For nearly five years, Wellingtonians have encountered this character—known simply as Tree—busking across the CBD and waterfront. But recently, the performer behind the costume has found himself addressing an unexpected rumour: that there isn’t just one Tree. “Hi this is the tree guy here,” he wrote in a Facebook post on March 3. “I want to kindly request the people or person spreading the false rumours that there are multiple performers for Tree to please stop doing that as it’s having an adverse effect on my work.” The performer says the speculation has been circulating for a couple of years, often raised casually by passers-by who are surprised to see Tree popping up across different parts of the city on the same day. “When someone’s doing something that’s in the public eye, there’s always going to be rumours of some kind,” he said in an interview with Salient . “You can see me in Lambton Quay, Oriental Bay and the waterfront—and it is the same person,” he said during the interview. “I clocked how much I walked one day and I did 10 kilometres around the city.” But the particular rumour that there are several people portraying Tree has begun to chip away at something he considers central to the performance. “These rumours about multiple tree people have been going for about two years,” he said. “The thing that’s worrying me is that a lot of people have kind of developed a relationship with Tree over the five years.” “More and more people are asking me, ‘Is it a different person?’” he said. “The reason it’s a concern for me is it can remove a lot of the magic of what Tree is. That sort of connection people have with it can almost be broken immediately if they believe that kind of a rumor.” For the performer, the magic lies in continuity—the sense that the same wandering figure is still there, months or years later, waiting around the corner of a familiar street. “I have been having meaningful interactions with people in the city for nearly five years now,” he wrote online. “People are starting to believe that the tree they meet nowadays isn’t the person that was kind to them some time back and so some of the most important magic of my work is getting destroyed to an extent by these rumours.” The most memorable interactions often involve children, who accept the premise of a walking tree more readily than adults. “A while back an eight year old girl came and told me happily that she has known me since she was four,” he said. “At some point young ones like her may think that’s no longer true, when it in fact is true.” The rumours are not the only misconception Tree has encountered. “When I first started performing Tree five years ago I was playing the Indian and Chinese flute,” he said. “But so many people claimed I was faking the performance, I had to stop playing them and play saxophone instead.” Even then, disbelief sometimes lingers. “I was playing saxophone to the best of my ability like two metres in front of this gentleman,” he recalled. “After I finished my song he came up to me and said, ‘Oh, is that a real saxophone?’” The question surprised him. “I’m a professional sax player since a long time, and I worked very hard at it,” he said. “I also studied Indian classical music in India for 14 years and was at the top level of musicians when I was performing there.” Tree ended his social media post with “I think it’s best not to speak about other peoples work unless you actually know the person and can ask them about what they do yourself. Thank you for your kindness.”  And it is this kindness that Tree plans on continuing to bring to Wellington, for many years to come.

Connections Answers: First Connection Animals: Crane, Jaguar, Seal, Swan Second Connection Directions on a ship: Bow, Stern, Port, Starboard Third Connection Fruits: Apple, Blackberry, Orange, Date Fourth Connection Meaning “orginized”: Trim, Tidy, Neat, Orderly

I first got really captured by animation when Into the Spider-Verse  was released back in 2018. The complexity of the artistry exhibited by animators—not to mention their saint-level patience and careful attention to detail—had me awestruck by this artform. From Ghibli to Aardman to LAIKA (not to mention Aotearoa’s very own Wētā), there is always heaps of exciting stuff happening in the world of animation.  And there’s no better way to get a taste of what's fresh and fun right now than attending the Wellington Animation Film Festival, held March 19th to 22nd at The Roxy Cinema. This year's programme presents a collection of feature films and shorts from across the globe (productions from China, France, and South Korea, to name a few). You’ll also get a chance to see some films screened at last year’s ANNECY festival, the world's biggest animation film fest. There's shorts-compilations, family-friendly films, and award winners—something for everyone! In celebration of the festival, I had a chat with Pōneke-based animator Haojun Huang about his passion for and work in the field of animation. What first led you to animation? Like most animators, I fell in love with animation at a young age. And as a 90s Chinese kid, I grew up with this comic magazine series called Màn You (漫友 Comic Fans), which inspired me a lot. I didn't truly find myself in the animation space until I started to work in the live-action film industry as a set designer, where I found my passion in storytelling through 3D spaces. " End of Summer " was my debut animated film, which was screened at WAFF 2025. I made it during my time in the masters program at Miramar Creative Centre. A really special one to have as my directorial debut. What is your favourite part of the animation process? I think lighting is one of the most rewarding parts of the animation process; it's like turning on a lamp in an unknown space. There is a sense of discovery through lighting, where everything comes to life. Light somehow moves the hearts always! What is the most challenging aspect of your work? There are many challenges in the animation process. For me personally, the most challenging is also the most exciting part—the act of starting. It is the part where I decide to stop overthinking and start visualising. What are you most proud of in your work as an animator? I am always super proud when I see all the strange ideas come to life. I believe one of the most essential skills for an artist is eye-hand coordination: Eye—having the taste & research to conceptualize, Hand—bringing together the skill to execute the concept. What key traits make a good animator? Patience, perfectionism…? Patience! Animation is a long process; there are good days and bad days. Another trait would be confidence, even a little bit of blind confidence (the good ol delusion) could be good. Animation is another form of expression and, to me, confidence is the key to communicating the message. What are you most excited about for the future of animation? I am most excited by how it is changing! Also how we use our unique voices as animators. What is your favourite animated film and tv series? (or a couple favourites!) When I was a kid, I used to be obsessed with this anime called Fairy Tail hahaha. Alberto Mielgo's Wind Shield Wiper  is one of my favorite animated films as an adult. When I was in ANNECY last year, I made friends with a Chinese film maker named Tan Jiali—his award winning short Won't Be Here  was truly beautiful, and the cultural specification hit home for me.    Last year, Netflix used A.I. to complete VFX work in their show The Eternaut. They cited time and budget concerns as their primary motivators. How do you feel about this as an animator? Last year, recommended by Raqi Syed, I read Mark Fisher's Capital Realism . And Raqi also talked about VFX. Though charmingly referred to as “movie magic”, it is in fact a time consuming craft. I suppose what we are seeing is craft standing before capital. I often like to think about this through the lens of the fashion industry (bit of cross referencing there); the high end craft (the dying craftsmanship) is consumed by the wealthy, and the affordable, sweat-shop, fast-fashion is consumed by the masses. I don't really know the answer to this, but this is roughly how I feel about it: when big corporations use A.I. to streamline the workflow, then who is consuming the final output?  Are you feeling the impacts of A.I. in your industry? Any big concerns moving forward? I think concern regarding A.I. is definitely present. A lecture from Kyle Balda truly enlightened me on this subject matter. As an animator & director, I am intrigued to see the story we tell in a world where A.I. is our reality. My thinking around it is that A.I. presents opportunities whether it is involved or not, because its impact will change our stories as future storytellers, and our stories will continue to be important. The general structure of our society hasn't really been the best at providing stability for artists, so it is in our nature to innovate and find our own footing. That's what we will continue to do in the future. What was the highlight of your experience at ANNECY? I met so many awesome people, especially other young, emerging artists. I always have this feeling when I am amongst outrageously talented people—I felt that I would be okay. We are all in this together, we are all swimming. To be more specific, I got to prototype some animatics with a couple artists while we were chatting ideas. The VR exhibition at ANNECY was really cool; I loved how out of the box animation could be when you are confined by a different parameter.  What are you most looking forward to about this year's WAFF? The people hahahah. WAFF always brings people together and gives voice to the artists. Wellington has a very vibrant and supportive animation & VFX community, I must say. So I would encourage everyone to take part in the festival. If you haven't got your ticket or it's sold out, it would still be great to be there and see what magic happens. Are you working on anything exciting at the minute? Yes, I am! On my way back from Annecy in June of last year, I wrote half of my new story " Our Bodies " on the flight to NZ. I recently finished the story for a proposal, and I must say, it is so rewarding and exciting to see the full story written out. DozeFace Animation Lab is always on the go—we are working with talents to create bedtime stories. We are also finding our way though a projection mapping project. Additionally, I've been photographing the people of Wellington this year. I love photography for the human connections it builds. It is a more rapid exercise for me to train my eye and taste for visual communication. Tell us a bit about DozeFace… What excites you about this project? DozeFace Animation Lab is exciting because of our emphasis on "lab". We are experimenting with what animation can be in and out of the film and TV industry. We are a team of emerging VFX artists and animators, carving our own paths in this changing landscape. How do you feel animation can contribute to one's emotional or mental state? Animation always has such an impact on our childhood, and childhood is strongly linked to our emotional well-being as adults. Our producer Nadia Koolina has discovered through research that what helps us sleep isn't just sedation, but curiosity and excitement for the next day. So that's what we are trying to do with animation as a medium. How can people support the work your team is doing? Join us on the journey, with your talents and visions. I am always here to have a coffee and conversation, or multiple of them! In your teaching at Yoobee College of Creative Innovation, what are you seeing young animators getting most passionate and excited about?  We are artists. We can't help but do it, and I see that everyday. They are talented, intelligent, and filled with thoughts — philosophical, political, and emotional. I find that in my day-to-day as a teacher, my job is to see and be enamoured by their strengths. I am a professional, full-time hype man.  Haojun’s debut film " End Of Summer " was screened at WAFF in 2025. This granted him the opportunity to attend the ANNECY film festival in 2025, where his film also screened. Later that year, it was screened again at SIGGRAPH Electronic Theater in Vancouver. You can watch “ End of Summer " at www.vimeo.com/1062321024/05570cf4a0   Haojun co-founded DozeFace Animation Lab with his classmates from the masters programme at Miramar Creative Centre — Nadia Koolina, Mason Garner, and Andrew Tian . DozeFace Animation Lab creates animated bedtime stories—”not just as entertainment, but as gentle acts of caregiving.” Their team is “further exploring the possibility of animation as a tool to help anxious adults de-escalate, and shepherd them into the land of sleep.” Watch some of the DozeFace seeds —” short animated experiences crafted for different kinds of sleepers” —and enjoy a restful night of slumber. Check out the project at www.dozeface.com The Wellington Animation Film Festival is running from the 19th to 22nd of March at The Roxy Cinema in Miramar. Find the full programme at www.wellingtonanimationfilmfestival.com