Search Results

Connections Answers: First Connection Car models/brands: Mercury, Jaguar, Ram, Eagl Second Connection Woodworking tools: Chisel, Plane, File, Saw Third Connection Herbs: Basil, Sage, Dill, Mint Fourth Connection Tooth/dentistry things: Crown, Bridge, Filling, Cap

Anonymous   CW: Drug use  Drugs can be fun, but they can also be a real bad time if you’re not careful.  I grew up naïve to drugs, my early impressions shaped by the anti-drug propaganda of the DARE programme. My first boyfriend was into them, which, by proximity, meant I was too. I trusted him to tell me what we were taking and what it would feel like. I never thought to ask him where he got his information—or the drugs themselves. This was fine, nothing went wrong. Until it did.  At the time, I was on SSRI anti-depressants. One day, I took DXM (dextromethorphan), a cough suppressant. I felt sick physically and mentally; I wanted to throw up, I had cold sweats, I couldn’t balance properly, and on top of that, I was floating five metres above my own body, watching myself endure this in between consciousness blackouts. I didn’t realise that I was probably experiencing serotonin syndrome, a potentially life-threatening reaction to high levels of serotonin in the body.  This was the beginning of my journey to becoming “the drug friend”. I wanted to know why this had happened and how to make sure it didn’t happen again. My interest in drugs expanded from trying them to researching them. Before trying anything new, I started looking into effects, dosage, and risks. This wasn’t easy to find. Google doesn’t like providing links to the sort of websites that have this information, and local services weren’t accessible to me at the time.  Over time, I became the person people asked. Either I knew the answer, or I knew where to find it. It was fun to have these conversations openly, sharing info like I was some esoteric wizard searching the tomes for ancient knowledge. We had more frank and open discussions about drugs, not glorifying or demonising them, creating a culture of more intentional drug use among my friends.  Later, I formalised the role—if that’s the word—by working with KnowYourStuffNZ, an organisation that provides drug checking and harm-reduction services at festivals and community clinics. Every substance-curious friend group should have a drug friend. If you’re considering taking on this prestigious title, here is some info to get you started—without all the propaganda that comes along with doing your own research in a drug prohibition world. Drug checking This is a service where trained volunteers will take a small sample of your substance and test them with reagents, a spectrometer, or both, to figure out what is in them. It’s free, legal, and anonymous.  We are so lucky to have this available and legal in New Zealand, so take advantage of it!  In Wellington, it is run by Know Your Stuff and DISC. Schedules change, so it’s worth checking their websites, but regular hours are: DISC — 223a Willis Street (next to Cumberland House)Tues-Fri: 12.00 - 2.00 p.m. and 2.30 - 7.00 p.m.Sat: 1.15-4.45 p.m. Know Your Stuff — Newtown Community CentreFirst Saturday of every month 11.00 a.m. - 2.00 p.m. Harm reduction concepts Harm reduction : This is the idea that people are going to do potentially dangerous stuff anyway, like taking drugs, so we should reduce the risk involved rather than just telling them not to do it. Dosage:  Dosage is so important, and so often I see people just take a vibes-based attitude to dosing. Getting your dose right is your first line of defence against having a bad time or a hospital visit. Get a milligram scale, know what the right dose is for the substance and your body size, and prepare your dose in advance so you don’t decide to do more when you’re not sober. When in doubt, go low and slow; you can always take more, but you can’t untake what you’ve already had. Set and setting:  Getting your set and setting right is one of the best ways to minimise the risk of having a Bad Time once you’ve got the actual drug stuff sorted.  Set refers to where you are at in yourself; are you in the right mindset, has something bad happened recently that you’ll get stuck thinking about, are you sick, tired, or on your period, are you excited or nervous?  Setting refers to where you are in your environment; are you going to be at home, a party, an event, out at town, out in nature? Is it raining, is it gonna be loud, are you gonna run into someone from work or a family member? Does the environment match the vibes of the drug, will it be over or under stimulating for you, will you feel safe?  The 6 Ps: Proper Planning Prevents Piss Poor Partying:  This is all about sober-you taking responsibility for making sure not-sober you has the best time possible. Have your food and water organised beforehand, know how you’re going to get home or where you can retreat to, know how long the effects of your substance will last (it can help to write the time you took them on your hand).  Tripsitter : Drugs can be mentally or emotionally intense. A tripsitter is someone you’re comfortable with who is either sober or very experienced with the drug who can help when you start stressing out. They’re there to reassure you, provide fun activities, and de-escalate when you get overwhelmed. If you’re someone who doesn’t do drugs, taking the role of tripsitter can be a great way to support your friends who do. Combination considerations : If you are taking multiple substances, things can get tricky quickly. This includes illegal drugs, medicines, and legal drugs like caffeine and alcohol. A lot of common medications, like antidepressants or ADHD medication, can have negative interactions with some drugs. Alcohol also has dangerous interactions with a lot of different drugs. Refer to the Tripsit combination chart for a quick reference, or hit up someone at KnowYourStuffNZ for a more detailed chat. Aftercare : Some drugs can have “hangovers”, often referred to as a comedown. This should be something you check as part of your planning. If your substance is known to have a comedown, make sure you’ll have time to look after yourself afterwards, stay hydrated, and give yourself some extra love.  If something goes wrong:  Learn the signs of an overdose from your substance—including alcohol! Keep an eye on your friends; if you’re concerned, do not hesitate to call an ambulance, or approach staff for help if you are at a venue or event. Be honest with medical professionals—they are there to help and any extra information could help get the right treatment faster. Medical professionals are bound to confidentiality and will not report you to the police. The exceptions to this are if you are at risk of death and refusing care, or if they think you are going to drive impaired despite being told not to; in these cases, police may be called to keep you and others safe.  Online resources New Zealand specific Knowyourstuff.nz : info on drug safety, harm reduction, and drug checking. Drugfoundation.org.nz : advocates for drug policy change and research, directory of resources for New Zealand based drug info and support services. Thelevel.org.nz : info on drug safety and harm reduction. Highalert.org.nz : early warning for dangerous substances found through drug checking. Silver Linings to Long White Clouds Facebook page: mushroom identification and community info on magic mushrooms. International Tripsit.me : detailed info on combinations between any two substances. Also offer online tripsitters. Psychonautwiki.org : Detailed info on individual drugs, including dosage and effects. Also has a lot of the nerdy pharmacology info. Erowid.org : One of the OGs. Info on drugs, including community experience reports as well as the nerdy stuff. This one is blocked on uni wifi and can be a bit difficult to navigate, so save this for when you’re ready to go deeper. Bluelight.org : Community forum on all things drugs, ranging from academic studies and drug policy to personal trip reports and peer support. Search engines and social media Google will block most drug and harm reduction information and a lot of drug harm organisations are shadow-banned or deleted on social media. If you need more information, you should search using the DuckDuckGo search engine. DuckDuckGo doesn’t track your data, take any identifying info, or suffer from the same kind of censorship as most search engines. Or just come talk to us at KnowYourStuffNZ! You can find us on Instagram, TikTok, or Bluesky, otherwise ping us through our website. XOXO, ur drug friend <3

Bella Grieve Memory loss injection into the skin. Flesh dissolved, love hypothesis. Nature's way, touch my body, your hand around my neck folding at the word cute. Anarchy symbol under the candyman. A secret admirer so sweet, sugar saying dating is a drag. Lose your mind to find your soul. Vicks sold beneath the streets.  Along in the train station, Platform 11. Vendetta that creeps through the cracks in the concrete. Confusion or confirmation? Red flowers strung up on the windows, spotless mind. Piercings on people, septums on cats. Spiky ears and spiky hair. Sipping on research, inclusivity or exclusivity in TV. Graze scalp bar underground, loose underwear along the lamps, shoes hung up along the wires.  Hybrid baby animal graffiti, lamb combined with a duckling. Disco head, eyes peaking through, adequate. Roman d’Amour, chemical romance loss in Villa Palmera. My blurry days stuck amongst jazz by the water. Longing, for the insomniac falling into my arms, night vision it almost worked. Be my angel and feed my black sheep somewhere somehow. Blue boredom, freaks crawl beneath in retrograde. Time moves slow he tells me to pick any color I like. The look cheri cheri lady my love in portofino. Gallowdance in the summer pretty girls make graves. Flying away in sandpaper kisses catching a thief with strangers on the train.  Morse code is a butterfly stuck in utopia. Sour times dusty times a glory box underneath an old lady’s bed. Pocky boy walked me home underneath the killing moon. Garden plaza. Caught in time, so far away better in the dark. Lies in the eyes of love and hate yourself watching birds sing. Still listening Gentleman? Suit and tie in the big smoke. Watching the machines make money just to hold the lever and lose it. Baby girl just for you, I wanna be your right hand, give you breakfast in bed. Hold your long hair while you run your mouth.  High no more, hater’s anthem you only get somewhere with a negative attitude. Alive a blonde maneater all things end High no more. When you sleep my wildflower I like the way you kiss me. Master of none, only ever just about a girl. Love buzzes so long London. Murder of city nights. If you could be anywhere, where would you be? Under a vixen or forester picking up cherries or blackberries. Dear future wife where I will find you under my unknown favourite star. Orgasm addict, one chord wonders. Cigarette falls off his ear.  Coffee in your eyes is cold or hot. Dancing barefoot, because of the night. Sip on the straw and stay in reality. Letting your mind wander down the neon road. A woman with blonde hair and ponytail tells people they have power. Conditional love, consensual intimacy, sins walk out the door. This way out, pick your own apples. Mystic market, special fruit. Letting life take the reins a girl meets a boy, strangers converse. Lips touch down at the underground bar playing pool. Sex, money, feelings, speaking with a third eye. Colour coordinated racks around at the thrift store.  Dealer around the corner, back with the vicks between your gums. Lovely head he says looking at me. Enamored, my past self would walk out the door. The way he stares, twinkling around his pupils. Lips become blue, cracks on each side staring into their eyes. Same place same time you reappear just to come back. Plants hang on walls, the man stays in darkness for his own eternity. Self made or constructed. Pupils expand inhaling time. Faded cans left on the ground, and a jar of brown sugar. Moon phases, bite my lip. Naked selfies he prys. My favourite part: funny papers, funny men, funny things. Lust for something re-arranged. Sugar water at the front door, little window with a glass pumpkin. Unconditional love, obey the ghost. Lucky girls get gone, get afraid, get ashamed. Shy purple, pointy green, yellow teeth. Bassline junkie, art deco all red is the page filled with colours, squinting your eyes. Quick intermission, silicone kitchen, tears in brazil. Washing the sins away, gardens kiss the themed subway. The loving touch, we must meet again you say. Falling in and falling out, holding me open ended. Trade our hearts, parachute in the middle of nowhere. Children on the internet whisper through the screen. Losing sense of the face to a sentence. Wait until the morning to share your fears, don’t start a conversation just to fall asleep. One cries hoping not to be heard, she screams, desensitizing your fears. Hold each object followed with eye movement. Stable eyes, a dream flower flourishes. Sunny daze, affirming it’s ok to cry. Stories in pajamas, passing through. Looking into his eyes, drive slow if you wouldn’t mind. Dating someone means dating their ex-partner. Left to ponder, longing just to wander. Watching closely, a sunset lamp in the window looking in from afar. Petite touches against the piano. Tree branches strumming, left to wonder. Favourite thing behind you, locked in a daydream. Close to the chair, the rug hung up. Multi-coloured flowers stuck onto the back. Pimples all around, something but not a frown. Fifteen seconds, desiring onto your skin. I wait, machines to put kindness coins into.  Fathom your mindset, twist your soul, no characters to behold. Lay your cards out for intangible fate, placing each one straight. Lying just to drain from the brain. Invisible mirror, single leaf floating around the fountain. Wind blasting in your ear drums, wanting to feel numb.  Happiness does exist. Waiting on a wheel of fortune, kindness to the empress. Magician under the sun. Queen of swords, ace of wands. Irreversible strength, the moon and the star. Half time to reach the road, working hard to preach. Teeth inside a purse, octopus chamber.  Taste of fish, bones for shoes. Hair blowing in the wind. A woman sits covered in feathers, a bird inside a person. Fluttering her wings, all she can do is walk. Holding each branch not one that will hold her. She lies on the grass daydreaming as her eyes go to the sky. Collecting moss, beads she uses in her hair. Whimsical women, frowning to the trash that lies on the path she trods.  Painting her skin pink and green, in front of the camera her yellow teeth flash. Take a chance on me, to the moon and back. Bene, a dopo, OK? Headphones on, she walks around her locks blowing like a feather floating. Autumn trees, yellow and orange. Colours blurring, being followed, toil and trouble. The light shines down in the theatre prancing on the stage. She sits in a large martini glass on her knees and tries the cherry. Her blue eyeshadow was caught by a man with a camera.  He reaches his hand asking her to hold, she struts away, flapper he calls out, she turns her head lying on her silk shoulder she winks and continues walking behind the curtain. Out the back door, yellow umbrella, jazz evaporating from down below. A memory missed even though you never lived it. Just in the back you mind a version of you that quietly lays waiting to be let out.  Question after question, leaving them all unanswered. Lucky in relationships, lost on your own. Cocktails all alone, in the black in white. Fun all around, orange and yellow. Slice of lime, sunrise under the sunset. Hand shadows one creates a head the other makes a bird. Covering the walls of the room, lying still. Research and create. Talent through the eyes. Recalibrations on the sheets, at the desk, under the trees, by the sea and at the top of the building.

LET’S TAKE IT BACK:WHAT YOU MAY HAVE MISSED IN THE MOANA As Te Herenga Waka opens its doors again, I assume most of your brains are focused on un-read readings and half finished assignments, which probably doesn’t leave much room for the dynamic political landscape of the Pacific. But do not fret, that’s what I’m here for. Let’s take it back and catch us up on some of the stuff that’s gone down since we last spoke. For many, the biggest story has been the carnage brought on by various extreme weather events. Typhoon Sinlaku has hit Guam and the Commonwealth of the Northern Mariana Islands (CNMI), while cyclone Malia has taken the lives of 10 in Asiko Village of Bougainville. Cyclone Vaiunu brought major flooding to Fiji and harsh weather for parts of Aotearoa, as well. While many places who were prepared for the event were able to escape the worst, Bougainville and other hard-hit places are reeling from the disaster, as they have been many times before thanks to the growing instability of our climate. The Iran War and the global energy crisis that has stemmed from it has stayed at the forefront of the minds of our region. For those somehow unaware, this war led to the blocking of the Strait of Hormuz (a phrase I think I’ve heard enough for my lifetime at this point), a key part of the global oil trade, leading to rising prices and depleting stock piles. This has hit Asia particularly hard, which has had a huge flow on effect to the Pacific. A meeting between Pacific leaders, titled ‘Port Villa II’, was set in motion in response, with the aim of coordinating around the challenges of the fuel crisis and rallying around a move away from fossil fuels. Vanuatu’s Minister for Climate Change Adaptation, Ralph Regenvanu, summed up the situation pretty well when he was quoted as saying that “the Pacific did not create the fossil fuel crisis, yet we are paying the highest price for it.” While countries like Tonga have stated they have enough fuel reserves for the foreseeable future, rising prices are still hitting hard. Prime Minister of Tonga Lord Fakafanua has initiated a move to electric buses and further public transport investment as solutions, but these will only help Tongans in the long term. The short-term impacts are going to be much harder to mitigate for the Kingdom, and places like Tuvalu are finding themselves unable to assure fuel supply past June. Much like the response to climate change, Pacific Island nations are being forced to deal with a crisis entirely imposed on them. Whether this pulls them away from the death-grip of the USA and Israel is another story. The military build up in the American territories has also not ceased. Guam has been tied to American military power since its transfer from Japan to the United States during World War II. In the modern day, its proximity to Taiwan and the rest of the Pacific gives the USA all the more reason to keep that going. Ron Acfalle, an indigenous Chamorro man from Guam, was interviewed by ABC and spoke on the growing anti-military stance among the indigenous Chamorros. He raised concerns around the way in which land has been disrespected and misused by this military presence, and that their presence is fueled “ not for the culture, not for anything other than for themselves.” A large number of Guam's population have served in the United States Military, but access to services available to veterans in the US is far more limited, and the cost of living in Guam is already disproportionately high. The tepid ceasefire that began on April 7 brought some measure of relief for places like Guam and the Commonwealth of Northern Mariana Islands (CNMI), with the CNMI’s military infrastructure under threat from the economic impacts of both the war and the fallout of COVID 19.  The waves are still being felt in Aotearoa as well. Winston Peters was invited to the USA to meet with American Secretary of State, Marco Rubio, where they discussed the crises facing the globe and the complex situation of the Pacific. Aside from making it doubly known that New Zealand always has critical minerals for Trump to scoop up if he ever feels like it, the two ran through the usual topics of discussion between these two states. The rising drug trade, security concerns around China, and the affirmation of the supposed importance of the US presence in the Pacific were all mentioned. According to Winston, the US indicated they could provide assistance to Pacific Island nations in their energy woes, but the meeting did not bring any deals or guarantees on that front. This meeting took place not long after Trump announced the impending death of the entire civilization of Iran (which has not happened as of writing this), but according to Winston, this war will be over sooner than we think. Let’s all collectively remember that. Winston has been quite the busy bee, leaving the Beehive before his meeting with Rubio to hash out a solution to our ongoing disagreements with Prime Minister Mark Brown and the Cook Islands. In the face of fast-rising fuel prices within the Cook Islands, Brown and Peters have come together to sign a security pact. This signals an end to the dispute that arose after the Cook Islands signed  a controversial deal with China without consulting New Zealand. Their status as a state within the realm of New Zealand seems to now be more clearly defined, with Brown reaffirming New Zealand’s status as the defence partner of choice for the nation. Funding towards the Cook Islands will resume later this year, and while neither Brown nor Winston seemed to be jumping over the moon when speaking to the press, both seemed keen to nail the point home that the two states had worked their stuff out. As Winston put it, “We're cousins, and we sorted our cousins out.” Whether this is truly an effective counter to Chinese influence in the region remains to be seen, but in a global crisis such as this, many would argue it's for the best that cooler heads seemed to have prevailed. Iran is not the only war affecting the people of the Pacific at this time. After the killing of a Papuan police officer in the town of Moanemani in West Papua, it is alleged that police fired indiscriminately into several villages in response. NGOs active in the region allege 5 civilians were killed in the attack, while Human Rights Watch has estimated it could be 6, some of which younger than 20 years of age. The United Liberation Movement for West Papua (ULMWP) released a statement on April 1 claiming that an ongoing battle has followed between the security forces and young Papuans, as the Papuans attempted to block further reinforcements from arriving in Moanemani by scattering logs and rocks across the roads used to enter the town. The Indonesian Government’s English language news outlet Antara  claims these types of patrols are carried out in regions prone to violent attacks from what they call “criminal separatists,” and the Indonesian military has not reported any casualties aside from the murdered police officer. Human Rights Watch has described these patrols as “violent crackdowns” while tensions between the Indonesian occupiers and the indigenous Papuans only grow. Information around this conflict has always had trouble finding its way to the public, let alone in a way that centers the voices of Indigenous papuans, but events such as this show war is hot on our shores, too. When I say something is always happening, I mean it. I have yet to mention the mountains of lawsuits (of varying degrees of legitimacy) being thrown around by different politicians in Sāmoa, a new challenge by the high chiefs of Fiji concerning the definition of the term “Fijian”, or the appointment of Paul Goldsmith to the role of Minister of Pacific Peoples. Unfortunately, I am not Mike Hoskins or Hasan Piker and I cannot cover everything, but I do want to finish with some developments on the French end of the ocean.  Kanaky, known to most as New Caledonia, has been trapped in a back and forth over the island nation's autonomy under French rule, with the outbreak of riots in 2024 bringing the issue back to the forefront on the global stage. Disputes over French rule in Kanaky have existed since its initial colonisation and time as a penal colony for the French empire. A large part of the political deadlock between pro and anti independence groups is disagreements over what Kanaky’s independence would actually look like, as in whether it would be truly independent or remain a part of the French republic only with a greater level of autonomy. The Kanak and Socialist National Liberation Front (FLNKS), a significant pro-independence group, had previously left negotiations with France due to a lack of faith in the process and a staunch commitment to full independence. On April 2, a constitutional reform bill for Kanaky was voted down in the French parliament, and Emmanuel Tjibaou, member of both the FLNKS and the French parliament, supported the rejection. He argued the reform amounted to “a perennial status within France... It's a logic of assimilation... It cannot be compared to a decolonisation in accordance with the UN resolutions and the international law.” This does put the pro-independence movement in uncertain territory. Talks between the different factions have restarted, with many in Kanaky and France losing their patience with the whole process.  Kanaky’s long independence struggle mirrors that of the Papuans of West Papua in many ways, and in turn they mirror many other stories past and present here in the Pacific. Whether it's Nouméa or Moanemani, something is always going down in our sea of islands, and now you are all caught up on some of it.

“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.” A story my dad will never stop bringing up is how, when I was nine, I managed to crash our homemade Go-Cart into a local Primary School building. From that point on, I realized I have zero fear when it comes to vehicular speeds. Moving to Welly, I left my car at home and relied on public transport, yet felt impatient — I had a need for speed. That’s why I quickly opted to use the electric Flamingo scooters littered around the city. I am proud to say I am one of those knobs that barrel past you on a scooter. However, in early March, a newcomer entered the ring that hadn’t been seen since 2018: Lime Scooters. Being a longtime Flamingo fan, I decided to enact a perilous mission: Discovering which electric scooter is ultimately better. I wanted to know a few things: How quickly can you get between all three Victoria University Campuses? What’s the distance between them? And how cheap can it be? This meant that I would be bouncing between Pipitea, Kelburn, and Te Aro in different orders on both electric scooters. Considering that there’s six different combinations to visit each campus and two kinds of scooters, that meant I was about to go on twelve scooter rides. Each track, I would find a fully-charged Flamingo or Lime scooter near campus, start the ride, then travel to the other two campuses as quickly as I could. I decided to enact all my rides in the dead of night on a Sunday, as there was barely any traffic around — meaning I could commit road violations to my heart's content. (Pictured) Will at Pipitea with a Flamingo Budgeting for this was no easy feat either, and involved a bit of math. Both scooter companies charge a $1.00 unlock fee as soon as you start the ride, then charge money the longer you’re driving. Flamingo charges $0.55 a minute, with Lime charging less at $0.49. However, both scooter companies offer discounted options. Flamingo has both a Student Discount and a Community Discount plan, both free to join for students or Community Service Card holders. The Community plan gave me 50% off essentially for free! Lime, however, has a subscription model where if you pay $4.99 a month, all your rides below 20 minutes are only $3.00. Stupidly, I didn’t end up using “LimePrime”. I probably should have for the sake of the challenge, but didn’t want another subscription to deal with. Driving the scooters around the city, I quickly felt the differences between the two brands. Flamingos are very light and dexterable. Limes are more heavy and beefy, but great for steep hills. Flamingos aren’t great for that, and have an acceleration speed cap of only 26km/hr, which is shown on the handlebars. Weirdly, Lime doesn’t allow you to see how fast you can go, which feels a bit dangerous and shady. Lime also doesn’t seem to have an emergency brake if you go downhill too fast, which luckily the Flamingos do have. But if you’re not lucky and choose to go downhill too fast on Bolton Street without braking, you’ll run the risk of crashing into Volco Cafe… which I admittedly almost did each time I headed to Pipitea. (Pictured) A real picture of Will doing the famous “Akira Slide” on a Flamingo Scooter. At the time of my challenge, I mentioned in passing to a friend that I was trying to see which scooter would be faster, and was disappointed that Lime scooters seemed speedier than Flamingos. He mentioned, “you know you can get up past the Flamingo speed cap, right?” Turns out, he gave me a real-life cheat code to reach up to 32km/hr on a Flamingo scooter. Some generations of the Flamingo models have a flaw in their speed blocking, so if you lightly grab the brakes the software deactivates the speed limit as it thinks it's going to slow down and doesn’t want to be redundant. This flaw mixed with a steep hill would give the ability to reach well past the Flamingo limit! Going through with riding around on the dinky scooters, I did run into some problems. When starting a lap at a campus, there would never be any scooters around Pipitea. Or Kelburn. Or sometimes even Te Aro! I think it’s a little ridiculous that the main group of people I see riding the scooters are students, yet there’s no designated parking spots near the campuses. Another problem was that I couldn’t follow the same route every time, and had to take some detours. For example, I couldn’t scoot up Mount Street when passing Kelburn (obviously), but I could certainly scoot down it if I was starting at Kelburn and heading to Te Aro. The largest problem with each course was always getting to Kelburn campus. I’m eternally annoyed that they decided to situate an institute of learning at the top of a mountain, and made this challenge a literal uphill battle . Conclusion: In the end, I found out that the faster option turned out to be the Lime scooters, with my quickest time visiting all campuses taking only 7 minutes and 28 seconds! However, even if I did subscribe to LimePrime, Flamingo proved to be the cheaper option — a Community Service ride from Te Aro > Kelburn > Pipitea is only $2.83! So ultimately, I think Flamingo is better and less likely to kill you. Overall, I spent $55.80 on electric scooter rides this week, which is only a third of what I spent on coffee when I tried every flat white on Cuba St. Surprisingly, I ended this challenge with no broken bones, and only slightly less of a dent in my wallet! It’s still probably cheaper than dealing with the fossil fuel crisis. LIME (Standard Price) Campus Course Cost Time Quickest Route Kelburn > Pipitea > Te Aro $7.27 12:53 sec 3.5km Te Aro > Kelburn > Pipitea $4.92 07:28 sec 2.5km Pipitea > Te Aro > Kelburn $6.39 10:39 sec 3.3km Kelburn > Te Aro > Pipitea $6.88 11:17 sec 3.1km Pipitea > Kelburn > Te Aro $4.92 07:51 sec 3.0km Te Aro > Pipitea > Kelburn $5.80 09:41 sec 3.5km FLAMINGO (Community Service Discount) Campus Course Cost Time Quickest Route Kelburn > Pipitea > Te Aro $3.33 10:28 sec 3.5km Te Aro > Kelburn > Pipitea $2.83 08:37 sec 2.5km Pipitea > Te Aro > Kelburn $3.36 12:26 sec 3.3km Kelburn > Te Aro > Pipitea $3.17 09:53 sec 3.1km Pipitea > Kelburn > Te Aro $3.40 10.44 sec 3.0km Te Aro > Pipitea > Kelburn $3.53 11:14 sec 3.5km

Anonymous   Note:   Medicinal cannabis, like any medication, may not be right for you. It is not right for everyone. Contact a medical professional to determine if medicinal cannabis may be right for you. If you have a Community Services Card, you may be eligible for subsidised medicinal cannabis. Talk to a healthcare professional for more information.  I pay $402 a month to function.   That’s what I pay now for medicinal cannabis. That number doesn’t include the initial appointments, or the $600 vaporiser I had to buy just to take it properly.   For the past few months, I’ve been using medicinal cannabis to manage anxiety and PTSD. It is the only treatment that has worked.   Before this, I did everything right. I went to therapy—multiple kinds, for years. I took all sorts of medications. I tried life coaching and lifestyle changes. None of them worked.  Eventually, my PTSD was labelled “stable” and “treatment-resistant.” Stable, in this case, didn’t mean better. It meant stuck in this state.   I was prescribed Lorazepam, a sedative. It worked, in the sense that it flattened everything. I was calm because I was barely conscious. I slept through the day. I fell behind at uni. I stopped keeping up with life.   That’s when I started looking into medicinal cannabis. I figured that maybe if I were stoned instead of sedated, I could get shit done.   Now, I take CBD oil every morning, and use THC flower through a vaporiser when I need it (so, every day, throughout the day).   The CBD oil lowers the baseline. I can sit still. I can think through things without spiraling. When something stressful happens, I can respond to it, instead of immediately shutting down. For the first time in my life, I’m not living in a state of constant anticipation.   The THC works differently. It gives me focus. Usually, my mind jumps constantly—anxiety, intrusive thoughts, PTSD memories. It’s loud, and it’s relentless. After using the vaporiser, that noise quiets. Not gone, but contained enough that I can actually do what’s in front of me. Study. Write. Show up.   For the first time in a long time, I feel like I can participate in my own life.   But that participation comes at a cost.   I’m a student. Four hundred dollars a month is not a small expense—it’s rent, groceries, power. It’s the difference between saving and falling behind. But it’s also the difference between functioning and not.   So I pay the cost. Because the alternative is worse.   What makes this harder to accept is that I am already within a system that is supposed to support recovery.   I’m covered under ACC’s Sensitive Claims scheme. That scheme exists for people who have experienced sexual harm. It funds therapy, treatment, rehabilitation—the things you need to rebuild your life after something you never chose.   ACC does not subsidise medicinal cannabis. The justification is familiar: it is not an “approved” medicine in the same way as others. The clinical evidence base is still developing. It is not funded by PHARMAC.   I can understand that, in theory. But living inside that reasoning feels very different. Because in practice, what it means is this: treatments that did not work for me were funded without question. The one that does work is not.   And I can’t understand the distinction: the system will pay for me to be sedated all day, but not a little bit high? Aren’t benzodiazepines more chemically addictive and harmful than cannabis? How is this distinction acceptable, let alone logical?   Without funding, recovery begins to look less like a right, and more like a privilege. It is available—but only to those who can afford to privately access it.   I am aware that I am in a privileged position where I can make the trade-offs required to pay $402 a month. Many people cannot. And for them, the choice is between functioning and going without basic necessities.   There is something deeply unsettling about that.   About having to pay, month after month, to manage the consequences of something that was never your fault.   Just to be able to function.

CW: Drug use, overdose, drug-related harm Survey Explores Student Drug Use, Experiences, and Attitudes at Te Herenga Waka CW: Drug use, overdose, drug-related harm Salient  surveyed students to better understand how drugs are actually being used at Te Herenga Waka—and what that means for safety, harm, and support. This article covers everything from patterns of use and frequency, to harm, dependence, overdose, and access to drug checking, but one theme runs through it all. Students are not saying drugs are harmless. They are saying harm is shaped—and often worsened—by a lack of information.  As one respondent put it, “if you do use drugs, be mindful. Think about your limits, what risks you are taking, and how your choices might affect both yourself and those around you.” Another wrote, “I think people should be allowed and encouraged to do what they wish… provided they aren't knowingly stepping on someone else's safety. To that end… you owe it to yourself and others to know what it is you're getting into.” The message is consistent: students are already navigating these environments—what they are asking for is the knowledge to do so more safely. About Our Respondents We distributed a survey to students to better understand patterns of drug use and wellbeing across Te Herenga Waka. The results provide a snapshot rather than a definitive picture: responses come from a relatively small sample of students out of more than 20,000 enrolled at Te Herenga Waka, and are likely skewed toward those who read and engage with Salient . That said, this is also the audience most likely to be reading this reporting. The sample skewed female (55%), with men making up 28% and non-binary and gender diverse students 14%. Most participants were in the early years of their degree, with first- and second-year students comprising over half of respondents, while relatively few were in postgraduate or later-year study. The cohort was almost entirely domestic (96%), with very limited international representation. Substance Use Alcohol is near-universal, with around 95% of respondents reporting use in the past year. After that, there is a sharp drop: nicotine sits at just over 60%, while all other substances are used by a much smaller proportion of students. Among these, MDMA is the most common (27%), followed by ketamine (11%), LSD/psychedelics (8%), cocaine (8%), and magic mushrooms (7%). There are some differences across groups. Women report the highest alcohol use (98%), slightly above men (94%) and gender diverse students (90%). Nicotine use is also highest among women (69%). Men are more likely to report use of most other substances, including MDMA, LSD, and ketamine, with rates consistently higher than both women and gender diverse respondents. The living situation shows a more pronounced divide. Students in flats report the highest use across almost every substance category, including nicotine (70%) and party drugs like MDMA, LSD, and ketamine. Hall's students report lower rates of these substances, particularly psychedelics and ketamine, while students living with family have the lowest nicotine use (27%) and generally lower engagement with most drugs beyond alcohol. This pattern appears to track closely with years of study. First-year students—who are more likely to be in halls—report lower use of most substances beyond alcohol, particularly psychedelics and ketamine. For example, only around 14% of first-year students report MDMA use, compared to significantly higher rates in later years. LSD (2%) and ketamine (2%) use among first years are both very low, indicating limited engagement with these substances early on. By contrast, second- and third-year students show a clear increase across nearly all categories. Nicotine use rises from 52% in first year to 63% in second year and 69% in third year, while MDMA use increases from 14% in first year to 23% in second year and jumps sharply to 44% in third year. Similar patterns appear for other substances: LSD use rises from 2% in first year to 9% in second year and 15% in third year, while ketamine increases from 2% to 10% and then to 23% by third year. The shift suggests that substance use expands significantly after first year, aligning with students moving out of halls and into flats, where increased independence and different social environments appear to shape patterns of use. Frequency Frequency data shows a clear divide between routine substances and occasional use. Alcohol dominates as the most regularly used substance, with around 45–50% of respondents reporting drinking weekly and a further 15–20% drinking multiple times a week. Nicotine follows a similar pattern, but more intensely: while fewer students use it overall, around 35–40% of nicotine users report daily use, with many others using it multiple times a week—indicating a more habitual pattern of use. All other substances sit firmly in the infrequent category. MDMA, LSD, ketamine, and other party drugs are used predominantly “once every few months” or less, with typically 60–75% of users falling into this category. Weekly use is rare, generally below 5% across these substances. This suggests these drugs are tied to specific social events rather than routine behaviour. Even among groups with higher overall use (such as flatting or later-year students), frequency remains low. Age of first use shows a clear pattern of early introduction for legal substances, and later uptake for illicit drugs, with some variation across gender. Alcohol is typically first used the youngest, with most respondents reporting first use at 16–17, and a significant portion even earlier. Nicotine follows a similar trajectory, with initial use commonly clustered around 16–18, suggesting both substances are often encountered before or at the very start of university. Across gender, men report slightly earlier initiation overall, particularly for alcohol and nicotine, with a higher proportion indicating use before 16. Women tend to cluster more tightly around 16–18 for first use, while gender diverse respondents show a wider spread, though numbers are smaller. By contrast, most other drugs are first used after students arrive at university, and here the gender gap narrows. MDMA use is concentrated around ages 18–20 across all groups, though men are slightly more likely to report trying it earlier (at 18) compared to women, who more often report first use at 19–20. The same pattern holds for LSD and ketamine, where first use is rare under 18 but increases sharply from 18 onwards, with men again skewing marginally earlier. Overall, the data suggests a staged pattern: alcohol and nicotine are introduced earlier—often before university—while other drugs are first encountered in university social environments, with men tending to start slightly earlier, but overall patterns remaining broadly consistent across genders. Vaping Attitudes Unlike other substances, where first use clusters around university entry, a large proportion of respondents report first vaping between ages 15–17, indicating uptake often occurs before arriving at university. There is also a smaller but notable group reporting very early exposure (under 15), suggesting vaping is entering students’ lives well before other drugs. What distinguishes vaping most clearly is continuity. While other substances are typically tried later and used sporadically, vaping shows a much more sustained pattern from first use through to current behaviour. Once picked up, it is far less likely to be confined to specific events or phases. This reinforces the idea that vaping operates differently from other substances in the survey—not as experimental or occasional, but as something that becomes embedded over time. Dependence/Addiction Dependence is present, but concentrated in specific groups and substances. While only a minority of respondents (roughly 10–20%) identify as dependent or addicted, those responses cluster most clearly around nicotine, cannabis, and alcohol. Across demographics, dependence appears to increase with year of study. Second- and third-year students are more likely than first-years to report feeling reliant on a substance, aligning with earlier patterns of increased use over time. There is also a living situation effect: students in flats are more likely to report dependence, particularly on nicotine and cannabis, compared to those in halls or living with family. Gender differences are more mixed. Men are slightly more likely to report dependence related to alcohol and cannabis, while women are more likely to report dependence on nicotine, reflecting earlier patterns of use. Gender diverse respondents, though a smaller group, show comparatively higher rates of reported dependence overall, particularly where multiple substances are involved. If any of this feels familiar, support is available. Students can access free, confidential care through Student Health at Te Herenga Waka, or contact Alcohol Drug Helpline Aotearoa (0800 787 797) or free text 1737 (Need to talk?), which provides 24/7 support across Aotearoa. Harm and Risk There is a clear living-situation divide here too. Flatting students were far more likely to report negative effects, with 91.9% selecting at least one harm, compared with 74.5% of students in halls and 59.1% of students living with family. That is one of the strongest splits in the whole section. Harm, in other words, appears to rise once students move into less regulated environments. Year of study tracks this as well. 72.9% of first-years reported at least one negative effect. That rises to 82.4% of second-years and 92.3% of third-years. Harm appears to intensify after first-year, which fits with the broader pattern in the survey: more independence, more flatting, and more use of a wider range of substances. Among students using one substance or fewer, 48.3% reported negative effects. Among those using 2–3 substances, that jumps to 91.6%. For students using 4 or more substances, it rises again to 97.4%. The same pattern shows up in more serious impacts: academic harm rises from 3.4% among students using one substance or fewer to 35.7% among those using four or more, while mental health decline rises from 13.8% to 54.8%. This does not mean that all drug use results in serious or lasting harm. The threshold for a “negative effect” in this survey is low—a single hangover is enough to count—and many of the most commonly reported harms fall into that category. But the scale of the response still matters. When over 80% of students report at least one negative effect, and that figure rises to over 90% among flatting and later-year students, it suggests that harm is not isolated or exceptional. What the data shows is not that all use is inherently harmful, but that negative effects are widespread, cumulative, and more likely as use becomes more frequent, varied, and embedded in student life. Overdose & Exposure Salient  is not a medical authority, but resources like The Level  provide clear guidance on recognising and responding to an overdose. Overdoses are most likely when depressant drugs are involved—including opioids, benzodiazepines, and alcohol—and common signs include loss of consciousness, slow or stopped breathing, pale or clammy skin, blue lips or fingertips, and gurgling or snoring sounds. These can become fatal quickly, making early action critical. If someone may be overdosing, act immediately. The Level  advises to call 111, try to rouse the person, and check their breathing. If they are not breathing, begin CPR or rescue breaths. If available, naloxone should be administered, as it can reverse opioid overdoses and will not cause harm if opioids are not involved. If the person starts breathing again, place them in the recovery position and monitor them. If not, continue CPR and repeat naloxone if needed. Stay with the person until help arrives, keeping them calm and reassured. The Level also outlines ways to reduce the risk of overdose. Risk increases when people take higher doses, mix substances (including alcohol and medications), use alone, or have lower tolerance after a break. Using drugs that are adulterated or not what they are expected to be also raises the risk. To reduce harm, they recommend measuring doses carefully, using drug checking services, avoiding or spacing out mixing substances, and using in the presence of others who can help if something goes wrong. Taking drugs through slower methods (like swallowing rather than smoking or injecting) and adjusting for lower tolerance are also key strategies. Drug Checking Access to drug checking in Wellington is relatively accessible, but still largely event-based. KnowYourStuffNZ regularly provides free, anonymous drug checking services at festivals, gigs, and nightlife events, as well as through pop-up clinics in central Wellington. These clinics allow students to have substances tested and receive confidential, non-judgemental advice about contents, risks, and safer use. You can also access a regular monthly clinic at the Newtown Community Centre, held on the first Saturday of every month from 11.00 a.m. to 2.00 p.m. In addition, free, legal, confidential drug checking is available at the Drugs and Health Development Project (DHDP) headquarters, running Tuesday–Saturday each week (Tue 12–7 p.m.; Wed–Thu 11a.m.–7 p.m.; Fri 12–7 p.m.; Sat 1:15–4:45 p.m., with weekday lunch closure 2–2:30 p.m., and closed on public holidays). For other locations and updates, students can go on the KnowYourStuffNZ website, which makes it easy to find upcoming clinics in Wellington. The service is legal, free, and does not involve police, making it one of the most accessible harm reduction tools available to students in the city. Conclusion Across the survey, the strongest and most consistent piece of feedback was clear: students want universities to do more—not to police drug use, but to educate and destigmatise it. Rather than abstinence-based messaging, respondents repeatedly called for a harm reduction approach, grounded in clear, accessible information about what students are actually doing. As one student put it, “accept that it’s going to happen and approach it from a harm reduction lens.” A key issue raised was lack of awareness. Many students said they did not know that drug checking is legal, free, and available, with one respondent noting, “many of my friends didn’t even know that you could get drugs tested legally or thought it would cost money. Knowledge is power.” This reflects a broader gap identified throughout the survey: while students are using substances—and often experiencing harm—information about how to do so more safely is not reaching them consistently. Students also pushed back against one-dimensional messaging. Instead of simply being told drugs are bad, respondents wanted honest, nuanced education—including effects, risks, and real experiences of different substances—so they can make informed decisions. As one response put it, universities should “encourage students to take informed decisions rather than outright saying it’s bad.” Taken together, the message is not that students are asking universities to endorse drug use, but that current approaches are out of step with reality. Students are already navigating these environments. What they are asking for is better information, earlier and ongoing education, and a shift away from stigma toward education.

Hunk unc!! My flatmates are not nice people but I’m in a freaking one year tenancy with them. What. Do. I. Do??? Right. Hunk Unc is putting his Unc Hunk pants on to answer this question, so expect fewer gym references and more actual advice today. The first thing this Unc would suggest is going to the VUWSA Advocates. They’re a 100% confidential service run by the Student Union, and your fees pay for them, so you may as well make the most of it. They give advice to students in situations just like this and tailor it to your circumstances. They can look at your lease and give you independent, specific guidance (a lot more than I can do here with limited information). You can email them at advocate@vuwa.org.nz , or go to the VUWSA website and fill in the form under the “Advocacy” heading.   You can also call Tenancy Services on 0800 836 262. They can give you direct advice too, and they’re the experts—this is literally what they’re paid to do. Now, you might be thinking: “Unc, I want advice from you, not other people—why are you redirecting me?” Because, young grasshoppers, part of growing up is knowing when to give advice and when to get help from people who know more than you. And these people? They know more than me. But I can  give you a bit of general guidance, and hopefully help anyone else in a similar situation. First, check your lease. In NZ, there are two main types: periodic and fixed-term. Periodic tenancies roll over (usually weekly or monthly), and you can leave with notice. Fixed-term tenancies last for a set period, as stated in your contract. From what you’ve said, you’re likely on a fixed term, which unfortunately means you’re usually committed until either: a) the term ends, or b) you find someone to replace you on the lease. Some leases have break clauses, but these often involve a fee and usually require agreement from all flatmates—not just you. So, let’s talk about your (likely) situation: stuck in a one-year fixed-term lease with terrible flatmates. That’s rough, and I’m sorry you’re dealing with it. Here are a few options you could consider: Ask your flatmates if they know anyone who could take over your room (this does mean letting them know you want to leave). Advertise your room on Vic Deals, “Flatmates Wanted Wellington,” and similar pages to find a replacement tenant. Sublet your room until the end of the lease (personally, I wouldn’t recommend this—you’re still liable if things go wrong). Stick it out, have a conversation with your flatmates, and try to set boundaries or improve the situation. I can’t tell you which option is best because I don’t know the full picture—but again, that’s where the advocates come in. Some things to think about: Have you tried talking to your flatmates and setting clear boundaries? Have you double-checked your lease and fully understood your tenancy type? Have you talked to friends or trusted people about what’s going on? Have you contacted Tenancy Services/VUWSA Advocates for advice? In rare cases, you may  be able to leave a fixed-term lease early—for example, in situations involving family violence—but this requires proper documentation and specific circumstances. Listen, it’s a tough spot to be in, and I don’t envy you. The best thing you can do is reach out to others, get advice from people who know more than me, and look after yourself as best you can. It might also be worth asking some friends if you can crash at theirs for a night or two—just to clear your head and get a bit of space from a difficult situation. If you’re ever feeling unsafe in your flat, it’s also worth contacting Te Herenga Waka’s Student Finance team. They can provide emergency hardship grants for students, which might help cover something like a motel stay or even temporary double rent if you need to get out quickly. That said, this support isn’t guaranteed, so it’s a good idea to book a consultation with one of their staff members first.

Beyond Bites What: Sri-Lankan street food Price: $14.50–$15.50 When: 9:00a.m.–5:00p.m., Monday-Saturday Tuck yourself away in here for an easy and comforting plate.  ⭐⭐⭐ Capital Market on Willis Street has (I desperately hope) seen better days. I wouldn’t know, I’ve only ever walked past it. So have most people, which is part of the problem. The tightly shut windows of the stalls that back onto the street near Capital Hall don’t seem inviting. However, push through the heavy plastic flap-curtains next to Punjabi Cafe  and you’ll find a very tidy little foodcourt.  A three-year-old Reddit post suggests this place is being run into the ground by its management, which isn’t hard to believe. Only half the stalls were operating and it’s an overwhelmingly pigeon-and-concrete space, like a parking garage in a cheap disguise. But there’s an air of steadfast dignity inside. The shared dining space–-formica tables and plastic chairs in bright, commercial colours—was actively kept clean and neat; the open stalls were all filled with approachable people bent over steaming stovetops. There were only a handful of families and travellers in on this Sunday evening, but a steady trickle of custom flowed in and out off the street.  Beyond Bites  is in the corner of the stalls still open, to the right when you walk in. The two staff there were all smiles and even said they’d bring my meal out to me at the table. Sucks that they can offer this—that there’s little enough foot traffic that everyone gets this time and care, instead of a buzzing fidget spinner to take their table.  Bites  offers a range of Sri Lankan dishes: roti wraps, kottu, and fried rice, as well as three inexplicable pasta options. Aiming for a literally-middle-of-the-menu option, I ordered a small Chicken Kottu, to go for something I’d never had or heard of before. Described as ‘classic Sri Lankan street food’, the kottu was a mix of stir-fried roti pieces with vegetables, egg, and spices with meat or tofu. The Small portion would (allegedly) feed one person, and set me back $15.50. This turned out to be less value than I hoped it would be.  I want to start by saying that the food, albeit small, was great. Incredibly tender chicken in a soft, savoury mix of onions, carrot, egg, and chewy roti pieces soaked in curry gravy. It was similar to a mie goreng, but with bigger, fluffier flat bread noodles. There wasn’t much complexity to the flavours of the spices but it was warm and a little oily, comforting despite the dreary surroundings. Having smiled with the chef herself behind the counter and found some very roughly chopped spring onions throughout, this easy-to-shovel-down meal felt almost like a home-cooked plate—something my grandma might put in front of me that I wouldn’t doubt for a second was delicious.  I’m sure Sri-Lankans don’t mess about with spice, so I opted for my kottu ‘medium-spicy’. This was just enough to make me pause–strategically–as I ate, and go ‘hoo’ like an asthmatic owl every so often. It was the kind of spicy that I’d enjoy with a cool drink; if I wanted a quick bite to fuel me, I’d ask for ‘mild’ next time. However, a drink here is not a bank-breaking addition: they have soft drink cans for $2.50 and bottles for a dollar more. For around $5, you could get a ceylon tea or a virgin mojito.  In fact, a lot of their menu was quite cheap; only four items were pushing $20. That said, a ‘Small’ is not a filling single-person’s serving, using only my single self as a frame of reference. For a substantial meal next time, I’d pick a mild Vege Kottu, which I could bump up to Regular size and still only pay $14.50 for.  It’s a peculiar place, Capital Market, where you can be looked in the eye by someone’s mother wielding a hot wok, while also sitting in anonymity, out of the wind and rain and away from the traffic of the street. It’s a bit grubby, but it does what it needs to do with tenacity. And of course, it struck me as a trove of quality cheap feeds. Duck a head inside and see what you find; I’m definitely coming back here.

Student activists warn that celebrations of the Foundation’s newly announced policy targeting fossil fuel divestment across its portfolio may be premature.  On April 1, the Victoria University of Wellington Foundation publicised a new policy prioritising the exclusion of companies who provide probable coal reserves and/or oil and natural gas reserves used for energy purposes. As the Foundation invests entirely via externally managed pooled funds, implementation will follow a “phased approach”, reliant on the availability of suitable funds, with no promised deadline.  Colden Sapir, President of VUW Climate Action and Resistance, told Salient  that the policy represents an improvement and a significant shift, but that “students deserve to hear a primary data aspect.” “We’re really happy to see progress as a result of student organising, but we don’t want to celebrate it for more than it is,” Sapir said. “As we’ve seen from history, they’re great at making policies and not following them.”  The Foundation first pledged to divest from fossil fuels in 2014, almost 12 years ago. While this removed direct investments from coal, oil, and gas companies, the exclusion policy at the time was not specific enough to avoid continued exposure to  fossil fuels when the Foundation transitioned to third-party fund management. In 2025, former VUWSA President Marcail Parkinson, who held a seat on the Foundation’s board, confirmed that investment in fossil fuels persisted. Hugh Acton, VUW Climate Action & Resistance (CAR) co-founder, said that the group’s three primary objectives during their divestment campaign were to disclose investments, divest, and implement a specific exclusion policy. The group is now waiting for confirmation that this will not be what “last time was an empty promise.” “They have pledged to divest, but they haven’t moved any of the money,” Acton said.  CAR secretary Hannah Gifford agreed that “it’s a step in the right direction,” but “there’s no end to accountability.” The group has been working since 2024 to bring changes to the Foundation’s investment policy into effect. Student organising —including  campus rallies, banner drops, postering, and a recent petition with nearly 1,000 signatories — helped convince the Board of Trustees that policy revision was necessary. VUWSA President Aidan Donoghue believes that pressure applied by the group was crucial in shifting perspective at the decision-making table, and that the outcome would not have been possible without their activism. “We were able to say: ‘Look, students desperately want this,’ and that was so important in getting this change across the line,” he said. While the policy announcement is being taken as a win, CAR is not ready to end its campaign until the Foundation has actively divested. “Celebrating this is one of the ways that we can keep the foundation board accountable,” Sapir said. “We just want everyone to be aware that it has not been implemented yet, and is likely going to require vigilance on behalf of the student body … Hopefully in the next few months we will have a divested university.” Acton, who has since graduated, sees the change as a testament to the influence of student activism. “So many students have contributed to this campaign,” he said. “If you organise and get together, student power is effective and can win. We want people to know that.” It appears that sustained student vigilance will be key to holding the Foundation accountable for a timely and thorough implementation of this new policy.

Good news stories (and more) for the planet  Kia ora, Salient  reader! Welcome to our new fortnightly column on the environment, sustainable living, and the small, stubborn act of hope amongst a world on fire! Check in every second week for waste-free recipes, genuinely good news, and practical ways to lend a hand—nudging a happier, healthier Earth a little closer into view. Waste-free recipe of the week: Tortillas are a staple of the student diet. Whether you’re going full gourmet with crispy chicken and greens or just melting cheese in the microwave at midnight, it’s hard to beat the simplicity of the humble tortilla. So, what better place to begin than a tortilla you can make yourself—for tuppence, and without that pesky plastic bag.  The easy, cost-saving, eco flour tortillas (An Edmonds  Recipe) 2 cups flour 3 tbsp oil ½ tsp salt ¾ cup warm water Mix all ingredients til well combined.  Knead for at least three minutes.  Let rest for at least 30 minutes (this part is key). Roll into 8 rounds. Cook in a pan over medium–high heat until done. Stack and cover with a damp cloth to keep them soft and flexible. Enjoy—and feel, briefly, like a very competent little chef. Pockets of hope: Beat the back to class blues with the Department of Conservation’s live webcams, where you can study alongside baby kākāpō and royal albatross. It is, more or less, a national truth that baby birds bring out the best in New Zealanders. Search “Doc Webcams” and join the sweet community all fawning over these lil buddys. Beyond the cuteness, there’s good news here: this marks the first kākāpō breeding season since 2022, with the added bonus of building a wider network of support for conservation efforts. See you online with the chicks. Get involved!: Wellington is bustling with conservation initiatives to get stuck in with, but why not start with one right here on the doorstep of Kelburn campus: The Kumutoto Restoration Project. This is a community led project seeking to restore the mana and the mauri of the Kumutoto awa. They meet through the bush past Club-K on the second and fourth Saturday of every month from 10 a.m. .  to 12 p.m. Activities range from running trap lines and monitoring stream health to planting trees, pulling weeds, five-minute bird counts, and, occasionally, an open mic or poetry session. Expect warm welcomes, good soup, and become a part of the growing community prioritising both connection to each other and the whenua they are nurturing.  To get involved find them on Facebook: Kumutoto Restoration Project , Instagram: @kumutotorestorationproject or Email: kumutotostream@gmail.com . Stay tuned for an article straight from the source in next week's edition of the Salient !

By Anonymous  CW: Murder, Violence, Drug Addiction I stood alone in a room full of people, each absorbed in their own thoughts, each holding their own view. Never had I faced such scrutiny. Then again, never had I killed a man. So to be scrutinized was exactly why I stood alone in that room. For days on end, I held this position, and for days on end I faced scrutiny—accusations and assumptions alike, speculative theories, fragments of fact, and minor testimonies. Not once did I deny taking his life. However, the unfortunate realities of society’s darker side mean things happen—both intentional and unintentional—so I faced the room as those within examined the case. More than anything, though, I watched the twelve members of the jury. I watched with bated breath as each piece of evidence was presented. I searched for subtle signs—unvoiced opinions, loathing, disgust, anger. I looked, too, for sympathy, sadness, and that fatalistic acceptance that reminds us all that sometimes people make mistakes. I was facing the trial of my life, and the outcome would quite literally determine what remained of it. I had been charged with murder, and the twelve members of the jury had been charged with determining my guilt. To this day, I do not know whose burden was heavier. I remember checking my watch in the darkness of my cell. Sleep—so desperately desired—would not come. The watch told me I was fifteen minutes into the day, day two of who knows. I lay in the dark, listening to the sounds of prison life at zero-dark-thirty—things unnoticed in the cold light of daytime consciousness: the mechanical hum of air moving through the extraction ducts, the low murmur of a television left on somewhere in the unit, its owner blissfully unaware of the effect it had on my mind. Not to mention the irregular gasps, snorts, and grunts of the other man occupying the six-by-twelve concrete box with me. The air sat close. In a space like that, you could almost feel the grains of sand embedded in the concrete around you. I was suffocating in my own despair—entirely of my own making. It felt as though even the darkness didn’t want me there, as if there wasn’t enough room for both of us, yet we were locked together all the same. Beneath me, the man in the lower bunk shifted—the prick, I thought. That had been my bed for weeks, but when I returned from court that day, he was on it. Too late to argue. Besides, I wouldn’t be there long—at least, that’s what I told myself. That’s how I ended up on the top bunk, wide awake in the early hours, with nothing to distract me from the truth: this was only day two of who knows. To me, sleep is a period of time lost, accompanied by a vague recollection of strange adventures and a feeling of revitalisation. However, upon checking my watch, I noticed the hours passing as if before my eyes—but the absence of those vague recollections, and the heavy lethargy that clung to me, left me to conclude that sleep would not be forthcoming with her gifts this night. I couldn’t begrudge her for it. After all, today is day two of who knows. You could look at this tragic experience and say, “good job,” and if you knew the reason why sleep was spending the night with everyone but me, that would be one way to see it. Karma is another. However, today is still day two of who knows, and if you knew what I knew, then sleep would avoid you too. It feels surreal in hindsight—nothing like the vague recollections one has upon waking after a good night’s sleep. No, the recollections I was having were anything but vague. I was stone-cold sober, yet despite my rational mind being fully aware of my situation, I could swear that at times throughout the night I was standing in the driveway again, pistol in hand—the same exchange, the same knowing look, and the same fate-filled sound of the bike hitting the ground, never to rise again. What I would give for the vague to blur the vivid. Moments such as these take me back in time, a hostage to my own conscience—forced to witness, unable to look away from the heinous nature of a rampaging drug addiction. They push me to explore the self, to confront the uncompromising depravity that comes from depriving oneself of the most fundamental human functions: sleep, food, and wholesome social interaction. All things considered, it makes a morbid kind of sense that, in the absence of such things, a person can become less than human—almost animalistic, primeval. It is no consolation, but it makes a grim kind of sense that my drug of choice has murderous origins. This substance was literally designed to turn a man into a heartless, relentless, savage being—free of the morality that governs any sensible, reasonable, civil society. It stripped away all inhibitions, silenced every voice of reason, and replaced them with an all-consuming desire to destroy anything good in the world. What is the substance, you ask? Amphetamines. Methamphetamine, to be specific. And I’m talking about us—deranged souls cursed by its consumption. Did you know it was chemists in the Third Reich who synthesized it to transform ordinary civilians into what became stormtroopers—an unstoppable legion of chemically enhanced soldiers who helped take Europe by the throat? If you did, then my tale should not surprise you. I was consumed and at war. I believed it, too. Insane, aye? Another morbid detail: the first man I ever saw manufacturing methamphetamine called himself “the German”. I was fourteen years old—older than thirteen, in his eyes, and therefore perfectly malleable. The chaos of a life bent by addiction was his gift to me. The motherfucker. I have many such moments. The time I helped myself to Uncle Hawke’s pounds of weed at the tender age of nine—and despite the beating I got for stealing, I was warned only never to steal from him again. If I wanted weed, I should ask. Those were the first seeds of addiction to illegal substances. I had already been given the same arrangement for the legal ones—weed, ciggies, booze. I didn’t always get what I asked for, but sometimes I did—further evidence of the madness that shaped the reality I grew up in. I think back to the armed robberies and kidnappings that preceded the nights of revelry, the same ones that led me here. At any point, I could have chosen to stop—or so I told myself. A lie, of course. I know now that no one is truly free to choose. The only real choice comes when you finally crash: do you rebuild, or don’t you? We all crash. The question is—do you pick up the pieces and resume the charade, or leave them in the ashes of the past and begin again, somewhere uncertain? That question still frightens me. At this point, the ability to make rational, conscious decisions becomes almost impossible. However, even a hungry wolf knows when to call off the chase. The key word here is “almost”—and I’ll elaborate on that later. Nestled four stories up and four metres across from the Khyber Pass off-ramp, the steadily increasing flow of city-bound traffic tells me that today—day two of who knows—is about to reveal itself to the present moment, fleetingly fickle as the moment cements itself in the unchanging, unchallengeable past. Moments that stay with us, no matter how hard we try to leave them behind. Moments that, no matter how much we wish we could, we cannot return to—cannot change what has already been written into time’s memory. These thoughts have become my obsession. I lie in the dark, replaying the mistake I’ve left in the record book of time, and today is day two of who knows. Mouth dry, stomach churning, nervous energy pulsing through my body, I lie in the dark anticipating the call to pack my gear—silently praying for a break in the monotonous wait, for my moment to step out of the cell and into the light of day two of who knows. I wait, and I wait, and I wait. Six a.m., and a loud slap of sound from the inbuilt P.A. snaps me out of the mind trap I’ve been stuck in since fifteen minutes into today. “Uce,” the voice says. “Yeah,” I answered. “Uce, get ready. Your ride will be here in fifteen minutes. All good?” “All good, uce,” I reply, climbing down from what we call the treehouse. I’ve been ready for this moment since I stepped into the cell the night before. My toiletry bag is waiting. I turn on the shower—only one setting: hot. Gingerly, I work my way into the flow, acclimatise, then quit the wash early. I’m too anxious for my usual routine, and besides, I don’t feel comfortable wanking with a stranger in the cell. Time’s up anyway. I hear the familiar sounds of unit movement—the electronics of an operating door unlocking—followed by the laughter of the men who hold the keys to my destiny. “Uce, uce, are you there?” As if I wouldn’t be. Some might think that’s a pointless question—but not me. Simple words like that carry more meaning. It’s one man extending humanity to another, despite the doors between us. It means brother. It means, you good? “All good,” I say again as they open my door, and just like that, I’m off to meet whatever moments day two of who knows has waiting for me. Things packed, I stand alone at the telephone, waiting for the call to connect. A moment later, I hear a familiar voice on the other end, and my mind snaps back to the present. The tight churn in my stomach eases, just a little. There’s unconditional love in that voice, compassionate understanding—something only a sister can give. The call is brief, but I hang up content in the knowledge that no matter what happens today—day two of who knows—I am loved. However, fear—a chemical reaction of the human species, developed as a defence against stupidity in the face of danger—still lingers. Knowing this leaves me slightly confused as to why I had felt such intense fear while waiting for the call to connect, given the lack of any immediate threat. But I did. I had convinced myself that everybody in the world had an axe to grind—my closest friends and family included—and quite possibly some out there, literally. After all, today is day two of jury deliberations, and the question is simple: on the charge of murder, do you find the defendant guilty or not guilty? I waited in the receiving office of Mount Eden Correctional Facility. I wasn’t alone. There were the usual suspects—those who wouldn’t be spending long in custody, but would be back soon. They always are. There were the hardened criminals, and the gangsters, too. Clear lines formed around them, lines you approached cautiously, if you were wise. Not to be fucked with—that’s what those lines read. Among these men, I alone faced the prospect of a life sentence. “What you in for?”—the universal question that determines which side of the line you stand on. Murder is a charge that carries weight in here. Not just for the crime itself, but because of what it means—a life for a life is no joke. It’s the ultimate price. And I had taken my place on the side not to be fucked with. I ate my two stale slices of toast, tea-soaked soldiers. Wolfed down my two Weet-Bix and tipped the rest of my tea down the drain. Never hydrate before a trip in a transport van—that’s a sure way to end up pissing in a moving steel box while handcuffed. Soon, names were called, vans heading to different districts. There was only one person riding in the van bound for Auckland High Court. Me. So—back to the question at hand: guilty or not? For days on end, the jury had been presented with a myriad of evidence, shaped and framed to imply an obvious conclusion—or so the prosecution would have them believe. A conclusion I prayed they would dismiss. After all, I had put my hand up to the killing—but the charge of murder requires intent. An intent to kill. I had no intent to kill. To injure, possibly. To take possession, definitely. By the letter of the law, I had my own view. But that was irrelevant to the jury’s deliberations. A simple question to state, but far more complicated to comprehend—so much so that it requires twelve independent minds to collectively examine the finer details of how that question came to be asked. My name was called. I went through the familiar process. “How are you, uce?” the officer asked. He’d been doing this for years, working escorts. “All good,” I replied. “What’s going on with the trial? How’s it looking?” I put my hands against the wall, waiting for the rub-down that comes before the metal detector. “Who knows, my man,” I said, turning to have my hands cuffed. That’s all you can do in these moments—smile, make small talk. Just two men going through the motions of another day in custody. “Good luck, uce,” he said as I walked toward my ride. “See you when I get back,” I replied. He moved on, calling the next name. I stepped up to the back of the bus—the human float. Same one I’d been riding since the beginning. Overkill, I thought, as I hustled into one of the twelve compartments, eleven of them empty. Plenty of room for my regrets. I took a breath, and a familiar scent hit my nostrils. Someone, at some point, had drunk too much of his complimentary breakfast tea. I wondered if he regretted it. You never drink the tea at breakfast. Then I hoped he’d pissed on his shoes. The same officer driving the van stood in the corridor, wearing that same wry smile. “We washed the boxes out last night,” he said. “Hope the smell’s gone.” It wasn’t. It was just mixed now with a generic, mass-produced disinfectant—but I acknowledged the effort. Shop work. I took my seat, and the door closed behind me. Which brings me back to the moment at hand—hands cuffed, resting in my lap, sitting in the back of a transport truck on my way into day two of who knows. Picture, if you would, a steel box containing a dining-room chair, with just enough headroom to sit in something resembling comfort. A small window offers fleeting glimpses of something so many of us take for granted—the everyday comings and goings of ordinary people. That outside world. Things not missed until they are. Now picture that box bouncing down the road backwards. That is the sensation—poetic justice in motion. In my mind, I experience every moment as if watching it from afar, an unwilling passenger on a ride from hell—though fully aware it was I who chose to step into the beast. So I gaze longingly out the window, trying to ease the self-obsessive torment that has gripped me since fifteen minutes into day two of who knows. But the relief is short-lived. I have arrived. Over the past dozen days, a modest relationship has developed between myself and the officer charged with escorting me from the holding cell to the courtroom, and today is no different. It’s strange how subtle, friendly banter can take the sharp edge off a bleak situation—like the possibility of spending the rest of your life incarcerated. But it does. And for that, I will always be grateful. The experience itself is daunting. As each day passed, I would sit quietly, listening to the damning accusations, wondering: what are the jury thinking? I studied their body language, searching for some signal—anything—that might ease the fear building inside me.  Today, however, is day two of who knows, and I’ve asked for the light to be turned off as I sit in the holding cell I’ve grown accustomed to, waiting. I notice that, like every other cell I’ve occupied, this one still isn’t dark enough to disappear into. The silence is so complete it fills my ears, like I’m standing in front of a subwoofer. I can feel the weight of the institution above me, pressing in from all sides. The sleepless night I’d had pales in comparison to the last ten minutes. That was the fear of the unknown. This is fear in real time. The cell is tiny—on purpose. A message, clear as anything: you are no longer fit to take up space in society. I set those thoughts aside, just for a moment, and force myself to relax. Not because I’m not worried, or because I don’t care—but to brace for impact. I think about everything I’ve done with my life so far, and all the potential lost. I think about the people I’ve affected. I relive the moments—good and bad—that have led me here. I feel the weight of my conscience settle on my shoulders, that familiar self-loathing creeping in, something only the cover of darkness can hide. I wait for my path to be made clear.  Then, suddenly, I hear it—the familiar rattle of keys, heavy footsteps approaching. And a simple statement that stops time: The jury has made a decision. Everything has led to this. Every word, every action, every moment—has brought me here. Now.