An iceberg or an onion. Those are the two analogies that come to mind when I interview Jordan Walker. On the surface they present as youthful and artsy, with a relaxed and easy-going manner that immediately puts me at ease. But as we get further into the interview it becomes clear that there is more to Jordan than meets the eye. Like an iceberg. Jordan (Ngāi Tūhoe, Ngāti Kahungunu ki Wairoa, Ngāti Porou and Ngāi Te Rangi) lives with their partner who has recently had successful IVF treatment and the happy couple are expecting their first baby this year. They’ve adopted a few chooks too, and they were pleased to announce they collected three eggs this morning. Jordan is the new local candidate for the Greens party, so one would assume they care for community and the environment, and they do, but there is more to them than that. Jordan is multi-layered (that’s where I slide in the onion analogy) They work in the arts sector and have a background in anthropology. Jordan has undertaken research into the value of artists and art for community well-being, culture, and connection, which is partly why Jordan has an affiliation with the Greens and their policy to reinstate an income support scheme for the arts and cultural employment.. Jordan tells me that the median income for artists in Aotearoa is $19,500 per annum. Creativity and ideas can only come to life when people have everything they need to survive, says Jordan. We need to place more value on artists. However, that’s not really what drew them into politics. Jordan was raised by a single mum who escaped an abusive relationship with four children in tow. It was tough going financially. Jordan’s whānau were touched by tragedy when at the age of 13, their brother died of suicide. Grief impacted their whānau in different ways, but it forced Jordan to grow up, Jordan says, pushing their own grief to the side to support their whānau. But as with any trauma, Jordan acknowledges it can take a lifetime to unpack. And that’s what led them down this political path. Jordan has experienced life scenarios where they felt vulnerable, or needed advocacy, and as a result they’ve naturally gravitated to becoming an advocate for other people. They put their hand up to run for council last year, and found it exhausting. It was a big learning curve and although cradled within the Māori candidate caucus, Jordan found it an isolating experience for a newbie, whereas being a Greens candidate has been less of a gauntlet. It’s nice to feel part of a big team, says Jordan, with plenty of resources and support provided. First things first, just party vote Green at election time. After that, thinking long term, there is a pathway to parliament and eventually Jordan would like to be there. They’ve taken on this role, not as a one off candidate but as a long term potential, which is good news for us. The local Green Party branches main campaign points are around the climate crisis and a Just Transition, focusing on regenerative agriculture and better forestry practice. With Jordan particularly keen in redistributing wealth by introducing a capital gains tax and placing people and whenua over profit. “We have 50% Māori here on the East Coast, and 80% of our people are living in poverty. We need to redistribute wealth so that people don’t have to struggle” - Te Tiriti o Waitangi is at the centre of the Greens charter and that’s something Jordan always comes back to. Jordan is also a proponent of resilient infrastructure and bringing rail back to life. Rather than pouring money into fixing the roads destroyed by logging trucks, investing in rail makes more sense. As a final question I think it’s important to ask if the Greens have been affected by online misinformation. Jordan says yes, at a recent meeting they heard a rumour that the Greens did not support burning slash and that it was illegal. Not true, says Jordan, the Greens are an evidence based party, and it pays to fact check in the age of misinformation. A vote for Greens means no more band aid approaches. Jordan wants to see real, sustainable improvement in our community as we head into unprecedented times. Kotahitanga. Everyone should have what they need to survive, and maybe then, we can allow ourselves a little creativity, for our own, and everyone’s well-being. Story by Aimee Milne Image supplied Sponsored Content Authorised by Miriam Ross, Level 5, 108 The Terrace, Wellington

This story is about a local woman, Theresa Zame and her journey of building awareness around the Therapeutic Products Bill, which is currently being reviewed in parliament. Theresa has stage four lung cancer. She was told that her cancer is terminal, and was given 9 months to live when she received her diagnosis. ? months have passed since that prognosis due to the medication she is taking. This medication is called Tagrix, suggested to her by her oncologist as my first line of medication. It is imported via a humanitarian business - Hope Pharma Connections Ltd. Her oncologist writes a prescription, and Hope Pharma Connections sends that prescription to a reputable pharmacy – Beacon Pharmaceuticals Limited, which then mails the medication to Theresa. Hope Pharma Connections has helped hundreds of vulnerable people since establishing its distribution network in NZ in July 2020. Tagrix is produced by Beacon Pharmaceuticals Ltd is a Bangladeshi pharmaceutical company that develops generic versions of medications. They manufacture more than 200 generic drugs and 65 oncology medications, which cost 8 - 10% of the originator’s brand. As of her last CT in February, Theresa discovered that the cancer mets she had in her bones and liver were gone, the tumour in her left lung had shrunk and the cancer throughout her lungs had significantly thinned - the cancer is now localised in her lungs. Her CT showed that there had been no progression, that the Tagrix is working effectively - delaying the onset of the cancer, relieving her symptoms and preventing complications. This medication, her lifeline, the thing that has given her a better quality of life and extra time would no longer be available to Theresa if the Therapeutic Products Bill is passed in its current form by parliament. There is an FDA approved medication called Tagrisso, but Theresa would only qualify and be prescribed it would be if her lung cancer had metastasised and reached her brain - an ambulance at the bottom of the cliff type of approach, which Theresa says desperately needs to be reassessed. This FDA approved medication costs $10,000 a month compared to the $1000 a month that the generic medication that Theresa currently accesses. Tagrisso is funded in the bulk of OECD countries including Australia but not here in New Zealand. Under the new bill Theresa would no longer be able to receive Tagrix by mail as it is an unfunded medicine. The only way she would be able to access Tagrix would be by travelling to Bangladesh and purchasing it herself. Nor would she be able to raise money to purchase Tagrix via a Givealittle page or have open conversations around funded medicines, as talking about it publicly is deemed to be communication under the advertisement clause of the new bill. There are a huge number of concerns about this Therapeutics Bill currently under Review in Parliament. Many come from Rongoā practitioners, importers and users of natural therapies around the country. Theresa’s concern is around the consultation process for the bill, which opened and closed before most New Zealanders were even aware of it and implications that it will have on our ability to care for our own health if it passes. “Having a terminal illness is confronting and it makes you feel vulnerable as you become acutely aware that you’re not going to live as long as you had thought you would. “It can also make you strong and want to fight for your life” says Theresa. Theresa has started a petition to parliament that is open for signatures until May 26 2023. The petition asks that the House of Representatives amend the Therapeutic Products Bill to enable patients to import prescription meds, reflect how clinical trials operate through SCOTT Committee, change the definition of “advertisement” so it does not risk criminalising patients, advocates & media, and incorporate s 29 of the Medicines Act 1981. You can find it here: tinyurl.com/3svc6amr Theresa has also organised a couple of events, one in Gisborne and another in Wellington to create awareness around these issues with the Bill as it stands. You can find the event details here: https://fb.me/e/314JtaZxH We encourage you to do your own research, and if you are concerned, use your voice!

I thought this was a story about zero waste school lunches. What I quickly realised is that the transformations at Te Kura Reo Rua O Waikirikiri are much bigger than waste minimisation (although that is definitely happening). This is indeed a story about zero waste…of people. Wind back to 2020 and the chaos of the covid pandemic. Staff noticed an increase of issues amongst the tamariki, including self-harm and depression. While the wellbeing plan was already in formation, two new personnel were added to the team to put the vision into action. Experienced Teacher, Koka Megan Windybank has focused on supporting students and teachers social and emotional learning for the past three years. Koka Tui Keenan initially focused on whānau and now works as the school counsellor. Alongside the school social worker Koka Rangi Houia, the special education needs coordinator and Principal Koka Yolanda Julies, they form the school wellbeing team. All teachers and schools across Aotearoa are aware of Sir Mason Durie’s Te Whare Tapa Wha Model. This is a model where the person is symbolised by a wharenui (meeting house) with four walls. The wharenui walls are made up of: ● Taha tinana – physical wellbeing ● Taha hinengaro – mental wellbeing ● Taha whānau – family, community, and social wellbeing ● Taha wairua – spiritual wellbeing. The whenua (land) forms the foundation. Te Kura Reo Rua o Waikirikiri has an intimate appreciation and understanding, that if those four walls of the whare are not strong or nurtured, the house will not stand. That is, the child is unwell and not prepared for learning. So how does this school address wellbeing? They have resourced a wellbeing team to provide wrap-around support, provide focused professional development around brain development, especially children’s brains and emotional intelligence. Trauma-informed care. Mindfulness and Yoga. Play therapy. Healthy kai and mahinga kai (collection and harvesting). Physical exercise and repetitive movements such as Mau Rakau. Other schools often have a counsellor that flies in for the day from another region. This school has a counsellor that is connected to the children and the whānau and approaches health through connection to Papatūānuku. A sensory garden is under development, especially for tamariki on the Autism Spectrum. Native nursery and fruit trees. Learning through play. The list is extensive and impressive and the school is often requested to share their approach with other teaching and health professionals. It is hard to encapsulate how profound the wellbeing programme is at Te Kura Reo Rua O Waikirikiri and to include the many strands that are in play. But perhaps a spotlight on their kai-based initiatives can give some insight. Previously, 180 school lunches were delivered each day from a Gisborne-based catering provider. There were high volumes of packaging waste and meals that weren’t eaten. At the same time, through the whānau wellbeing programme, parents were engaged in cooking classes, home gardens and hunting programmes and the school knew they had a group of mamas with the skills to deliver the school lunch programme. The cooking tech space was easily upgraded to become a commercial kitchen and 12 months ago three mamas were employed. The Mamas understand what the children like to eat and can gently expand their taste buds with new foods that the whānau are also learning to include in home meals through cooking classes at the school and online. Tamariki deliver these meals to pakeke (elders) in the community. There’s an effortless connection between the kitchen and kids as it is some of the students’ mamas who are making the meals. The children know the mamas, see them everyday when they collect the meals, and can even pop in and ask for seconds. Sometimes children help prepare the lunches too. They grow the lettuces for their sandwiches and are responsible for food waste (one pig bucket each week) to become compost and worm food in the school gardens. Beyond the school lunches there is an exciting new initiative ‘Kete’, a ‘My Food Bag’ type subscription based at Waikirikiri School using local veges and venison. The seniors help to pack three healthy meals into reusable chilly bags every Wednesday and are often involved in cooking the meals at home. Back to the waste, the caretaker was animated as he spoke of massive reductions. There are no uneaten meals. The reusable containers are easily collected up onsite and take only half an hour to wash after lunch. And yes there is still small amounts of plastic waste and packaging. I didn’t get into the details of how much because it doesn’t really matter. As zero waste chef Anne Marie Bonneau said, “We don’t need a handful of people doing zero waste perfectly. We need millions of people doing it imperfectly”. Rick Thorpe is a zero waste guru in Aotearoa and his view is that waste is a social issue rather than an engineering one. I could feel his words resonating as my time at Waikirikiri unfolded. An engineering approach might have looked in the bins and seen high volumes of divertable materials, focused on processes, bins and signage. A social approach focuses on the connection between the children, the school and the lunches, which is the pathway Wairikikiri have undertaken. As Koka Megan explained, “We’ve seen huge shifts because we have changed our approach and our response. We don’t have school yard fighting, children were throwing chairs around the room, all that carry on…..we just don’t see that now” What I did see was children hugging teachers, a joyful staffroom, mamas singing as they prepared meals, planting, colour, growth and health…..all wrapped up by physical, emotional, spiritual and whānau wellbeing. Zero waste… of people. Story by Jo McKay Photograph by Tom Teutenberg

I thought this was a story about zero waste school lunches. What I quickly realised is that the transformations at Te Kura Reo Rua O Waikirikiri are much bigger than waste minimisation (although that is definitely happening). This is indeed a story about zero waste…of people. Wind back to 2020 and the chaos of the covid pandemic. Staff noticed an increase of issues amongst the tamariki, including self-harm and depression. While the wellbeing plan was already in formation, two new personnel were added to the team to put the vision into action. Experienced Teacher, Koka Megan Windybank has focused on supporting students and teachers social and emotional learning for the past three years. Koka Tui Keenan initially focused on whānau and now works as the school counsellor. Alongside the school social worker Koka Rangi Houia, the special education needs coordinator (SENCO) and Principal Koka Yolanda Julies, they form the school wellbeing team. All teachers and schools across Aotearoa are aware of Sir Mason Durie’s Te Whare Tapa Wha Model. This is a model where the person is symbolised by a wharenui (meeting house) with four walls. The wharenui walls are made up of: -Taha tinana – physical wellbeing -Taha hinengaro – mental wellbeing -Taha whānau – family, community, and social wellbeing -Taha wairua – spiritual wellbeing. The whenua (land) forms the foundation. Te Kura Reo Rua o Waikirikiri has an intimate appreciation and understanding, that if those four walls of the whare are not strong or nurtured, the house will not stand. That is, the child is unwell and not prepared for learning. So how does this school address wellbeing? They have resourced a wellbeing team to provide wrap-around support, provide focused professional development around brain development, especially children’s brains and emotional intelligence. Trauma-informed care. Mindfulness and Yoga. Play therapy. Healthy kai and mahinga kai (collection and harvesting). Physical exercise and repetitive movements such as Mau Rakau. Other schools often have a counsellor that flies in for the day from another region. This school has a counsellor that is connected to the children and the whānau and approaches health through connection to Papatūānuku. A sensory garden is under development, especially for tamariki on the Autism Spectrum. Native nursery and fruit trees. Learning through play. The list is extensive and impressive and the school is often requested to share their approach with other teaching and health professionals. It is hard to encapsulate how profound the wellbeing programme is at Te Kura Reo Rua O Waikirikiri and to include the many strands that are in play. But perhaps a spotlight on their kai-based initiatives can give some insight. Previously, 180 school lunches were delivered each day from a Gisborne-based catering provider. There were high volumes of packaging waste and meals that weren’t eaten. At the same time, through the whānau wellbeing programme, parents were engaged in cooking classes, home gardens and hunting programmes and the school knew they had a group of mamas with the skills to deliver the school lunch programme. The cooking tech space was easily upgraded to become a commercial kitchen and 12 months ago three mamas were employed. The Mamas understand what the children like to eat and can gently expand their taste buds with new foods that the whānau are also learning to include in home meals through cooking classes at the school and online. Tamariki deliver these meals to pakeke (elders) in the community. There’s an effortless connection between the kitchen and kai as it’s the students’ mamas who are making the meals. The children know the mamas, see them everyday when they collect the meals, and can even pop in and ask for seconds. Sometimes children help prepare the lunches too. They grow the lettuces for their sandwiches and are responsible for food waste (one pig bucket each week) to become compost and worm food in the school gardens. Beyond the school lunches there is an exciting new initiative ‘Kete’, a ‘My Food Bag’ type subscription based at Waikirikiri School using local veges and venison. The seniors help to pack three healthy meals into reusable chilly bags every Wednesday and are often involved in cooking the meals at home. Back to the waste, the caretaker was animated as he spoke of massive reductions. There are no uneaten meals. The reusable containers are easily collected up onsite and take only half an hour to wash after lunch. And yes there is still small amounts of plastic waste and packaging. I didn’t get into the details of how much because it doesn’t really matter. As zero waste chef Anne Marie Bonneau said, “We don’t need a handful of people doing zero waste perfectly. We need millions of people doing it imperfectly”. Rick Thorpe is a zero waste guru in Aotearoa and his view is that waste is a social issue rather than an engineering one. I could feel his words resonating as my time at Waikirikiri unfolded. An engineering approach might have looked in the bins and seen high volumes of divertable materials, focused on processes, bins and signage. A social approach focuses on the connection between the children, the school and the lunches, which is the pathway Wairikikiri have undertaken. As Koka Megan explained, “We’ve seen huge shifts because we have changed our approach and our response. We don’t have school yard fighting, children were throwing chairs around the room, all that carry on…..we just don’t see that now” What I did see was children hugging teachers, a joyful staffroom, mamas singing as they prepared meals, planting, colour, growth and health…..all wrapped up by physical, emotional, spiritual and whānau wellbeing. Zero waste… of people. Story by Jo McKay Photograph by Tom Teutenberg

Gizzy Kai Rescue was launched almost one year ago to the day. The idea formed when two Gisborne women Michele Ferrere and Alena Swannell discovered they shared the same dream of rescuing perfectly good food from the waste stream and diverting it to people in need. Individually they had felt overwhelmed by the enormity of the proposition but together they decided, they might just be able to make it happen. The two enlisted the help of Sarah Punnet and started collecting intel on how best to carry out such an operation. Many of the systems and guiding principles that have gotten Gizzy Kai Rescue to where they are today were based on those of Wellington-based Kaibosh, New Zealand’s oldest food rescue organisation. Satisty, another food rescue operation based in North Canterbury was also a useful source of know-how and expertise. The group’s aims fitted well with the Gisborne District Council’s goals to reduce the amount of green waste going to landfill by 40 percent and funds they acquired through the Waste Minimisation Fund along with a grant from ECT’s community resilience fund saw the venture take flight on October 31 of last year. Further grants from Lotteries and COGS, generous donations from local and national groups and businesses have helped to keep them going. In their one year of operation Gizzy Food Rescue has rescued over 41 tonnes of food items and 700 kilos of non-food items from going to landfill. Today a rotation of 40 volunteers see items collected once or twice a day from Pak n Save and Countdown and then sorted, ready to be picked up by seven different recipient organisations, which are responsible for distributing the goods to their clients. Items include bread, eggs, vegetables, tinned food, cereals, baby products and non-food items, most of which are unable to be sold because of damaged packaging. One of the strengths of Gizzy Kai Rescue is a structure that ensures the rescued goods go to people in need. In partnering with organisations such as Supergrans and Te Hiringa Matua, which provide other wrap around services, there are existing relationships and more to the relationship than the provision of free food. These organisations know their clients, they can ensure aspects such as food safety, and there is less likelihood of issues such as on-selling or people not necessarily in need accessing the items, which can’t be guaranteed with other resources such as Food Pantries. As one of GKR’s volunteers Heather points out “not everyone has transport and people can be shy about asking for food. To have these organisations who know the people in need are, means we know that this food is getting to people who need it - that’s really important. We trust there’s accountability, and it’s all going through the right channels”. This accountability is important to anyone invested in the process, volunteers as well as donors. And as word has spread as to the tight ship Gizzy Kai Rescue have been running, so have wanna-be-donors been starting to knock at the door with offers of food to be rescued. With so much produce grown in the Tairawhiti you can imagine how much ends up being plowed back into paddocks, fed to animals or left to rot. Sitting at the other end of the operations is a list of about 20 potential recipient organisations with clients in massive need. Recent research carried out by the Auckland City Mission has found that one in ten New Zealanders lives with some form of food insecurity. With all of this capacity for growth at both ends of the Gizzy Kai Rescue equation, the organisation is at a crossroads. But while that it is usually an enviable position for a new enterprise to be in, Michele wishes there weren’t so many people struggling to put food on the table and there wasn’t so much food needing to be rescued. Catering to the increased demand at both ends represents a huge logistical exercise, which Gizzy Kai Rescue is unable to meet in their current model. They have secured funding through ECT to hire a Fulltime Manager for the next three years - someone who can help take the organisation to the next level. The Friday I was in at the GKR premises all of the volunteers in that day had been involved in GKR from the start. I was struck by the energy, laughter and enthusiasm that filled the space and floated out onto the street. Michele spoke of our “really giving community” which has enabled Gizzy Kai Rescue to be the success it is, as the volunteers themselves were all quick to speak about how their involvement with GKR actually feeds them. Carol Proudfoot who also volunteers at other local charities explained “I’m widowed now and I have no intention of sitting at home feeling sorry for myself. You meet all sorts of people..I think [GKR] is a bloody good thing and there must be a hang of a lot of people out there who need this.” Anne on the other hand, had gone out and got a casual paid job when she returned to Gisborne from Tauranga but hadn’t got any satisfaction from it “so I thought ‘stuff it, I’m going to resign and I’m going to do voluntary work’ and I love it. I feel, yeah..I’ve done something good, you know..” Anne is another prolific volunteer. Times are changing. France for example have brought in laws making it is illegal for supermarkets to dump food. But for now, Gizzy Kai Rescue are fulfilling a priceless gap, which benefits both our people and our environment.

It was a sunny day when I drove up the Cook Hospital Hill, and quite surreal to see the difference in the landscape from when I had worked as a shorthand typist at the Cook Hospital in the 1980s. Here in Tairāwhiti, we have some of the most beautiful botanical gardens and arboretums in the country. I was stoked to be checking out one of the less known Tūranga gardens with Ray Gowland to learn more about this grassroots community project. The gardens are in a 1.85 hectare Council reserve close to where the old Cook Hospital had overlooked the city. You can access the tranquil little valley from either Diana Avenue at the top of Hospital Hill or Valley Road, opposite The Farmyard, in Mangapapa. It was interesting to note while I was digging around historical documents that the main hospital in the late 1800s had been in Aberdeen Road. The new hospital was built on the hill because new premises were needed for the increasing numbers of sick people with “Gisborne fever” and epidemics of typhoid, diphtheria, and influenza. Very relatable as we experience our own Covid-19 pandemic! The hospital was built on what had previously been farmland, at the top of the hill where the water reservoirs now stand and was opened in 1914. By the 1980s, the time had come to modernise again, but due to land movement, a new hospital facility was built in Ormond Road, opening in 1985. It was noted at the opening of the current Gisborne Hospital that there was no longer any need to have typhoid or tuberculosis wards. The old hospital was demolished in 1988 and residential housing popped up in the 1990s and 2000s. Ray Gowland recalls it was the Turanga Lions Club’s idea to create a “small Eastwoodhill” close to the city. Lions Club members began the garden project in 2001, and despite the club closing in 2011, Ray stayed on as Project Convenor to develop the gardens. The site had been left untouched for some time, so it took a massive effort to get it under control. “It was just a steep cliff. A complete jungle covered in honeysuckle and weeds. A dumping ground for rubbish and machinery. We put up fences and walls. Cleared it. And planted the full gambit of native trees, Rewarewa, Kauri, Manuka along with Rhododendrons, Camellias and other flowers. There’s an underground bunker, but we never found it.” Volunteers have been helping Ray with the mahi - developing, improving, and extending the gardens ever since. In addition to thousands of volunteer hours, donations from the Turanga Lions Club, Williams Family Trust and Gisborne District Council have contributed to the project. The Council staff and contractors continue to provide support with plants and advice. At the moment, four volunteers meet every Friday morning for three hours of weeding, planting, maintenance, some good banter and a cuppa. Two of them, Martin Cox and Graeme Miller, share similar stories as retirees wanting to give back to the land and the community. The camaraderie and putting the world right are top of their minds most days. Martin has been helping for eight years and Graeme, two. Martin asks anyone sitting at home, retired or at a loose end, not to be shy to lend a hand. He likes to meet and talk to people from different walks of life and have a bit of a laugh. While Graeme is a keen gardener, he also got involved to meet people and keep up his fitness, “It’s a big job with only the four of us.” Ray, Martin, Graeme and the other stalwart of support for the gardens, Gail Wadham, are doing awesome work. They are achieving lots for Papatūānuku and for the nature she provides. Like many other voluntary projects, there is more work than they can handle. We highly recommend you take your whānau to check this lovely little corner of Tūranganui-a-Kiwa out. They are peaceful and easy walking with heaps of different tracks for the kids to explore. Afternoons in the gardens are especially lovely with the golden sun filtering through the tall gums. If you’re interested in lending these guys a hand, or for any further information, you can contact Ray Gowland on rayandleonie@gmail.com or follow Turanga Gardens on Facebook. Story by Sandra Groves

Rangi Haraki wakes up at 4am every morning to walk his team of dogs. Retired from farming, his body clock is still set for work hours and he’s having to rehome his working dogs one by one. He says it’s been hard to let them go. Ko Ngati Porou tona iwi. Ko Materoa raua ko Hauiti tona tupuna. Rangi grew up in Matawai. He worked on many farms, from Waikaremoana to Tokata and many places in between. He met his darling Kerry, a shearing rousey, at Bartletts. Two cultures perfectly collided and the result was a long and happy partnership of 50 years and 2 children. Kerry grew up in an Irish Catholic community near Sydney. As Tauiwi immersing herself in te ao Māori Kerry says there were no real issues. Rangi’s whānau were welcoming, although he did get a bit of a ribbing about his new girlfriend down at the pa. Kerry is a vivacious 74 year old who speaks te reo, but she tells me she is still learning, she never stops learning. Decolonisation is important to her. That includes decolonisation of land and language and she is currently learning Irish Gaelic, a language which was once almost extinct. There are parallels between cultures she says, both te reo and Irish Gaelic are having a resurgence through a concerted effort to preserve them. Both cultures suffered the intergenerational trauma of colonisation and the more Kerry learns about her whakapapa the more similarity she finds. The English used the Irish as prototype for colonisation, she says. They took land, prohibited use of language, denied education, music and religion. The Harakis invite us in for a mean boil up. The wood stove is warm with a homey hint of smokiness. The walls boast an eclectic collection of art alongside framed photos of tipuna and whānau. Kerry has picked fresh produce from her impressive vege garden, and it has to be said, it was the best cabbage I’ve ever eaten. They live on a 84 Hectare block of land, near Ihungia station where they both once worked. The Haraki’s property, Mangara, is an oasis amongst the pine forests. They give us a tour of the old Ihungia Station and I sense the ghosts of a once thriving community. Ihungia sits at the edge of the Ihungia river beneath an old pa site, Titi o Kura, which is now called by a pākeha name, and given a forestry number. Even the names are colonised, swallowing the history of the land. A dilapidated shearing shed and cook house stand against a backdrop of monotonous pine. It smothers the land as far as the eye can see. Once again I feel downhearted about the damage done by the forestry industry and the death of biodiversity. Kerry says, there’s a name for that sadness. It’s called ecological trauma and we are all feeling it. There is a patch of remnant native forest on the couple’s land. It’s protected by a rahui and it is a haven for diverse species of native flora and fauna. Rangi and Kerry and other community members have planted some of their property with native seedlings to try and replicate natural native forest. The seedlings look like David against the Goliath of pine forestry. Pine plantations began here in the ‘90s, with great sums being offered to landowners with promises of returns for the community, but quite the opposite happened. Ihungia station died almost overnight, and the people living here moved away. Ihungia school closed in 1996. Rangi and Kerry were able to purchase part of Ihungia station when it was subdivided for sale. They are dedicated to restoring native biodiversity at their own expense, and are in the throes of removing giant eucalyptus trees to give the native undergrowth a chance to thrive. It also allows the sun to hit their new solar panels, as they work toward complete self sufficiency. They hire a local arborist to take the eucalyptus trees down at their own cost, and it’s pricey, says Rangi, so they have to do it one tree at a time. And I thought that was profound, because that’s all any of us can do. Heal the whenua one tree at a time. Come back and stay anytime, they said as they loaded us up with gifts of fresh produce and waved us off. Once again I was struck by the unbeatable generosity of spirit among the people of the East Coast, even when so much has been lost. Story by Aimee Vickers Photos by Owen Vickers

The op shops are often top of mind when it comes to secondhand scores, but there are also gems galore at Jazzy Manerva, a consignment shop on the corner of Harris Street and Wainui Road. Owned and operated by Sarah Buckley, Jazzy Manerva provides you an opportunity to clean out your wardrobe and make some cash selling your clothes at the shop, and houses a stunning collection where you can spend that cash on something you really love. Sarah believes we can make a conscious impact without completely denying ourselves. “I’m someone that likes a bit of both. I wear mostly secondhand…if I buy something new, I’m going to buy something that is really special and great quality that I will wear for years and not just a season.” After 11 years working in retail as a stylist and window dresser in Wellington, Sarah understands the appeal of a lovely and fresh atmosphere. She ensures that all the items she sells are clean, pressed, and “good to go.” You could purchase a dress off the rack and wear it out the same night. The shop opened just after the first lockdown in 2020, but started with a stall at Up Market, with pieces Sarah had brought in from Wellington. That initial pop up went so well that she realised the consignment model would work well in Gizzy. It continues to surprise and delight her that many items people bring in still have the tags on. “We all have things in our wardrobe that we don’t wear any more or that make us feel a little guilty - we’ve all made bad purchases. But someone else may love it!” Sarah advises that if you haven’t worn something in a year (and it’s not a memento), it’s probably time to pass it on. You can take your items to Jazzy Manerva and Sarah will have a look through, handpick what she thinks will sell, and work with you to determine a price. The process is best streamlined when the items are brought in fresh and clean. Because sale proceeds are split between her and the clothing owner, she always aims for the best price. At the moment Sarah is accepting Autumn and Winter clothing to sell, but she also always keeps a stock of warm weather “resort” items for people going on holiday. As a shopper, you get all the fun of a treasure hunt with the assurance that someone with an eye for style has curated the stock. Sarah sees it time and again, “someone else’s mistake can be another person’s treasure!” And how good to give a unique piece another life, rather than simply buying something new. Jazzy Manerva is open Thursday, Friday and Saturday 10-4. Sarah also does an occasional pop up at markets. Follow @jazzymanerva on Instagram to stay in the know. Words by Victoria Williams Photographs by Tom Teutenberg

The Pohutakawa trees planted along the gravel road stand out against an otherwise desolate landscape. They are the footprints of Graeme Atkins, who put the seedlings in the ground twenty three years ago. Like lights on a runway, the trees guide us to Pokai marae in Ruatorea. Beautifully kept, the Marae boasts a chef worthy kitchen. It's good for hosting politicians, says Graeme. They've had a lot of those lately, here to discuss the same overarching theme. Forestry slash and climate change. The many faces of colonisation are threatening Ngati Porou way of life and the heartbeat of the whenua itself is in danger of being extinguished. Of Ngati Porou descent, Graeme has three grown children and lives near the marae with his wife, Makere, a paramedic in Ruatorea. Graeme worked for the Department of Conservation in this rohe for decades and knows the Raukumara ranges like the back of his hand. He now works for his iwi leading the Raukumara Restoration project and has been instrumental in the fight to save the Raukumara forest and its unique flora from extinction. Graeme shows me a fresh Pohutakawa shoot and points to a furry looking yellow patch on the stalk. "That's myrtle rust... it’s killing this tree" he explains. An import from Australia, similar to the Cordyceps fungus in the TV show ‘The Last of Us,’ this fungus spreads quickly and there is no cure. Once rust infects a tree it infects the surrounding trees and kills them slowly over years. When Graeme tells me that one rust spore can travel thousands of kilometres on the wind, the gravity of the situation almost makes my knees buckle. The realisation that the mighty Pohutakawa, New Zealand Christmas tree, symbol of hot summers and BBQs at the beach, is heading for extinction, is heavy. Nobody knows exactly what to do about it. Graeme tells me that scientists and citizens alike are experimenting with different fungicides and natural concoctions to find a cure, but it has not been found yet. It went from knee buckling to fall on the knees despair when Graeme took me to Tikapa beach. I wondered if I could ever put into words the sight of forestry slash, smothering the land and choking the sea. It's hard to convey. Graeme and Makere documented finding generations of crayfish and paua, from babies to granddaddies that lay dying amongst the slash, wiped out in one storm. And we know there’ll be more storms. I can only describe this as an ecological genocide. Death by forestry, and climate change. This is not the uplifting story I came here for, but I’d be doing a disservice if I didn’t report on how dire the situation is. Thankfully, Graeme turned my despair into something more hopeful when he took us to his whare for a cup of tea and a walk around his garden. Graeme is warm, approachable and intelligent, with an unmatched knowledge and passion for te taiao. His garden is full of interesting and rare native plants, some on the brink of extinction. He’s particularly proud of the masses of healthy Kakabeak bushes growing all through his property. Endangered in the wild, they are notoriously difficult to grow. Pests love them, but his are thriving. He goes out at night with a pair of scissors and deals to most of the slugs and snails, but he’s not averse to using snail bait if necessary. Anything to protect the taonga. As we walk I notice a ground cover I’ve never seen before, for good reason. It only grows at Graeme’s house. It’s otherwise extinct as far as we know, Graeme says as he shows me a book about extinct and endangered NZ native plants and turns to a page with the groundcover. On the map of NZ he points to one tiny red dot on the most eastern coast of Te Ika a Maui. “That’s me.” He says without any pretentiousness, “I found it here.” Apart from the spot he found it, Graeme’s whare in Ruatorea is the only place on earth the plant grows. Graeme found the species and reported the finding to a botanist (he knows a few), who identified it as Mazus novaezeelandiae subspecies impolitus forma hirtus, once considered extinct. Graeme has an incredible eye for spotting difference amongst the sameness of the forest. He recently found a seed pod he had never seen before and sent photos to a botanist friend. Even the botanist had not seen it before, so it may be an undiscovered species, and is now going through an official identification process. By the time I leave with a pocket full of seeds, a small section of the aforementioned groundcover, and a rare native iris, I feel more optimistic knowing there are people like Graeme in the world, not only for his Kaitaikitanga but for his willingness to share his knowledge, to educate others. As we drive back through the Pohutakawa lined roads, locals smile and give us a quick wave. I see resilience and graciousness. They are still smiling after everything, like Graeme, as much a taonga as the land itself. In fact it’s hard to separate the man from the land. You can see him in the trees. I left with a determination to plant the seeds and guard them with my life. Graeme Atkins may be an environmental hero, but he can’t do it alone. Story by Aimee Vickers Photographs by Owen Vickers

I have always dreamed of living in a house truck or bus. From the age of six to ten, my mum, sister and I, along with our cat and dog, lived in an old 1949 Ford bus. It didn’t drive much anymore, and it was parked in an old cow shed on my mum's friend’s land. I loved our time there, and ever since, I have dreamed of going back to a home like that. I feel comfortable in a small space. I dabbled in house truck living for a couple of years when my older daughter (now 21) was 8. We rented an old house bus that was built into a hillside on those same friends’ land. The rest of my life, I have moved from rental to rental, never staying in one place for more than 2-3 years at a time. Until 2020. My oldest daughter was 18, we were renting a little house we loved, and I was expecting a new baby. When the pandemic hit, we lost our house as the landlord wanted to move back in. I came out of that house, paying $230 a week rent into a market in which a house cost $600 per week and I was about to go on maternity leave. Even if I’d had the money, which I didn't, I couldn't find a house to rent. There were just not enough houses for the amount of people searching. For the first time in my life as a renter, I was shut out of the market. So I removed myself from it. I took out a loan, while I still had a full income and they would still give me one, and went looking for a home online. I fell in love with my beautiful truck through photos, unable to see it in person due to travel restrictions and lockdowns. I took a leap of faith. Having just done 18 years of parenting, and looking towards the next 18, I thought I'd do something for me. I wanted to stop talking about it and make my ‘one day’ happen now. As a low income earner, home ownership was financially out of reach for me but I wanted to have something of my own. You could say I'm living my dream. Or you could say I’m creatively avoiding homelessness. Passionfruit is a humble little truck. She was cheap and came with a very basic set up. But I saw a blank canvas that I could make my own and call home. I wanted to provide a stable home for my youngest daughter (now 2 and a half), that could come with us whenever we had to move. I moved in with mum for a while to have my baby, and we have been living in it permanently since she was one. My whole set up is removable and lifts up. I attach nothing to the ground so I can up and move to the next bit of land when I need to. I am now a renter of land, and my home can come with me. I have just started to create a potted garden, so now I can take that with me too. I have everything I need. At a very basic level. Water and power have been the biggest challenges. Hard to live without either of them, obviously. Initially my truck's power source were the batteries which run the engine. While this worked for a while, the batteries eventually wore out and I wanted to separate the house power from the engine batteries, to preserve them. After researching how to set up solar panels, I worked it out. I was lucky to score a free deep cycle battery, and some cheap second hand solar panels. Along with a battery box/cover that allows you to plug USB into the battery, and a bit of help from a friend to connect them together and put them on my roof, I was away. Not having any appliances, it's a perfect set up. All I need to do is charge my devices, and some USB lights. You very quickly realise what you don't need with this lifestyle, and appliances were the first to go. I do miss having a blender though, so a USB rechargeable blender is next on my wishlist. The composting toilet system is a work in progress and I am trialling my first system now. While the concept of composting toileting waste is hard for people to get their heads around, I think it's all mind over matter. We currently have an “if you can't see it, it doesn't exist” attitude when it comes to our waste. I liken it to putting rubbish out on the kerbside. It goes in the plastic bag to be taken away by the truck and that's it. Like magic, it seemingly doesn't exist anymore. When we see the dump with our own eyes we know this isn't true. It’s the same with toilets. Flush it away and it's gone. Easy! I find it strange that people are okay with mixing our waste with chemicals and pumping it into the ocean, or the issues around waste flooding homes when there’s a lot of rain, but can’t get their head around our waste turning back into soil that's good for the earth. Initially I bought my truck because I wanted a home to call my own, but more and more it has become about living consciously and sustainably, with the earth, and off the grid. I have always been a subtle environmentalist, but living like this has allowed the passion to really take flight in me. I want my life and home to have as little impact on the earth as possible. And I'm getting there. If I had 10 times more money, I would reach my off grid dream more quickly. But as it is, I am slowly creating it piece by piece, as finances, energy and abilities allow. I'm not in a hurry, and there's a certain pride that comes with creating this life from scratch. My life is lived on a blurred line somewhere between camping and glamping. It's not quite glamorous, but not quite roughing it. It is by no means perfect or easy. Everything I do involves at least one extra step. Instead of filling the jug from the tap and putting the kettle on, I fill the kettle from a container of collected and filtered water, and then put the kettle on. Instead of turning on the shower, I switch my gas bottle over, connect the submersible pump, and then have a shower. Maybe eventually I will have those extra steps eliminated while still being off grid. But I kinda like working to live. Everything is that wee bit more satisfying when you've worked for it. I wouldn't change it for the world. Building and creating my own home, and holding myself to account for its footprint on the earth, is worth the extra effort. Words by Emma Photographs by Thomas Teutenberg

"I've never seen any life transformation that didn't begin with the person in question finally getting tired of their own bullshit." - Elizabeth Gilbert. I know I'm not the only one who gives an exasperated eye roll when I hear climate change denial in our news, social media and corporate advertising. Not always an outright brazen dismissal but a minimisation of the problem and the urgency needed to address it. We know it's real. We’ve been warned by climate scientists for decades. We didn't need Cyclone Gabrielle to prove the point but she ripped through anyway and we can only hope that the damage she left will convince naysayers to not only accept the forecast, but to take action. To change their mind-set to one where money isn’t the bottom line. An mind-set which values the earth and it’s animals, bugs, plants and microorganisms as something more precious, because without them we are nothing. The earth is forced to put up with our shit. But we can choose. Choose to go without, sometimes. We can choose not to have a manicured colonial lawn and to build a habitat for insects instead. We can choose to have meat free days or to buy second-hand furniture and clothing. To stop spending more and wanting more. As I killed my lawn I decided that I had no control over the government, the council, my neighbours or my family. I don’t have control over corporate polluters and befouling bureaucrats, but, I do have authority over myself and my own small piece of earth, (a privilege for some that should be a right for all). Under the circumstances it seems like a good time to stop taking up so much space and to plant more trees, and food. I mean, in a perfect world we'd have more to share while the land has a chance to regenerate, right? Communism! I hear you shout. You're dangerously close to communism! I know. It's too simple an ideological concept, but it's a drift I’m compelled to follow and the only one that makes any sense. I'm not going full commie here. I’m simply presenting a planet-over-money mind-set, and it's more of an ethos than a political stance. This was one of the reasons I grew a native forest in my front yard. Every time I heard of another animal declared extinct I felt a small grief, a brief hatred for humanity, including myself for being part of the destruction. I know hatred is a strong word to put to a feeling but at that point I needed to feel extreme emotions to flick the switch and stop fucking around. To start walking the talk. I got tired of my own bullshit and planted the damn trees. Of course people made fun and good-naturedly joked that I was 'bloody hippy.' And given the headline in the Gisborne Herald about my front yard forest, 'Bringing back the bush," it warranted jokes. To be fair it was a catchy title, and I was glad to share my story in the hopes of encouraging others to do the same. You stop caring about what people think when you hit middle age. There are more important things to be concerned with and I was committed to changing the way I live to help mitigate climate change, to feel I had some sense of control. And this brings me to the other, more personal reason I grew a forest. I'd lost control of my life. I was freshly and happily married, and my teenager was living his best life overseas. Middle-age brought with it a creative liberation and planting a micro forest was an extension of that. I romanticised the forest, and imagined myself writing a book or playing the ukulele there, amongst the shaded pathways of full grown trees, with fantails flitting around me while I write and drink Kawakawa tea. But, just as the trees were fresh in the ground I fell ill, and it was a long way to fall. Every time I thought I couldn't possibly plummet any further I’d land in another layer of discomfort and squall like a bird fighting to fly in a storm. I clung to each new diagnosis or medication like it was the fix, but I didn’t get better. Each new symptom or side effect knocked me off my temporary perch with a gust. I fell into a world of hazy pain and isolation. I spent the better part of a year in bed, gazing at a wall and wondering why I was even here anymore. I could contribute nothing. My brain function was impaired and I could barely walk with pain in my feet, ankles, knees, shoulders and hips. I was exhausted ALL the time. A dead-on-the-inside kind of fatigue. Blank. No electrical activity. I left the trees to their own devices, I had worse things to fret over. With only one income coming in how were we going to get through? Would we have to sell our house to survive? Being trapped in my own body with my survival instinct on high alert I was thrust into another YouTube algorithm. Suggested videos included food forests, tiny homes, and how to raise chooks. I was a captive audience to video after video showing people living happy and sustainable lives. People who’d gone against the capitalistic conditioning of ‘more is better’, or social conditioning which made them feel they weren’t good enough if they weren’t contributing to society by working themselves into an early grave. I began to see possibility where I’d once seen ruination. ‘I think we need to prepare.” I said to my husband. “If I can’t contribute financially maybe I could grow our food?” “As long as you don’t push yourself too much.” He shrugged. “I want you to get better.” He knows me well, and he’s great, but it took a little longer to get him to agree to the chickens. Nevertheless, we were soon enjoying tasty frittatas with potatoes and eggs from our own garden. I gave my husband directions from the couch and he made the chicken coop out of an old pellets and recycled materials. He also made a cute little potting shed out of pellets and an old window off the side of the road. So now I can grow my own vegetables from seed! Not only had our personal circumstances changed but the world had deteriorated in a short time. Coastal erosion, famine, war, floods, fires, pandemics. Food has become less affordable and interest rates have increased. We underwent the psychological process of letting go. We let go of our dream house on the beach and a trip to Italy. Instead, we looked at what we could cut from our budget. We were more conscious when buying groceries and using power. I couldn’t leave the house much so that saved petrol and we reduced expenditure wherever we could. I started building up my seed collection and taking free cuttings and seeds from friends. Fruit trees, fruit vines, fruit bushes, berries, vegetables, herbs, pollinators. Out of necessity I use a no dig method so I don’t have to expend energy, but it is also a wonderful way to allow the microbiome of the soil to remain healthy, and layers of compost are added after each harvest. On my ‘good' days I laid mulch (chucked down pea straw on cardboard. Super easy). I planted food amongst the native forest. I planted bananas, apples, nectarines, peaches, grapes, avocado, passionfruit and more. On my bad days I used a wooden stake to hoist myself on to a pillow for my knees and crawled around the garden pulling weeds. It took me three days to do a 30 minute job. I couldn't bend too far down, or lean too long. I struggled for breath and dripped with sweat. Legs like concrete. But, at the expense of the dirty dishes in the sink, I was outside, not staring at a wall and that helped me get through. I’m not dead yet, I’d say to myself. My front yard forest embraced me as I grieved the loss of function. As long as I could still tend my garden I could still be happy, I thought. On the days I couldn’t get out of bed I worried that I might lose that too. So, when I could, I kept moving, even if it was just a crawl. By now I’d watched so many permaculture videos that I stopped using sprays and started making my own compost, we saved money on green waste as well. In fact, all waste is reduced now that we’ve developed a system. Food scraps go to the chooks and I’m much better at recycling. I’m not the one who looks at an empty tin of tomatoes and throws it in the bin because I’m too busy and can’t be bothered to wash it out. No. That’s not me anymore. And, I’m more likely to have grown and preserved my own tomatoes too. In between these minute bursts of energy, there were days I could do nothing but sit in the fledgling food forest and watch it grow. The chooks and the fantails kept me company. It’s a nice scene from where you’re standing, but on the inside I was freaking out. The realisation that I may never recover...and what if something happened to my husband who was suddenly thrust into the role of sole provider. I went into a fight/flight response at the thought that I was losing my independence. I am not comfortable being dependent on anyone. I started obsessing over ‘what if’ scenarios. By this stage I was on a new medication and my condition had improved somewhat but I'd come to accept that I was never going to be 100%. So, once more, I went big. I began prepping for a zombie apocalypse. For all my ‘just in case’ scenarios. I can’t explain what was going through my head at the time but before I knew it I’d built a composting toilet and outdoor solar shower. My husband thought I might be taking things too far. “Do you want to be the one to christen the new toilet?” I offered proudly. “No thank you.” Came a quick reply. “I'm telling you now, I wouldn’t even shit on that in a category 5 Cyclone.” I gave him a knowing nod. We also had an old rainwater tank in our backyard. It was an eyesore and we’d been meaning to take it to the dump. However, in prepping spirit I changed my mind and kept it in case of drought so I could still water the garden. As it turned out, we needed it for something more vital. Our own survival. And my poor husband faced the mind- bending prospect of ‘shitting in a bucket.’ Cyclone Gabrielle arrived fast and hard. The first night was the worst. We brought all the animals inside and staked the trees. It was like a farmyard inside while a frighteningly strong wind ripped up the trees and strew the debris all over the yard. It rained so intensely that we woke up to a moat around our house. It was surface flooding, but we didn’t know how bad it had been in vulnerable places. We had no way to communicate with loved ones. Our town had no power, no landline phones, no internet. The local radio station was the only source of information and it was the only thing I DIDN’T have in my emergency pack. A transistor radio. (Note to self). Gisborne was completely cut off as bridges and roads washed away. A state of emergency was declared. We drove to check on family but we had to wait a whole week to let my son know we were OK. As news started to trickle down the grapevine we learned that people had been killed in flood waters and whole townships were under water. Some people had lost everything. Food and petrol trucks couldn’t get in and EFTPOS wasn’t working so we could only buy food if we had cash. And if that wasn’t devastating enough, then came the emergency alert to stop using water immediately, the main water pipe had been damaged in the storm. It was in that dreadful but selfishly glorious moment that I realised that I’d been contributing all along. I’ve gotchu whānau… A full tank of rainwater, a solar shower, a composting toilet and a full gas cylinder. Eggs and vegetables (the ones that survived). We not only had what we needed to survive, we had enough to share and were able to offer our help to other people who had lost much more than us. As this town recovers and settles back into a normality we know won’t last, I think it’s time to re-evaluate what we consider normal. Although I was forced by circumstance to give up my job and live more sustainably, my husband and I decided as a team that even if I get 100% better I will not go back to work in the capitalistic sense, because, actually, this is a really nice way to live. It’s gentler. We have proved to ourselves we can not just survive, but thrive on only one income. There is a sense of security in having one member of the team at home growing and cooking food, fresh from the garden, cleaning, (my least favourite), preserving food and keeping animals, all of which save money in the long run. I’m certainly no trad-wife and neither of us subscribe to gender roles but it naturally worked out that way, and for the first time in a long time I feel like my contribution matters. I’m healing my own small piece of earth, from a lifeless lawn to a productive, abundant, urban food forest. You never know what extreme event climate change is going to bring so I’m preparing for any scenario. My next project is to build a glasshouse with raised garden beds. I have been collecting old windows that have thrown out and learning more about home food production. I would like to keep bees. You’ll be pleased to know that almost all of the native seedlings survived the cyclone, and my front yard forest just keeps growing. Story by Aimee Vickers Photographs by Tom Teutenberg.

Izzy Te Rauna is here to help us with our pile… You know the one? That slippery stack of sewing jobs. The dress that needs its hem adjusted. The bung zip. The top you found at the oppy that just needs a little sumthin’ to make it actually work for you. That pile of clothing that often sits growing, (taunting you) in a corner for months on end, waiting impatiently for you to find the time or motivation to attend to it. That same pile that we may just end up giving up on and dropping off at the op shop to free ourselves from the guilt of never getting around to it… Lucky then for Izzy and her Upstyle Your Wardrobe Night Classes at EIT. These classes run for four evenings a week for four weeks, from 5 - 8:30pm and they provide the perfect opportunity for you to tend to your ‘pile.’ “I’ll help you figure out how to put it all together and how to pull it off”. Izzy is on hand to help you with the technical side of things, she’ll help you navigate your planning and cutting processes and find your way around the sewing machines. She is clearly in her element in EIT’s Design space. A Toihoukura graduate who got her post-graduate Diploma in teaching from Waikato University, she identifies her strongest suit as problem solving and loves these classes for the stuff that happens when people create together. “It’s more than I ever expected, I love it”. After spending so much of her life in trackies and oversized hoodies, at this point in her life Izzy is all about “dressing the way I want to be treated”. She loves being creative and wearing clothes that make her feel good. “They’re a sort of armour” she muses and she acknowledges that she is prone to dressing as if she’s off to some fabulous cocktail event. Many of the sewing projects brought to the classes involve adjustments to make garments feel more flattering or comfortable for the wearer. And while Izzy’s starting point will often be some fairly eclectic and out of the box suggestions, the problem solving process is often a collaborative one amongst all the students. “You never know what skills are going to be in the room” she notes, and there have been some fabulous outcomes. These are ACE courses (Adult Community Education), which are all about people introducing new ideas to, and upskilling our community. The ACE coordinator Bridget French Hall says she is always on the lookout for facilitators amongst our community who are keen to share their knowledge and skills. If you’d like to find out more about other ACE courses on offer, or chat about facilitating a class yourself, contact Bridget on bfrenchhall@eit.ac.nz. The next Upstyle Your Wardrobe course starts on May 1. It runs 5:30pm-8:30pm, four nights a week for four weeks. You pick which days you're able to attend! You can book here: https://www.trybooking.co.nz/NIW Photo by Tom Teutenberg Words Sarah Cleave