Massive Magazine Volume 3 Issue 2 by Massive Magazine

THE VOICE OF MASSEY UNIVERSITY STUDENTS: ISSUE 02/ 2014

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Contents

Editorial & Letters

In Short

Local Pages

“Deserved to be Raped”

The Carpet Saviours of Sarjah

Generation, Like, Y?

Visual Feature: New York State of Mind

On The Road

Rock Enrol into the Election

Health

Homage to the Baked Good

Representative Chic

Reviews

Crossword

ACTING EDITOR

Scarlet Bloom editor@massivemagazine.org.nz 0800 MASSEY ext. 62136 ART DIRECTION FOR PRINT

Sean Walker seanvictorwalker@gmail.com 0800 MASSEY ext. 62064 ADVERTISING & SPONSORSHIP

James Collings admin@mawsa.org.nz 04 801 5799 ext. 62060 LOCAL CAMPUS REPORTERS

Albany – Julia Braybrook josh@massivemagazine.org.nz Manawatu/Extramural – Rachel Purdie rachel@massivemagazine.org.nz Wellington – Scarlet Bloom editor@massivemagazine.org.nz CONTRIBUTORS

Steve Ratté, Rebecca Paulson, Michael Botour, Olivia Atkinson, Julia Braybrook, David Stevens Lauren Crimp, Isabella Van Heusden, Josh Berry, Sarah Kilner, Miriam Schroeter, David Stevens, Rachel Purdie, Liz Chandler, Daniel Austin

ISSUE 02/ 2014: SCARLET BLOOM E d i to r i a l

Hi MASSIVE Readers, While Morgan is gallivanting across Europe, I have had the absolute pleasure to edit, nay “compile”, this edition of MASSIVE. And it is wonderful to be back. There have been a few hiccups with the introduction of the MASSIVE website but morale is high and irrespective of funding (or having employed anyone with the nouse to successfully format the website) we shall triumph! But, perhaps that is the People’s coffee speaking. Or hysteria? Perhaps both. Enough of the jibba jabba. This issue, MASSIVE takes an adventurous and slightly chaotic look at all things wonderful. From the fashion follies of our parliamentarians to “in-depth” interviews with man of the moment, Cori Gonzalez-Macuer. Whether you like hipster reviews, irony (generally), international relations or talking about the seriousness of rape culture, then this edition is for you. We’ve a little bit of everything. (Let’s hope the crossword arrived in time,

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Sarah Kilner COVER ILLUSTRATION

Brodie Nel Publisher

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Disclaimer: The views, beliefs and opinions reflected in the pages in MASSIVE magazine do not necessarily represent those of Massey University, its staff, Albany Students’ Association (ASA), Massey University Students’ Association (MUSA), Massey at Wellington Students’ Association (MAWSA), Extramural Students’ Society (EXMSS) or the MASSIVE editor.

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Come get some Free stuff facebook.com/MASSIVE.magazine Twitter: @massivemagnz

ah fuq). Well, everything that I like, so we might as well call this the Scarlet Bloom edition. I don’t do sport, unfortunately. Instead, audaciousness, self promotion and ridiculousness is the name of this game. As an aside, I wish to thank Manawatu reporter, Rachel Purdie, and Albany reporter, Julia Braybrook, who acted with great patience following my many temper tantrums over facebook. I now know I should never be in a position of power. If only the same could be said for MOST POLITICIANS GENERALLY. But, I digress… To conclude, I wish you all the best for next semester and hope that while you bear the nasty brunt of winter you at least source some heat from your latest Tinder catch. Forever indebted to Morgan cos she’s probs gonna kill me, but hey, YOLO, Scarlet Bloom

LETTERS

Dear Massive, Where art thou? You are tragically and sorely missed. I miss the heathen ways of the guru and lest we forget that hateful human being, Dick Hardy. I am still coming to grips with why you are no longer in print? Funding? Surely student media is the only thing keeping big bad tertiary institutions honest! Where to from here? Forever yours, Julia Dear Guru, I see that you are now residing with your belle in Australia. I’ve been watching you for a while now. Were you forced to relocate because the wrath of Wellington city got you down? Did too many people know of your true identity and thus your exploits? How did your girlfriend feel about you documenting your sexual experiments? Did she ever know? Do her parents know? Surely she would’ve hated it. Tell us more. We want you back. In and around our faces. Cheers, Wanting to be your girlfriend.

Dear New Massive Website, Um, you suck. Employ a designer pronto. From, The blatant obvious. Dear the LACK of IT guys on Campus, So, I was having internet troubles over the holidays. Seriously, I’m like the monkey guys off of Zoolander who believe the literal files are IN the computer. So, I went to the Albany campus on a Saturday and asked for help. One arrogant guy was like, “read the form”. Ummmmmmmmm. I did already. I need help. I bet Otago University doesn’t have this lack of support. Yours faithfully, Pissed off Paula Hi Massive, If I say you are the most glorious, funny, witty magazine in the country will I get a free bag of coffee? NEED COFFEE. COFFEE. COFFEE. COFFEE. COFFEE. Sarah

Dear Morgan, Blogging and Massive is the new black. Just look at Stuff. People heart dat shit. You’ll be right. We still love you. Salient sux. It’s like, they can’t even manage to have one editor, they need two. Weird. Churr. Sam

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RT O H S N I MA S S I VE

Purchasing textbooks: a biannual kick in the guts L au r e n C r i m p

Selling a vital organ on the black market is the reality some students have had to face in their attempts to raise funds for university textbooks. Well, no, not really. But when you leave Bennett’s with your heart pounding with a sense of relief that your Eftpos card accepted you know something is not quite right. That’s when we begin to ask ourselves – are textbooks really worth the hefty sum we pay for them? Will we even open them? No matter how much we budget, scrimp and save for university, there is no question that it is an expensive few years of our lives – and just when you thought you’d got everything covered, another hidden cost of study rears its ugly head and remains your nemesis: twice a year, every year. As much as we would like to spend our $1000 course related costs on a new tattoo or a trip to the Gold Coast, the fact is that after the textbook blues, we are lucky if we have enough left to buy a K bar at your local dairy. So why do we do it? Because we don’t have a choice;

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without textbooks (at least, the helpful ones that truly are “compulsory”), we risk bad grades or failure. Rebecca, a fellow Communications student, says she paid $130 for a textbook early this year only to find on the first day of class her lecturer nonchalantly said, “the book’s useless, and I’m changing it next year anyway”. Which brings me to another point, the possibility of on selling textbooks after the semester – be it privately or through Bennett’s, Book Goblin or TradeMe – means we may be able to get at least some return on what was possibly a useless investment. However, it seems as soon as a new edition is released, it is instantly welcomed by academics who claim it is “vital” for students learning. Unfortunately for us, these “vital new editions” are largely unchanged, uninspiring, unhelpful and ultimately, poverty-inducing. There are, however, ways to avoid or minimise the ridiculous prices of resources and study material. Some of my friends and I, fortunate enough to have taken similar courses, have managed to circulate one textbook

between 10 - however this presumes you have the gusto to make friends. Surely introverted types are therefore disadvantaged, what a discriminatory notion! On the other hand, researching textbook prices can send flustered students flocking to the library, which can’t be a bad thing, right? The idea of borrowing a book for free suddenly becomes extremely appealing. Most of the compulsory or recommended texts lecturers set can be found on the shelf. Some of the popular ones are for short term loan only – that is, a few hours at a time – but this can still be helpful to have when you’re trying to boost out a last minute assignment and need extra references. So when you’re in the shop doing some quick sums and you realise you must drop your pile of books and make haste to the nearest exit to avoid embarrassment on payment, these ideas serve as a great contingency plan. “Education is priceless”, they say. “Debt is endless”, I say. And that, my dear chums, is the unfortunate reality that we face in choosing to be students – like it, lump it, or take the above advice and work your way around it.

CORY GONZALEZ-MACUER: OUT OF THE SHADOWS I S A B E L L A VAN H EU S D EN

Isabella Van Heusden managed to catch up with up and comer, Cori Gonzalez-Macuer before the Wellington premier of his new film, What We Do in the Shadows, a vampire mockumentary directed and produced by Taika Waititi and Jemaine Clement. Gonzalez-Macuer is a man of few words. But when he does speak, his deadpan wit and intelligent humor radiates. You can see why he was cast for the role of the human-turned-vampire, Nick, a 20-something Wellington hipster. How did you get involved in the film? We did a short film in 2005 with the same cast and [we were approached to make it] into a feature. [Meanwhile] Taika and Jermaine [were] way too busy, so it took a while for it to be made. Did the makers apply for funding? Everyone involved applied for funding through a competition type thing, but that didn’t happen. After a while, the guys themselves produced it out of their own pockets. Do you share any similarities with your character, Nick? Well, I’m not a vampire so that’s different. But I never saw a script for the movie. Ninety per cent of it was improvised. I guess in that sense we are similar.

Is that why the film did so well? Yeah, there was so much content to choose from. Each take was different. Taika and Jermaine would say, “this is what is happening in this scene, just go and see what happens,” – it was so good. We are all mainly comedians in the cast [as opposed to] actors, so I guess improvisation just works for us. Did you expect What We Do In the Shadows to receive such positive media attention? No way. I don’t think anyone expected to go to festivals, or get a general release here. It’s everywhere. What was the press tour like? It was awesome and so surreal. We went to Sundance [Festival], Los Angeles and Berlin. What were the parties and people like at these events? They were pretty cool. Everything was free. You were given stuff as well, like goodie bags with an Xbox. It was exciting to meet famous people; after a while you got used to it though. In Berlin we met Harry Styles from One Direction, he was the first guy I met there at a party. Is he as hot in real life? Yeah, he’s pretty good looking. A lot taller than I thought he would be.

How has this success affected you? People apparently like the film in the States so it will help me more when I get there to work. [Hopefully] it will give me a bit more work rather than being a struggling actor like everyone else. Where to from here? I don’t really know. I’m going to see if anything happens from the release of the film. Either way, I have got a visa to go to the States untill the end of December. So maybe I will be living in the States. Will you try to live off your craft? I will be doing comedy but I will try and look for a proper job. Like a car valet or something… How do you prepare for a comedy show? I can’t really sit down and think of funny things. I just sort of write them down when they come to me. Once I have accumulated enough [material then I’ll be ready to] have a show. How long did it take before you had enough material for your show, Hell Will Be Easier? It took me three years to get 45 minutes worth of new content (laughs).

I grew up in a town called Bury in England – close to Manchester. I lived there for thirteen years with my family. One album that I still love to this day is “City High” a selftitled album. I stole it off of my sister and used to listen to it almost every day. This album introduced me to Hip Hop & RnB. I was at high school at the time and a lot of the songs related to how school life was in England. Which contemporary artists do you look to for inspiration both here in NZ and overseas? At the moment Beyonce and Jhene Aiko are two main ones. In New Zealand I’d say David Dallas, Janine, The Mixtape, Raiza Biza and my partner Dylan aka “Dyslo”. He really pushes me to aim for the stars. It’s easy to think “oh no, they say it’s too hard so I’ll just find something else.” I believe if you have a passion and a talent for

something, you should go for it! People only say you can’t do something if they can’t do it themselves. In light of Lorde’s recent Grammy success, do you feel she has set the stage for other upcoming female artists to make a name for themselves? Yes. I think other countries will be looking at NZ music a lot more. She’s definitely set the bar! Have you been doing any live gigs of recent worth noting? Not recently, at the moment I’m focusing on getting songs recorded and finished. My goal is to release an album this year. I’m very busy, but I’ll definitely be doing more gigs soon. Note: Kelly Rose’s music can be found at : soundcloud.com/kellyrose92

SING LIKE NO-ONE’S LISTENING J o sh B e r r y Upcoming talent Kelly Rose is making noise in Auckland’s underground hip-hop scene. In the wake of numerous original releases and covers, Josh Berry caught up with Kelly to unearth her creative roots and ambitions. Rose, what inspired you to write and perform music? Ever since I can remember I’ve had a love for music. I love listening to songs because it’s basically listening to someone’s story. I want people to be able to relate to me and feel like they know me from listening to my music. It took me a good while to understand the songwriting process. I started off by writing to pre made songs, I still do this sometimes. I love feeding off the vibe of a song I’m feeling and putting it into my own words and melody. Where did you grow up and how did this influence your music taste and singing style?

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IVEMAGN

ALBANY LO C A L N OT I C E S

STUDENTS SHOW LECTURERS A WHOLE LOTY LOVE A recent Albany campus student market day was the scene of energetic voting as students rolled up to vote for their lecturer of the year. Organised by the Albany Students’ Association, students were invited to vote for the LOTY Lecturer of the Year (LOTY) to be finally tallied in October. The ASA LOTY stand boasted a number of display boards that included a photo montage of past winners and nominees as well as memorabilia from the award ceremonies over the years. At times during the day students were queued three deep in order to register their votes. ASA Advocacy coordinator Penny Lyall said that it was the first time they had a voting station where students could come to vote. Historically, LOTY relied on individually submitted paper votes or online voting. Lyall was overwhelmed at the response by students and was delighted to read and collate all of the positive comments submitted. The stand out moments of the day for her were the visits that were made to the stand by past LOTY winners and nominees, she said. “It was incredibly humbling to have so many teaching staff come to our stand and tell us that the LOTY awards are the highlight of their year. “They say that this is the one time they feel acknowledged and recognised for their teaching.” The presence of the LOTY nomination stand did not go unnoticed by visiting teaching staff from the other campuses. Lecturer of the year was about recognizing teaching excellence and supporting academic quality at the Massey Albany campus. Each year LOTY awarded trophies per college and to the overall winner. The winner was decided purely on a ‘first past the post” basis and voting was open until mid-October. Students could still nominate Lecturer of the Year on the ASA website. Students could nominate as many different teaching staff as they wished.

YOUR COMPUTER NEEDS A CUP OF COFFEE Two and a half hours into a lecture, caffeine levels decline, facebook fails to load, do you use your expensive phone data or desperately wait? A student is calling for better WiFi at the Albany campus, saying that it doesn’t compare to the WiFi at the University of Auckland. Journalism studies student Julia Braybrook said it felt like she had enough time to read all 5500 pages of War and Peace before her internet kicked in. “Even so, that thrill that comes when the page finally appears feels a lot like how I imagine sky-diving would be. “It [is] adventure sports for the Internet addict. While I can deal with slow internet, [it is] another matter when only Massey pages are loading.” While the library staff happily set up her computer at the start of semester, the WiFi failed to work once she came back after the holiday break. “Like the brains of a sun-baked student, your computer sometimes needs an extra kick to get back into work. “Your choice might be coffee, but your computer just needs to reset the proxy settings.” Massey had a very helpful guide on their website, she said. “It even has pictures, so if you’re as technologically challenged as I am, getting your internet back should be a breeze.” Unfortunately, Google Chrome was not featured in the guide so being able to check Tumblr during lectures was still more a dream than a reality, she said. But if students were more like social media magnates than your average DIY computer whiz, the library was also there to help. “After all, when the coffee has finished and the clock seems to have stopped, Facebook seems like the last lifeline to your sanity. “Decent internet can keep it that way.”

SMOKE FREE CAMPUS AT “NEW” NEW ZEALAND The Albany Campus will eventually become “totally smokefree”, a campus registrar says. Responding to feedback from the Student Forum in May, Albany Campus registrar Andrea Davies said that becoming smokefree was a “matter of when,” adding that it was “the way the country is going.” Feedback received at the forum highlighted the issue of smoking on campus, especially in front of the Atrium building, which was a main thoroughfare for both students and visitors. Davies said that the feedback received was “overwhelming,” and it “wasn’t a good look”. However, Nicky Nichol, a smoker on campus, said that there were not many smoking areas, and that the campus was “pretty much smokefree.” Feedback from the Student Forum also dealt with the litter problem on campus, especially the cigarette butts that were left in designated smoking areas. Davies said that she would “love people to pick up their [cigarette butts],” adding that students should “have pride in [their] campus.” While the current Massey University Smoke Free Policy states that “Campus Registrars will…designate smoke free areas or smoking areas,” there was “a lot of pressure on [the University] to move smoking areas to the back of the campus”, Davies said. Although there were no current plans to change the policy, the university would work through the Albany Students’ Association, and with staff, to seek feedback and come up with recommendations to amend the policy, she said. The Albany campus hosted one of the three Massey University Smokefree Summits earlier this year. The Summit, which was part of the “It’s My Life” campaign, was held on March 28.

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MANAWATU LO C A L N OT I C E S

BATTEN DOWN YOUR HATCHES Student housing has been targeted by thieves in areas throughout Palmerston North. On two occasions in recent months a group of “suspicious characters” have been spotted through the windows of student flats around the city. In the case of Leander*, the hooligans were spotted through a window but they ran off once the alarm was raised. “Looking outside I spotted a dark figure, and thought, ‘is that someone out there?’” But as I made a move to go outside, they bolted.” Meanwhile, the group of “suspicious characters” entered student Cailey’s house while Cailey* and the majority of her flatmates were sleeping in their rooms in the early hours of the morning after a night on the town. “We accidentally left a window open and they came in through the window and went through all the rooms to see if people were in there and stole from the rooms that were empty and the lounge.” Two Mac laptops, a television, iPods, irreplaceable jewelry and branded fashion accessories were stolen in the raid. The area was known for robberies, which were expected by tenants. “We knew our house would get broken into at some time because the girls that lived here before us had gotten robbed multiple times.” The houses in the area were dated and were primarily used for student accommodation. This was why they didn’t have modern amendments that made houses protected from people who were deliberately attempting to gain access. “Our house isn’t very secure – the locks on the windows are useless. My flatmate was locked out and got in through a locked window no problem.” The sense of safety that would normally accompany a home setting had evaporated, Cailey said. She didn’t feel safe at all on [their] street with all the robberies happening. “It was just scary [be]cause we were all in the house and had no idea they had come in.” Police became involved, and even suggested that Cailey and her flatmates go to a victim support group. Although this suggestion was politely declined, Cailey believed that the authorities were reacting to these occurrences in the right way.

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“I feel like at first the cops weren’t taking it seriously but now on Saturday nights there is usually a cop parked up outside on the street which is a bit better.” Cailey said that she and her flatmates took extra caution now, which included everything to ensuring locks were in place, to double checking the alarm was switched on. She wished to ask other people to double check everything was always locked when they were not home. “And if you’re going out, hide your valuable stuff.” *Names have been changed SCHOLARSHIP RECIPIENT AN EXTRAMURAL SUCCESS The cost of study is heavy; postgraduate study is particularly expensive. Enrolling in a M.Phil in English in 2010, Robert Gilbert successfully applied to EXMSS for a scholarship in 2013. Otherwise, Gilbert had been bearing the brunt of the cost of his tertiary fees and travelling from Christchurch to attend contact courses in Palmerston North and Auckland. The English proficient said receiving an academic excellence scholarship encouraged him to continue with his study. As part of the Masters programme, Gilbert explored writing for the theatre. He wrote and presented a play, which was workshopped at The Dark Room in Palmerston North and The Court Theatre in Christchurch. Gilbert was really appreciative of the fantastic support that he received from EXMSS during this study. After leaving high school at the age of 15, Gilbert worked as a professional actor for 17 years before moving into teaching. Studying toward the Bachelor’s degree was the beginning of Gilbert’s journey to become a trained, and qualified, secondary school teacher. Gilbert started his study journey in 1998 enrolled in a Bachelor of Arts degree, initially majoring in English, but then switching to an Education major. He graduated with the degree in 2004; after studying 16 papers to complete the second and third years of the Bachelors’ degree within one year. Robert started that academic year in one summer

school and completed the last paper in the following summer school. After completing the Bachelor’s degree, Gilbert settled into life as a qualified secondary school teacher. However, by 2010, Gilbert recognised that he missed the “sheer joy and pleasure” of studying, so he enrolled in the M.Phil. programme that year. Gilbert “missed the thrill of study” and the opportunity to “exercise the mind”, he said. As he journeyed toward completing the Masters degree, his secondary school students watched his progress, and journeyed with him, he said. Gilbert will be graduating in November.

STUDENT CITY ARTS AND CULTURAL AWARDS Nominations for the annual student city arts and cultural awards are now open. Tertiary students of Massey, UCOL, IPC, Te Wananga O Aotearoa or students of any high school in the Palmerston North region are invited to enter nominations before September 9, for the awards ceremony on October 9. This year will be different insofar as the nominees will be asked to provide a portfolio of their work. Although the closing date for nominations was sometime in the future, nominees had time to construct portfolios if they didn’t already have one. This was to ensure that the very best of what they had to offer the community could be presented for evaluation and support their bid when the judges came to determine who was the winner of each category. Each of the judges came from a professional background which gave them authority in their field. This expertise assisted in deciding who should be awarded the titles. Those wishing to enter the competition had two options: either nominate yourself, or nominate others. The award categories included Best Cultural Contribution; Best Literary Artist; Best Visual Artist; Best Musical Artist; Best Artistic Facilitation; Best Drama/ Performing Arts Artist; Best Craftsperson; Best Young Artist (High School Student); and Artist of the Year.

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WELLINGTON LO C A L N OT I C E S

FAIRER STUDENT FAIRS As of late June, the Greater Wellington Regional City Council (GWRCC) unanimously approved recommendations to provide a 25 per cent discount for all public transportation users during off-peak travel times. This will be implemented in 2018. On top of this proposal, students have called for a further 25 percent concession for students during peak travel times. As a result, the council agreed to consider this additional discount provided there was substantial financial contributions from Wellington tertiary institutions and the Wellington City Council (WCC). Massey Property Development and Management student James Owen said cheaper fares for students was a “bloody good idea”. The lack of student support was indicative of a wider problem where students were “hugely disadvantaged by living in the expensive capital”, he said. It seemed inequitable that students in most other parts of the country, Palmerston North and Auckland for example, had substantially cheaper fares and not Wellington. The fact that Wellington had a greater cost of living in contrast to Dunedin or Palmerston North, added insult to injury, he said. He was paying $180 per week on rent, not including the price of internet or electricity, where his friends in Dunedin were paying $130 all up. While his Dunedin counterparts did not need to pay money for public transportation because of the close proximity of the university to student housing, Owen was paying “above and beyond” in transportation costs even though the student loan living costs was “more or less the same for both cities”. Owen could not survive in the windy capital without working more than 10 hours a week extra and have to “beg, steal or borrow” from his parents. It didn’t seem realistic or indicative of the professional life to have to work 10 hours a week on top of a full time course. Massey University Communications Director James Gardiner said the university was very interested in the GWRCC proposal and supportive of the economic, environmental and safety benefits of public transport.

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“We would be keen to participate in any discussions about this and will be seeking our students’ views on whether it is something they would use and benefit from.” The transport situations at each of the Massey campuses were quite different, he said. Albany offered free car parking to staff and students because it had the space to do so, but the cost of transport, whether private or public, was borne by the user. At Manawatu, which did offer free car parking until about a decade ago, Massey currently charged students, staff and casual visitors for car parking either in allocated car parks around the campus, the general car park in Orchard Road, or the metered spaces around the campus. The charges were introduced at the same time the free buses were offered. These were available to staff and students of Massey University and the polytechnic. It was a joint initiative between the institutes, the NZ Transport Agency and the Horizons (ManawatuWhanganui) Regional Council. Massey’s contribution was met from the revenue generated from parking charges. The same initiative could not be implemented in the Wellington campus because there was very limited parking available and it was charged for, Gardiner said. ROLL UP! ROLL UP! BABIES ARE A NO-NO FASHION ACCESORY IN PARLIAMENT Former Critic editor and Green Party student spokesperson Holly Walker announced on June 30 that she will be standing down for this year’s election. She has chosen instead to stay on as the Green Party candidate for the Hutt South electorate, campaigning for the party vote. While juggling being a mum to baby Esther and being a MP had been really challenging, it was a change in family circumstance that rendered staying in parliament to be impossible. “I think it is possible to be a MP and to be a mum at the same time but only if you’ve got the right set up and unfortunately our set up has changed.” She declined to go into details as to what exactly had happened to her family, saying she wished to protect the privacy of those not in the public arena.

And while she did not rule out the possibility of coming back to parliament in the future, she wanted to instead focus on doing things like “knitting and sewing” at community groups and really getting to know her Hutt South community. In 2005, Walker, who was editor of Otago student magazine Critic, published a controversial satirical howto guide to drug rape. Critic was banned as a result. Since the article she said that while freedom of speech was important, it was a mistake to publish it for the sake of preventing the re-traumatisation of victims.

GOING UP: #Normcore: think unpretentious clothing or Jerry Seinfeld. It’s a philosophy based on practicality. Gone are the days of snean-haters. With this new fad you can quite comfortably sport New Balances or Nikes and simultaneously protect your tendons. Note, only expensive trainers are permitted. No Warehouse knock-offs. How pretentious. Broods: the new Lorde. Nelson wins over Auckland, yo! Winter: for all you sun haters, (sand gets in all orifices a’ight) it’s time to revel in winter. Hurrah for coats, movie stores, spooning and copious amounts of tea. GOING DOWN: Condensation and inefficient heating: don’t be fooled by the allure of that cheap instant fan heater - it will add zeros to your bill. Instead, oil heaters on a low setting for long periods are more efficient. Coming back from the mid semester break to find your dubious (and unreliable) flat fridge has turned off. That stench. Jesus, Mary and Joseph.

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“DESERVED TO BE RAPED” Raped as a young adult by 18 men 24 times in 12 hours, former street kid Barbara Hodges, now 68, has written a book to help heal her wounds. Rape victims, she tells Michael Botour, must never be silent.

When Barbara Hodges testified against the men who gang-raped her, their barrister told the court, “She knows she will find men who will assist in her immorality – doesn’t she deserve all she gets!” It’s no surprise she’s called her memoir, “Prison of Self ”. Embracing Baha’i has helped heal her – but she still wants to meet the men who raped her. “I want the right to yell and scream to get them to understand the suffering that women go through… they need to face their victims and be confronted about it. But I can’t say the same for other women, who often can’t bear to go into a court room and see [the rapist] laughing at them. “I’ve had 52 years of punishing myself. I’ve tried suicide 13 times. It doesn’t make the abuse go away. There is thankfully no statute of limitation on rape, I can take my rapists to court at any stage. “But I ask the question: what does an 8x6 cell have to do with rape? All the punishment is doing is making rapists angry, making them decide, ‘Next time I rape someone I’ll kill them’.” Barbara’s father began beating her before she was even a year old. At the age of 16, she swallowed 104 codeine tablets. The suicide attempt didn’t work, although she did get the chance to push her goodbye note into her father’s hands before she lost consciousness. Her father left her to sleep it off. The next day, he told her she could leave his care. Young and unprepared for life, a boarding house didn’t last long, and soon she found herself completely vulnerable to the world. Barbara takes up the story… “I slept in the Palmerston North square under newspapers and became a street kid. I was put under social welfare. Later I was put under foster care. “One Friday night, I was looking at a dress in a window on a street crowded with people. A car

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screeched to a halt, three men dragged me into the car, took me into the country and raped me. Two of them held me down while the other raped me, then the other two took over. “The court system just raped me again because the defence counsel tried to prove that I, as the female, was the culprit. The Truth took a photo of me fainting in the witness stand and put it in the paper. Then I would walk down the street and people would say, ‘I saw you in the paper, you weren’t really raped were you?’ That made me feel like a nobody. “I wasn’t treated well by police, either. I had to tell my story 20 times in 20 different places. I had to take the police out to the place where it had happened. One social welfare woman was heard to say to another outside of the courthouse, ‘My dear, she wasn’t really raped – it was the Governor-General that got raped’ – meaning that the GG was my legal guardian. “All of this was said in front of me when I was waiting to go in as a witness.” Two of the three rapists were successfully convicted. The third got off on a technicality. Barbara believes their desire for revenge may have inspired another rape experience in 1970, at age 26, but this one was unimaginably worse. “My mother and I were to meet at the Princess Hotel in Palmerston North, to celebrate her birthday, but she didn’t turn up and I sat there and waited and waited. A guy who I had known from school for 10 years kept pestering me to go to a party. I had drunk just half a 50c flagon of beer. I wasn’t even tiddly. “Three hours of pestering later, I finally said, ‘all right, I’ll go – but you look after me and make sure nothing happens’. “He promised he would – then he took me out the back door, threw me against a fence and raped me. “He dragged me through a fence and over to a house

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“I was coughing and sputtering, I couldn’t catch my breath. [The man] threw me on the bed and raped me again. In walked 18 men and two women. This was to be the beginning of a 12 hour ordeal.” on Princess Street. He took me inside. I was coughing and sputtering, I couldn’t catch my breath. He threw me on the bed and raped me again. In walked 18 men and two women. This was to be the beginning of a 12 hour ordeal. “The first guy, I knew. The rest, I didn’t. I closed my eyes, I didn’t want to see their faces… “They stripped me, cut my clothes off, then tied my arms and legs to a table. Because I was screaming, they shoved a dirty man’s sock into my mouth and taped my mouth shut. The taste of the sock was extraordinary. I gagged on that for a long time. I was choking, I could have died. “They abused me with hair brushes and wooden instruments. They ruined the inside of me. I still can’t look at a golf club or golf balls now. “Drug pushers and drug addicts were involved. One man was not allowed to rape me because he had syphilis. “One man took me into the room and just held me in his arms and rocked me. He released the ties because they were cutting into my wrists. I begged him to let me go out the window but he said, ‘No, they’ll kill me.’ And I thought, ‘You bastard: rocking me is raping me.’ “It was 24 rapes over 12 hours. That’s 30 minutes per rape, on average. All the men [ejaculated.] “Meanwhile, the women were sitting on vibrators getting their kicks. However, it wasn’t exciting enough for them so they kept telling the men what to do to me. “When they let me go 12 hours later they said, ‘We’re going to let you go but you have to promise you’ll come back tonight for the same.’ I had been raped when I was 16 and been through courts and I didn’t want to go through that again. I knew that if I promised I would come back, they would all get off the rape charges anyway, because I’d seem willing. I had a knife in my back at the time, so I nodded. “They took me across to the dairy in Princess Street,

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and rang a taxi. I had to tell the men my address before I got in the taxi. I thought ‘What if they know I’m lying? Would they keep me?’ They said they’d come get me at 7pm that night. “When the taxi drove off I could hear a woman screaming and I shouted, ‘Shut up, will you?’ Then I realised it was me. It was like I was a different person. “My mother rang the police from home. I asked them, ‘What can you do to protect me?’ The police said, ‘Sorry love, we can’t promise protection.’ God knows why they said that – because they didn’t have a safe house? Maybe the rapist was one of them. I don’t know. “Some years later, the instigator shimmied up my two storey building one night, climbed in my window and got in bed with me. I screamed and fought him off. I found out later that he lived two doors away from me so I moved out to get away from him. He still lives in Palmerston North. He’s an ex-plumber. He was a drug pushing criminal, into blue movies. I’m still in danger from these pushers. “My life was ruined, before and after. The Presbyterian Church had taken my children away. I’d been addicted to phenobarbital. I hit the booze to hide from the pain. I would drink on top of the pills – so every drink I had was like having ten drinks. “I became an alkie and a drug addict because of doctors who didn’t know about mental breakdowns. My husband fell apart because he thought I was mental. “In 1977, I visited a doctor to ask for sleeping pills to kill myself that night. He instead told me to get a pad and write a list in chronological order of everything that’s happened in my life, and then bring it to him the next morning. I angrily wrote 13 pages. “He put me in touch with a colleague and I ended up going to Sunnyside Hospital, where they put me on CCTV to help other councillors who studied me.

“If anyone should hate men it should be me. But I’m not a man-hater. Some men think when you marry them, you’re their property and men can do what they want to you. Some men have an uncontrollable sexual urge, they can’t or won’t control. And I assure you it’s no different today to how it was then. We just hear about it more often. “Good men believe men and women are equal and hold that to be true. They wouldn’t want their daughters or wives being raped. They would stand up and try to protect a woman if they had to, or so they would like to think. “But we are basically play things to those who have no moral standing. They believe they own us. We are their possessions. In fact many men talk about ‘their’ conjugal rights. If they can’t get sex at home, they’ll get it somewhere else. “I think the world is going downhill on a busted bicycle. We are inclined to let unacceptable behaviour happen. Human morals have weakened. It’s time to change that. There is no true justice in the courts. I got taught from the age 16 to hide whenever something went wrong. ‘Keep your mouth shut, and don’t say anything.’ I no longer think that. Men must discuss this amongst themselves if we are to find a cure. “Those 18 men promised they would slit my throat in a dark alley someday if I talked to anyone about it. I needed to be released from the prison of self long ago. Even today, I’m using a false name in my book to keep my grandchildren safe. I want my book to heal women even in Afghanistan. “It’s got to be able to heal people anywhere. If I give people my real name, my life will be in danger. Although these rapists are all 70 year-olds now, they have grandsons who could try to get even for them. “I saw a poster recently which broke my heart. It was a poster of a girl in a hall with her head in her hands. It said,‘You cannot stay silent about abuse’. I was really struck by that scene and I cried for two weeks. I thought, I can’t do this: I’m 68, I have served the longest term. “I’m still suffering. Someone has to be an example to give the survivors strength. Women themselves have to make sure the punishment fit the crime. “Don’t wait. Let it be now, and let it be us.”

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THE CARPET SAVIOURS OF SHARJAH Iran’s handmade carpet industry has maintained a trading relationship with the United Arab Emirates for over a half a century. It has been turbulent over the past few years, but with the recent election of Hassan Rouhani as Iran’s president, there may be a chance for trading to get back on track. At a time when machine-made carpets are on the rise, Olivia Atkinson reports on the fate of the ancient art of carpet weaving and whether traders in the U.A.E can help keep it alive.

Just before you step foot into the Blue Souq of Sharjah, you make a promise. A silent guarantee etched within the dark blue Islamic tiles and traditional wind towers, letting you know that a treasure trove awaits your arrival. Here, amid the 600 stores, you will find Al Mashi Carpet and its owner, Yemni-born Mohammed Bin Mohammed Saif. He is a carpet encyclopaedia – a man whose knowledge and passion for the trade has been nurtured over the past thirty-five years. Welcomed by a smile and glass of mint tea, you are slowly transported into the world of carpets, the United Arab Emirates’ very own Aladdin’s Cave. It’s a small store, piled high with hundreds of handmade rugs from Afghanistan to Russia, each with an individual story to tell. The greatest and oldest tale of them all is that of the Persian carpet. The Iranians have over 2,500 years of carpet creativity and wisdom under their belts, passed down from generation to generation as a closely guarded secret. During the 16th century, Persian carpets were made in royal workshops founded by ruler Shah ‘Abbas the Great. The exceptional power of the Safavid Dynasty was reflected in the carpets themselves. Designs were heavily influenced by Islamic texts and woven by the finest materials of silk and gold and silver thread. “Weavers would be instructed ‘make me this, make me that’ and carpets would slowly come alive,” explains George Ignatius D’costa, Mohammed’s right hand man from Bangladesh. Al Mashi Carpet’s story, however, began in 1979 amidst the uproar of Iran’s Islamic Revolution. An economic sanction was imposed on Iranian goods, including carpets, causing

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a stream of weavers and sellers to flee the country and leave the previously booming industry to fade. At the same time, the United Arab Emirates started to mould itself into a bustling world-class trade hub, prompting locals to set up carpet businesses. Ever since, traders in the Emirates have seen the industry go through a rollercoaster of changes. In the 1980s, the skill of carpet weaving was revived by families in cities such as Isfahan, Qom, Tabriz, Kerman and Nain – some of the main carpet centres in Iran. Today, Iran is home to an estimated 1.2 million weavers, who produce an average of 5 million square metres of carpet annually – making carpets the country’s second largest export commodity and one that can amount to more than US$600 million per year. These carpets are exported to over 100 countries, some of which end up in the souqs of the Emirates. “Each area has trademark designs, colours and materials and the carpet is named after the city, district or village in which they are made,” George says. The techniques and designs of these family-made carpets were inspired by the artistic brilliance and craftsmanship established in Shah ‘Abbas’s workshops. “They say that with good paintings, you have to put your heart and soul into it. The same goes for carpet making,” Mohammed says. The carpet-selling duo believes that trust is their greatest ally, forming the very foundation of their business. During safer times, when there was little threat of war and violence, Mohammed would travel to Iran and buy from the carpet makers directly. “I would literally knock on

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Al Mashi Carpet’s story, however, began in 1979 amidst the uproar of Iran’s Islamic Revolution. An economic sanction was imposed on Iranian goods, including carpets, causing a stream of weavers and sellers to flee the country and leave the previously booming industry to fade.

their door and they’d invite me into their homes.” In recent years, sanctions reimposed by the United States coupled with a severe taxation increase on carpet exports has almost forced the relationship between traders and weavers to fizzle out. This is where newly elected Hussan Rouhani could step in. The Iran National Carpet Centre (INCC) is calling for a substantial budget to be assigned for promotional campaigns. There is hope that Iran’s recent nuclear relations with the Western governments will go well and provide a new platform for trade. Even so, the carpet industry is changing and unfortunately, honesty is no longer a universal value practiced within it. Carpets made from synthetic materials and colours often pose as authentic Persian or Afghani rugs, sold to Westerners with untrained eyes, unable to tell the difference. “Carpet trading can be very deceiving and buying a carpet can be an overwhelming task,” says George. Two carpets are laid out on the floor in front of me. One is synthetic, made in China, and the other, a 20-year-old Tabriz. As I stand there, visibly struggling to distinguish between the rip-off and the real deal, Mohammed and George let me in on a couple of secrets. High quality, medium sized hand-weaved carpets can take up to 3 years to make. “Take a look at the back of the rug,” George advises. “The quality can often be determined by the consistency and number of knots. Silk carpets are much finer than wool and have up to 1000 knots per square inch, making the back as stunning as the front.” Sure enough, the back of one carpet mimics the beauty of its surface. I go through a checklist, examining the colours, materials, patterns, textures and even the smell of the rugs. The diesel fuel scent of the machine-made copy allows the Tabriz to reveal itself. As with any art, it takes time, and the same goes for carpet weaving. A nine-hour working day could yield as little as one centimetre squared of carpet. “Rewind the clock by a hundred years or so and you would see entire families making carpets but now school and

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other types of work take priority,” Mohammed says. Copies of Persian carpets made their debut soon after the Islamic Revolution, suggesting that the reign of handmade carpets was, and is, still near its end. This is a reality that threatens the future of Iran’s carpet industry but one that has been recognised by Rouhani. With the fate of a country resting firmly on his shoulders, Rouhani is in search of ways to connect Iran with Western powers. Pressures from the INCC as well as an urgency to boost the country’s economy has led to increased carpet exports and trading with Russia, South Africa, Malaysia and China. “There’s something magical about a Persian carpet. It’s definitely something that should be showcased to the entire world,” Mohammed says. George perks up, adding one final comment to the handmade versus machine-made debate. “A carpet woven by hand has a different value. With machine-made, you have it and everyone else has it!” Persian carpets are rolling into the Emirates yet again, and the relationship between traders and carpet makers has begun a reweaving process of sorts. There is hope that this will bring the Persian carpet industry back to life in both Iran and the United Arab Emirates. Like all art, good quality carpets are renowned as a sound investment, as long as you pay a fair price for them initially. Mohammed believes that people are slowly but surely beginning to recognise the value of handmade carpets. “If you visit Al Mashi or any other rug store you are likely to fall in love with a carpet or two.” Visitors taking Persian carpets back to their home have reported that, when valued for insurance purposes, the rugs fetched two or three times what they paid. Adhan has now engulfed the souq. The call for prayer summons traders out of their stores and to the mosque where they will worship their God. Mohammed smiles. “Persian carpets are what you hope will end up on your great-grandchild’s lounge floor. A thing of beauty that will stick with you forever.”

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NEW YORK STATE OF MIND SARAH KILNER

GENERATION, LIKE, Y?! GENERATION Y HAS COPPED A LOT OF FLAK THESE PAST FEW YEARS. KNOWN INTERCHANGEABLY AS MILLENNIALS, THE FACEBOOK GENERATION, AND GENERATION “WHY? ”, PEOPLE CAN’T SEEM TO AGREE WHETHER WE’RE GOING TO SAVE THE WORLD, OR END IT. JULIA BRAYBROOK INVESTIGATES:

So what is Gen Y, exactly?

Even defining who is a part of this generation proves difficult. While those born between 1981 and 1995 is the most widespread definition, it can also include people born anywhere from 1977 to 2004. Seeing as this wide age range encompasses everyone from Year 13s to those nearing middle age, it’s no surprise that Gen Y is seen as a bit of an enigma. These divisions within the one generation means that, on the surface, there’s not really a whole lot that they have in common. Take the recent studies measuring how empathetic Millennials are. The prevailing attitude that “Generation Me” is narcissistic, selfish and materialistic wasn’t exactly helped by a 2010 study from the University of Michigan that found college students in America were less empathetic than students from the late 1970s. Sarah Konrath, a researcher at the U-M Institute for Social Research, said on the university’s website that “college kids today are about 40 percent lower in empathy than their counterparts of 20 or 30 years ago.” Gen Y, not another “me” story”

However, a 2013 study published in the journal of Social Psychological and Personality Science found that “adolescents expressed more concern for others and the environment during times of relative economic deprivation, and less concern…during times of greater economic prosperity.” On top of this, a study in Psychological Science earlier this year found that people entering the workforce when the economy is pretty bad are less likely to be narcissistic later in life, compared to those who start working when the economy is good. Since we’re still feeling the effects of the recession in 2008 it’s quite likely that the narcissistic label no longer fits.

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A survivor’s guide to Gen Y, what “tribe” do you belong to?

Defining Gen Y is clearly proving a bit of a challenge, so much like trying to avoid rush hour traffic, research is now turning to new routes to find out just what makes Millennials tick. Last month’s research from Colmar Brunton found that breaking down the generation into different groups works much better than generalisations. Rather like a more civilised version of Survivor, they found that New Zealanders aged between 15 to 30 years of age fitted into one of six ‘tribes’: Family Focused, Ladder Climbers, Money equals Status, Idealists, Spontaneous Spenders and Solitary Savers. The research found that our generation tends to immediately identify with one main group, even if they pick and choose traits from others. I’m an individual, damnit!

This emphasis on identifying as individuals, instead of a collective group, is one of the few underlying commonalities in our generation. We strive to be noticed, and while our names might not end up in flashing lights, we are driven towards personal success and aim to make a difference in the world. This idea of making a difference has affected the way we choose our careers, and what we look for in potential employers. A HAYS survey of 1,200 Australian and New Zealanders found that 72 percent of the generation wouldn’t apply for a job at a company if they didn’t believe in what it stood for. It’s no longer a case of where you work, but who and what you’re working for. Risky business:

The recent recession has meant that our generation no longer expects to have one job for life, with only two percent of those surveyed expecting this. On average,

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We crowd-source… for everything. From major life decisions to choosing where to go to dinner, our generation relies heavily on making decisions with others. Like an advice column gone viral, Gen Y is using both their friends and the Internet to make the most informed decision possible, even if it’s just choosing between Starbucks and Gloria Jeans. we’re more likely to switch employers every two to four years. However, the ease shown in switching jobs doesn’t mean we’re more likely to take risks. Television might broadcast the state of today’s binge-drinking, hoodie-wearing youth, but the rate of dangerous drinking dropped from 49 percent in 2007 to 36 percent in 2012, for those aged between 18 and 24 years of age. Stereotypes, meet sledgehammer. Fornication baybay:

Things are also changing in the way we view relationships. Marriage, that cornerstone of adulthood in previous generations, is no longer something Millennials dive into as soon as they’re out of university. Our generation is choosing to put off marriage until they’re established in their careers, with the average age of first marriages rising to 30 years for men and 28 years for women. And the time-honoured tradition of getting your friend’s approval is no longer limited to future partners. We crowd-source… for everything. From major life decisions to choosing where to go to dinner, our generation relies heavily on making decisions with others. Like an advice column gone viral, Gen Y is using both their friends and the Internet to make the most informed decision possible, even if it’s just choosing between Starbucks and Gloria Jeans.

40 percent of our generation feels “like part of me was missing” if they can’t check their smartphones constantly. The same report found that about a third of Gen Y rated staying connected to the Internet was just as important as air, food, and water; the terror of the Wi-Fi cutting out suddenly seems a lot more rational when it’s on the same level as breathing. This doesn’t mean that prospective employers should worry about workers who are glued to their phones. The Cisco report found that 90 percent of our generation checked their phones before they even got out of bed. This new morning routine means that Generation Y is one of the most connected and responsive in modern memory, and employers have the ability to reach workers anytime and anywhere. There’s no need to worry if your employees have read over the agenda for that early morning meeting, as chances are it’s one of the first things they did. This need to connect has also spilled out into our social lives. Older generations may complain that face-toface communication is going the way of MySpace, but that’s not the case. Our generation doesn’t differentiate between virtual and real-life communication, instead using both to constantly stay in touch with others, regardless of whether they’re sitting right next to us or on the other side of the world. So to conclude:

Digital crazy:

However, the most defining characteristic of our generation is, unsurprisingly, technology. We’re known as “digital natives” for a reason. Younger Millennials don’t know what life was like without the Internet, and older ones have made the transition pretty smoothly. The cliché of your phone being an extension of your hand is now the new reality, with the 2012 Cisco Connected World Technology Report finding that

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Our generation lived through defining moments within recent history, from the fall of the Berlin Wall to the rise of the Internet. We might be more Keeping Up With the Kardashians than ‘keeping up with the Joneses’, but it’s clear that our generation is one to watch. And although the jury might be out as to whether this is the one generation to rule or ruin the world, one thing is very clear – we’re definitely going to change it.

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On the Road How do you think you’d fair if you put your transportation needs in the hands of complete strangers? Hitchhikers are far and few in New Zealand, but does this mean that hitchhiking is not a viable mode of transportation? Former U.S. international student Steve Ratté puts this concept to the test, learning about the ways of the road and the kindness of the Kiwis in the process

I walked into the gas station before Nipun and Celina’s van had driven off, and I headed straight for the washroom. Once in, I changed my shirt to the only other shirt that I had stuffed in my backpack; a light blue Henley. I had systematically left the shirt for this portion of my odyssey; I figured that a shirt like it would help me to a better position when attempting to acquire a ride while thumbing at passing motorists. After I threw some water on my face, wiped boogers from the crevices of my eyes and rolled on deodorant, I left the washroom only to find the green van, owned by complete strangers that I’d met the day before on the beaches of Cathedral Cove, was gone. At that rest stop in Bombay, other than the gas station, there was a small information building, a McDonald’s, and a grocery market. I considered the McDonald’s, as I had no food left with me, but instead stepped into the market. It was a small place and the shelves were fairly empty. I couldn’t even find something as rudimentary to a grocery shop as a loaf of bread. On the way back out of the market, I spotted a table adorned with a basket full of cookies, each one wrapped in plastic, for 99 cents. Chocolate chip, peanut butter, white chocolate chip and macadamia nut, double fudge brownie. I grabbed one, double fudge brownie, and turned to the single register. “Oh, you can just have that,” the girl behind the counter told me. I took a look at myself, first assuming that I looked grungier than originally thought. “Check the date, on the wrapper.” I did so. The cookie was expiring that day. “Uhm,” I pointed towards the basket of cookies. “Can I take some more then?”

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The cashier just shrugged. “Sure.” “Like, how many?” “I don’t know,” she said, and shrugged again. “Ten?” I opened my backpack and filled it with the baked goods, however only taking eight cookies, not ten. I just felt like ten would have been too much. I felt that I’d be able to sustain myself with eight cookies for the next couple days. I turned back to the clerk. “My lucky day,” and I winked and walked out of the store. I crossed the bridge, over the highway and turned onto the onramp. To my surprise, it was already occupied. This guy, wearing big sunglasses and holding a sign that said “Raglan” on it in big, black letters, was standing about half way down the ramp, two bags by his feet and wearing a backpack, much larger than mine. I waved to him. He waved back. When I arrived upon him, I asked him how long he’d been standing there. “Oh, about fifteen minutes,” he told me. “Things have been moving pretty quickly for me today, though I’ve seemed to have caught a snag here.” He spoke with a heavy accent, and I later found out that he was from Holland, though I never managed to catch his name. He looked at me. “Is that it?” I knew immediately what he was talking about, and grabbed the strap of my backpack. “Yeah, I’ve only been out here for a few days,” I

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But I guess the one question you must have, if you’ve gotten this far, is why. Why would I hitchhike, why would I risk my life, putting my well-being in the hands of complete strangers? To be honest, I wanted to embrace the unknown. One week after I got back from thumbing down Highway One, I’d be home in the States. I’d be back to a life where there was nothing fresh to experience, and everything I knew was tired and wilting.

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answered. “I don’t really need much to get by.” There was a pause, and then I told him that I’d stand a little ways down the onramp. “Seems like it’ll be easier for each one of us to get a ride, if we aren’t standing together.” I began to walk away, but then turned around and walked back to where I had been. “Hey, can I borrow a marker?” I asked the guy. I took out a notebook from my bag and when the guy handed me his marker, I wrote “Wellington” on the back. I thanked him, offered him a cookie and I walked back down the ramp. A few minutes later a car pulled up to Holland. There was some interaction, the other hitchhiker pointed to me, and then waved his hand for me to come on. So we both piled into this guy’s car and down the highway we went. This guy, whose name I also didn’t manage to obtain, was on-the-job at the time, on his way to pick up a gate for a farm. The Holland guy told the driver that he was on his way to Raglan and the driver told him that he could take us as far as Huntly. Then the driver asked where I was heading and I told him Wellington, at which point he turned around to me, as I was in the backseat, and just looked at me. “Boy, that’s quite a ways away,” he said. “Yup, that’s what I’ve been told,” and I nodded. For the next 45 minutes, we all shared some stories and some laughs. However, soon time came for our ride to be over and we were dropped off on the side of the Highway One, in Huntly. Holland and I had chosen to use the same method we had employed earlier, by me standing a little ways down the road from where he was and the method seemed to work quite well because, incredulously to me, a short time later, an 18-wheeler pulled up to my recent companion. The man threw his bags into the cockpit and when I yelled to him if I could get a ride he simply shook his head. His bags had taken up quite a bit of room, leaving none for myself, but I wasn’t too bothered and just held up my hand, waving. Goodbye Holland. The truck rumbled off, and I watched it go. During the next few minutes, I kicked some dirt, tried to decide whether to keep my sunglasses on or off, and debated whether standing in the middle of the road, on the small island, or standing on the side of the

road was a better point of attack. In the end, the side of the road seemed to be the smarter, safer choice. Not long after making this decision, a car pulled to the side of the road, a few feet in front of where I was standing. I picked up my backpack and jogged up to the car. “I wouldn’t have seen ya if it wasn’t for my daughter,” the driver said said. “Probably would have just driven right by you,” she said. “Not even seen ya, if it wasn’t for her.” This is what female automobilist tells me when I get into the car. I look at the girl in the passenger seat. She’s maybe half my age. “Well, thanks,” I tell her and I smile and she smiles and I look at the little girl sitting next to me. “So, where are you headed?” the lady asks me as we pull back onto the road and she shifts into second gear. I tell her Wellington and she says that’s quite a ways away, and that she can only take me to the next town over, which I’m fine with; anything that gets me closer to Wellington is better than nothing at all. Then she asks me two more questions. “You’re an American, huh? How long have you been out here?” “Accent gives it away, yeah? Ah, well, I’m studying at Massey, down in Wellington, but school’s over now and I figured I’d do some hitchhiking around the North Island,” I say. “I’ve only got about 2 weeks until I go back to the States. Been here since July.” It’s at this point that I realize I’m awful with names because by the time the car stops, in the next town over, I’ve amassed no more names for this story than before I had been picked up. This secondary driver opens her purse, takes out $20, and waves it at me. “Do you need some money? Here, take this.” Five months ago, I probably would have taken the money. Though, now, after what I’ve experienced in New Zealand, the ways that I’ve grown as a person, the community I’ve come to feel with my fellow man, I found that I couldn’t take the money. “I really appreciate it, but I’ve got everything I need right here,” I tell her, as I pat the backpack on my lap. She puts her extension of kindness back in her purse, only after asking if I’m sure, of course, but I cannot be swayed and I have to throw a barrage of thank you’s at her just to get out of the car.

I open my map up and try to figure out where I am. There’s a lot of farmland, and I can’t be sure, but I believed I had been dropped off in Taupiri. Though, I don’t even really have time to think it out before another car comes along and stops just a bit ahead of me. Honest to the god I don’t believe it, I was only out by the road for a few minutes, simultaneously checking my map and holding my thumb out, when a car pulled up. I hustled up to my third ride in the last hour and got in. This time I got a name. This time I shook hands with Rich Gordon. “Y’know, if my girlfriend had been in the car, she wouldn’t have let me pick you up,” he told me. “Well, I’m glad she isn’t in the car,” I said, and we laughed, and we zipped down the road. I told him I was on my way to Wellington, and Rich told me that he could take me past Taupo, as far as Waiouru, areas I knew nothing about. We continued to small talk, after a short while I took out my map and looked up Taupo and Waiouru. “Wow, that’s a really long way,” I told him. “Thanks, man!” The next three to four hours were some of the best of my entire hitchhiking adventure. Rich and I had much in common, the time passing faster than I wished it had. We talked about comic books and Kanye West, I told Rich about my aspirations to be one of the greatest writers of my generation, following this bit with the wisdom I had been granted over the course of the recently wrapped up semester at Massey. We drove through sunshine and brutal rains, but after having debated the awfulness of The Dark Knight Rises and how superbly written the current issues of Thor were and other similarly nerdy topics that I wouldn’t have expected a random guy who picked me up on the highway to know about, our time had come to an end. When I open the door of the car to get out, Rich reminded me that, when I dedicate my upcoming novel to him, his last name, Gordon, is spelt with a “G.” Not that I had any intentions of doing such a thing, however it was still a funny thing to say and something that I found to be an appropriate way of severing our bond.

Rich Gordon’s car took off down the highway and I surveyed my surroundings. A gas station, some shops, and what looked to be an Army museum presented themselves to me. I stood by the gas station, pulled out some sweatpants from my bag, because it was cooling down outside, and then got back out by the road. Thumb out and notebook-sign in hand, the minimal juncture in time was punctured by my fourth pick up. This new provider of transportation was a pretty quiet fellow, and while at first I tried to pick at him, keep some conversation going, I found that I had become bushed. The ride lasted about an hour, during which I fell asleep and woke up on multiple occasions. When it came time to be dropped off, I’d not learned much about the man, except that he’d previously been in the Army and that his family owned some horses, but I was so ecstatic that I was getting so close to Wellington that this lack of revelation didn’t put me off. We said our goodbyes and the man drove off, leaving me standing in the middle of where I believe was Bulls. It was at this point that the rain started coming down a bit, not hard but enough to make me decide to put my coat on and switch my snapback hat for a beanie. After doing so, I made a minute walk from either one side of the center of town to the other and stuck out my thumb. Just as the rest of my day had went, you guessed it, I had a ride in no time at all. The young man who had picked me up was covered in horseshit; apparently he’d just gotten out of work and I offered him a cookie, which he accepted, graciously. He told me that he couldn’t have just let me stand out there in the rain, something I found humorous considering I didn’t find it to be raining that hard. He was a nice kid, high school, I think, and I saw in his eyes a similar light to the one that I must have had in previous years. The young man, whose name I don’t remember, obviously, told me during the ride that he’d never really traveled, never been out of the North Island. When he said this, I thought of myself, years ago, the kid that had never been anywhere, living in the same small town, in the sticks, for his entire life. I saw that lust in his eyes, for the unknown, to get out into the world, to take a chance, to perhaps do something wild like hitchhiking in a country that you aren’t even from.

The youth took me to the next town, I offered him another cookie, this time the treat being declined, and he drove off, back the way we had come. It was here that the clouds became agitated, and I almost can’t help myself but write that they wept for people like that young man, who may never see the world, though it’s such a ridiculous thing to say, I’ll probably consider it shite if this story gets published. But yeah, it started to rain harder. This interval was my longest time, standing beside the road. Few cars passed by, and of the drivers that did pass me, most ignored me. It was only when a car came from behind me and turned around that my heart skipped a beat. “I actually saw you earlier, and decided to come back and pick you up,” the man, Don, told me. “Saw you were heading to Wellington. That just happens to be where I’m going.” And an hour later, I’d made it from Bombay to Wellington, hitching, in one day. Starting around ten-thirty in the morning, I was throwing my backpack on my bed just before the clock struck seven-thirty that night. If I spent more than 15 minutes, overall, during my travels that day, standing by the road with my thumb out, I’d be surprised. If I spent more than five minutes at any point, standing by the road with my thumb out, I’d be amazed. But I guess the one question you must have, if you’ve gotten this far, is why. Why would I hitchhike, why would I risk my life, putting my well-being in the hands of complete strangers? To be honest, I wanted to embrace the unknown. One week after I got back from thumbing down Highway One, I’d be home in the States. I’d be back to a life where there was nothing fresh to experience, and everything I knew was tired and wilting. Every day that I’d spent in New Zealand breathed life into me because I was met with the new, and those days allowed me to understand how much I truly lived for uncharted experiences. That day, I’d paid people in good stories and stale cookies, though I still didn’t feel like I’d done enough for them. If any of those marvelous people ends up reading this story, I’d just like to let them know that they not only took me from point A to point B, but that they also helped to restore my faith in humanity, with a little bit of kindness and a little bit of petroleum.

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ROCK ENROL INTO THE ELECTION VOTING – A RIGHT THAT IS TOO OFTEN TAKEN FOR GRANTED. ACCORDING TO NEW ZEALAND HISTORY, OF THE 3,070, 847 TOTAL REGISTERED ELECTORS IN THE 2011 GENERAL ELECTION, ONLY 74.21% OF THESE OFFICIALLY TURNED OUT TO VOTE. Rebecca Paulson investigates how a newly established non-partisan, collaborative campaign, RockEnrol, is attempting to fill the voting void.

RockEnrol campaign director Laura O’ConnellRapira says the campaign attempts to deliver incentives for the youth of New Zealand to make use of their political power. “RockEnrol is a crowd-fuelled creative campaign designed to build and activate political power for young people using technology, music, popular culture and events. We are New Zealand’s version of Rock The Vote USA (on a budget),” she says. What type of incentives are we talking about? The campaign involves 60 days of RockEnrol nationwide events throughout July and August. The events are categorised into three groups: RockEnrol house parties, RockEnrol gigs, and friends of RockEnrol. The RockEnrol house parties attempt to promote “drinking games but with democracy,” O’ConnellRapira says. “Hosts will be incentivised with prizes to have RockEnrol parties in their homes. Hosts will receive a party pack that will feature music, stickers, badges, and a civic education “Game of Life” boardgame.” For the RockEnrol gigs, young people will be invited to attend performances (confirmations pending) by the likes of Tiki Taane, Optimus Gryme, Lion Rockers, Tyra Hammond, Sidesteps Quintet, Ladi6 and Salmonella Dub for example, on the proviso attendees pledge to vote in this year’s election. With regard to the friends of RockEnrol, this could involve anyone from venue owners, to bar managers, to promoters or producers who donate a percentage of their pre-sale tickets to RockEnrol. “The first ‘x’ number of people to pledge, get a free ticket to your gig! You get publicity, we get pledges, hashtag WinWin,” O’Connell-Rapira says.

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To date, RockEnrol has 17 promoters, venue owners and event organisers around the country who are keen to get involved. Other youth-led organisations like Generation Zero have come on board also, in attempt to connect young people with why voting is so important, O’Connell-Rapira says. “Last Election 77 per cent of people aged between 18 and 25 voted. We’d like to see that number go up to 85% this year.” “The thought that rattles around in my head is ‘if every single Non Governmental Organisation, media outlet & political party reached out to young people and said ‘hey – this voting thing – it’s really important’ then we would see a lot more people turn up on election day.” The power of young people: “I genuinely believe in the power of young people (I believe in the power of all people, but especially while we’re young – while we don’t have commitments like a mortgage or a career, we can afford to be bold and brave and take action). I think that when activated and inspired, we can do awesome things.” O’Connell-Rapira is particularly excited about the prospect of a country that has every single young person voting. She is also excited by the power young people have in shaping the country’s future. “I see RockEnrol as just the beginning of a youth movement. I believe in the power of music and events to inspire action and bring people together. I also think that nothing important should ever be boring, and policy and decision-making for our future is pretty important (but currently pretty boring).”

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AN APPLE A DAY WILL MAKE YOU FAT MIRIAM SCHROETER

Dear diary: today I have eaten one whole apple, half a slice of wholemeal bread, one egg, and an almond; I think I have over eaten and I fear that I am now gonna get a bikini mountain rather than a bikini bridge. Tomorrow I’ll be sure to half my meal portions as I need to put up some new photos on Instagram of me in my undies from every angle by the end of the week. Yours sincerely, #skinnybitch#bikinibridge#thighgap#babe. Bikini bridge is yet another fad which has become imprinted into the minds of thousands of young women as a ‘must have’ trend. Long gone are the days where females are taught to care merely about satisfying a man’s sexual needs by presenting herself as clean with brushed hair and a pretty ankle grazing

frock with a discreet yet provocative show of the collarbone. In a perfect world I wouldn’t have a bum chin, freckles and hobbit feet, but these are all a part of what has shaped me to be who I am. In order to remove ourselves from the “thinspiration trends” such as the bikini bridge, thigh gap, eating disorder, hip dip, size zero expectations we need to choose not to look for these terms online. I choose to stick with posts and images about fitness, healthy eating, balanced out with the odd cake recipe, and nudies of Channing Tatum; these things interest me and make me happy. I hope what you can take away from these ridiculous fads is that if you want to look like you’ve just survived

30 days stuck on a deserted island, then go ahead and stop eating as your mind eats away at your self-esteem when you realise that there will always be a new fad and expectation that you must live up to. To the starters of the bikini bridge hoax, eat shit. You have successfully made thousands of women worry even more about their body image which has led me to writing this article in the hope that I can help create a positive mind-set which does not include pictures of starving women in first world countries who choose to look underweight. Like Bob Marley said, ‘don’t worry, be happy’. Peace, #happy#positive#cakeeatinggoddess

7am: Wake up. Last night I spent the evening trying to convince myself this was a good idea. I ended up dreaming of food. Sweet sweet baby cupcakes. 7.01am: Don’t think about food. Stop. I’m literally losing my mind and it’s 7am in the morning. 7.02am: I don’t know why I am thinking about food. I don’t ordinarily eat at this hour in the morning. 8.30am: Work. Coffee. Carrot. 8.45am: Seven carrots later. 9.30am: Currently unnecessarily and irrationally angry. Why am I putting myself through this. Equally, why is this so hard? 10.30am: Colleague brings in morning tea to celebrate her birthday. Oh god. Croissants. My weakness. Given my francophile disposition and love of all things buttery this is truly a crime against humanity. There really is no justice. I hide in the bathroom and tell myself to get it together. 11.30: Court reporting in court. Surrounded by suite-clad lawyers and disenfranchised or povertystricken people who have fallen victim to crime. Well that’s perspective, isn’t it. 11.31: Perspective has waned. So hungry. Can’t think. Need a carrot. 12pm: I’m finding myself checking facebook, my phone, my instagram account to try and fill the void through masochism. #foodporn. I would very much trade a limb/kidney in exchange for a piece of ruffleicing cake at present.

1pm: I have taken to look at inspirational quotes/ articles which prompts the question, will I do any meaningful work for my actual job today? Unlikely. Live, Love, Laugh. 2pm I’m so cold. I feel faint. I’m wasting away. I can see my bones forming by the minute. I think I would prefer to be “cuddly” at this point. More to love, amIright? 3pm: Mental strength. None. Feeling teary and vulnerable. I pass by a shoe shop on the way back to work from court. Willpower has gone out the window but new shoes is preferable to a chocolate chip cookie right now. #nailedit. 5pm: Home time. I have decided to go to bed early so that I can avoid the hours of thinking about food and instead I can dream of stuffing my face. Tuesday, Day 2, 7am: Feeling indifferent, cranky, jaded and unhappy. 7.15am: Contemplating taking a day’s sick leave because I can’t bear the thought of work. 8.00am: I can recall Monday’s trauma but I’m slightly less obsessed. I’ve lost the will to think about or eat any food. 11.00am: Have come to the conclusion that this exercise has been entirely fruitless. With all that effort you’d expect to see ribs or collar bones. 11.30am: Model Kate Moss said “nothing tastes better than skinny feels”. Well, nothing tastes better than 20 bloody pancakes. 12pm: Cafe. Twenty pancakes later. Absolute euphoria.

TWENTY BLOODY PANCAKES S C A R L E T B LO O M

I’ve always been a greedy-guts. I would like to blame my doting Slavic grandmother but with my first word being “more” I really can only blame myself. Every diet I have ever tried, I have hilariously and triumphantly counterbalanced – be it eating one’s weight in caloriefilled nuts or eating whole blocks of Camembert in the name of avoiding the devil of the dieting world – the “carbohydrate”. I would be lying if I didn’t pine for long limbs more often than not, but I would also like to take this opportunity to boo diets in general. The rise of body activism is finally cracking down on discrimination among the masses. Pun unintended. And something must be said for the group who actively buck the skeletal trend that dictates thinness is a currency of power or “interpreted” control. I hate it. It’s an error in thinking. I could go on and bore you with my self-indulgent, hypocritical, senseless but equally justice-filled drivel, but instead I think the madness of my musings during a day I tried (and miserably failed) the controversial 5:2 diet (basically, deprive your system of food for two days a week) really speaks for itself. Monday June 9, 2014: Day 1 of torture diet, 5:2. I have chosen it after reading Nelson-based Fairfax columnist Grant Smithies’ sentiments. If it worked for him, it will work for me, right? Also, giving up on the baked goods would be counter-intuitive for the purposes of being a “foodie”.

Massivemagazine.org.nz – HEALTH

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HOMAGE TO THE BAKED GOOD S C A R L E T B LO O M

It must be made abundantly clear that I am not a cook. Because my cooking generally ers on the side of burnt, one could argue I am the poorest of cooks but I would love to think it’s because of my tumultuous relationship with my stove top. If I had a Scanpan or a KitchenAid appliance then my life and the quality of my cooking would compare to Julia Child.

But, no need to fret, my baking is a little better. In fact I think there is nothing lovelier than to greet friends with a little baked surprise - and my friends could vouch for that! Following years of patrons going gaga for my baked goods, I have only ever had one spectacular failure. The ghastly occasion involved me putting a wee parcel of the following recipe into the

mailbox of a boy I was pining for, nay, obsessing over. He “supposedly” didn’t get them. His flatmate said otherwise. Rejected. In all fairness I was 24 and not 15 so perhaps it came off as a little creepy as opposed to endearing and charming. Pity. Nonetheless, here’s my beloved recipe to a batch of anti-aphrodisiac melting moments:

JILTED BAKER’S YOYOS INGREDIENTS 185 grams of butter ⅓ C icing sugar ⅓ C custard powder 1 1/2C plain flour dash of vanilla essence (if you revel in vanilla) Icing: ½ C icing sugar 2 T of butter 2 tsp of custard powder ½ tsp of vanilla dash of food colouring (pink, methinks)

METHOD Cream the butter and add the icing sugar and custard powder. Add the plain flour and a dash (I would add about a teaspoon) of vanilla for good measure. Roll the mixture into balls and place on a tray. Press the said balls ever so slightly with a fork. Pop the biscuits into a moderately heated oven (about 180 degrees Celsius) for 10-15 minutes. Leave out to cool. Meanwhile, mix the icing ingredients together and once the biscuits have cooled, sandwich (giant) dollops of icing between two cookies. Delicious!

JIMMY’S MAGIC SLICE If you’re a cool cat on the go, whether you have a million kids, or if you have two full time jobs, or if you are merely one of those people who has lost your marbles (like me) then you will cherish this quick magical recipe. INGREDIENTS 200 g butter (softened) 1 C sugar 1 egg 1 tsp of vanilla essence 2 C of flour 2 tsp baking powder 2 C raspberries (frozen will suffice. They’re regularly on sale. I’ve also used strawberries and blueberries.)

Massivemagazine.org.nz – FOOD

METHOD Pre-heat that dubious and unreliable flat oven of yours to 180 degrees Celsius proving that it has a function other than acting as a DIY heater. (Takes me back to the days when I was a poor, boozed and cold student studying in Dunedin, but I digress). Line a slice tin with baking paper to avoid sticking – losing precious slice to a tin is the worst crime. Meanwhile, cream the butter and sugar, add the vanilla, flour and finally baking powder. While sifting the flour is ideal, cool cats on the go ain’t got no time fo’ sifting, unless they’re in a clurrb. AmIright? Press two thirds of the mixed into the tin. Spoon/ sprinkle the raspberries over the mixture, and the chocolate buttons thereafter. Put the remaining mixture over the raspberries/chocolate. Bung the dish into the oven for 35-40 minutes or until golden. Done.

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REPRESENTATIVE CHIC

S C A R L E T B LO O M

A Parliamentary Street Style Column From Faux Pas to the Fabulous The Beehive, Wellington to beyond Leica D-Lux 3, Iphone, Copy’N’Paste The Hon. Hot or Not : A Prologue

WHO WORE IT BEST - THE PUFFA JACKET

What the Puffa says about you!

This column shall not feature the likes of Kim Kardashian’s side boob. Instead, its mandate is to try and tempt New Zealand’s disillusioned youth, nay, apathetic hooligans of-the-day, by luring them into the political arena by looking at the fashion follies of our members of parliament. From FPP to MMP to the worst VPL! Three months until the election. How liberating it is to start the sentence with a number, and how unjournalist-like! Hurrah for blogging/column freedom. Hurrah for the internet! Disclaimer: that is not a hurrah for the Internet Party because this column aims to be politically (and gender) neutral. While Representative Chic may be prima facie fickle, creating a dialogue online – and without any funding from Kim Dot Com or Colin Craig btw – is extremely valuable according to its creators, who have a flair for digital journalism, satire, politics, social justice and fashun. And, who shall remain anonymous* for the moment because, this column is for the people, by the people, and like, totally about the people. Viva la Representative Chic! * Please don’t sue us for defamation because 1) we have no money** 2) fingers crossed we are covered by privilege of some sort, honest opinion or truth (perhaps of the “bending” variety but that’s surely How To Be A Politician: 101). ** We have no money because instead of venturing to “greener” (literally, money is green, getit?) pastures like our learned friends who have fallen victim to the brain drain, we were stupid enough to pursue postgraduate degrees and thus are forced to stay in the country because of our ENORMOUS student loans. Ironic, huh?!

This month Slate Magazine released an AMAZING article,* “Who Won the World Cup of Arm Folding?” where basically, writers Dan Kois and Andrew Bouvé ripped each player to shreds based on their armfolding technique. They write, “This year’s FIFA World Cup featured some of the planet’s greatest athletes performing seemingly impossible physical tasks. Bicycle kicks. Spectacular goals. Mind-bending saves. Displays of endurance, determination, and balletic grace. And, of course, turning to the left and folding your arms. “It turns out that’s surprisingly hard to ace on your first (and, presumably, only) try. Hundreds upon hundreds of millions of television viewers have watched players from all 32 teams botch this seemingly simple technique in the lineup presentations before each World Cup match.” So Representative Chic thought, what have some of our quirky politicians sported in some way, shape (in the case of Gerry Brownlee - BURN!) or form? Yes, ladies and gentlemen, it’s time to feature the Labour Party and their love of the puffa jacket. Naturally there’s a spectrum: from Jacinda Arden’s tight and sensual look to parliament’s most eligible bachelor, Chris Hipkins and his puffa jacket fail. Come on. Get with it, Chris. If you’re wanting to get those student votes you’ve got to strike it where it’s hot. If Madonna can kick it with the kids in that faux fur number, surely you can. David Clark is certainly rocking his puffa, but that could be his hipster spectacles speaking, and we can’t deny how loveable and teddy-bear like Grant Robertson looks - but we prefer our ABCs and teddies to Cunliffe Cats anyway!

Urban Dictionary defines a puffa jacket as, “A puffy coat, usually made out of down material, and worn by [students] most of the time.” In the case of the mainstream student, you think puffa jackets, baked beans, Mee Goreng noodles, that God-awful tights-as-pants phenomenon, Chlamydia at some point, drunken debauchery and student loans. Those were the good ol’ days when Aunty Helen swept through the country pledging student-free loans and student allowances for all. And of course, being a student means we are as indifferent to the global financial crisis as we are to voting the general election for any other reason than because, “John Key, he seems to be a “GC” eh.” Due to electricity prices and poor insulation, toasters and ovens are the new heaters, students say. Could labour’s use of the puffa jacket be a subliminal jibe at National’s winding down of its home insulation programme as part of this year’s Budget cuts? Labour’s energy spokesman David Shearer said the Budget confirmed the Government had “virtually abandoned” its home insulation scheme leaving 600,000 homes across New Zealand uninsulated. National MP for and Energy Minister Simon Bridges denied the claims, saying the Government invested a further $100 million into home insulation over three years in the 2013 Budget. Perhaps ol’ Shear-dawg was just trying to regain some of the spotlight after losing to David number 2. Nonetheless, you gotta feel sorry for those poor buggers in Dunedin eh. *Seriously, if you are wanting a good LOL plug in “Who Won the World Cup of Arm Folding?”

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DETENTION FOR HEKIA PARATA FOR FAILING TO COMPLY TO THE UNIFORM CODE

On Monday June 30, the Minister of Education along with Health Minister Tony Ryall graced the Hutt City with their presence to discuss education, health and the wellbeing of New Zealanders. Paula Benefit had to politely decline because she had another engagement to attend. While it was raining blue, Parata, dressed in a bright orange blazer, was spotted attempting to contain her laughter after a member of the public questioned whether New Zealand was in fact “multicultural” and whether it was a good thing. Yikes. Nonetheless, despite Parata’s beautifully kept bob, we spotted a wee ladder in her pantyhose – perhaps the trials and tribulations of the Nova Pay scheme has finally got to her. Which begs the question, for the children unaccustomed to uniform-wearing – perhaps as a result of having to merge, I mean, change from mufti to standardised garb – would a hole in one’s tights be sufficient grounds for a detention? Perhaps Parata’s sister, appointed as deputy secretary of the Ministry of Education in 2012, might provide the answers. Or better yet, would her mates in the Kohanga Reo National Trust or would her education consultancy firm – back in the nineties that is, have the ability to provide this useful information? Representative Chic canvassed a selection of pantyhose at New World and discovered prices ranged from $4.99 (on sale) to $18.99. Good thing Parata is a grown up and doesn’t have to rely on her parents to purchase her new tights, or to provide her with a lunch everyday. Gone are the days of child poverty, I mean, MP poverty with Wishbone cafes and the Ministry of Food around the corner from parliament! And so what if Hekia Parata has a hole in her tights – if a kid with luscious long locks can take on a Hastings school at the High Court, who’s to say Parata wouldn’t take on every special needs school, every teacher and every principal wanting higher pay in the country to avoid detention!

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THE PROBLEM WITH MUSIC IN NEW ZEALAND AND HOW TO FIX IT & WHY I STARTED AND RAN PUPPIES S C A R L E T B LO O M

New Zealand music fiend and Camp A Low Hum festival founder Ian Jorgensen - better known as Blink - has released his long awaited book this month, The Problem with Music in New Zealand: How we can fix it and why I started and ran Puppies. Inspired by Steve Albini’s essay “The Problem with Music”, Blink’s self proclaimed “collection of terribly written rants” documents a pithy, casual look at how things should be done differently in the “small and sparsely populated” New Zealand. With the idea conceived in 2004, he decided to write the book after years of driving bands around the world and having too much time to speculate about issues in the music industry, he says. “I’d like to see the industries concerned with funding and keeping NZ music “afloat” develop future strategies to see that audiences are developed and that musicians might actually be able to make a career rather than this band-aid approach right now. “Also, I’d love for it to inspire and motivate some people to get more involved with DIY events and

shows and to see bands and venues think a little more about how they present shows – how much they charge, how they run them etc.” This ethos, was personified in the philosophy behind his Wellington-based venue, Puppies, which closed on June 21. The venue offered an outlet for Blink to showcase how he wanted New Zealand music to operate, he says. Namely, with its promotion of standardised gig prices, cheap alcohol prices and early set times. Overall, while Blink is the first to say he is embarrassed by his amateur writing style, the genuine grassroots nature of his writing and his living and breathing philosophy is nothing less than endearing. “I’m a really awful writer but I am happy with some of the ideas presented and feel that people can look past my writing – I think my naive, stream of consciousness style works anyway and makes it easy to read – which is the point. “Some of them are pie-in-the-sky, some of them are just to get people thinking.”

THE PROBLEM WITH MUSIC IN UPSTREAM COLOUR (2013) NEW ZEALAND AND HOW TO 4/5 FIX IT & WHY I STARTED AND Director Shane Caruth RAN PUPPIES (2014) Starring Amy Seimetz, Shane Carruth, AUTHOR Ian ‘Blink’ Jorgenson PUBLISHER Self Published

LUCKLESS – Vindication Blues DAV I D S T E V E N S

Luckless is the ever-evolving project of singer/ songwriter Ivy Rossiter. Vindication Blues, released July 11, is her sophomore full length effort, roping in the help of Logan Compain who returns on drums for this album, with bass provided by Rob Collins and guitar from Ben Eldridge. The album’s opener ‘Telephone Song’ is a gentle start, with Rossiter’s words taking control to set the tone for the rest of the album, juxtaposed against the full sound that the band brings to her musings. It’s atmospheric and slow, brooding and calm. The single ‘When You Asked Her To Stay’ comes in at track three. This is the song getting plenty of radio play around the country right now including the New Zealand number one spot on Massey’s own Radio Control. The song is a quick, upbeat jaunt into indie rock with all the good parts of a pop song.

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An almost sinister tone is set in track four, before you are launched back into the serenity of ‘Better Than Being Blue’; an obvious nod to the acoustic songwriters roots. ‘All I Want Is Sleep’ and ‘Comfort Hotel’ bring you back your sense of security, before ‘Hard As I Try’ does its best to make you cry as the album’s closer, with waves of hope and anguish spelled out over the simple guitar line, later joined by atmospheric gushes to bring the journey to a close. All in all, the album shows off the fantastic range that Rossiter possesses. From fiery angst to featherlight beauty, there is something here for every fan of Feist, PJ Harvey or Sharon Van Etten. A worthy addition to your Alt-Rock collection and your indie folk collection, so why not grab a couple copies?

LUCKLESS – VINDICATION BLUES (2014) ARTIST Luckless Label

HUNGRY & FROZEN S C A R L E T B LO O M

If you are not gagging at the prospect of a halloumi cheesecake, you’re in for a treat! In 2012 Penguin Publishers approached the creative genius behind popular blog Hungry & Frozen, Laura Vincent, to create her “first ever amazing cookbook” that features a plethora of interesting, affordable feeds - from the basic to the ridiculously fabulous. Her Halloumi cheesecake is (surprisingly) to die for! Vincent writes, “Now, bear with me here. It might sound odd, overly rich, scary – the Mr Burns of recipes. “But there’s honestly very little to this as the food processor does all the work, and the intriguing butteriness of the halloumi is both mellowed and yet writ large when paired with sharp cream cheese and lemon juice. “What I’m trying to say is: it’s simple and wonderful. More like the Homer Simpson of recipes, in fact.” And while it’s been almost a year since the book’s release, ye best get ye hands on a copy of the “newly limited edition cult hit” book as a result of Penguin deciding to pull the plug. Despite this setback, this will not stop the budding English Literature and Media Studies graduate from one day being an “amazingly rich, famous and happy” food writer, Vincent says.

“It’s weird, I’m quite hard on myself and insecure but I have this amazing self belief in myself that I will succeed in the career I have always wanted to do.” She lamented the days of her childhood when she was given full rein to create exotic tuna-pasta dishes with cheese sauce. It wasn’t until her partner at the time was doing shift work while she was a student that she really got her hands dirty in the kitchen, she says. “I really liked the idea of chronologically documenting what I was cooking. Even though I was a student I was fairly ambitious, buying pomegranates alongside shoes from the Warehouse.” Since her student days, the content of Hungry and Frozen has improved from being “hilariously bad,” she said. Since packing in her job working in the public sector, Vincent has been working on a new venture, namely delivering made-to-order cookies, officially titled, “cookie dough pretzel things” to people and businesses in the Wellington CBD. The cookies are ridiculous, she says. “They are kind of fun. They are not necessarily elegant or pretty but they are cute and yummy.” And so far, so good, she says.

Frozen & Hungry AUTHOR Laura Vincent PUBLISHER Penguin

WHAT WE DO IN THE SHADOWS S C A R L E T B LO O M

Thanks to the glorious prestige of working for Massive Magazine, I was fortunate enough to attend Wellington’s premier of Taika Waititi and Jemaine Clement’s, What We Do In The Shadows, at the Embassy Theater this month. Firstly, with all due respect, it was bloody upsetting to see that despite being made and produced in Wellington, the original premier was in Auckland. Nonetheless, my one gripe aside, the Kiwi mockumentary that documents the trials and tribulations of a group of vampires flatting together in Wellington is nothing less than perfect. Having years of flatting experience to my bow, I found the awkward flatting dynamic juxtaposed against the ridiculous vampire backdrop to be brilliant. There’s nothing like that New Zealand dry humour that really gets me going. The character development for each of the characters was both sweet and complex. You have the Slavic brut,

Vladislav, the particular gentleman, Viago, the sensual but antagonistic Deacon and your standard kiwi “bro”, Nick. It’s a recipe for laughter, tears, bickering and fun. With regard to set, lighting, sound and costume: the raw, documentary-esque aesthetic added to the humour of it all, and of course nothing could beat seeing many of Wellington’s favourite spots such as the Big Kumara (RIP). But, I am partial to all things Wellington. I guess what I am trying to say is that if you love tongue-in-cheek humour, irony, all things Wellington and New Zealand, you’re going to love this film. Because while sitting in my lovely frock and giggling and snorting like a maniac, it really feels like Waititi and Clement are paying homage to the place they call home – even despite the successes of Boy or Flight of the Conchords.

WHAT WE DO IN THE SHADOWS (2014) DIRECTOR Jermaine Clement, Taika Waititi STARRING Jermaine Clement, Taika Waititi,

Cory Gonzalez-Macuer, Jonathan Brugh

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ACROSS 1. Creeping (forward) 4. Encore! 8. Waited, ... one’s time 11. Assuage 16. Gambol 18. Beatle (4,9) 19. Kind stranger (4,9) 21. Milk-containing nuts 23. Buenos Aires is there 26. Profitable 28. Bin contents 30. Singer/songwriter, ... King 32. ... Arabia 34. Decimal point 36. Soup-serving spoon 38. Mourn 39. One of the 7 dwarfs 42. Decreased 45. From the land Down Under 47. Audacity 49. Doctor 50. Scorches 53. Pungent root 55. Varnished 56. Mafia, Cosa ... 57. Rent payer

59. French fashion designer, ... Chanel 60. Matured 61. Deliberate (upon) 63. Stylish 66. Single 68. More boring 70. Owned by that fellow 71. Iron-bar frame 72. Voyages 73. Honey wine 76. Tibetan ox 77. Foolish 78. Halfway 79. Presided over 81. Petroleum-exporting cartel 83. Bury (corpse) 85. Harbour 86. Bullfight cry 88. Senselessness 90. Hoaxes 91. Crow relatives 92. Biblical text 93. Voices publicly 95. German Mr 96. Bewilder 97. Christian minister 100. Two-piece swimsuit

102. Onto the beach 103. Pounced 105. Light summer dish 106. November stone 108. Discussion schedule 110. Colorado ski resort 112. Awry 114. Deserves 117. Michaelmas daisy 119. It is (poetic) (‘3) 121. Dwelling 124. Catch & imprison 127. Tripoli native 129. Compelling by force 130. Ornate 131. Overlooking 132. Possible outcomes 134. All-embracing 135. Aerial tracking system 136. Perceives 137. Geometric shape 138. Holly fruit 139. Humility

DOWN 1. Affects, ... on 2. Parish representatives 3. Inoculate 5. Cake 6. Glacial period (3,3) 7. “No” vote 8. Scrounge 9. Sardonic 10. Make beloved 12. Organises 13. Instinctively 14. Castrated men 15. Asphyxiated by fumes 17. Actress, ... Anderson 20. Data 22. Genuine fact 24. Invitation reply (1,1,1,1) 25. Indian bread 27. Fragrant wood 29. Former Cuban leader, ... Castro 31. Greater in years 33. Secure firmly 34. Tinted 35. Identical sibling 37. Craved, ... after 40. Agreed to

41. Edits (text) 43. Squirrel food 44. Value highly 46. Wall chart 48. Self-centred act (3,4) 51. Top credit rating (1,1,1) 52. “Baby delivery” bird 54. Disbelieving 58. Instructors 62. Lubricated 64. Travels on horse 65. Involved stories 66. Gastric ailment 67. Fiend 69. Eyrie dweller 71. General Post Office (1,1,1) 74. Motorised passenger balloon 75. Toxic insecticide (1,1,1) 79. Suspended state 80. Deformity 82. Tea-shipping boxes 83. Enforce 84. White water river area 85. Dainty 86. Lucky breaks

87. Santa’s helpers 89. Submits 92. Fed on pasture 94. Therapeutic bath 98. Detached 99. ... & rave 100. Bleats 101. Definitely not (2,3) 104. Eroded, ... away 107. Surrounded by 109. Drug 111. Clap (of thunder) 113. Mend (of bones) 115. World-famous 116. Insanitary 118. Swallow up 120. Holy image 122. Jumped from plane, ... out 123. Imprecisely 125. News agency founder 126. Documents 127. Pakistani city 128. Electronic signalling device 133. Actor, ... Worthington 134. Taxi

COME AND JOIN US FOR THE LAKE TAUPO CYCLE CHALLENGE 2014. In keeping with this sporting heritage Massey, and Massey’s 50th year we are encouraging alumni, students, staff and friends to ride around the lake and to join us in the Massey Marquee.

MASSEY MARQUEE – TAUPO

DATE TIME

Saturday 28 November 10.30am to 4pm – BBQ, refreshments and a relaxed space to catch up From 4pm – Enjoy the evening atmosphere in great company, refreshments, nibbles and a great view for prize giving

VENUE

Massey Marquee, Tongariro North Domain, Lake Taupo For more information email: alumni@massey.ac.nz

MASSEY APPAREL VISIT OUR CAMPUS SHOPS OR GO ONLINE TO GET YOUR MASSEY GEAR

Manawatu Shop opposite the Dining Hall -Wellington Student Central - Albany Unimart alumnishop.massey.ac.nz Call us on 06 3505865 or email alumni@massey.ac.nz

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