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about us
Salient is published by, but remains editorially independent from, the Victoria University of Wellington Student's Association (VUWSA). Salient is funded in part by VUWSA through Student Services Levy. Salient is a member of the Aotearoa Student Press Association (ASPA).
The views expressed in Salient do not necessarily reflect those of the Editor, VUWSA, or the University.
from The Netherlands, and just an adult when I became an Aotearoa dual-national. But despite being born in Utrecht and raised around Auckland, the taste of home is neither stamppot nor fish and chips. It’s sticky kwee lapis and steaming roti koekoes, it’s gado-gado slathered in warm pindasaus. These tastes have filtered from Indonesia through my mother’s family; so I fall into this weird IndoDutch New Zealand in-between identity.
I was only a toddler when we immigrated I was lucky enough to spend my childhood in the lands I’m indigenous to: Tahiti and Norfolk Island. However, like many of us immigrants, my family moved to Australia in hopes of a better future. Here, I lived on the lands of the Biripi and Warimi people and, later, Anaiwan country. I then embarked on my own journey, this time moving to Te Whanganui-a-Tara, Aotearoa. I’ve spent my life traversing Indigenous lands, airports, departure and arrival gates, customs, and different embassies.
Which I think is the most beautiful and painful thing about migration. You’ll never quite fit any one mould, you’ll never not pause at the ‘ethnicity’ question. It’s shit sometimes, when you wish you had a single soil in which to set your roots. But it’s oh, so wonderful to see the world through different cultural lenses, to sing with a multilingual tongue and smell familiar spices in a foreign kitchen.
Neither Mauatua nor I are refugees; our migrations have always been by choice. Not everyone is in a similar position of privilege, especially not those who have been displaced and had to rebuild their lives on unfamiliar land. All us migrants, with the infinite histories we carry, add to Aotearoa’s deeply furrowed cultural landscape. These unique spaces give birth to some of the most beautiful works of art, and I am so grateful to have this issue graced by such stunning wordsmiths.
Van harte bedankt iedereen x Guy van Egmond (he/him)
As tauiwi, we recognise our fortune in settling on this whenua, albeit unceded. We recognise our responsibility to tangata whenua and honouring Te Tiriti o Waitangi, which has allowed us to be here today. As immigrants and refugees, we recognise the global fight for indigenous sovereignty. We recognise the urgent need for freedom. A free Palestine, Kanaky, Eritrea, and West Papua. Let us be guided by them in achieving mana motuhake, worldwide.
This edition of Salient highlights our students’ migration stories. Whether it be of safety, survival, or opportunity; each so special. What a blessing it’s been to read and share all of your stories.
From my ancestors to yours, māuruuru roa. Mauatua Fa'ara-Reynolds (she/they)
gig guide
THUR | MOON | 7.30pm
Persimmon: ‘Tomorrow Morning’ Release Show w/ Welcomer and Fouler Head over to MOON this Thursday for a cosy, affordable night of indie goodness. Headlining the evening are Persimmon, celebrating the release of their new EP, Tomorrow Morning! They’re a sick local four-piece, providing indie pop/rock with a healthy strain of midwest emo. Gaze out longingly at the street; imagine the conversations around you have 90s yellow subtitles. In support are Welcomer—indie, deeply melancholic—and Fouler—swampy, droney, grungy… yet catchy? Three exciting bands in a lovely locale, for less than the price of a pint. Why not!
SAT
| 8pm
Terror Of The Deep, Beach Balls, The Dissentors, and The Rhinanas
The city may be swamped in rain, but this Saturday at MOON is a beach day. Three sunny, surfy acts for the cheap (and oddly specific) price of $8.50! Terror of the Deep has a delightfully jangly sound; guitar pop with a vocal tone reminiscent of Dope Lemon. The Beach Balls will provide the real surf-punk vibes—this high energy three piece is reforming for one night only, so don’t miss ‘em. The Rihannas will close off the evening with their striking, harmonic brand of dream pop. A night to remember.
Tickets $8.50
Enjoy our small, lovingly curated selection of gigs.
FRI | Rogue | 9pm
Sam Manzanza's Afrobeat Band
Winter getting you down? Here’s a gig that promises to move your very soul: Sam Manzanza's Afrobeat Band! Manzanza, a NZ-based performer who spent years with the DR Congo National Ballet, is often credited with popularising traditional and modern African music in Aotearoa. A skilled multi-instrumentalist, he’ll be treating Rogue this Friday to a mix of largely original songs, performed in a mix of French, English, and Lingala. Expect infectious, high energy afrobeat jams, and a nonstop dance-floor.
Bleeding Star & Feshh Tour Fundraiser
Escape the grunge and debauchery of Te Aro this Friday with Feshh and Bleeding Star. These two legends of the indie scene are hosting an all-ages gig at the Newtown Community Center, raising money for an upcoming tour (if this isn’t your favourite music venue in Welly, become more civicminded). Bleeding Star have a high energy pop-punk/noise rock sound, and Feshh a delightful shoegaze vibe. Support from Khaki Department and Cruelly.
SAT | Private Venue - Kelburn | 8pm
Caught Inside: Vinyl Release Party, with Lipstick
Caught Inside are releasing a brand new EP, 5 STAR SHAG! This Saturday they invite you to celebrate the pressing of their debut vinyl single. Caught Inside have spent 2024 jumping from strength to strength, refining their clean, high-energy indie pop sound. In support is Lipstick, another darling of the indie scene, bringing a refreshing alt-rock/ brit-pop vibe to their sets. Limited to 50 tickets, no door sales. Tickets $10-20
protest calendar
SAT | Rogue and Vagabond | 9pm
Can’t walk down Cuba Street without tripping over an indie rock band? Looking for a change? This Saturday, Rogue is hosting underground hip-hop king Big Sima, along with seven piece funk outfit Boomtown. Described as “political, raw, unapologetic”, the Ōtautahi rapper has been making waves across the motu with a series of high-profile releases and tours. Expect funk-driven, high energy hip hop, saxophone solos, guitar licks, strong basslines and flow, Rogue is the place to be.
Salient will be highlighting protest and direct action throughout 2024. In print will be a small selection.
March for the Children of Gaza
Last month a group of US doctors sent an open letter to the White House demanding an arms embargo and immediate ceasefire. An excerpt reads: “... every single signatory to this letter treated children in Gaza who suffered violence that must have been deliberately directed at them. Specifically, every one of us on a daily basis treated pre-teen children who were shot in the head and chest”. Palestine Solidarity Network Aotearoa, Justice for Palestine, Aotearoa Healthcare Workers for Palestine, Student Justice for Palestine, Massey University SJP, the Falastin Tea Collective, the International Socialist Organisation of Aotearoa, and Teachers for Palestine are collectively organising in solidarity with the children of Gaza.
Scan this code for a more comprehensive protest destination. Scan
$10
kawepūrongo
05.08.2024
Russell McVeagh Re-Engagement Goes To the Vote
mentions of sexual abuse.
Note: By the time this article is printed, voting will have concluded and results may be published. This article is designed to shed light on the process, not to persuade students one way or another.
In 2018, the legal world was rocked by revelations of a massive culture of sexual abuse at Russell McVeagh, one of the top country’s law firms. The allegations reportedly included sexual abuse involving students at Victoria University law school, something that the University knew, and was acting on, but did not make public until the 2018 scandal. The offenders reportedly had significant power over the women, and leveraged it to demand sexual favours. Many of the allegations centred around the firm’s Christmas parties, which were described as having a “frat” culture. Per RNZ, one offender even showed up on campus and came into contact with an intern.
As soon as the allegations came to light, all of Aotearoa’s Law schools ceased engagement with Russell McVeagh, including cancelling talks and banning the firm from recruitment fairs. Since then, all but Victoria University of Wellington have reengaged. However, VUWLSS has not yet re-engaged, due largely to the fact that the allegations came from Vic students. Now, six years on, VUWLSS is undergoing a long and substantive process to reengage with the firm. Last week, as that process reached its conclusion, Law students were invited to participate in a vote.
In meetings with students, senior Russell McVeagh staff, including CEO Jo Avenell, stressed that the recommendations of the Bazley Report (the commission investigating the allegations) had all been addressed. Students were also given the opportunity to ask questions, and pressed the representatives on whether there had been a genuine culture change. The response from Avenell and a HR representative present was that a significant number of partners present at the time were now no longer with the
company, and that policy “guardrails” had added up over time to produce a different company culture.
In a letter to VUWLSS President Valentyn Santhara, outgoing Dean of Law Lee Godden continued her stance of neutrality, but reaffirmed that the University was receiving regular safety reports from Russell McVeagh.
In a series of roundtables hosted by rep groups from around the Law school, students stressed the need for interns to be able to make their concerns known anonymously, without fear of repercussions or career damage. An anonymous collaborative document was suggested, alongside ideas like internship “speed-dating”.
In a statement made to Salient, VUW Feminist Law Society President Vanessa Williams said that “like the rest of the Representative Group Committee, [we] have been completely neutral throughout this process”. However, she added that VUWFLS was particularly concerned with upholding a reasonable standard of safety across the profession, so that “students are safe regardless of where they may go for work.” Williams also clarified that the Representative Group Committee decision was made with the interests of survivors in mind, and that all survivors were consulted by the Faculty and did not raise any concerns with re-engagement.
For the first time, almost all current Law students were not at the University during the scandal and subsequent protest movement. Because of this, rep groups and VUWLSS alike agree that it is essential to make a decision now, before the events fade into history.
CONTENT
Students Call on University to Divest from Genocide
ETHAN ROGACION (HE/HIM)
Did you know that the University has a lot of money? Well, I mean clearly not enough for it to function properly, but a lot of money nonetheless. Te Herenga Waka, like all other businesses, endeavours to invest its money in a way that generates the highest returns.
Student Justice for Palestine are calling on the VUW Foundation—which manages all of its investments— to divest from any funds with ties to the Israeli government.
As SJP’s Frank Mackenzie told Salient, the Foundation has been less than transparent about the places that it invests. “It’s been a real uphill battle,” he said. “I mean, I think it’s how finance works: it’s not set up for accountability or disclosure.”
While the Foundation is a proud signatory of the United Nations Principles for Responsible Investment, they concede that some of their current investments benefit the Israeli government.
A spokesperson for the VUW Foundation Trust revealed to Salient that “one of the investment funds in which the Foundation invests currently holds four bonds issued by the Israeli Government, amounting to approximately 0.58% of the ANZ fund in question.” This amounts to an investment of $47,532.
The statement indicated that the Foundation is in the process of reviewing where its funds are held, due largely to ANZ leaving the wholesale fund management market.
“The process to identify new fund managers to replace ANZ has put an emphasis on high environmental, social and governance standards and fund managers that are transparent through their reporting and engagement with investors like the Foundation.”
Editor’s Note: Information is dated to the 1st of August. Follow the QR code for the full story.
Drop, Cover, Hold on to Your Hall
DARCy LAWREy (HE/HIM)
Wellington sure is an interesting place to choose as the Capital: the windiest city in the world, and the most earthquake prone in Aotearoa. Earthquake safety is an important consideration anywhere in the motu, but sitting between two tectonic plates makes it especially critical here.
New documents seen by Salient, released by Te Herenga Waka under the Official Information Act, have revealed the earthquake safety ratings of the University halls of residence.
While most halls are at 100% of the New Building Standard (NBS), two halls are considered to be Earthquake Risk Buildings, with ratings below 67%.
Weir House, which underwent some strengthening work between 2021 and 2022, has one building rated at 34%, one point away from being considered “earthquake-prone”.
Similarly, the OIA request revealed buildings at Everton Hall are rated between 35% and 53%.
But despite the less than ideal ratings, Simon Johnson, Director of Campus Operations, says that the university is “confident that both halls are safe to occupy”.
Plans are in place for earthquake strengthening at Weir House, while options for strengthening Everton Hall are currently being considered. The University plans to begin work at a time when the halls are unoccupied.
Johnson says the University does not foresee an impact on student services as a result of the necessary spending on strengthening works, as funding for the project comes from the University’s capital plan.
Te Herenga Waka Drops Winter Energy Payment Campaign
PHOEBE ROBERTSON (SHE/HER)
Te Herenga Waka has announced a new initiative to help students manage their winter heating costs. The Student Finance team, in collaboration with the Development and Alumni Relations office, is offering Winter Energy Grants to students, aimed at alleviating the burden of winter power bills.
The grants, funded by generous donations from businesses, alumni, and staff through the Student Hardship Fund, can provide up to $300 per household. Students are encouraged to apply as a group if they share a flat with other university students. However,
individual applications are also accepted from those living alone or with non-students, provided they are not residents of halls with all-inclusive costs.
Applications for the Winter Energy Grant open from 29 July to 9 August 2024. Successful applicants will receive their grants the following week. To apply, students must complete an online form and submit supporting evidence, including a current power bill and bank statement.
For more information and to apply, students can visit the university’s website, or email studenthardship@vuw.ac.nz.
Best-Practice Guidelines Launched for Refugee Background Students
PHOEBE ROBERTSON (SHE/HER)
On Friday, 19 July, marking World Refugee Day, the University launched Enhancing Refugee-background Learner Journeys in Tertiary Education in Aotearoa New Zealand. Led by Professor Sara Kindon and Sarah Willette, the report involved collaboration with over 25 colleagues and learners from Te Herenga Waka and across Aotearoa.
Deputy Vice-Chancellor (Students) Dr Logan Bannister, speaking on the report, described its research methodology as “a perfect example of the University’s values in action—within this research we have engaged with our community and sector to create transformative change for refugee-background learners.”
The report informed the development of best-practice guidelines specific to tertiary refugee students, published by the Tertiary Education Commission (TEC) in 2023. It highlights the diversity of refugeebackground learners and the crucial role of higher education in refugee resettlement, outlining how education positively impacts individual learners, their families, communities, and society.
Te Herenga Waka was the first university to research this learner group, allowing students to self-identify as coming from a refugee background at enrolment, establishing the national network, and appointing a dedicated, part-time refugee-background advisor.
Refugee-background Advisor Abdul Haidari says:
“Our refugee-background learners have benefitted from Professor Kindon’s advocacy, and the research and guidelines provide myself and other support staff across the University to track our progress and increase our collective impact. Everyone has a part to play in refugee-background learners’ educational success.”
GREAT SOUNDS GREAT
PHOEBE ROBERTSON (SHE/HER)
The Great Sounds Great festival, now in its third year and produced by Eyegum Music Collective, will take place on the 31st of August. This year, for the first time, the lineup includes poets. I spoke with Ash Davida Jane, the poetry coordinator for the festival, to get more details.
As a poetry enthusiast and writer myself (no surprises if you listen to the Podcast), I don't typically associate poetry with Eyegum’s usual events. However, Jane explained that poetry has been part of the Eyegum Music Collective canon for years. The Collective’s main focus has been the Welcome to Nowhere festival, a three-day event near Whanganui, which has incorporated poetry, art, comedy, and even theatre alongside music. Jane pitched the inclusion of poetry in this year’s festival, and “everyone else was really into it.”
The headliner for the poetry segment is Hera Lindsay Bird, who I like to call the Lorde of Aotearoa poetry. Jane shared, “Bird's self-titled debut changed the game for poetry here and made a huge difference for the reputation of New Zealand poetry globally. Anyone who’s heard her read will confirm that she’s an amazing performer, and her poems are genuinely very funny.”
Next on the lineup is Khadro Mohamed, who published her debut collection, We’re All Made of Lightning (Tender Press), in 2022 to great acclaim. Her poetry is a unique blend of being “simultaneously soft and
outspoken.” Khadro is also deeply involved in the community, organising events, editing zines, and advocating for political accountability in the arts. Jane noted, “Having seen how deeply so many readers have connected with Khadro’s work, I’m looking forward to more people getting to hear her poems.”
The final performer is Jackson McCarthy, an emerging poet whose charisma on stage always leaves a lasting impression. Jackson represents a new generation of young poets in Te Whanganui-a-Tara, producing incredible work and building a strong community. His writing is described as tender, full of pathos, often funny, and remarkably clever.
If that lineup hasn’t already won you over, Jane is confident the festival will. The greatest advantage of Great Sounds Great is the remarkable number of performances you get for your money. While tickets are $89 (plus booking fee), Jane notes that it’s much cheaper than an arena concert, which can cost around $250. Plus, you get access to six venues with seven stages over nine hours, featuring 30 different artists, including the poets mentioned above. They explained that they “make festival tickets as cheap as [they] can while doing right by the artists playing.” If you have the funds you can’t get a better deal than Great Sounds Great.
If the price tag is inaccessible, keep heading to Eyegum Wednesdays for fantastic local music, without the usual cost.
Writers on Mondays
Writers on Mondays is presented by the International Institute of Modern Letters, in collaboration with Te Papa, Circa Theatre, and Phantom Billstickers National Poetry Day. The series runs from July to September, featuring authors who will speak about their work at Te Papa. All events are free and mostly take place from 12:15 to 1:15 pm. For more information and to view the schedule, scan the QR code.
PHOEBE ROBERTSON (SHE/HER)
Making Strides for Workers Rights—in Eight Inch Heels
HENRy BROADBENT (HE/HIM)
Fired Up Stilettos (FUS)—a stripper-led workers collective formed in response to a mass firing at Calendar Girls last year—continues to fight for the rights of adult entertainers in Aotearoa. Two members of FUS, Laura Phillips and Vixen Temple, addressed the the Education and Workforce Select Committee late last month with a packed chamber of supporters in attendance, including Dame Catherine Healy, former Green MP Jan Logie, and sex-work researcher Dr Lynzi Armstrong.
The presentation was a next step following FUS’s Petition for Strippers Labour Rights. Submitted to Parliament in June last year after collecting over 7000 signatures, the petition requests the House: establish adult entertainers’ right to collective bargaining as independent contractors, outlaw all fines and bonds, and institute a 20% cap on venue cuts of contractor profits.
Temple and Phillips, in their ten-minute submission, carefully and powerfully communicated the current realities of adult entertainers in Aotearoa. They detailed abusive and exploitative employment practices, describing a nationwide pattern of coercion and control, reinforced and informed by negative social stigma.
Both speakers, in illustrating the abuse and manipulation routinely practised by venue managers, stressed that this systemic worker mistreatment is not remotely inherent to adult entertainment. Poor working conditions, Temple emphasised, exist specifically because of “lack of regulation, and … enduring misogynistic ideas.” She drew MPs' attention toward the double-standard in the industry, describing “creative, smart, resourceful, talented, and resilient
individuals … subjected to treatment that would be considered barbaric in a male-dominated industry.”
Phillips related to the committee the steadily decreasing share of profits workers have been receiving. Venues continue to ratchet up the percentage they garnish, sometimes taking over half of the cost of a booking. Further, arbitrarily enforced fines and bonds “have doubled” at the same time—increasing the potential for workers to become trapped in economic dependency. The only purpose of these fines and bonds, Temple underlined, is to “threaten, coerce, and steal workers' money.” Under current settings, workers have no legal recourse to negotiate these conditions, or appeal fines.
Both speakers were, in discussing a possible future for the industry, emphatic on the necessity that any future regulations are “informed by the workers for the benefit of the workers." They urged the committee to “commit to effective change now”.
The Ministry for Business and Innovation, in the same session, agreed a ‘gap’ exists in legislation protecting contractors, leaving workers open to exploitation. FUS and MBIE both identified The Screen Industry Workers Act 2022, which allows film-industry workers to engage in collective bargaining, as a potential model—positing a similar, industry specific allowance for adult entertainment workers. The select committee will decide on the progress of the petition. No dates for further action have been set.
Fired Up Stilettos will be continuing their campaign. They encourage any strippers having workplace issues to get in contact via social media, or email: firedupstilettos@gmail.com
Waikato-Tainui To Da World
words by Te Huihui o Matariki Chi Huy Tran (he/him) Taranaki Tūturu, Te iwi o Maruwharanui, Ngāti Maniapoto
Kiingi Tūheitia has made history as the first Māori monarch to attend the Olympics. He was welcomed with a pōwhiri at the Olympic Village upon arrival in Paris. The New Zealand Olympic Committee invited him to support the athletes and bless the new korowai for the flag-bearers. The new korowai, named 'Te Hono ki Matariki', honours the legacy of 'Mahutonga' and symbolises the pride of representing New Zealand. This significant cultural presence showcases Māori heritage on the global stage. Up the TAINUI WAKA !
Te Rūnanga o Ngāti Whātua sues Government Amendment of Customary Marine Title under MACA Act
words by Ashleigh Putt-Fallows (she/her/ia) Ngāti Whātua, Ngāpuhi-Ngāti Hine, Tūhoe
Te Rūnanga o Ngāti Whātua has initiated High Court action against the Government’s amendment of the Marine and Coastal Area (MACA) Act, arguing that it unjustly complicates the process for obtaining customary marine title. CoChairs Rev John Marsden and Dame Rangimarie Naida Glavish criticize the government for its lack of consultation and arbitrary cutoff date of July 25, 2024, which they believe undermines iwi rights and interests. They seek judicial declarations and damages for breaches of the New Zealand Bill of Rights Act 1990. The legal challenge could affect ongoing cases in the Whangārei Harbour and Coast.
New Caledonia's Customary Senate Chief Resigns Amid Criticism
words by Te Huihui o Matariki Chi Huy Tran (he/him) Taranaki Tūturu, Te iwi o Maruwharanui, Ngāti Maniapoto
Hyppolite Sinewami, President of New Caledonia's Great Council of Chiefs Inaat Ne Kanaky, has announced his resignation from the Customary Senate. Sinewami, who once presided over the 16-member traditional Senate of chiefs, cited "inefficiency" and "politicisation" as reasons for his departure. He expressed concerns that the Senate is not representative of all Chiefly areas and is overly dependent on the government. The 47-year-old chief also criticised the Senate's silence amid ongoing unrest since 13 May. His resignation marks a significant shift in the leadership dynamics of the Customary Senate.
Te tū Ngāpuhi: Hīkoi against crisis in state care
words by Ashleigh Putt-Fallows (she/her/ia) Ngāti Whātua, Ngāpuhi-Ngāti Hine, Tūhoe
Ngāpuhi iwi, hapū, and whānau are mobilizing against the high number of Ngāpuhi children in state care, as revealed by the recent Whanaketia report and ongoing issues highlighted in Oranga Tamariki reports. The Ngāpuhi spokesperson noted the alarming disproportion of Ngāpuhi children in care—827 as of April 2024—three times higher than any other iwi, and a third of all Māori children in state care.
To address this crisis, Ngāpuhi is organizing two hīkoi: the first on August 3 in Kaikohe, starting at 10am near Broadway and Orrs Road, and ending at 65 Broadway, and the second on August 5 on Parliament grounds from 12 to 1 pm. These events aim to raise awareness, advocate for whakapapa-based solutions, and support Ngāpuhi-led strategies for tamariki mokopuna. Ngāpuhi seeks devolution of resources to implement their own solutions, emphasizing that Crown-led strategies have failed. They are advocating for their whānau to be safe and connected, pushing for an end to the trauma experienced in the current state care system.
Pacific Nations & Languages
Welcome back to Salient’s Pacific language learning! This week we have the Marshall Islands. And, as always, there are things we may have missed or glossed over, and we encourage you all to do your own research.
The Marshall Islands
The Marshall Islands are thought to have been settled around 4000 years ago by early Micronesian voyagers. The nation is comprised of 29 atolls and five islands, and divided into two regions: Ratak (the Eastern region) and Rālik (the Western region).
In 1885, Germany annexed the Marshall Islands as a protectorate, until Japan took over at the beginning of World War l. However, after Japan’s defeat in World War ll, the United States of America assumed control of the Marshall Islands. Subsequently it became part of the US Trust Territory of the Pacific.
During the Cold War, paranoia surrounding Soviet expansionism compelled the US to conduct nuclear tests in their territories. In 1946, Vice Admiral Blandy announced that Bikini Atoll of the Marshall Islands would be the site of atomic experiments, relocating Bikinians to another atoll. Due to considerable suffering and
Email greetings / sign offs
Iakwe = Hello / goodbye / love
Ko ool (tata) = Thank you (very much)
, , m , , m
Bar iakwe = Goodbye
General phrases
Ebon = Marshallese language
physical and sexual violence, human trafficking, racism.
The Oppressed
Oppressive, abusive, cruel, dictatorial. Words that sadly describe the last 30 years of Eritrea. When I think of Eritrea, my heart fills with love for my people; simultaneously, it shatters because of my love for them. The level of physical and mental torture that many Eritreans have had to endure is simply shocking. Join me in exploring Eritrean history, and in telling the stories of courageous Eritreans living under political persecution.
FROM MUSSOLINI TO AFWERKI: THE LONG 20TH CENTURY
The second half of the 20th century was tumultuous for many African states—Eritrea was no exception. Decolonisation efforts after World War Two saw Eritrea finally free from ~60 years of Italian colonial rule; then came ten years under British military administration, and a further ten as a constituent state of the Ethiopian Crown. 1961 saw the beginning of armed struggle for Eritrean independence from Ethiopia.
The Eritrean War of Independence, as it would become known, was further complicated by global power dynamics—Ethiopia, under a Marxist military junta, was supported by the Soviet Union, while the Eritrean Liberation Front was backed by the People’s Republic of China until 1972. After decades of intense fighting and shifting alliances (including the loss of Soviet support for Ethiopia during the European Revolutions of 1989), the war concluded with the overthrow of the Ethiopian government by the EPLF and its allies on May 24th 1991; the happiest day of many Eritreans’ lives.
Eritrea officially gained independence in 1993 following a UN-supervised referendum. As the leading guerrilla group, the Eritrean People's Liberation Front (EPLF) formed a provisional government for Eritrea, led by Isaias Afwerki.
Despite Eritrea gaining independence, citizens are still facing harsh conditions. A new constitution defining legislative, executive and judicial branches of government and establishing a National Assembly, was drawn up in 1997. Under Afwerki, it was never enacted. The National Assembly has not met since 2002, and the legislative and executive powers are both held by President Isaias Afwerki.
By September 2001, the government had closed independent newspapers, banned all private media, and arrested several journalists and senior government officials. The very few channels and newspapers left are all run by the unelected and only political party in Eritrea. What makes matters worse is that only 1% of the population can access the Internet. An absolute dictatorship.
State of Eritrea
words by Asmeret Kahasay Neguse (she/her)
BITWEDED ABRAHA
Only a few months after the country gained independence, in October of 1991, Bitweded Abraha was arrested for expressing his concerns about Isaias Afwerki’s dictatorial tendencies. Abraha has never been charged with any crime or had a trial. Nevertheless, he was put into solitary confinement in 1994, then released briefly in 1997. During his release, he spoke publicly about his unlawful detention and voiced his concerns about the direction Eritrea was heading under Afwerki.
“We should not be afraid of any one person but should be aware or afraid of breaking the law of the land and the laws of God, the creator. If we want to make social justice a reality, we need to have bravery and dedication. The Eritrean people need to shout openly and ask that these prisoners receive due process of the law and be bought before a judge. Do not be afraid! I will fight until justice is realised”.
Subsequently, he was arrested again (only four months after his initial release), and placed back in solitary confinement. His current whereabouts and status remain unknown. The story of Abraha has become a powerful symbol of resistance. People soon realised that speaking out or protesting was dangerous. Shortly thereafter, Isaias Afwerki (boldly) renamed his political party to the ‘People’s Front for Democracy and Justice’ (PFDJ).
YIRGALEM FISSEHA MEBRAHTU
Yirgalem Fisseha Mebrahtu is another courageous Eritrean with a heartbreaking story. She co-founded the Adi Keyh Literature Club and worked as an independent journalist, publishing poetry for literary magazines until the ban of private media in 2001. Yirgalem then worked as a writer, presenter, and program director for a radio station managed by the Ministry of Education called Radio Bana
After six years at Radio Bana, on a random Wednesday in February 2009, Yirgalem and her colleagues were summoned to a meeting. They were instructed to board a truck, and taken to the Adi-Abeto prison centre. Here, she was interrogated and accused of “calling for the assassination of the president”; baseless accusations. After a couple months, Yirgalem was transferred to Mai-Serwa Prison, “notorious for its harsh conditions and mistreatment of inmates, many of whom are political prisoners”. During her interrogation, she was accused of writing poetry and short stories that allegedly suggested she did not support President Isaias Afwerki. She was also questioned about her email address, “justice-seeker”. Since exiled Eritrean activists often use the term “justice-seekers” to describe themselves, having such an email address was deemed unacceptable.
continued on page 14
"—there are those who do not mind walking on fire with someone else's feet and grind stones with someone else's teeth."
continued from previous: Yirgalem was beaten because of her poetry and short stories. The interrogator interpreted and bent her words to imply she was speaking ill of the government. She denied this, and they tortured her. Yirgalem was in critical condition after repeated abuse and was taken to Halibet Hospital. After she regained some health, she returned to prison until she was released in 2015. Then, in 2017, she attempted to flee Eritrea and was arrested at the border and returned to jail for four months. After being released, she successfully escaped to Uganda. Now, Yirgalem lives in Germany and continues to tell her story of the horrible things she endured in Eritrea.
Despite the atrocities committed by the President, there are still Eritreans who support the regime and unquestioningly believe in patriotism at the cost of their people. Yirgalem perfectly describes these people in the letter she wrote to the prisoners she left behind. “To your surprise, there are Eritreans who believe that there is no one who is unlawfully imprisoned in Eritrea. There are those who argue that Eritrea is governed in accordance with the principles of human rights; there are those who do not mind walking on fire with someone else’s feet and grind stones with someone else’s teeth. There are those who consider questions regarding rights and justice as crimes. There are those who still instil a culture of indifference. There are those who do not consider the conditions in Eritrea a problem until they touch their immediate family members.”
CIHAM ALI ABDU
One of Yirgalem’s many poems is about Ciham Ali Abdu. Ciham, who has American citizenship, was imprisoned in 2012 at the age of 15 because her father, the former Minister of Information, had fled the country. She has never been formally charged or given a trial, and has not been seen since.
physical and sexual violence, human trafficking, racism.
SARON GETACHEW
Saron Getachew is another strong and brave Eritrean woman who has experienced “hell on earth”. In 2015, she fled Eritrea at only 16 years old. She left to avoid the mandatory military conscription, which requires almost every boy and girl to enlist, for an indefinite period, as soon as they turn 17. She planned to go through the Sahara Desert, into Libya, across the Mediterranean Sea, and into Europe within a week; she had been told it would be a smooth journey.
Saron had not anticipated the traumatic experience she would go through instead. Once she made it to Libya, she was held for ransom by kidnappers. While being held captive, she heard people being tortured, and grown men screaming out “yima”, which translates to “mum”.
A man named Filmon was the torturer; he held a machete, a gun and a phone. With him was a man named Mohammed; he tried to sexually assault Saron. Saron called her brother to ask for money for the ransom. She told her brother she was not going to make it; she had witnessed people being killed and feared she was next. He repeatedly told her: “Saron, you're going to make it out, just focus, you're going to make it out”, but she didn't have much hope left.
The money came through, and before long Libyans were transporting her and a group of others to the capital, Tripoli. En route, they were stopped at a checkpoint by men claiming to be Libyan government officials. At night, these men kidnapped some of the group, Saron included, from the Libyans they were with. They then sold them to other smugglers. Saron was sold to three different men within six months while trapped in Libya, and witnessed and endured deeply disturbing abuses.
The torture that Saron endured is too graphic to share in this issue. However, that does not mean that it should be unspoken. If you want to learn further about the abuse she endured, you can scan the QR code at the bottom of this page, to hear directly from Saron.
Eventually, Saron managed to escape and to get on a boat across the Mediterranean Sea. Thousands of Eritreans die trying to cross the Mediterranean Sea; see the 2013 Lampedusa tragedy, when a trawler carrying asylum seekers from Eritrea and Somalia capsized off Italy's Lampedusa, killing 368 people.
However, Saron made it out alive. She is now living in Sweden and has been diagnosed with Stockholm syndrome. To function as a “normal person”, she must take several medications. Saron feels she will never be the same person she was before Libya. She says even though she made it out alive, she will forever be mentally scarred. Saron continues to speak out for those suffering in Libya today.
There are many alarming issues in Eritrea. Eritreans in Eritrea have no human rights; those who flee due to this find themselves facing massive danger. Eritreans want to be able to work and make a living and not have to live in fear every day. They yearn for freedom and free speech, and for their human rights to be respected. Which is why many flee, regardless of the consequences. More than 580,000 Eritrean refugees and asylum seekers were recorded abroad in 2021; Eritrea has a population of 3.8 million people. Eritreans are suffering inside and outside of Eritrea; men and women like Bitweded, Yirgalem, Ciham, and Saron are a testament to this.
ABOUT THE FLAG ON PAGES 12-13: ‘Meley’ - Only flag chosen by the Eritrean people; via parliamentary elections in 1952. ‘Justice-seekers’ tend to still use this flag, as the current Eritrean national flag was chosen by the EPLF (now known as PFDJ), not the Eritrean people.
FUL BITES
steaming bowls of rice with fish sauce completed our table. Nature provided abundantly, our task was combining ingredients into delights. Despite being the only university attendee in the family, Mum worked tirelessly, doing multiple jobs and running a small Chè business with friends, selling traditional sweet fruit soup. Her dedication and perseverance inspire, highlighting the profound ties linking family, culture, and cuisine on top of the challenges she faced.
My father was also a skilled cook during his days in the Navy, navigating the seas. His upbringing was somewhat easier than my mother's, yet they were both born in prewar Vietnam and he also grew up with eight siblings. Consequently, they both deeply understood the significance of every meal. Despite limited resources, each gathering around the table became a cherished occasion for him, filled with happiness. As my father matured, he honed his culinary skills, faithfully following the traditional methods of our ancestors. He expertly utilised natural ingredients, skillfully wielding the wok to create every family meal I grew up enjoying.
I was born into an era where hunger was never a concern growing up. While I enjoyed cuisines from around the world, Vietnamese food held a special place in my heart. It felt like home. From an early age, I learned to value food, never wasting a morsel, and cherishing every meal shared with family. This appreciation stemmed from understanding my parents' experiences: my mother faced scarcity in her youth, and my father navigated a turbulent era, often separated from family meals due to war conflict.
As I grew older, family gatherings became less frequent, and eventually I moved to Aotearoa to reconnect with
birthplace. It's about an enduring national spirit that shapes who I am today. I was born Vietnamese, and I’ll die Vietnamese.
about the cover art
LIBERTY VEILED: A REFLECTION ON PALESTINIAN CENSORSHIP
“The suppression, shadow banning, smear campaigns, doxing, threats, et cetera, are all because they know that their crimes are that morally indefensible, and anyone with an ounce of humanity will turn on them with the slightest exposure to those crimes” - Dr. Omar Suleiman
In the heart of the 'land of the free’, a war rages against the very essence of liberty. Across oceans and borders students rise in unity, their voices ringing out against the chains of oppression binding Palestine. Yet, in response to their peaceful cries for justice, the heavy boots of authority trample their protests, shattering the illusion of free speech.
At the esteemed halls of Columbia University and beyond, the call for divestment from Israel, a beacon of resistance against apartheid and occupation, reverberates through the corridors of power. Instead of heeding the call, armed forces descend upon the campuses, their weapons aimed not at the oppressors but at the oppressed. Rubber bullets, stones, and fireworks, the crude tools of silencing, rain down upon the righteous, turning peaceful dissent into a bloody battlefield.
In the halls of academia, where knowledge should be revered above all else, the story of Asna Tabassum unfolds. A USC valedictorian is silenced, her voice snatched away by the hands of censorship simply for daring to stand in solidarity with Palestine. Her crime? Speaking truth to power, challenging the status quo with her unwavering support for the oppressed.
Yet, amidst this blaring suppression, a lone figure emerges from the shadows. A symbol of defiance and resilience depicts the Lady of Liberty. Wrapped in the iconic Palestinian kuffiyeh, she stands as a testament to the indomitable will of the oppressed. But even she is not spared from the onslaught of censorship. Vandalized and defaced, her image serves as a stark reminder of the forces that seek to silence criticism and erase truth.
In the face of such tyranny, let us not falter. Let us raise our voices in unison, amplifying the cries of the silenced, and shattering the chains of oppression that bind us. For true liberty knows no bounds, and only through the relentless pursuit of justice can we reclaim the shattered fragments of our collective humanity.
Let us not forget the hypocrisy of the West, which champions freedom of speech only when it aligns with their agenda. When voices speak out against injustice in Palestine, they are met with silence or violence, revealing the true nature of selective freedom. It is time to expose this double standard and demand consistency in the application of liberty for all.
Free Palestine!
words, cover & centrefold artworks by Ali Al Omari (he/him)
OCCUPIED: FROM GUERNICA TO GAZA about the centrefold
Words are often the only weapons available to Palestinians, giving us the power to shape perception and to fight back. Yet, as powerful as words can be, I find myself at a loss of words, unable to articulate my thoughts or emotions. Instead, I express myself best through art.
As I stand before the canvas, brush in hand, I am filled with a sense of purpose that transcends my own experiences. Born far from the turmoil of Palestine, I am a former refugee, sheltered from the horrors that have haunted generations of Palestinians. Yet, as an artist, and as a human being, I feel compelled to lend my voice to their cause, to amplify their struggles through the medium of art.
In my hands, the echoes of Picasso’s ‘Guernica’ take on new life, and transform into a testament to the resilience of the Palestinian people. With each stroke, I weave together the threads of their stories, the pain of displacement, the anguish of loss, and the unyielding spirit of resistance.
Through my rendition, I seek to capture the essence of their daily struggles, the relentless oppression that stains the walls of their homes and the skies of their homeland with the blood of innocents. I paint the shadows of soldiers and tanks looming over bustling streets, the barbed wire cutting through fields once fertile with hope, dove birds with press vests depicting the courageous journalists, and the towering walls that confine an entire population to the prison of occupation.
But in the darkness, there is also light. In the faces of Palestinian children, I see defiance and determination, their eyes shining with a hope that refuses to be extinguished. In the solidarity of activists around the world, I find inspiration, their voices rising in unison to demand justice for those who have been silenced for over 75 years.
As I step back to look at my work, I am filled with a sense of both sorrow and solidarity. Though I may never fully understand the depth of their pain, I stand with the Palestinians in their struggle for freedom, dignity, and self-determination. Through art, empathy, and solidarity, we may continue to shine a light on their cause until justice is finally served.
We have an incurable malady: hope.
Hope in liberation and independence.
Hope in a normal life where we are neither heroes nor victims.
Hope that our children will go safely to their schools.
Hope that a pregnant woman will give birth to a living baby, at the hospital, and not a dead child in front of a military checkpoint;
Hope that our poets will see the beauty of the colour red in roses rather than in blood;
Hope that this land will take up its original name: the land of love and peace…
- Mahmoud Darwish
About this week's Artist
This week's centrefold was made by Ali Al Omari. Ali Al Omari (he/him), a fifth-year architecture master's student of Palestinian-Filipino descent, expresses his voice through art. His work reimagines powerful artworks to reflect Palestinian struggles, advocating for justice, resilience, and the unyielding spirit of his people. Encapsulating emotional depth, his work is a testament to hope, resilience, and the timeless quest for freedom.
Read more about this week's centrefold on page nineteen.
just came to mind. It’s not acting impulsively if you’ve been debating it for a while.
don't want to see. You can’t run away from your problems forever. Or maybe you can.
life, practising self care and preaching self love, kudos.
suggestions that benefit everyone, but mainly yourself.
Moving Pictures & People:
Films about migrancy
words by Guy van Egmond (he/him)
Flee
Flee is the kind of film that quietly and gently leaves you shattered, in the best way possible.
Built on a foundation of interviews between director Jonas Poher Rasmussen and his friend, Amin Nawabi, the film sits beautifully in the crossover between narrative and documentary, mixing harsh newsreel clips with hand—drawn animations that are vibrant and soft. And crucial. We never see Amin’s real face, nor hear his real name.
Amin fled from Kabul when the mujahideen invaded and, after many years and failed attempts, was smuggled into Copenhagen under the guise of an orphaned refugee. Revealing his identity now would bring his world crumbling down all over again.
However, on the cusp of proposal to his boyfriend Kasper, Amin finds a closure and peace, sharing his story in a film that is tender and moving, and ultimately focused on a brighter future.
Everything Everywhere All At Once
The last few years have seen a major uptick in beautiful and heart-wrenching immigrant films. But few so successful—and so strange—as Everything Everywhere All At Once.
If you haven’t seen this multi-dimensional, time-skipping, emotional epic, you’re missing out. Get some friends and some gummies together and strap in. It’s wild and silly and the most incredible fun, but overarching all the bagels and butt-plugs is a story of familial struggle and connection. What might have been if we’d never left? Why won’t my children understand? Why won’t my parents listen?
The cast of this film does a truly incredible job, especially Michelle Yoeh and Ke Huy Quan. You’ll laugh, you’ll sob violently, you’ll desperately need a hug from your mother.
Past Lives
Another one for the ‘you haven’t seen it?!’ list, is last year’s Past Lives. This is a truly stunning tearjerker, a gentle watch that comes in under the 2-hour mark. The film plays so well with the parts of us that never quite left where we came from, that little voice that yearns to go back, that asks ‘yes, but what if..?’
Greta Lee and Teo Yoo are captivating as Na Young and Hae Sung, childhood sweethearts and rivals until Na Young moves to Toronto, changing her name to Nora. Twelve years later, the two reconnect via Facebook and Skype, but career ambitions cause them to lose touch again. Another twelve years later, sees Hae Sung coming to New York to visit Nora and her husband.
Writer-director Celine Song’s debut is sharp and semi-autobiographical: a bittersweet tale about fate, In-Yun, and possibility. It’s about the people who tie you to wherever home may be, and how love can change over time and place.
Walk Run Cha-Cha
In a slightly shorter format, Walk Run Cha-Cha is an incredibly sweet op-doc about Paul and Millie Cao, whose young love affair was broken apart by the Vietnam War. Reuniting in California, the two reinvent themselves and their relationship through dance. Director Laura Nix deliberately doesn’t dwell in the past; she moves forward to celebrate the beauty and joy, as well as the responsibility, of the lives that Paul and Millie have rebuilt for themselves. It's a delightful little film, where the camera lets you just sit in on the lives of two beautiful people. It’s 20 minutes long, it’s on Youtube, go check it out.
Honourable Mentions
The Godfather: Part II: The classic immigrant success story, following Vito Corleone’s arrival in the USA to make a better life for himself and ultimately provide a safe and successful haven for his family and friends.
Madagascar: Escape 2 Africa: A chronicle of Alex’s troubled reconnection with the culture and people of his homeland: a world he’d forgotten but was always buried deep within.
Finally, it’d remiss of me not to mention one of the best annual opportunities to bear witness to political and artistic cinema from around the world: The NZIFF.
The program this year has another shattering lineup: in particular, I’d like to see Green Border, a biting and bitter look at the border crisis between Poland and Belarus; as well as Problemista, an absurdist-leaning satire of the American immigration system. Other relevant titles are To A Land Unknown, The Story of Souleymane, Viet and Nam and Didi, as well as a panel discussion on August 6th: Refugee Journeys On-Screen. Info and tickets on the NZIFF website!
The First Border Tourists & Students Need to Cross
words by Rekha Joly (she/her)
The Henley Passport Index 2024 lists the top ten most powerful passports in the world today. The index is clear-cut: the Global North ('developed' countries like the UK, USA, Canada, and New Zealand) hold more visa privileges than the Global South ('developing' countries of Africa, Central and South America, most of Asia, and the Pacific).
As a person holding an Indian passport, I checked my world status. We are nowhere in the top 50 countries. Despite being a massive economy, with Indians contributing deeply and meaningfully, India sits at 81st. Its citizens can travel to 64 countries without a visa. Compare that to French citizens' access to 194 countries or New Zealand citizens' access to 189. However, Indians are doing much better than the citizens of Afghanistan, Sudan, and Palestine, who have perennially remained at the bottom of this
ranking. They can only travel to a handful of countries. The doors are seemingly closed for a certain demographic.
So, without visa waivers, how do the rest of us travel? The burden of proof comes in the holy trinity of documents, time, and money. We need to provide documents for visa applications, bank statements, health reports, biometrics, wage slips, return tickets, police certificates, accommodation proof, letters stating our motivation for travel, and more. We are also required to pay an obscene amount to get a visa. Research claims that we spend almost three months of salary on a single visa. The time we need to put in to see a visa application through is equally ridiculous.
Here are some stories from individuals who have carried this burden:
A man travelling to Switzerland with his Zambian passport recounted a particularly frustrating experience. He could only enter through a specific airport because part of the runway at Geneva Airport lies in France, which at the time was not part of the EU. As a result, he needed a French visa just to enter Switzerland. For a brief moment during take-off or landing, he had to reroute his entire travel plan.
A Vietnamese tourist shared her humiliating ordeal of being stuck in New Zealand during the pandemic. It wasn't the situation itself that was most humiliating, but the requirement to provide proof every two months that she had no intention of staying. This meant repeatedly buying flight tickets back to Vietnam. Additionally, she had to involve the Vietnamese embassy to vouch for her short stay. She described the experience as ‘dehumanising’.
—so dehu - manising.
Two other Indians expressed their frustration with visa fatigue. Despite their frequent travels, they were constantly required to provide proof of their intentions. ‘It's irritating at this point. It's not like I’m travelling for the first time in ten years. You have vetted me consistently. My thumbprints haven’t changed!’ They challenged me to find an Asian who can travel on a whim. For us, spontaneity often starts two months in advance.
In my research, I found that people from the Global South face more paperwork, higher costs, and longer processing times to obtain a visa. However, even with all this extra effort, a visa does not guarantee entry into the country. International students, both in New Zealand and the US, arrived at their respective airports with hopes and dreams, only to be sent back. Officials were not convinced of their 'characters'. These students were people of colour.
Visa policies are only becoming more severe; several countries are upping their requirements, like Australia, Britain, and Canada. Travel and study are becoming virtually impossible—boulders replacing borders. It is laughable that the UK, which trampled across the world, colonising with impunity, now restricts people from coming to merely travel or study.
There need to be more protections for visa applicants. Although there are established pathways for migrants, there are too many barriers for those applying for visas. Visa applicants are consumers of embassy and immigration services, as well as of the country's overall experience. Shouldn't they be entitled to some consumer rights as well? Especially when visa applications are rejected without any compensation or support. Legal frameworks would alleviate our suffering.
Streamlining the visa application process is pivotal in easing mobility. There is a lot of redundancy leading to wasted time and money. Even frequent travellers cannot get respite, compelled to approach each visa application
as if it is their first. In this digital age, many of us from the Global South find it hard to believe that there is no global database to fast-track visa processing.
It is critical to change the narrative around migrants. Often, migrants are seen as a homogenised block—one where only people of colour reside. When the media presents migrant issues such as housing and job crises, why isn’t a student from Germany considered part of the problem? Within this realm, it is equally important that migrants themselves know and understand their worth. They are told never to stir the pot, and their cultural and economic contributions are never celebrated.
It is crucial that we realise this, talk about it, and engage in dialogue. Ideas and voices do not need visas.
ideas and voices do not need visas.
Carrying the Legacy
The Journey of First-Generation University Students
words by Liban Ali (he/him) | photograph by Guy van Egmond (he/him)
For many first-generation university students, the initial adjustment might take time. Navigating an unfamiliar academic environment, getting used to new social dynamics, and dealing with high expectations can be difficult. Despite these obstacles, there is a great motivator: knowing that we are not only chasing our own objectives, but also fulfilling the dreams of our family. When we shine, they shine with us; when we go across the stage to receive our degree, they accompany us in spirit.
Our parents made tremendous sacrifices to provide us with opportunities they could only dream about. They left their familiar surroundings, faced hardships, and worked relentlessly to build a better life for us. Their strength and perseverance serve as the cornerstone for our academic path. Every late-night study session, exam, and moment of self-doubt is met with unshakable support and silent encouragement from our family.
A first-generation student's path is more than just individual achievement; it is also a collective triumph. Our success is a monument to our families' enduring resilience and the rich cultural heritage they have passed on to us. It is a celebration of their efforts,
dreams, and steadfast faith in our abilities.
In the face of adversity, our sense of purpose keeps us going. The concept of making our families proud, validating their efforts, and laying the road for future generations is a powerful drive. It reminds us that our journey is not isolated, but rather intertwined with the tales and dreams of those who came before us.
As I prepare to walk across that stage and earn my degree, I'm filled with gratitude and pride. I am grateful for the opportunities that have come my way, and I am proud of the heritage that I carry with me. This accomplishment is not all mine; it is due to my family, community, and all those who have supported and believed in me.
Remember, my fellow first-generation students, you are not alone. Your journey demonstrates your family's strength and resilience. When you accomplish, you raise not only yourself, but everyone who has walked this route beside you. Together, we are creating a brighter future that honours our heritage while inspiring future generations. Our success paves the way for others to dream big and work hard, knowing they, too, can overcome obstacles and achieve their goals. The legacy we build is not just for us but for all those who come after, showing them that with determination and support, anything is possible. The bonds we share with our families and communities are unbreakable, and are the true source of our strength and perseverance.
NO— WHERE GIRL
words by
photograph by
When people meet me for the first time, the most common thing they’ll acknowledge is my accent. I never thought it was unusual, but I've been told I sound British, American, and Canadian—sometimes all at once.
I was born in Henderson, Auckland to Fiji Indian immigrant parents. When I was ten, we moved to Fiji for three years before we came back to New Zealand when I started high school. I loved living in Fiji. Many of my family members still live there, so growing up, we often travelled back. But living in Fiji was a completely different experience from visiting it as a child. I attended an international school, surrounded by children of expats from all over the world. Going to an international school in my formative years is usually the explanation I give for my weird accent. The international school accent is easily recognisable in the ‘international kid’ community.
Moving back to New Zealand could only be described as a culture shock, despite living here for the majority of my life. I wasn’t able to seamlessly slip back into being the ‘kiwi kid’ I was when I was ten years old. After being gone for three years I was disconnected from the culture, and sometimes it didn't seem right to claim my New Zealand nationality.
The rest of the country seemed to feel the same way. Last year I was in a store and the cashier asked me if I was Indian. I said yes. He then proceeded to speak to me in Hindi and I hesitantly replied back. To this he said, “Oh, you must be third gen”. This was a white man. At work, I get asked where I’m from at least once a shift by a customer. They’ve told me that the way I speak and sound doesn’t match the way I look and will try to guess my background, almost as if I’m some sort of puzzle they’re trying to solve.
There’s always that awkward moment of hesitation when people ask where I’m from. When I was in Fiji I always said I was from New Zealand. When I’m in New Zealand, I say I’m from Fiji. Then comes the inevitable, “But where are you from, from?”. I don’t even know. I’m wondering the same thing as you are.
I know they’re waiting for me to say India. I can’t blame them. I look Indian; ethnically, I am Indian. But simply saying that I am Indian doesn’t feel right. My family was transported from India to Fiji in the early 1900s to be Girmitiyas. ‘Girmitiyas’ was the name given to indentured labourers who left India to serve in the British colonies, where they eventually
settled. Five generations of my family have been in Fiji since then.
The Fijian and Indian cultures have mixed so much that it’s only fair to consider them something completely unique. Even Hindi spoken in India and Fiji is different. A lot of people have told me that I’m just Kiwi Indian. Because I’m not ethnically Fijian, I have to be Indian. But it feels wrong to discredit the Fijian-Indian culture that I grew up and lived with by simply referring to myself as Indian. I have so many more ties to Fiji than I do to India and I refuse to disregard those roots.
This will never be enough for people. I’m not Fijian enough. I’m not Indian enough. I’m not Kiwi enough. So what am I? I’ve gotten used to going ‘select option: other’ my whole life when asked what continent I’m from because it doesn’t feel right to say I’m from Asia or the Pacific. I can get the gist of a conversation in Hindi just by listening, but I will probably never be able to fluently speak my own language. I won’t be able to feel my Fiji roots until I plant my feet in its soft, white sand. I was raised in Henderson, Auckland. It’s the longest I’ve ever lived in one place, but I’ve forgotten what it feels like to live there. Unlike my parents, my sense of self doesn’t come from my heritage from ‘the old country’. I’ve been told that I’m lucky because I can just claim to be a citizen of the world. No thanks.
Many second-generation immigrants can relate to this experience—the guilt, the pressure, the intergenerational trauma. It’s hard to feel connected to both the country that we live in and the ones our parents gave up so much to leave. It’s hard to complain when your parents leave their home to give you a good life, and I feel guilty for ever wanting to leave New Zealand. So instead, we’re just stuck between two worlds, or three worlds in my case. You have to honour your family history and culture while also embracing the new environment you live in. It feels like a constant state of limbo, bouncing between multiple sides of yourself. Don’t get me wrong, I love having a diverse cultural tapestry. I’ve been exposed to so much more than I would be if I had one home base. But that doesn’t replace the ongoing desire for a sense of belonging.
In my long life of eighteen years, I haven’t found a consistent answer to this recurring question. So, maybe in three years when I move away I can add another country to the list of places I can’t claim. Another place that’s home, but not home enough. I can’t stop you from asking where I’m from, but be prepared to wait the three to five working days it will take me to answer.
Familiarityon the tip of my tongue
words by Ngân Dang (she/they)
I was perched on my chair, one leg tucked close to my chest (the classic Viet way), pondering an overdue history essay with a bag of my favourite kẹo lạc—peanut candy—by the side. My phone buzzed lightly on the table; the screen flashed to reveal a call from my ‘Bestie for life’—a nickname I spontaneously jotted down as Mum's contact a few years ago. It was 9pm here. And around 4pm back home.
Something that became the norm in our conversations were sudden ebbs of silence as I stuttered between English and Vietnamese phrases. The cogs in my brain were working overtime, trying to retain phrases that were running away from my mind. Even when the words managed to tumble out, they were clunky, messy, all over the place—like a child building blocks with shaky hands.
“You’re starting to forget your Vietnamese!”, Mum exclaimed after correcting my clumsy attempts. Dad chimed in half-jokingly, “Now that you know English better than Vietnamese, are you going to stay in New Zealand forever?”.
I moved here when I was thirteen, been away for five years. Since when did the familiar sounds of my language get lodged in my throat so unwillingly? Why are words rolling off my tongue so unnaturally, no longer second nature?
I’ve always been told that moving abroad was the best option for my future. Attempts to break free from my city and culture defined my teenage years. With such irrational resentment (more so boredom), my naive faith in the Western dream festered. Magical visions of a foreign land embedded with ideas of wealth, liberty, and independence dragged me away from home.
Familiarity
And so I set out on a path my parents paved for me. Alone, I traded fragments of myself to accommodate this new life. The delicate tones in my name got flattened. Replacing Ngân was Ngan, a goose in my language, and Indian flatbread here. I smiled through all the ‘naan bread’ jokes and tolerated the annoyance when the school dean mispronounced my name three times in the same prizegiving. Whenever an off-putting comment about my name slips out, they don’t know I was named after my late grandma. Anglicised, our names are all the same. They won’t notice the tonal indicator—a single downward dash on top of a hat— that differentiates our names, a symbol of our vastly unique lives, yet also the single strand of connection I held with someone I never met.
Between the winding alleys of jam-packed and chaotic Hà Nội, I was surrounded by my mother tongue—from the soothing lullabies that lulled me to sleep to the aunties’ gossiping down the street. Now, I barely use Vietnamese outside of texting my family and friends back home. I learn in English, the media I consume is mostly in English; I even think in this language most of the time. After years of being here, my mother tongue is turning foreign, an afterthought, something rusty and hidden in the murky depths of my brain.
I can write lengthy essays and construct glorious worlds with fancy English words. But I could never use Vietnamese to the capabilities of my peers back home; I probably couldn’t write a half-decent piece without succumbing to the hell of Google Translate, and the dictionary. Younger me would never imagine that my Vietnamese vocabulary bank would always be stuck at the level of a Year eight student; my innerperfectionist would berate me for that.
Whenever people ask about my dream job, I tell them I want to become a journalist, to report important matters and amplify silenced voices. What good would I be, though, if I can’t even elaborate my thoughts with the community that raised and shaped me?
I didn’t know how much I’d miss being surrounded by my culture, people, and language until I left Hà Nội.
A whirl of surprise still surges through my veins whenever I see Ngân—with the hat—in a text, or when someone tries to pronounce it correctly. There’s always an impulse to talk my heart out in Vietnamese when I catch the distant echoes of it while strolling down the streets. Leaving home so young showed me new corners of the world. But more importantly, I realised that I can’t shrug away my Vietnamese heritage—it’s an integral part of my being, neat strands knitted together into colourful weaving. No matter where you are, you’ll crave the soothing familiarity of your mother tongue. Language connects people, communities, cultures— you could never deprive yourself of that connection when all you’ve wanted to taste is the safety of home.
I’m living this topsy-turvy life for me and my parents’ hopes and dreams; I’ve been changed by this journey, too. In Vietnamese, beautiful prose doesn’t come to me as easily; words don’t instinctively roll off my tongue. But I still mutter in Vietnamese under my breath as I do maths. I still shed a tear when I read a random Instagram caption in Vietnamese that seems too relatable.
My upbringing may have pulled apart my connection to my heritage, ripped me by the seams. But even with my awkward Vietnamese and fragmented childhood, I’m wholly and unapologetically Việt. Sitting here in this biting Wellington winter, I can’t wait to be reunited with my homeland, the vibrant culture and sleepless city that will always embrace my whole being.
artwork & words by Danielle Kionasina Dilys Thomson (she/her)
Read more at @tagataatamai on Instagram and www.tagataatamai.co.nz
Streets lined with coded colours
A subliminal call to replant yourself at the source
Hibiscus hues are covert beacons
Vivid checkpoints on a path to your ancestors
Breadcrumbs that adorn a speckled city full of concrete people who didn’t believe your Nana was royalty
Didn’t acknowledge the atua in their midst
Or the invisible shoulders they stood upon
Nana pointed your innocent gaze towards a trail of ants scurrying down into the sugar-dusted centre of le aute
You blinked and her petals did too
The wind waved to us
Nana reminded you to follow the people and places who feed you
And to always come bearing gifts
GROOVE GARDEN
Xavier Farrow-Francis (any/all)
Taking an opportunity to spotlight an artist from Aotearoa, Diggy Dupé has been using his breezy and cazh raps to tell the story of Polynesian migrants since 2017. Hailing from Grey Lynn in Tāmaki Makaurau, it’s clear that Diggy’s location and Māori-Niuean heritage is his main source of inspiration. He’s incredibly proud of where he comes from, and wants his listeners to be too. Across his four projects (as well as the soundtrack to the 2021 miniseries, The Panthers), Diggy channels his background into universal stories of life, pride and resilience; a track like “Keke Boy” is a perfect example of this. Throughout his album That’s Me, That’s Team, he explores all of this and more, tapping into the rougher aspects of life on “CT&T”, or reiterating the importance of migrants being able to build community on foreign soil on a track like “That’s Team”. Though his music may be written from personal experiences, he says “it’s bigger than [Central Auckland], it’s bigger than Grey Lynn – it’s about tapping into human emotion and things you can relate to.”
To close off, we wanna point you in the direction of Dutch-Iranian singer, songwriter, producer, and artist Sevdaliza. Since first emerging in 2015 immediately began forging her own path in music. Her first album ISON explored themes of identity, the self, and womanhood in a poetic manner, calling back to trip hop acts like Portishead through her slick and spacious instrumentals. Sevdaliza would begin discussing her experience as an immigrant in respective songs, such as the track “Shahmaran”, which featured a music video that explored complex themes of oppression, or on “Bebin”, a song protesting then-President Trump’s immigration ban, sung in her Farsi mother tongue.
These themes would become louder and more frequent in her music over the years. “Oh My God” was written entirely about her experience as an immigrant and how it manifested in herself, and she later released “Woman Life Freedom”, a track in solidarity with Iranian women protesting the mandatory hijab law. Recently, Sevda has gained traction from her viral tracks “Ride or Die Pt. 2” and “Alibi”, which both express strength in communion and femininity: themes that have clearly been present for Sevda for quite some time. It’s extremely exciting to see such an outspoken artist with a background like Sevdaliza’s gaining success like this… made all the more impressive when considering she’s entirely independent from a record label!
"—cheeky clapbacks at microaggressions, and nuanced references towards revolution."
My father was born in Malaysia, went to school in India, his first language was Malayalam, and his sisters live in Bahrain. My mother was born in Dunedin. When I was a kid, my classmates would joke that I was being kidnapped when my mother picked me up from school. They couldn’t make sense of a brown kid having a white mum with a Kiwi accent. If anything, my father was just as local as her. He’d been living in this country for around ten years by the time I was born.
I’m a second-gen immigrant, raised speaking English, and didn’t even realise my father had a different mother tongue until he revealed he’d forgotten it. His family were fluent in English as well, and when he was younger, travelling Europe, he was quite good at French. But Malayalam (the language his mother taught him) was gone by the time I came into the world. He had left so much of the old culture behind, for most of my life I didn’t have an answer to “Where are your family from?”.
Until recently, I couldn’t understand the Māori concept of whakapapa because, looking back through my family’s roots, the trail ended with my few surviving relatives at the other end of the world. Because
UniQ Fruit Salad
Old Country, New Country
Words by Alex Cherian A.K.A. Goose (she/they)
I went so long culturally adrift, being told I had a ‘white personality’, I gave up on tracing my roots and instead sought a new people to immerse myself in.
So much of the rainbow community places an
PUZZLES everybody's favourite page
CROSSING BORDERS & WORDS | MADE BY GUY
DOWN
Most ethnically diverse country on the planet (Gören,
_______Island, home to the world's tallest tree fern. (7)
With 7-Across; exemptions from needing a travel mit to enter a country for a period of time. (4)
People who have chosen to settle in a new country.
A Sino-Tibetan language spoken in the Yunnan ince of China. (3)
See 24-Across. (6) Kingdoms; fields of interest. (6) Forbid; outlaw. (3)
2. The northern-most province in The Netherlands. (9)
3. (Māori) to be distant or widely separated in time or space. (7)
4. A powerful type of demon in Islamic culture, associated with the dead. (5)
5. The act of having moved; having made a long journey to reach a destination. (8)
10. A group of Aboriginal people tied to a wider group or Country. (3)
11. A village on the south-eastern coast of Tahiti, known for the heaviest wave in the world. (8)
A reason the seatbelt sign might come on again. (10)
The only land-locked country in Southeast Asia. (4)
A Vietnamese savoury, braised fish recipe. (7)
A woodwind instrument for scaring away the English.
A person awaiting the acceptance of their application for refugee status in another country. (6)
13. (Māori) a river. (3)
14. Done spontaneously, unplanned. (9)
17. An ethnic group native to Brittany, in Northwestern France. (7)
18. Acronym for the city that used to be called New Amsterdam. (3)
20. Mountain range that passes through Russia and Northwest Khazakhstan. (5)
MASTER OF HORROR | MADE BY PUCK
ACROSS DOWN
1. Frodo's friend, for short (3)
3. Amy Poehler's character on 'Parks and Recreation' (6,5)
9. Hudgens who won the American 'Masked Singer' this year as 'Goldfish' (7)
10. Lauded; extolled (7)
11. Like someone who's not a member of the elite (3-6)
12. Number of times John Key was elected as Prime Minister (5)
13. No longer living anywhere (7)
15. Green gemstone (that comes in six other colours in the Sonic games) (7)
17. Russian tennis great Sharapova (5)
18. Another name for the snap pea or snow pea (from the French for "eat all") (5,4)
20. Newbies (7)
22. Spicy Spanish sausage (7)
23. Horror director whose famous films can be seen in the shaded squares (6,5)
24. Complete collection (3)
1. 'The Barber of _____' (Rossini opera) (7)
2. Waterway that runs from the Ruahine Range to Foxton Beach (8,5)
3. Cruise ship that was famously torpedoed in 1915 (9)
4. Get going (5)
5. Stalemate; situation where neither party will compromise (7)
6. Alpine parrot famous for its destructive tendencies (3)
7. Places for studying the stars (13)
8. Pearl Jam singer Vedder (5)
12. Ergo; thus (9)
14. "Alright, you're done here!" (5,2)
16. City where Motown was founded (7)
17. Rapper Nicki (5)
19. Specialised market; alcove (5)
21. Chinese tea (3)
ISSUE 16
Crossword solution
SALIENT TEAM 2024
Second Row: Office Ghost (she/her) ; Phoebe Robertson (she/her, Editor) ; Te Huihui Tran (he/him, Te Ao Māori Co-Editor) ; Ashleigh Putt-Fallows (she/her, Te Ao Māori Co-Editor) ; M&M (Ash's cat) ; Guy van Egmond (he/him, Contributing Writer) ; Jia Sharma (she/her, Music Editor); Mauatua Fa'ara-Reynolds (she/her, Staff Writer) ; Henry Broadbent (he/him, Sub-Editor)
Front Row: Teddy O'Neill (he/it/ia, Speaker of the House) ; Ava O'Brien (she/her, Distributor) ; Ethan Rogacion (he/him, News Co-Editor) ; Dan Moskovitz (he/him, Chief Reporter) ; Will Irvine (he/him, News Co-Editor) ; Kate Seager (she/her, Designer)
CONTRIBUTORS
• Asmeret Neguse (she/her) — Eritrea/Tigray
• Te Huihui o Matariki Chi Huy Tran (he/him) — Vietnam, Tibet-China, Tāranaki Tūturu, Te iwi o Maruwharanui, Ngāti Maniapoto
• Ali Al Omari (he/him) — Palestine / Philippines
• Guy van Egmond (he/him) — Netherlands
• Rekha Joly (she/her) — India
• Liban Ali (he/him) — Somalia
• Jia Sharma (she/her) — Fiji / India
• Ngân Dang (she/they) — Vietnam
• Danielle Kionasina Thomson (she/her) — Sāmoa / Wales
