Our magazine, Salient, is run by students for students. Without the involvement of students, we wouldn't be able to operate. Every year, we welcome pitches and inquiries from individuals who are interested in writing for us. For more information, please email editor@salient. org.nz or visit our website at salient.org.nz.
complaints
Complaints regarding the material published in Salient should first be brought to the CEO in writing (ceo@vuwsa.org. nz). If not satisfied with the response, complaints should be directed to the Media Council (info@ mediacouncil.org.nz).
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.
EDITORIAL HEALTH & DISABILITY
Health, Disability, and the Stories That Matter
In this issue of Salient, we dive into the complexities of health and disability with a range of pieces that explore the nuanced realities often ignored in mainstream conversations. Through deeply personal stories, investigative journalism, and critical discussions, our writers confront the ongoing challenges and systemic issues that continue to impact marginalised communities, both locally and globally.
We open with a guide from Cassia Percival-Day on staying safe at festivals and parties—a timely and practical piece for anyone navigating these spaces. Accompanied by stunning photographs capturing her own festival experiences, this piece is both informative and celebratory.
Our News Editor, Will Irvine, takes us into darker territory with an investigation into the ongoing genocide in Gaza, highlighting the devastation it has caused and the "city of amputees" it has tragically created. It’s a confronting and upsetting read, but it’s also a necessary one that brings attention to the brutality that often escapes global news headlines.
Mauatua Fa’ara-Reynolds examines the long-term impacts of nuclear testing in the Pacific and the resulting disabilities faced by those growing up in the region. Their piece reminds us that colonialism’s harmful effects are far from over. Elyshia Bedwell follows with an insightful look into her life with PCOS, offering a candid perspective on how the health system continues to dismiss her condition and, by extension, the health issues of countless others.
Meredith Ross-James brings a philosophical lens to the discussion of eating disorders, explaining how societal pressures and socialisation contribute to
bird of the week | Hihi
these struggles. While her analysis is deeply thoughtprovoking, the full article goes beyond this simplified view, offering a more comprehensive understanding of the issue.
In a beautiful personal essay, Em compares living with chronic illness to playing Fallout: New Vegas, an analogy that highlights the exhaustion and endurance required to navigate both physical limitations and a health system ill-equipped to support chronic conditions.
In our Arts and Culture section, Fox Keane critiques the exploitative nature of streaming services, discussing the recent Disney lawsuit in a way that links art, labour, and corporate greed—a topic that’s as important as it is infuriating.
To round out the issue, we have beautiful one-pagers from Zia Ravenscroft, an anonymous poet, Kyle Cloete, and Ashleigh Putt-Fallows, alongside a couple of extra treats: two crosswords and some additional sudokus to keep your mind sharp between reading.
Ultimately, this is an issue that speaks for itself. No editorial can fully capture the lived experiences, emotional depth, and critical insights shared by our authors. I encourage you to sit with these stories, reflect on them, and let them challenge the way you think about health, disability, and the systems that shape our lives.
Phoebe Robertson (she/her) Editor in Chief
The Hihi, also known as the Stitchbird, is an enchanting songbird found only in New Zealand. Its striking black and yellow feathers make it easily recognizable, along with its distinctive white tufts near its wings. Once on the verge of extinction, successful conservation efforts have helped to revive their populations. Beloved for their sweet calls and unique vocalizations, they also play a crucial role in pollination by feeding on nectar. Hihi have unique breeding behaviors, with females often choosing multiple mates and laying clutches of eggs in different nests. Males actively participate in nest-building and care for the young. These birds exhibit a complex social struc ture, with communal nesting areas and cooperative breeding behaviors.Typically inhabiting native forests, Hihi have been carefully reintroduced to areas where predators are controlled.
gig guide
FRI | MOON | 8pm
Birdfeeder, re:ruby
An entirely unique and quite wonderful band is coming to MOON this Friday, eager to share a brand new single—it’s Birdfeeder! These guys are somewhat of a hidden gem, pioneering a distinct brand of theatrically infused avant-garde art-pop. In 2021 they wowed audiences with the Vile Isle, a concept-album-release doubling as a stage show. Now they’re back! Also playing will be noise-folk five-piece re:ruby, and jazz/shoegaze/psych/dream-poppers Dreamtone. Presales are cheaper, but door sales will run at the start of the night also.
Enjoy our small, lovingly curated selection of gigs.
FRI | San Fran | 8pm
You Should be Dancing
San Fran is, once again, going all out. This Friday marks the return of You Should Be Dancing, a big colourful, disco-focused, dance-heavy club night (think ABBA, Dianna Ross, Cher, Donna Summer, etc). These events are always cool—there’ll be an enthusiastic dance floor, a welcoming atmosphere, some very dedicated DJs and an entire evening of incredibly danceable disco. Dress down or go full 70s, and enter the boogie wonderland.
protest calendar
SUN | Pukeahu National War Memorial Park | 12pm
March and Rally - Palestine: Past, Present, Future
Kaupapa Provided By Justice for Palestine:
Over the past year we’ve witnessed Israel inflict unprecedented levels of devastation, death and destruction on the people of Palestine. For a year, thousands of you have poured into the streets, hearts heavy with the weight of Palestine's suffering. But this struggle didn't start a year ago. It's a historical injustice that has been endured for decades, pain passed down through generations. Yet through it all, the Palestinian people have shown immense strength and resilience.
From the Nakba in 1948 that brutally tore families from their homes and lands to the Naksa in 1967 that further displaced and destroyed lives and livelihoods, from the Intifadas that echo their resilience, to the ongoing genocide, occupation, displacement, and apartheid - Palestine has endured the unimaginable.
The inaction from our government, from the world, is heartbreaking. Palestine bleeds while the powerful play politics and spout empty platitudes.
To our movement, we know you're tired. We feel it too. But if Palestine can persist through decades of oppression, we owe them our endurance.
So we're asking you to dig deep, to continue to take to the streets with courage and conviction. We need your voice, your aroha, your ongoing commitment to justice and humanity.
This is a struggle measured not in months, but lifetimes. It's a long road, but we walk it together, in solidarity, with and for Palestine.
So come, stand with us again. Honour their endurance with our own. In the face of apathy and complicity, let’s make our voices the loudest.
The past we remember, the present we challenge, the future we fight for a #freepalestine #fromtherivertothesea
See you on the streets, come rain, wind, or shine. Bring your whānau, your friends, your neighbours, your aroha, your strength.
SAT | Newtown Sports Bar | 6pm
Rad Fest 2.0
Creeps Record Parlour are celebrating their fifth birthday this Saturday! In their honour, Eight(8!) excellent bands will descend on Newtown Sports Bar. Join them for “not just a birthday celebration, but also a celebration of our wonderful local music scene, and of Newtown, the grooviest suburb of them all.” The lineup will beeeee: Side Eye, Midnight Caffeine, By A Damn Sight, Out of Luck, Sol Fide, Mall Goth, Cruelly, AND Cecilia's Crop! Far out. Tickets are tiered so nobody misses out—but consider paying more to support the artists, if you can.
Salient will be highlighting protest and direct action throughout 2024. In print will be a small selection.
Scan this code for a more comprehensive protest destination.
kawepūrongo
A Win for Ngāi Tauira: Remuneration at Last
ETHAN ROGACION (HE/HIM)
At a recent meeting of the University’s Advisory Committee on the Student Services Fee (long winded title, I know) ngā Tumuaki me te Komiti Whakahaere o Ngāi Tauira secured a landmark deal with Te Herenga Waka, ensuring that their executive is paid at the same rate as VUWSA’s.
Until recently, Ngāi Tauira’s executive (the Komiti Whakahaere) and its Presidents (Tumuaki) have been working unpaid. While this is true for most rep groups and clubs across Vic, the work that Ngāi Tauira does means that its workload is significantly higher than other groups. From representing the interests of tauira Māori on the University’s governance boards, to pastoral support and advocacy, Ngāi Tauira works to ensure that Māori students “feel comfortable and culturally safe within a Western academic environment.”
According to a statement published on Instagram, it was “only in the past five or so years” that Ngāi Tauira’s Tumuaki began getting a scholarship funding their work. This statement went on to say that, in 2024, Te Aka Tauira-VUWSA footed the bill for the Tumuaki’s pay.
In their statement, Ngāi Tauira explained that getting a remuneration deal with the University was important as the current arrangement means “only students who can afford to take on significant volunteer roles will put their hands up” to serve as the Tumuaki or as a member of the Komiti Whakahaere.
“With the current cost-of-living crisis, these roles have become increasingly unattractive. Another
consequence of the unpaid work is that the Tumuaki and Komiti Whakahaere have frequently had to sacrifice their studies balancing these roles on top of their studies and part-time employment.”
Acting Deputy Vice-Chancellor (Māori) Associate Professor Meegan Hall told Salient that, “Te Herenga Waka recognises these roles are critical for the University upholding its Te Tiriti obligations, strategic plan, as well as recognising the inherent dignity of the tauira Māori voice.”
“This decision will help Ngāi Tauira to fully realise their advocacy and leadership role alongside VUWSA, especially on matters related to the experience of tauira Māori.”
Hall said that the University recognises the significance of Ngāi Tauira’s work, and seeks to strengthen the relationship between NT and the University. “We are looking forward to Ngāi Tauira having more capacity to work with Te Herenga Waka to represent and support tauira Māori at a strategic level,” she said.
Ngāi Tauira thanked Māori DVC Rāwinia Higgins for her support, and concluded their statement saying, “This is a big win not only for us, however also tauira Māori associations all around the motu.”
“We hope this change encourages more accountability, better quality services for our tauira and positive hauora outcomes for future komiti whakahaere and the wider student body.”
EXCLUSIVE: GWRC Mulls Altering Climate Targets
Greater Wellington Regional Council is looking at scrapping its pledge to be climate-neutral by 2030 and climatepositive by 2035.
The council is instead investigating replacing these commitments with a pledge to be at net zero emissions by 2050, as decided at their recent Climate committee meeting. There are two main reasons for this—a lack of central government support, and things not progressing as quickly as hoped.
For example, in 2019 the council had budgeted on electric utes being widely available by 2030 to replace its fleet—they are not. Similarly, the council’s main reforestation project is proving both slower and more costly than expected. In addition, the AuditorGeneral, one of the chief crown watchdogs, has recently taken a stricter view on agencies claiming to be “carbon positive,” meaning crown entities now have stricter standards to adhere to.
“Experience since 2019 has revealed that we should continually monitor what we can achieve and in what timeframe,” said GWRC’s strategy group manager Luke Troy in a statement.
“We need to adjust our targets and timeframes to take into account the progress and benefits of reafforestation.
“Navigating the way forward on emissions target setting is challenging but necessary in a changing environment.”
The major contributor to the council’s emissions however is the Metlink public transport network. According to deputy chair of the Climate Committee, councilor Yadana Saw, decarbonization of the bus and train fleet—which makes up roughly 1% of the Wellington region’s entire emissions—was going well until central government pulled its support.
“$134 million across three years has been cut from our funding,” said Saw. “That's a significant amount of money which isn't going towards decarbonizing.”
“We’ve had to slow things down because the only other [financial] mechanism we have is to increase rates and we’ve already gone out with a 20.5% rate increase. And those were based on the assumption we’d have funding for public transport projects.”
Both Saw and Troy mention wanting to pivot from the council’s previous targets which were about net emissions, to looking towards gross emissions. Council's new proposed headline target is net-zero by 2050.
Net emissions include offsetting. This is essentially paying someone else to plant some trees and offset your carbon. The climate committee noted the offset market was in “disarray” after most offsets were found to be “hot air.”
Gross emissions by contrast are the sum total of all emissions. So a reduction to these can’t include offsetting.
“The best solution remains to reduce the amount of greenhouse gasses that we create,” says Saw.
“So we’ll be looking at energy transitions, such as how we can utilize solar arrays around our Greater Wellington facilities.”
Saw also said Metlink’s buses would continue to be replaced with EVs, but that without central government support, it would be at a slower rate.
Notably, Greater Wellington released no press release regarding the committee’s decision to investigate dropping its climate-positive pledge.
DAN MOSKOVITZ (HE/HIM)
Life on the Trail
WILL IRVINE (HE/HIM)
The minority of students who follow the VUWSA electoral race each year may have noticed a particularly uneventful campaign trail in 2024. There was no real animosity between candidates, and many positions—including that of the President—went completely uncontested. Whether or not you’re entirely happy with the new duly-elected VUWSA executive, it’s hard not to wonder what it’d be like if more students took to the campaign trail. In the spirit of democracy, Salient spoke to three candidates in the race.
Liban Ali ran uncontested for President. While he campaigned nevertheless, using glossy posters, banners in the Hub, and online digital content, Liban told Salient that the absence of a real opponent seriously altered the nature of his campaign. Appearing solo at the VUWSA debate, he felt that he had to “overstate what [he] wanted to do. Basically just a really really good elevator pitch”.
Ethan Rogacion, who ran for Education Officer, was one of few to face a contested election. Despite this, he relied on the tried-and-true methods of postering and word-of-mouth. It seemed to work in his favour. When people had approached him about his campaign, “the conversations have been really productive… I’m trying to learn where the gaps are.” Rogacion also engaged in consultation with a number of student representative groups, including VUWLSS and Ngāi Tauira. While an unconventional campaign method, Rogacion said the conversations were “very insightful”.
So why even run? For Ali, who has been a VUWSA executive member for two years now, it was about representation. “I want to set a foundation for students to feel more empowered to come into VUWSA spaces. VUWSA has gotten a lot more diverse… it’s great to see new voices coming into that space”. As an immigrant himself, Ali felt that diversity at the top was crucial to ensuring representation at the student level. “I’m really grateful to my parents for even giving me the opportunity to see University.”
For Rogacion, who is a first-time VUWSA executive member, running for office was a response to things he found lacking throughout the university. A current Salient writer, Rogacion was inspired to run when
he saw the University’s lack of transparency when it came to international students.
When he first campaigned, in 2022, Ali described “serious impostor syndrome”.This time around, though, he felt much more supported. “I took the time over the mid-tri break to sit down with my family and plan it out… When people within the exec were having that conversation, a lot of people were really encouraging about me going for it”. Rogacion, too, said he felt supported by his friends, who made and distributed pro-Ethan posters with the dolphin meme on it.
Rogacion’s contested race meant that he had to compete with the message of Ben Young, a candidate he described as “a great guy, and very intelligent”. Ethan tried to differentiate himself on the basis of how clearly he could convey a policy message to students. “Your average student doesn’t read VUWSA policy briefs.” When Salient spoke to Young, he described his message as about “demanding the very best from the University, from Wellington, and ourselves”. Both candidates showed one another a tremendous amount of respect, with Young calling Rogacion “a brilliant guy. I would be happy to have him as my Academic VP”.
For Young, “deciding to run was a last minute decision. Win or lose, I thought the campaign would be a great experience. And it has been!” Rogacion echoed those comments, describing the campaign as “really enjoyable”. Finally, for the newly-elected President, the campaign was enlightening. Ali’s highlight was simple: “Getting to speak to students on campus, getting an understanding of what normal students want from VUWSA”.
Results:
(1115 votes cast)
President: Liban Ali!
Academic VC: Ethan Rogacion
Engagement VC: Aidan Donoghue
Welfare: Josh Robinson
Education: Aría Lal
Equity: Aspen Jackman
Sustainability: Hugh Acton
Treasurer: Sanjukta Dey
Clubs and Activity officer: George Baker
MADE HER MARC:
An Exit Interview with VUWSA’s President
PHOEBE ROBERTSON (SHE/HER)
Almost a year ago, Marcail Parkinson took office as the President of the Victoria University of Wellington Students' Association (VUWSA), following a term as Welfare Vice-President in 2023. In a reflective interview, Parkinson discussed her biggest wins, her ongoing challenges, and the initiatives that shaped her presidency.
Parkinson’s leadership saw significant progress in key student welfare campaigns, notably securing a commitment to a living wage strategy for Te Herenga Waka. Under her guidance, VUWSA played a crucial role in advocating for the university to pay its staff a living wage, a particularly pressing issue given Wellington’s high cost of living. “The university was paying tutors the least compared to other university cities in New Zealand,” Parkinson said, highlighting the disparity and how it impacted the retention of staff.
Another major victory was the University's divestment from Israeli government bonds. This achievement was driven by student activism, largely thanks to action by Pōneke Student Justice for Palestine movement. Parkinson, the only student on the university’s foundation board, said, “This victory reflects the power of collective student action,” emphasising how divestment aligns with the university’s ethical responsibilities. Parkinson’s leadership in this area is viewed as a landmark moment for VUWSA and student activism at large.
A third milestone was securing compensation for Ngāi Tauira, the representative body for Māori students. Prior to this, Ngāi Tauira had been operating without remuneration, which created inequities for students dedicating significant time to advocacy roles. Parkinson underscored that it was no longer feasible to expect students to volunteer their time to the university without financial support. This change signifies a broader push for equitable student representation.
Aside from these policy victories, Parkinson’s tenure also marked a historic move in student politics.
She led the creation of a new National Presidents Council (official name undecided, but this is the name Marcail is pushing for), marking the first time in over a decade that student associations across the country united under one body. This initiative was designed to amplify student voices, particularly on the national stage in the lead-up to the 2026 general election, enabling collective advocacy on issues like free fares and paid placements for students.
Her year as president wasn’t without challenges. The free speech debate , particularly around a contentious panel that included Jonathan Ayling, sparked heated discussions across campus. VUWSA’s initial decision to oppose the panel stirred controversy, with some accusing Parkinson of suppressing free speech. Reflecting on the event, Parkinson noted, “The situation sparked a lot of toxic conversations, and many didn’t fully understand the reasons for my stance.” Despite the pushback, she worked closely with the university's leadership to ensure authentic student concerns were heard and addressed, leading to the creation of the two-panel event that went forward.
Parkinson’s colleagues speak highly of her resilience throughout these trials. Liban Ali, Welfare VicePresident, discussed that while many saw the frontfacing aspects of Parkinson's presidency, there was much more going on behind the scenes—hours spent at her desk, fighting for student rights. VUWSA CEO Matthew Tucker recalls her as an exceptionally hard worker, sharing that even before her presidency, “I often had to tell her to slow down. She didn’t like being told not to work so hard.”
As she prepares to step down, Parkinson leaves behind a legacy of student activism, advocacy, and institutional change. Her time in office demonstrated that collective student action, coupled with determined leadership, can yield tangible results that will benefit students long after her term has ended.
Oceans Near Critical Acidification Levels, Threatening Marine Life and Climate Stability
words by ASHLEIGH PUTT-FALLOWS (SHE/HER/IA) | Ngāti Whātua, Ngāpuhi-Ngāti Hine, Tūhoe
The world’s oceans are nearing dangerous levels of acidification, threatening marine life and climate stability, according to a report by the Potsdam Institute for Climate Impact Research. The study highlights nine key factors that regulate Earth's ability to sustain life, with six already breached due to human activity. Ocean acidification, driven by rising CO2 emissions from fossil fuels, is set to become the seventh. Lead author Boris Sakschewski warns that even with rapid emission cuts, further acidification may be inevitable.
Taiwan Hosts Māori Film Exhibition Highlighting Indigenous Struggles for Justice
words by ASHLEIGH PUTT-FALLOWS (SHE/HER/IA) | Ngāti Whātua, Ngāpuhi-Ngāti Hine, Tūhoe
The film exhibition Toitū Te Māori: New Zealand Historical Justice on Screen is now showing in Taiwan, offering insights into the Māori struggle for justice. Co-curated by Māori and Taiwanese filmmakers, the exhibition aims to inspire discussions among indigenous Taiwanese communities. Featured films include Whina, a biopic of Dame Whina Cooper, and other works highlighting key moments in Māori history. Despite different contexts, Māori and Taiwanese share transitional justice challenges. The exhibition runs at the Jing-Mei White Terror Museum until March 2025.
Overcoming Barriers: Supporting Māori Students in Higher Education
words by TE HUIHUI O MATARIKI CHI HUY TRAN (HE/HIM) | Taranaki Tūturu, Te iwi o Maruwharanui, Ngāti Maniapoto
Tauira Māori in Aotearoa face significant challenges in gaining university entrance, even when our socio-economic status is on par with our tauiwi peers. One major issue is that many Māori students attend schools with fewer resources, which affects their ability to perform well on standardized tests required for university admission. Additionally, cultural differences and a lack of support for Māori identity within the western education system in some places can lead to disengagement and lower academic achievement. Addressing these challenges requires targeted interventions, such as culturally responsive teaching practices, increased funding for schools serving hapori Māori, and robust support systems to help Māori students navigate the path to higher education. By implementing these measures, we can help ensure that tauira Māori have a fair chance at achieving their academic goals.
Pacific Nations
ations & Languages
From the 29th of September to 5th of October it's Vaiaso o te Gana Tuvalu—Tuvalu Language Week. The theme this year, ‘Taofi mau ki tau ‘gana, mo tou gaugaleo, me ko tou iloga tena’ means ‘Uphold your language and dialect, for it is your identity’. It was prepared by Kaiga Tuvalu Otago, based in Dunedin, and endorsed by national leaders of the Tuvalu Language Week working group.
Tuvalu
Tuvalu is a small island nation located midway between Australia and Hawaii. It consists of nine islands, primarily low-lying atolls, with a total land area of about 26 square kilometers, making it one of the smallest countries in the world for size and population. The nine islands are Funafuti (the capital), Nanumea, Nanumanga, Niutao, Nui, Nukufetau, Nukulaelae, Vaitupu, and Niulakita. Funafuti is the most populated island, serving as the political and economic center of the country. Tuvalu’s islands are scattered over a large ocean area, but the islands themselves are flat and vulnerable to rising sea levels due to climate change. The highest point in Tuvalu is only about 4.6 meters above sea level, making it one of the lowest-lying nations in the world. The official languages of Tuvalu are Tuvaluan and English. Tuvaluan, an Austronesian language, is spoken by the majority of the population as the indigenous language. English is used primarily
A Diabetic’s Guide to Partying
words by Cassia Percival-Day (she/her)
exclusionary space (hello geography degree). It is not perceived as suited to people living with a disability. However, anyone with lived experience of a disability knows that the ‘challenges’ are not about you inherently, but the limitations created by society. Everyone deserves the right to go out and have fun, and everyone can! It may just require some extra thinking and a bit more planning for those with experience of disability.
These are my nuggets of wisdom that I have gathered from my personal lived experience.
Everyone has unique requirements and this will not be completely inclusive. I’m a Type 1 Diabetic which means I will face different challenges than someone with a different lived experience. Disability is a very broad umbrella term, so take the advice that serves you. That being said, I would like to think this advice is useful to anyone. Even if you don’t have lived experience, hopefully you will take on board something that can help you or a friend.
This advice has come from my experiences of festivals, gigs & parties but could be applied to anything from one epic night to a multi-day festival.
Go with good friends or people you trust
They don’t have to know how to perform CPR or the intricate details of how your insulin pump continuously shoots insulin into your body. But if you say you need to chill for ten minutes, they won’t abandon you because they really want to dance. It’s more about trust and loyalty than it is about medical capabilities. Don’t pass the point of no return (or try really really hard not to)
One of the first things people ask me when they find out I’m diabetic is if I can still drink or do drugs. When I was 14 I vowed to never have a sip of alcohol as I had the perception it was too dangerous for me. Shortly after attending my first high school drinks and getting major FOMO, I realised it was going to be unrealistic to live by my previous rule. I also discovered I could still drink & get drunk—as long as I don’t get black out, or ‘past the point of no return’. Basically, just don’t get so fucked up you don’t know whats going on. It’s about testing your boundaries. You will probably over do it at some point and it still happens sometimes when you think you know your limits. That’s why rule one: going with good people, is of utmost importance.
"take everything you need and more. There is no Unichem at a bush doof."
Eat good kai before you fly
Universal rule, whether you have an insulin pump attached to you or not—never drink on an empty stomach! That also applies to any other drug, it’s always good to line the stomach and fuel up for the night. Doesn’t have to be anything crazy, but especially for drinking, some good carbs will set you up for a good night.
Start slow and build up your experience
No one became a master on day one. The most recent festival I went to was three nights long. That was made possible because I had been to a two day festival before that, a single night before that and a day festival before that. The Russian nesting doll strategy™. This year I’m doing four nights, but that’s only because I have put in the mahi to get here. Everytime I go to a festival I learn more about myself, what worked, and what nearly sends you to the medic tent.
Be prepared
I’m pretty sure that was the Girl Guide motto (I was once a cookie mule). Talk to your medical professional and be transparent about your intentions. Even if they don’t really know themselves, listen to any advice they give you. If you’re travelling away from home base for an overnight situation, take everything you need and more. There is no Unichem at a bush doof.
Check-in on yourself
Sounds slightly hippie, but don’t under-estimate the power of lived experience and knowing your body. The spoon theory is about how people living with a chronic illness only have 12 spoons worth of energy per day. Being out till 2:30am will probably chew up 10 of them. Don’t be surprised if your amigos can last longer on the dance floor, bounce back quicker, or you feel more exhausted the next day.
Remove avoidable risks
Check your drugs e te whānau. There is a community that fought hard to bring you this discrete and free(!) service. There is no reason not to, and it might mean the difference between an epic night or winding up in hospital.
Take your own bag
Fanny pack, man-purse or capacious pockets if your jorts allow. Keep your shit in it. Make sure it has a zip or a secured closing, and keep it on you. Put everything you might need & some more. Going out can be intense and it will mean you don’t have to leave early on account of something you need being at home.
Be ready for a few questions
Whether it be venue security, bag check or a bouncer, if you have something out of the ordinary in your bag be ready for a few questions. I usually carry a syringe with me, which can sometimes get a raised eyebrow. As long as you are prepared to explain it no one can be upset. And remember—they’re just doing their job.
Approach festivals, gigs & raves like you’re doing some intense exercise
I was 24 hours into my most recent festival and I couldn’t figure out why I was struggling so much to manage my blood sugar. It dawned on me I was doing the same amount of physical activity as I did for my Duke of Ed tramp (#trauma). I cut the amount of insulin I was using in half, like my nurse had advised me to do for the tramp many moons ago, and it worked perfectly. I prepare for a night out as if I’m going on a run or an intense walk—because our bodies can’t really tell the difference.
Bonus! This one is a bit cheeky and maybe I shouldn’t say this, but medical equipment is a fabulous way to disguise and conceal things that aren’t supposed to be brought into a venue. There has to be one advantage to the slightly less than ideal cards that we have been dealt. Average Joe’s, this is not for you!
Go have fun, enjoy yourselves & be safe xxxx
Disabling Paradise
for ‘the greater good’
words by Mauatua Fa’ara-Reynolds (she/they)
Global imagery of the Pacific has long been plagued with belittling ideas of being 'remote' and 'small', or as Epeli Hau'ofa puts it, "islands in a far sea". This undermines our interconnectedness, autonomy, and agency, and renders us expendable in geopolitical security schemes. Throughout the 20th century, various nations used their colonies as testing sites for atomic experiments, leaving long-lasting impacts on island bodies (both human and nonhuman). We have never healed.
The US chose its overseas territory, the Marshall Islands, as the site of atomic tests because it was 'empty'.
Former US Secretary of State Henry Kissinger said, of the resultant mass displacements, that there "are only 90,000 of them out there. Who gives a damn?".
Fucking nuts, aye? Thank god he's dead. Nevertheless, there's this recurring theme in colonial projects, where these all-mighty metropolitan nations use their colonies as playgrounds to demonstrate their military supremacy and technological advancement. In doing so, they sacrifice indigenous peoples for 'the greater good', and any harm done to them or their land is just unfortunate collateral damage.
In the 1960s, my grandfather was conscripted by the French government to work with the Direction des Centres d'Expérimentation Nucléaire on the Mururoa Atoll of the Tuamotu archipelago. I don't know much
about his time there (except for a few horrific stories), but he was inevitably exposed to nuclear waste, as were many of the other Mā’ohi workers. The impact of this lay dormant for decades until 2019 when he went blind in one eye, and awful ulcers started appearing all over his body. Luckily, he lived with his daughters and grandchildren, who helped keep him alive and happy until he passed away in 2021 from a heart condition most likely caused by his time in Mururoa. If you trace the whakapapa of my family's health issues (both physical and mental), you'll find a lot of it stems from nuclear testing. Unwillingly, we carry its ghosts. And so does our nation.
Our fenua (land) and ta'ata (people) have suffered, each feeding off the other. Radioactive fallout from the 190 tests conducted between 1966 and 1996 contaminated soil, crops, and marine life, each of which we rely on for our livelihoods. As a result, our people have one of the highest rates of thyroid cancer and myeloid leukaemia in the world. We experience unusually high rates of congenital disabilities, like limb deformities, heart defects, and neurological abnormalities. Around 42% of adults suffer from a mental health condition (often exacerbated by alcohol and drug abuse), and around 20% have attempted suicide. Tahiti may be a paradise for tourists, but for her inhabitants, it's a ticking time bomb, wondering when the ghost will awaken in you
Nuclear Testing, Colonialism, Suicide, Henry Kissinger.
"If Indigenous peoples already exist on the periphery, then disabled Indigenous peoples are totally out of the picture. I mean, can you think of any disabled Islanders? Can you picture a pretty Tahitian girl connected to an IV? Probably not, because this isn't what's advertised to the world."
Part of the discourse surrounding disability is the whole notion of 'abnormality'; the idea that to have a body deviate from the perceived norm of 'health' and 'wellness' is 'abnormal'. And, especially in the case of the Marshall Islands, so-called 'abnormal' bodies are erased by hyper-sexual bodies, concealing horror with the allure of sex. The term for this is militourism: where a vibrant tourist industry is established to mask militarisation. This phenomenon is especially prevalent in Mā’ohi Nui, Hawai'i, Guåhan, and (until recently) Kanaky—nations still negotiating colonial relationships. The combination of military forces and tourism completely depletes these islands of natural resources, rendering the supposed 'utopian' landscape totally decrepit, and thus, the people too.
If Indigenous peoples already exist on the periphery, then disabled Indigenous peoples are totally out of the picture. I mean, can you think of any disabled Islanders? Can you picture a pretty Tahitian girl connected to an IV? Probably not, because this isn't what's advertised to the world. But you know about bikinis, though? You've seen one before, right? Well, the bikini was created by the French fashion designer Louis Reard to commemorate the achievements of World War ll (look it up if you don't believe me). Although a seemingly simple clothing item, it's laced with deep-rooted patriarchal and colonial ideologies, and since we're all familiar with it and not Bikini Atoll (its derivative), it's undeniable that the US weaponised the 'exotic' and 'dispensable'
female body to conceal the devastating effects of nuclear testing and encourage the bikini's marketing and mass production—bringing sexualised White female bodies to the forefront, and pushing Brown nuclear-ridden bodies into the background.
One of the most recent examples of using island resources to the detriment of Indigenous peoples is the 2024 Surfing Olympics, which were held at Teahupo'o, a small village in Tahiti. The Olympic Organising Committee declared the pre-existing wooden judging tower unfit for the event, and built an aluminium judging tower. This necessitated drilling holes into the coral, and sending barges out to carry construction materials. In doing so, they've destroyed all the coral heads. When stress like this is inflicted onto marine life, it often spreads ciguatera (where microscopic algae infect fish, and if eaten, can make people extremely sick). It should be noted that Teahupo'o is also a town of fishermen who rely on the fish from the area for income and meals.
The exploitation of indigenous lands and peoples continues; the cycle repeats itself. In the upcoming years, we should watch the people of Teahupo'o, monitoring their health and well-being. We can not let this cycle repeat itself again. We can not continue disabling Island bodies for 'the greater good'. Our health is for the greater good. Our survival is for the greater good.
CITY OF AMPUTEES:
How Israel Weaponises Disability against Gaza
words by Will Irvine (he/him)
CONTENT WARNING
genocide, descriptions of graphic violence.
Gaza’s disabled population. The besieged Palestinian enclave, under a severe blockade since 2007, has minimal
trucks. According to CNN, items like crutches and anaesthetics are classified as dual-use items—that is, items that could potentially be used to arm Hamas’s military wing—and are frequently prevented from entering the
As disability advocates worldwide have noted, life as a disabled person becomes severely difficult without free and uninterrupted access to disability aids like crutches and wheelchairs. Unfortunately, the many Palestinians who have found themselves recently disabled will likely never be able to access such care, with the majority of Gaza’s hospitals now destroyed or severely damaged.
As for people like Mohammad Bhar, who lived with intellectual or learning disabilities and neurodivergence, life in a war zone becomes increasingly dangerous. A lack of understanding of social cues can lead to behaviour that is easily construed as “aggressive” by bloodthirsty Israeli soldiers, and a widespread culture of ableism leads to neurodivergent people, especially young men, being identified as potential threats without
An article published by Electronic Intifada in 2022, before the outbreak of outright war in Gaza, tells of the lives
of autistic Palestinian children who live under Israeli occupation. Awni Abu Hatab, a now 10-year-old autistic boy living in one of many Gaza’s refugee camps, was described as being terrified of loud noises. Although Awni’s home of Al-Shati refugee camp is now under Israeli occupation and subject to air strikes, his name does not appear on any lists of named casualties.
The same article also describes the difficult lives of disability care specialists in Gaza. Marwa Atallah, a special education specialist, said that trauma from Israeli airstrikes exacerbated problems for autistic Palestinians. For people particularly sensitive to loud noises and lights, airstrikes can inflict lifelong shock and trauma that permanently scar those who survive.
However, there is some hope on the horizon for disabled Palestinians. In August, Reuters reported that the Palestinian Red Crescent had opened a new disability-focused refugee camp in Deir El-Balah, capable of holding upwards of 100 disabled refugees and displaced peoples. The camp, named “Smile of Hope”, is nowhere near able to cater to the massive numbers of disabled Palestinians without care. However, for the few who are able to access it, the services will likely be lifesaving.
PICTURED: Mohammad Bhar in his Gaza City home.
YOU'RE NOT CRAZY:
An Anorexic's Philosophical Reflections on Injustice and Eating Disorder
Meredith Ross-James (she/he)
Have you ever had a restrictive eating disorder? I have.
Restrictive eating disorders (hereafter called REDs) are strange illnesses; it feels like society wants me to be this way. In my feminine upbringing I had it beat into me that being fat is the worst fate that could befall me, and that terror has steeped into me, so totally and completely, that it has permanently fucked my relationship to food and my body.
Michaela McSweeney is a philosopher. In 2022 she published “Maladjustment”, a paper arguing that the symptoms of PTSD don’t represent dysfunctions in the brain, but represent understandable and justified responses to injustice. Her paper spoke to me, as someone who also feels like the symptoms of my mental illness are the product of social injustice. Here, I will give you a brief overview of her argument, and show how REDs can be understood in the same light.
McSweeney says the ‘bits’ that make up mental illnesses are directed emotional states. Emotional states are ‘directed’ when they are about something, and they are responsive to facts in the world, just like beliefs. I can get angry about LAB increasing the price of their vegan muffin (my favourite campus safe food) from $4 to $5.50. On the other hand, sometimes I wake up and I’m mad for no reason—this is an emotional state that’s not directed. It’s not felt about, or in response to, anything in the world.
Since beliefs and directed emotional states are responsive to facts in the world, McSweeny reckons directed emotional states can also be, like beliefs, warranted or unwarranted. If LAB raised the price of their vegan muffins, and my reaction was uncontrollable mouth-frothing rage, most would say that is an unwarranted emotional reaction. If your best friend slept with your boyfriend, that emotional reaction probably be warranted (in my opinion...).
Ok, we’re nearly at the point. Philosophy can be tedious. McSweeney says that the set of directed emotional states that psychiatrists label ‘PTSD’ can be understood as warranted emotional reactions to trauma caused by social injustice. She uses the example of a domestic violence survivor: if he has experienced some repeated abusive action, the PTSD-looking emotional states that respond to these triggers seem pretty warranted; in other words, it’s not unreasonable or unjustified for him to react in that way.
She goes further, though. When we refuse to see these mental illnesses as warranted responses to injustices in the world, and insist on seeing them just as ‘chemical imbalances’, we completely erase the injustice the sufferer is responding to. If we think the domestic abuse survivor or war veteran’s PTSD is just a result of a chemical imbalance—just a problem in their brain—we totally erase the injustices that caused those reactions and we lose sight of the injustice inherent in domestic violence and war (for example).
I think the same thing happens with RED symptoms, and I think the trauma the directed emotional states of REDs respond to is western female socialisation. When I talk of people who have undergone female socialisation I mean anyone who has felt like or been treated as a woman or girl at any point in their lives— this includes cisgender women, trans women, trans men, enbies, etc. When I talk of kind of white femininity that prioritises thinness and submission as cornerstones of femininity. Men, I will touch on your plight at the end. I haven’t forgotten about you.
Ok, so for you to agree with me, I need to convince you of three things. First, that western female socialisation can be traumatising. Second, that this what the directed emotional states of REDs respond to. Third, that these responses are warranted, justified, or understandable, and REDs just indicate a dysfunction in our brains.
The process of female socialisation can be fucking traumatising, and the philosophers agree. To be a woman in a westernised culture is to experience an oppression that is obsessively self-policing and inward-looking. Sandra Bartky wrote Femininity and Domination: Studies in the Phenomenology of Oppression about this issue. She says oppression controls your body: when you move, where you move, how you move. And she’s right. Girls often get scolded for having their bodies take up too much space: for not crossing our legs, for gesticulating too passionately, for being too fat. She invokes panopticon to talk about womanhood. The panopticon is a prison design where a guard stands in a tower and the prison cells are arranged in a circle around him. The prisoner never knows whether or not they are being watched, but they know they can be watched at any second. Since the prisoner can never know when the guard could look at them, they start following the rules all the time, even when the guard isn’t there to watch them. The guard is now inside their mind.
Bartky says femininity does this to us, too. We’re held to higher standards of beauty than boys are, because we always need to be ready to be inspected by a man. Never knowing when we’re being inspected, the man moves into our minds, and we feel compelled to look perfect all the time, for him. We become self-policing , obsessed with self-surveillance. I wish I could keep supporting this point, but I have limited space.
The directed emotional states that make up REDs are responses to this scrutiny, of having your movements policed, of being forced to be small. When you feel abject terror towards hot chips (or insert your fear-food here), it’s not that you’re having an unwarranted directed emotional state towards those chips, it’s that you’re having a very warranted reaction to all the injustice that made you afraid of those chips. It’s not about the chips—it’s about the injustice. When REDs are seen as ‘brain problems’ alone, the injustices inherent in femininity and womanhood, the injustices that people like Sandra Bartky and Susan Bordo and Simone de Beauvoir talk about—the injustices you feel are totally erased
To see mental illness like this is liberating. People say people with REDs have something wrong with our brains, but I disagree. We’re responding in quite a reasonable and understandable way to long-term oppression and injustice. To ‘cure’ eating disorders, then, requires us to uncover the injustice our mental states respond to. It requires fighting for liberation from mandatory femininity, and a mass transformation of our ideas about how women and girls ‘should’ act. It also means everyone pushing this kind of oppressive femininity is implicated in perpetuating our suffering.
Finally, on masculinity. It is very clear that men have lower rates of REDs, but they still get them. What I think this indicates is that thinness plays a much smaller role in masculinity than it does in western femininity. I could write this article all over again about ‘bigorexia’—a kind of body dysmorphia associated with one’s muscle size—and maybe I will, one day. Nonetheless, your REDs respond to injustice, too—an injustice we should recognise and overcome—but an injustice that comes from some place other than (western) female socialisation.
But it is just that I am sick. There is no cure, No fix, no lobotomy I could get, no treatment, medication, Or cream for my head.
I often get asked if they know what
About this week's Artist
This week's centrefold is made by Cassidy Stewart, Degree in Design Innovation, Major in Design Communication I made the peice "SHES SO LUCKY" because there are so many things that are wrong with the systems in place for mentally ill and neurodiverse people, and I was sick of it. I don’t want to feel lucky because I am receiving what should be basic health care. That’s all really, not really. There’s a lot more to say, but it's in the work. You can find more of Cassidy's work on Instagram @mayyybeebayyybee and can contact her on email cassidy.v.stewart@gmail.com.
Having endless possibilities isn't always as joyful as it sounds. An abundance of choice can be as paralysing as having none.
If someone posts a bad picture of you, you have the absolute right to do them dirty. Make sure they are tagged as well. It’s called karmic retribution.
Aries Taurus Gemini
It’s time to put a bit more effort into your love life. Bust out those candles, pick a bouquet (it can be from someone’s garden) and if you're feeling really wild make a hearty pumpkin soup.
Lovers more like losers, stop u-hauling with your partner and start spending time with your friends. Unless your friends suck, then you can get a cat and mortgage together.
Libra
Why tackle something head on when you can just avoid your responsibilities all together. Procrastinate, put things off, what's the worst that could happen.
Capricorn
This group project needs a leader. Someone to nurture and care. They need a mother hen, just don’t become a smother hen. Taking their phone away at night is going a step too far.
Scorpio
It’s time to be spontaneous but not reckless. If you’re gonna dye your hair purple, take care not to stain your carpet the day before a flat inspection.
Cancer Leo Virgo
You’re gonna face some mental blocks and digital ones, if you keep replying to that one person’s Instagram story. The story is they don’t fuck with you.
Sagittarius
Time you show your strength and resilience. You are a highly skilled and self-sufficient person, there's no way you’re gonna let a jar get the better of you.
You’re gonna miss out on something big. A bus. Getting hit by a bus. Make sure you don’t stand too close to the curb, some things are worth missing out on.
Aquarius
Resentment is not a fun activity. Well actually it can be. Revel in hating sometimes, especially if your flatmate is the embodiment of all things evil and foul.
Pisces
Those weird dreams you’ve been having are not meaningless. They are actually prophetic. Start keeping a dream journal and base all your future decisions on them.
Finding my Hands
words by anonymous
I have always known I had a voice
The vibrations shaking my throat
A cacophony of sounds causing aftershocks and spluttering coughs However detailed and descriptive my speech was it never quite made it to my ears.
So I learned to read
Lips
Tongue
Throat
Tied together with a ribbon of context
Understanding the big picture but never the finer details.
I find my language in a well lit room
In a semicircle of chairs
Slowly building
Babbling through crashing hands
I find my language through watching
Eavesdropping on conversations
I am so entranced by how smoothly they converse
How beautiful it is to finally understand
I find my voice
I find language
I find community
Placed in the palms of my hands
Why I'll never give way to a ringing bell, and other shower thoughts
Kyle
Cloete (he/him)
In all seriousness, I get it. The idea of communicating without speech, or living a life without sound, seems scary or ‘abnormal’. However, may I point out that humans have communicated with each other in many creative ways throughout history. There’s painting, dance, gestures, texting, and of course, sign languages. Furthermore, I can assure you it’s great to sleep through the sound of fireworks, thunderstorms, dogs barking, and car alarms.
I emerged, dripping wet, to the realisation that I was not designed to hear. I write this not with pity, but as one of the ways I accept my deafness.
This acceptance has left a trail of broken hearing aids and questionable insurance claims over the years. A dog found my first cochlear implant to be quite tasty, my second cochlear implant is probably floating somewhere in the Pacific Ocean right now, and my current hearing aid fell down a flight of stairs by Murphy building. In fact, I am borrowing a hearing aid as I write this. I almost sat on this very hearing aid on the bus the other day.
Unless you expect me to paint my head with PVA glue, it is impossible to wear these things 24/7. I have not yet met a person who does. At some point, the batteries need to be charged, replaced, and it is impossible to wear them in some places (like the shower!). Sure, you could say that there is room for technological improvement, gene therapy, and further medical interventions to reduce deafness, but I don't see any need for this. I want to live in a world where different ways of being are respected. A world where it is carefully considered who gets to decide what needs to be 'fixed'.
As this world seems to favour speech as a means of communication, I realise there are people who will, quite willingly, swim the Pacific Ocean to retrieve one of my cochlear implants. I also think about the possibility of waking up one morning to the sight of my audiologist holding a bottle of glue, and some colourful headbands to try out.
If you speak to a person, perhaps more than once, and if they don't reply or acknowledge you in any way, I suggest taking a pause. The person might not be as rude as you think. It might be that this person needs eye contact for communication. If you want to go the extra mile, think of ways you can communicate with this person without using speech or sounds. It might be that they are deaf.
I don’t understand why there are bells on bicycles and electric scooters. To me, these bells are a stark reminder that all those who can hear have a right to stay clear, move out of the way, and know when a person is coming behind you. Whereas those who cannot hear are expected to have eyes on the back of their heads.
I've received my fair share of concerned and disapproving looks from people on bicycles and scooters simply for not knowing that their bells were ringing. Most of the time, the frustrated person will shoot past me uttering something to themselves. I can’t wait for the day I’ll be walking and someone will go:
ring ring ring ‘Excuse me!’
‘What are you deaf, or something?’
This is where I’ll turn around with a bright red and bejeweled tank-top with the words, ‘I’m DEAF’ in bold lettering. Ignoring, of course, the logistics of how I will be able to hear this person’s remark and time my response accordingly. I’ll be sure to find matching shoes.
Perhaps Wellington’s well-known saxophone-playing tree needs a friend. I could find some Christmas lights to wrap myself in, and learn how to sing along to Taylor Swift, every time I go out for a walk. I believe my off-key singing and bright flashing lights will help deter some people from using their bells. I’m open to suggestions, really, as I continue to be baffled by the assumption that all people can and should hear. I guess those who cannot hear, or those who do not want the burden of wearing hearing aids 24/7, are considered odd. I find it odd to be hearing everything, at all hours of the day, but maybe that’s just me.
PCOS: the invisible chronic illness no one sees
words by Elyshia Bedwell (she/her)
I remember the day so clearly, it’s something that I think about way too often… Even though the day was over three months ago now I still think about it, about the news that my doctor gave me that day. The weight of the diagnosis of Polycystic Ovarian Syndrome still weighs heavily on me in everyday life. How will it affect my grades at uni? Will it affect my ability to work a 9-5 job? What will my future look like?
What is PCOS?
Polycystic Ovarian Syndrome or PCOS is a chronic illness that affects the hormonal functions of the ovaries of a person who is assigned female at birth (AFAB). The illness is highly complex and involves the body's metabolic, reproductive and physiological systems. PCOS is quickly becoming an urgent public health crisis, confirmed by World Health Organisation stats. It’s estimated that 8%-13% of the world's AFAB population are diagnosed, and a further 70% are undiagnosed. PCOS, as a chronic illness, has no known cure.
The most common symptom is irregular or long periods; these could be periods that occur very irregularly, that are long (more than seven days), or that don’t come at all. Other symptoms are excess hair growth, bad acne, unexplained rapid weight gain, and trouble losing weight. PCOS also causes hormone imbalances. All this affects the body's metabolic functions, meaning that a person with PCOS is not able to break down nutrients that are needed to help build and repair the body. These symptoms can have major effects on a person’s mental health, leaving sufferers feeling helpless.
Where my journey all started…
Unfortunately for young me, I was blessed with my first period at age nine. When I first got it I knew what a period was, but I wasn’t prepared; I was terrified. I now look back and see why I got my period at such a young age, as I was always more physically developed than kids my age. One thing that getting it so young brought me was a very bad body image. For me it was a time of constant worry about how my body looked or if I’d accidentally bleed through my pad with my heavy periods. This then meant that when I had bad periods I would have to miss out on things like school swimming, or PE.
My struggles with the NZ health system & finding a doctor who cared enough
Regardless of whether you have PCOS or not, anyone with a chronic illness will understand how hard it can be to get a diagnosis. I always denied that something was wrong with my periods as I thought having painful long periods was normal. *Shock horror* they aren’t meant to be either of those things.
During my last year of high school, I started to suspect that I may have either PCOS or Endometriosis. So I booked a doctor's appointment to talk with my GP and see what she thought. When speaking with her she was super supportive and understanding of my concerns, which led to her suggesting I try the dreaded oral combined birth control pill. This was recommended to help regulate the flow of my period and hopefully make it less awful for me.
Fast forward a year to 2023. I moved to Welly for uni, which meant that I had to enrol into a new GP practice. I got a completely new doctor, and hoped this would get me somewhere. Armed with my optimism and shitty periods I talked to my new GP about all my concerns. His reply to my issues was “Just don’t have a period, keep taking the active pills”. After this appointment, I went home feeling pretty defeated. Why would a doctor completely shut down my concerns like it was nothing?! It was from this very evident to me that my new GP had ZERO clue about anything to do with periods.
After this appointment, I then rang up my GP and requested to change doctors to one that my best friend was with as she was experiencing some similar issues to me at the time. Let me tell you the difference between the doctors was like night and day. Upon telling her that I had just noticed that I had gained 25 kgs in the space of six months and that it could not be explained she told me that she’d like to run some tests. Finally, some hope. Now every time I walk out of her office I feel reassured that I am being listened to, taken seriously and being looked after to the highest standard.
My eventual diagnosis
In November last year, my new GP told me that, to do the next stage of testing I must come off birth control. After being off the meds for four months she sent me for ultrasounds to help determine what exactly was going on with my uterus and ovaries. As horrible as it was to get them both types of ultrasounds done I knew that it was necessary to help me get answers. After the ultrasounds for the next two weeks before my follow-up appointment, I kept worrying about what could have possibly been found. When the day of the appointment came and my doctor told me “You’ve got PCOS” I felt numb. Finally getting answers was what I had longed for for so many years but also something that I didn’t wanna hear. For the rest of the appointment, I zoned out hoping that I’d be able to go home soon. When I eventually got home the first thing I did was cry my eyes out. It wasn’t what I wanted to hear five days before my 20th birthday. It was meant to be a happy time; instead, I was mourning the loss of my ‘healthy body’.
What happened next
After my diagnosis, I then began to experience several long bleeding periods. Especially the one that went on for 45 days! During this specific bleeding episode, I experienced some bad symptoms like stabbing cramps, dizziness, nausea and constant headaches. When I finally got to see my GP she immediately prescribed me stronger meds to help stop the abnormal bleeding and got the nurse to draw urgent bloods. Turns out I was borderline anemic and because of this I am now stuck taking iron tablets every couple of days as my body doesn’t produce enough to cope.
Coming to terms with having PCOS
Coming to terms with having a chronic illness changed my whole outlook on life, and made me more empathetic towards others. It’s forced me to think about how you never truly know what someone is going through inside. The invisible pains and struggles that they face that others will not recognise.
Lastly, if you are reading this and you have PCOS I want to tell you that your body is amazing. While it may not seem right it has been coping with PCOS in the best way it can, so don’t be angry at your body. Instead, embrace it and take care of it. Your body is where you live, it's your home, don’t judge it. I also want you to know that you are not alone in your struggles. While it may seem hard to find light at the end of the tunnel right now I promise it does get better. Of course, I can’t promise that you won’t have bad days—but you will also start having good days. Listen to your body as you know it best, and always keep fighting! You are so incredibly strong and brave for doing what you do despite having a chronic illness.
-Much love Elyshia xx
"I always denied that something was wrong with my periods as I thought having painful long periods was normal.
*Shock horror* they aren’t meant to be either of those things. "
MY BODY IS A WASTELAND
(and yours might be too)
words by Em
I’ve been playing a lot of Fallout New Vegas lately. I’m pretty fine at it.
When you’re playing New Vegas, sometimes you lose track of things. You’re run-walking through the wilds of Nevada, dodging faction assassins and giant mutated bugs, when suddenly your health bar starts dropping, and dropping, and dropping—and then you’re dead on the ground in a dustbowl, screen freezing before it boots you back to your last save.
You might not even have known why.
That’s sort of how I explain the experience of living with a chronic health condition, or an invisible illness, to those who haven’t experienced it.
See, on the outside, my New Vegas character often looks just fine. Rugged, dirt-covered, and usually with bright pink hair, but, in general, fine. On the inside, though, they’re a hot mess of radiation poisoning, Cazador poisoning, and six different types of chems stacked on top of each other. They’re one bad knock from losing a leg.
And you’d never know. On the outside, you might look fine, but underneath, many, many things could be going wrong. That’s how I live my real life.
My name is Em. I’m a theatremaker here in Pōneke, and my body is a wasteland.
There’s not been a day in my life since I was about seven or eight years old when I haven’t been in pain. I know that sounds melodramatic, but it’s true. Some days I can’t walk due to chronic fatigue, others my chronic pain beats a samba through my head till I get on the good drugs, others still I’m doubled over, aching cause I’ve popped an ovarian cyst.
And you’d never know.
Approximately one in four New Zealanders have a chronic illness or disability, and a lot of those aren’t visible. When you walk down the street each day, I guarantee someone you walk past is dealing with their own personal apocalypse, and just having to grin and bear it.
And you’d never even know.
Sarah* is a close friend of mine, and appears to be possibly the most put-together person I know. She’s stunning and talented, and is always off on some new, exciting adventure. I love her and I envy her, and she’s also got chronic health conditions and neurodivergencies that constantly affect her life.
“I didn’t know I had ADHD until a family friend got diagnosed at 50, and helped both my brother and I get diagnosed aged 30 and 32,” she writes. “We didn’t understand why we struggled with everything in our lives.”
Though her family tried many avenues to find some way to help her and her brother, it took a long time and a lot of money ($300 per prescription!) to find a medication that didn’t give her awful side effects. She finally completed this process only six months before she was also diagnosed with Chronic Pelvic Pain, which set her life off on another health struggle.
After so many challenges within the healthcare system, she’s come to a place not of reconciliation but understanding with her body. “There is still nothing that works for me now except adapting and trying to stay healthy and being kind to myself. My daily motto is, “I survived today.””
Sometimes survival is all we’ve got.
It’s tough when you look fine on the outside, but you’re crumbling inside. We’re in a culture where you just “soldier on” with Codrel, where your boss doesn’t care if you’re sick, and if your illness drags on, you become a problem.
Doctors don’t take you seriously if you look too put together, but if you look too rough, they think you’re just after drugs. It always feels like you’re doing life wrong, like you’re stuck walking this path alone.
Capitalism doesn’t care if you can’t keep up or if you look like you should be able to—but can’t. We’re not kind to folk who struggle with their KPIs, or find life a constant battle, and we’re especially unkind to those who seem fine but aren’t.
“People describe the phase after getting diagnosed as experiencing grief.” Sarah writes. “I feel sorry for the little child that thought she wasn’t good enough, that knew what she could do and couldn’t do it.” It is an endless frustration to have to justify your intricacies, to explain the experience of walking in a wasteland others can’t see, especially when there’s no cure out there.
And yet, we have to continue on.
I will never be well again. That’s something I’ve had to reconcile with. No matter how things look on the outside, how well put-together I seem at events or in the office, I’m living in discomfort a lot of folks will never be able to understand. On some days, my HP is really, really low, and I’m suffering under debuffs most people won’t ever be able to imagine. The world, at times, really fucking hurts.
But yet, we continue. We have to.
One day it’ll feel less like surviving, and more like living. I promise. You just need to find your way there.
I’m hardly one to give advice for any other folk living with the weight of chronic health conditions, invisible illnesses or invisible disabilities, but know this. There are those out there who are there for you; who will listen and will hold your hand in the night.
The isolation that you feel isn’t real, and by speaking up and being honest about our limitations, we make the world better for others who are struggling through the same things. Kindness and empathy for others;
The Access Trap
words by Fox Keane (he/him)
Did Spotify’s CEO Daniel Ek really make $345 million just last year—more than any artist has made on Spotify ever? Did Disney really try to dismiss a wrongful death lawsuit because the victim’s family had signed up for a one-month Disney+ trial ~four years beforehand? Had Bandcamp, one of the last bastions of good music writing, been sold and gutted by Epic and given over to Songtradr, with only a day’s foreknowledge to founder Ethan Diamond?
For some of us, ethical concerns about art may feel secondary. Opinions, it seems, don’t come cheap: on top of rising living costs, a recession and a serious rise in unemployment since 2023, access to media is becoming a luxury. Headlines like the above should be very familiar to us now, and a dire warning: a warning about streaming.
Our ability to watch, read and listen is mediated almost entirely by corporations who follow the lone star of profit alone. Subscription fees climb faster than people can afford them, quality is paywalled like never before and only in recent years have people begun to seriously critique these platforms.
too: currently, over 33% of Kiwis use Spotify alone, which is almost as much as radio (39%). According to The Infinite Dial 2022 findings, Spotify is the most used online audio brand in New Zealand by a whopping 55% majority.
Wellington’s own Vera Ellen put forth that music streaming sites are “completely unsustainable”. We got talking about Spotify: while for consumers it’s a dream, the service is utterly “terrible for artists, and could be way better.” Spotify isn’t even the worst of them: Amazon music pays a mere $0.00402 USD per stream, with Soundcloud even less at $0.0019 USD per stream. That’s not to say Spotify’s much better—there are plenty of other services that offer higher payouts to artists.
But even these are slim pickings. Take Vera’s latest album Ideal Home Noise, as a $27 CD at Flying Nun Records—to make that money from Tidal (at $0.021 NZD per stream), you would have to listen through the entire album roughly 1,285 times before her label sees the same return!
According to NZ On Air’s 2023 Where Are the Audiences? survey, 57% of Kiwis ages 15+ use video streaming services daily. Compared to only 6% reported in the 2014 survey, that’s one hell of an increase. NZOA’s chief executive Cameron Harland finds that “audiences on demand are growing”, and claims that “the future of media is clearly now on digital platforms”. This applies to music and audiobooks,
It’s not just creators that lose out. Since COVID, streaming companies globally have changed a lot about their services: Amazon Prime Video and Disney+ both introduced premium plans that pushed the high quality customers used to have behind a higher fee, depriving them of the original service they subscribed to. Netflix’s infamous Basic plan offers shockingly poor quality—720p—for the price of $14.99 per month, while its Premium plan, offering 4K quality and priced at $27.99 a month, is far beyond an acceptable expense for most Kiwis. Outside of streaming however, this quality just doesn’t come cheap. Ownership of, rather than access to
media is becoming increasingly uncommon for people all over the world. Gone are the days of the boxset, and the towers of CDs your parents mysteriously accumulated. Blockbuster is ancient history, and in this ailing economy, even the price tag of books is becoming harder to justify.
So what? It’s cheaper to pay for Spotify Premium or Netflix now than buying copies of all the albums and movies and TV you’d ever want to watch or have done already. Indeed, ownership is expensive: do I pay around $100 NZD a year for Spotify Premium ($200 if not a student), or do I pay the same amount for four albums at best?
The same is true for video: do I spend little over $300 NZD a year for “unlimited” movies, or buy them directly? Usually, films can only be bought physically. Even when buying them online, you’re often only purchasing access for as long as the site is up—so you might as well bite the bullet, right? For most of us, subscriptions are simply more economical.
But digital streaming services reserve the right to change or remove content without notice. This is because these platforms are only buying temporary licences to show their products (unless made by the parent company, like Netflix Originals). So while owning the content personally is lossless, only having access is really rolling the dice as to what you’ll get to keep watching.
A certain sense of institutional invulnerability seems to pervade these applications, too: there is nothing stopping a streaming platform from revoking or being forced to revoke content because they do not own the content. In other words, they set the terms; they are not beholden to give their customers specific media. If a platform were to shut down, you would have spent hundreds of dollars on nothing; in essence, by subscribing to these companies, you are gambling on both of your fortunes.
“But I can’t buy every song I listen to!” No one can, and no one should have to. There are plenty of good reasons to stream: it’s cheaper than cable, and on-demand in a way cable or buying media directly aren’t. Let’s not forget that buying video online is basically impossible, too.
But the ethical considerations are becoming harder to ignore. Besides the fact streaming platforms show very little return to their contributors, these platforms often have you at their mercy when it comes to how much they want you to fork out. Despite Netflix seeing a $100 billion USD increase in company worth during COVID, and an increase of 26 million subscribers in the first financial quarter alone, the company increased their Standard and Premium plans
by $1 and $2 US dollars respectively. This followed a long history of price hikes, and preceded a 2022 change, where they introduced ads to one of their plans for the first time. Vera said that “art should be for everyone”, a viewpoint extolled by streaming services—but it is growing increasingly clear that we are not their focus.
Though it would be difficult to entirely abandon streaming, there are alternative—and free—ways to find movies, books and music out there. And, if you’re looking for a better way to buy, we've got you covered.
There’s this weird misconception I keep hearing about libraries—that it’s a hard or long-winded process to get in that system. In Wellington, getting a card could not be easier. It’s not only free, it only takes 10 minutes. After that, you’ll have access to every audiobook, film and physical book the capital has to offer.
Not only that, Wellington public libraries and most others in Aotearoa have access to Beamafilm and Kanopy. These are video platforms with a ton of good, free content. A very similar site is Plex, except it isn’t run through the libraries: it’s an app that comes with a variety of content entirely for free, and acts as a library and sharing platform for all your personally-owned video. And finally, if you’re looking for ebooks, look no further than the admirable Project Gutenberg, where over 70,000 ebooks are freely available for download.
If you love audiobooks, consider buying from the website Libro.fm! Like CDs, vinyls and digital releases, you’d be maximising the amount of money you pay back to the author and audiobook publisher. But most importantly, you can support local bookstores: when you purchase an audiobook, you choose which bookstore you’d like your money to support! Additionally, audiobooks bought from Libro.fm come as downloadable MP3s, forever available on your phone or computer hard drive.
Times are tough, especially for creatives. Singleminded devotion to profit and exponential growth are making life harder for artists, authors, filmmakers, musicians and more. While owning media is more expensive than ever, there are plenty of ways— including more not listed here—to access it, and thwart prohibitively-expensive streaming platforms. So get out there, and explore those alternatives!
Rongoā Māori
Kōrero with Awhina Henry (Ngāti Porou me Te WhanauāApanui) & Ash PuttFallows (Ngāti Whātua, Ngāpuhi Ngāti Hine, Tūhoe)
Rongoā Māori is the traditional healing system of the Māori people, blending spiritual, physical, and mental well-being. It includes practices such as herbal remedies, physical therapies like mirimiri, and spiritual healing like karakia. Whānau and whenua are central to healing. Rongoā rākau involves using native plants for medicinal purposes, while wairua focuses on spiritual wellbeing, reflecting the holistic nature of Māori health practices.
“Ko Hikurangi te maunga
Ko Waiapu te awa
Ko Ngāti Porou me Te Whanau-ā-Apanui ōku iwi
Ko Rahui me Kaiwaka ōku marae
Ko Awhina Henry tōku ingoa”
Awhina Henry of Awhi Ora Rongoā shares her journey with Rongoā and how it shaped her life and business. Awhina, from Tikitiki on the East Coast, grew up connected to the land; her whānau would use māra, hunting and diving for kai. She recalls spending time in the ngahere near her home,which felt like home and a safe place. When she moved to Wellington for university, she experienced a sense of loss, being far from her tūpuna, whenua, and whānau. After visiting a tohunga, she was advised to enter tā wairua—the realms of Rongoā. This led her back to the ngahere, where she felt welcomed, and her journey in learning from the land, her tūpuna and ngā kaitiaki and atua of the ngahere began.
Awhina's Rongoā practice evolved over time, and she pursued formal learning at Wananga in Ōtaki. Her passion eventually led her to establish Awhi Ora Rongoā, initially as a side business while working at Community Law. As her following grew, she transitioned to running it full-time. Awhina has been practising Rongoā for over seven years and now lives in Hokowhenua with her partner and tamariki. She emphasises the continuous learning process in Rongoā, with each experience offering new insights and revelations.
Reflecting on the importance of Rongoā, Awhina explains that Māori are tangata whenua with a deep connection to the te taiao, as Māori whakapapa traces back to Papatūānuku and Tāne-mahuta. She
describes the practice of Rongoā as not just using nature to heal but being one with it. "Using te taiao to heal is using our DNA," she says, underscoring why Rongoā is essential, especially for Māori.
In discussing the revitalization of Rongoā, Awhina notes that te reo Māori, tikanga, and kawa all originate from te taiao, strengthening one’s connection to it and to their whakapapa. This reconnection, in turn, fosters revitalization.
Awhina also highlighted some challenges, particularly around the expectation from some that Rongoā should be free. She mentions practical costs of her business, such as packaging, shipping, and the time involved. Additionally, she mentions systematic barriers, including the difficulty of obtaining permits for harvesting, increased surveillance in the ngahere, and racist incidents she’s faced, which have made her reluctant to attend markets. Marketing her small business also requires significant effort.
Awhina offers advice for those interested in Rongoā, beginning with the importance of connecting with the ngahere, watching how and where things grow and what different plants look like. For example, Mānuka is good for our skin and grows from the outer layer of the Earth, like the Earth's skin. Tītoki tree berries are good for the mind, and look like a brain. Use your five senses and ask te taiao to teach you. Some tikanga to keep in mind are: always asking before harvesting, karakia, giving back to the ngahere where you can, and loving Papatūānuku.
Awhina has workshops to learn about Rongoā and all related things, including tikanga around handling, whakapapa and guidance on facilitating that connection to te taiao. In terms of recommendations, she said it depends on your needs but her favourites were Tūpakihi and Tātaramoa—which she also said would be good for students as it calms the mind and helps with sleep.
If you want to explore Rongoā, Awhina’s workshops are a great starting point, and you can check out Awhi Ora Rongoā through the QR code.
LONG-COVID: It Sucks
words by Mouth Breather
The World Health Organization lists over 200 symptoms for long Covid, with the most obvious ones being fatigue, breathing problems, and brain fog. But we're now learning that it affects entire organ systems, leading to issues like diabetes, autoimmunity, and reproductive problems—just to name a couple of the totally-not-terrifying side effects. Despite this, the New Zealand government still seems reluctant to fully acknowledge long Covid. There remains no dedicated funding for research, and the long Covid registry was initiated by independent researchers, not government officials.
I first got Covid in 2021 after the initial overseas wave. I was boosted, wore masks in public, and followed all the rules, but I worked in hospitality, where it was difficult to avoid exposure. A few weeks before the virus swept through the workplace, I was in the unlucky middle group to catch it. By the end, only a handful of staff were left managing a venue that held over 200 people. But I wasn’t struggling at work; instead, I was in bed, writhing with chest pain so severe that the woman on Healthline thought I was having a heart attack (lol).
Spoiler: I wasn’t. However, I did endure two miserable hospital visits in as many days. First, I was awkwardly fenced off behind a cone in the main area of the emergency room, having to announce my symptoms to anyone within earshot. The second time, they housed me in a bubble within the children’s section of the hospital, surrounded by other people coughing, clutching their chests, and presumably feeling just as miserable as I was. I’m grateful I didn’t need to use the bathroom, because that would’ve required my Covid-ridden self to shuffle out and awkwardly ask for help.
The chest pain took about a month to subside, and my workplace kindly gave me an extra week off to recover. But it lingered. Even now, almost four years later, if I overexert myself—pushing myself at work, or walking home too quickly—the pain returns, sharp and jabbing. I’ve grown used to it.
Since then, I’ve had Covid three times. I chalk it up to two factors: 1) continuing to work in large-scale hospitality, and 2) my body’s immune system was
wrecked by the first infection. Now, even though I’m boosted, Covid still wipes me out. And it’s not just Covid. Any cold takes me longer to recover, cuts and bruises heal slowly, and when I got an infection a few years ago, it took over a month to recover from that, too.
Despite all this, I’d still consider myself one of the luckier ones. I can (mostly) rely on walking around the city. My sense of taste is slowly coming back, though everything tastes sweeter now, to the point where chocolate is overwhelming. My sense of smell is creeping back, but I’m not convinced it’ll ever fully recover. I know several people who haven’t been as fortunate. They can’t walk for more than a few minutes without getting out of breath, they’re constantly fatigued, and brain fog makes it hard for them to work or study.
The most frustrating part of all this is that the government still doesn’t take it seriously. I’ve been lucky that my GP has been supportive and believed my symptoms, but with limited research and resources, there’s not much she can do beyond offering generic advice: rest, don’t overexert yourself, and maybe take the bus instead of walking (RIP half-price fares for students).
There’s more information about long Covid today than there was a year ago, and much more than two years ago, but what we’re learning is increasingly worrying. What do you mean long Covid might be causing nerve damage? Is that what the chest pain is? Sadly, answers are still in short supply.
I wish this column could provide better advice, but it’s more of a reflection on my experience and a reminder that Covid is still having a massive impact on many of us. Over 200,000 Kiwis are registered in the long Covid registry. We’re out here—just mostly struggling in silence.
Long Covid isn’t something that just fades away after the virus is gone. It’s a chronic, often debilitating condition that many people, including myself, continue to deal with every day. It’s time the government took it seriously, funding research and providing real support for the thousands of Kiwis who are quietly battling its ongoing effects. Covid might be out of the headlines, but for many, it’s far from over.
A little birdie told me…
Question: Work for Salient in 2025?
Send in your dilemmas by following this QR code
Whio says… Toroa says…
Do you like getting threatened to be sued? How about the ACT party? Well, THEY DON'T LIKE YOU. And forget about your dreams of you and Vice Chancellor, Nic Smith, running into the sunset together. If you call him out on platforming hate groups on campus, he won’t like you either.
Journalism is this tricky little line of holding people accountable and not making people angry at you for life, and to be honest, the line doesn't exist. You want to write hit pieces? That’s chill, but people will remember you for it. If you’re like me and hate being perceived, well, I have really bad news for you. It’s bad enough that we’ve aged into our real ages in the back of the magazine, now you’re telling me that everything is backed up online for eternity? And that silly little piece about olympic sex positions is there forever? Terrifying to perceive.
If you want all the fun of working at Salient, without the stress, try running for the VUWSA exec. I promise it’s fun (and the roles are much less competitive).
But in all seriousness, what other jobs can you do where you will get paid to write silly little articles and also meet Chlöe Swarbrick and watch her wife take a painting down at Jame Shaw’s old parliament office (that is now Chlöe Swarbrick’s parliament office) that almost hits you in the head? That’s a pro OR a con, depending on where you stand on the political spectrum.
If you don’t mind being perceived, and have a lot in the tank for meeting new people, elevating your writing and goofing around at the office. Then it probably is the job for you. But me, personally I’m excited to sleep and not have Gerry Brownlee knowing my personal phone number.
I think it may be fairly obvious by now that the two birdies who write this column do, in fact, work for Salient. And me personally? I love it.
The connections I’ve made, the knowledge I’ve gained, the sheer amount of fun I’ve had over this past year has made this job worth all of the stress. There’s something so cool about being involved in Salient; it’s like you’re in a little club that gets to know everything about everyone all the time because, hey, that’s the news! And for my nosey little brain, it’s really the perfect job.
The office is also so dope: huge windows so it’s super warm and sunny whenever you’re writing up your feature of the week, our own kitchen so on those rainy campus days you don’t have to go to Milk and Honey for lunch, and the podcast office even has its own couch for both mental breakdowns and procrastination naps!
Working at Salient has also made me better at writing on an academic level. I’m thinking about the way I phrase things more, the way that the content I produce will be perceived by the consumer. My attention to details like spelling and grammar have also gone up, too (thank you Henry for all of the subbing you do on my pieces!!)
That’s not to say that Salient is for everyone. Obviously this is a very public job! I’ve had people I don’t even know tell me, to my face, that my features have sucked. But that’s also just the nature of this job!
UniQ Fruit Salad
Pre-Disability: A Myth
words by Zia Ravenscroft (he/they/it)
I’ve been using a cane as a mobility aid for nearly six months. Mine is bright pink, and gets me plenty of compliments from older women on the bus when I take one of the disabled seats. For about a month after I began walking with one, I swear every time I saw someone the first thing they asked was ‘What happened?’ There never felt like there was an easy way to say that nothing happened, really. I’m just disabled, and it took me far too long to realise this, and even longer to do anything about it.
My official disability is a combination of chronic fatigue, pain, and joint disorders. There’s not one specific cause for any of this. This often confuses able-bodied people. They want an easy story, an easy answer, something that can be cured and then forgotten about, instead of continuing to have to think about mine and so many other’s disabled existences. I have days where I cannot get out of bed or move around my flat without using my cane. I avoid stairs where possible, which is difficult in this hilly bitch of a city. I can still cut a gay walking speed on a good day, but I’m more used to my friends striding off ahead of me.
Since I was sixteen, I’ve experienced pain and fatigue near-daily that worsens in peaks when I ignore my body’s limits and push myself beyond them. I survived this for years by simply not even noticing it. When all
you know is your own supposedly normal experience, it’s hard to imagine anything else. It wasn’t until last summer, when I spent nearly a week in bed (partly from illness, mostly from sheer disabled exhaustion) on a family holiday, that my cousin suggested, perhaps, Zia, not everyone experiences this level of pain and fatigue as constantly as I did. This felt mind-blowing. It shouldn’t have been. I felt a lot of grief over not taking care of myself sooner, but promised I would from now on.
Once you start paying attention to your body, it’s hard to stop. I might have only begun thinking of myself as disabled earlier this year, but it’s entirely how I experience my body in the world now. When I talked to my parents about my disabilities, my mother asked when I would get better. I probably won’t. I need care, not a cure. I still try to not feel guilty over saying no to plans with friends because I cannot physically handle more than one activity in the day, and letting myself rest as much as I actually need to.
If anyone hasn’t confronted disability in their own lives, it’s something people are very detached from, though we are all at most temporarily able-bodied. We are all pre-disabled. The notion of a liveable life is always connected to an able body. Yet, I am disabled and my life is liveable—and I refuse for it to be anything but.
PUZZLES everybody's favourite page
Play on Repeat | Crossword made by Puck
Across
1 Abba song that begins "Half-past twelve, and I'm watching the late show in my flat all alone" (5x3)
9 Is expected (to) (5)
10 New Mexico locale where many 'Oppenheimer' scenes are set (3,6)
11 Famous Roman poet and politician (6)
12 Wild horses that play Super rugby for ACT (8)
14 Abba song that begins "Love me or leave me, make your choice but believe me" (1,2x5)
17 Building material; tangible (8)
19 Bird that was commonly used in coal mining (6)
21 With absolutely no analysis needed (2,1,6)
22 Comes down from the sky (5)
23 Abba song that begins "I work all night, I work all day, to pay the bills I have to pay" (5x3)
Down
1 Italian potato-based dish (7)
2 Six Flags amusement park in California; Thomas Mann novel, with 'The' (5,8)
3 Competed; went in (7)
4 Skye is one (4)
5 It's nourishing in both soup and Super Mario (8)
6 Pokemon that evolves from Graveler; figure in Jewish myth (5)
7 Process before sticking the pharaoh in a pyramid (13)
8 Moves slowly and gently (5)
13 Modern-day company that started by making hanafuda cards in 1889 (8)
15 Instructional chart (7)
16 Greek epic that has Nobody in it? (7)
17 Make a good impression; part of some bracelets (5)
18 Olympic event where a baton gets passed (5)
20 He holds the Guinness World Record for most career goals in football, with 1,279 (4)
Get Pressed | Crossword made by Nil
8 "Donnie _____", 2001 cult film (5)
9 Key for elbow room? (5)
10 Ctrl + Z (4)
12 Rainbow maker (5)
13 Spy; secret _____ (5)
15 Wow (5)
16 Poem with an odd-number of syllables (5)
17 ____ talk (3)
18 Future fry? (3)
22 Out of bed (5)
23 Congestion site? (5)
25 Revolted (6)
26 Beige; colour of unbleached linen (4)
27 1052 in Rome (4)
Across
28 _______ uno is number one (6)
1 Entertainment device in most living rooms (10, 3)
6 Back up* (6)
31 Introduced to (3)
9 Citation* (6)
11 Pass on (as an email)* (7)
12 Shakespeare story* (4)
33 Possess (3)
14 Vow (4)
17 Strength* (5)
19 Goddess of Peace (5)
20 Town exactly halfway between Wellington & Palmerston North (5)
21 Hesitate* (5)
24 Silence* (4)
27 List of options* (4)
29 Narrow body of water* (7)
30 Length x Width x Height* (6)
32 Evening party (6)
34 Handheld for 1A... or where you'd push for *answers* (6, 7)
Down
2 Quite a sight (like the Eiffel, I hear?) (6)
3 Delivery vehicle (3)
4 Tic-Tac-Toe winner (3)
5 Accompany (6)
7 Questionable (4)
8 "Donnie _____", 2001 cult film (5)
9 Key for elbow room? (5)
10 Ctrl + Z (4)
12 Rainbow maker (5)
13 Spy; secret _____ (5)
15 Wow (5)
16 Poem with an odd-number of syllables (5)
17 ____ talk (3)
18 Future fry? (3)
22 Out of bed (5)
23 Congestion site? (5)
25 Revolted (6)
26 Beige; colour of unbleached linen (4)
27 1052 in Rome (4)
28 _______ uno is number one (6)
31 Introduced to (3)
33 Possess (3)
bird search | Hihi
How many Hihi can you spot in this issue?
The Hihi, also known as the Stitchbird, is an enchanting songbird found only in New Zealand. Its striking black and yellow feathers make it easily recognizable, along with its distinctive white tufts near its wings. Once on the verge of extinc tion, successful conservation efforts have helped to revive their populations. Beloved for their sweet calls and unique vocalizations, they also play a crucial role in pollination by feeding on nectar. Hihi have unique breeding behaviors, with females often choosing multiple mates and laying clutches of eggs in different nests. Males actively participate in nest-building and care for the young. These birds exhibit a complex social structure, with communal nesting areas and cooperative breeding behaviors.Typically inhabiting native forests, Hihi have been carefully reintroduced to areas where predators are controlled.
the best pizza, pool, and bevvies on campus, pop in on your next trip up the hill!
Maze Puzzle
SALIENT TEAM 2024
Second Row: 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)
with Speaker of the House Teddy O'Neill (he/it/ia)
Unedited Sessions 2.0 Have you ever been jumpscared by Spotify's DJ X? No? You will be on this episode!
Arts & Culture Teddy's joined by Alanah and Pan from Requiem Productions to talk theatre and the show that they're working on for their theatre MFA, Verdict!
VUWSA Unedited Phoebe and Teddy are joined by Em to talk comms, complaints and the VUWSA crypitd that is Matt Tucker.
