Whānau and manaakitanga—those are the two pillars everything else in my life stands on. I was born and raised in Awanui, and my childhood was defined by my grandparents on both sides. They were the glue. Every holiday, Christmas, and Easter was a big gathering with all my cousins; a big feast where everyone brought kai and just belonged.
Both my parents and grandparents were incredibly hard workers. They instilled in us the value that if you work hard, you’re rewarded—but for them, the reward was always something to be shared. My grandfather was the unofficial groundskeeper of the Waipapakauri Sports Domain for years. He did that with several other volunteers, giving back simply because that’s who he was. We recently held his unveiling this past Easter, and seeing the majority of my cousins there together reminded me how much we still mean to each other. That’s the legacy of the abundance they shared.
I feel like I originally fell into the social services world because everything happens for a reason. Back in school, I was part of the youth mentoring space, so there was always an inkling of wanting to help. As the oldest grandchild, supporting others was a natural trait. When I was 18, I headed off to university in the city, but I came home a year later. In hindsight, I just wasn’t prepared to be a country girl from Awanui in the big city.
When I got home, I was offered a reception position at Kaitaia Home Based Whānau Support. That’s where I did my first training as a budget advisor. At 19, I was the youngest budget advisor in the country. My father had already taught me the importance of finances; he told me for my 21st he’d contribute to my fund if I saved a certain amount. That motivation stuck, and it truly started my journey with money.
Life has a way of aligning when you need it to. I attempted to go back to Auckland to study properly, only to find out I was hapū. I had my daughter in Auckland in 2006, and suddenly the path led us straight back home. A position opened up at the Whānau Support office again, and a space opened at the local kōhanga for my daughter. I’ve been back ever since.
One of my favorite outlets during those years was netball. I played right through until my late thirties. I loved the team vibes, the strategy, and the physical element of the game. Some of my best games were when I’d finish a long day of mahi and let off some steam on the court. It was always friendly, of course, but it was that connection to a team that I really thrived on.
Motherhood goes by in the blink of an eye. My kōtiro is 19 now, she’s sassy, level-headed, and beautiful. Raising her taught me so much about myself. She recently moved overseas, and there’s a strange silence in the house now, but I’m so proud of her courage. At 19, I don’t think I would have had the heart to do what she’s done. If I could go back and tell my younger self anything, it would be: “Don’t be afraid to be your authentic self. You aren’t going to have it all worked out, and you don’t need to force it.”
For the last two years, I’ve been on a journey to reclaim my reo. My grandparents’ generation was punished for speaking it. Reclaiming it is about securing the future for my own grandchildren. Someone once told me that Te Reo is like a rose bush—if you don’t maintain it, it can be swallowed by the rest of the garden. It’s a battle against old conditioning for me sometimes, but rewriting that story is worth it.
In my mahi as a manager and as a trustee on local Boards, I believe in listening to hear, not listening to respond. You have to put yourself in someone else’s shoes and have true empathy. We can become too complacent and think we know the answer before we’ve even heard the story. Sometimes people don’t want a solution; they just need someone to hold space for them.
When the world feels heavy, Tangaroa is my reset. I love going up the beach, throwing a line in, and smelling the sea breeze. Parengarenga Harbour in Te Hapua is especially dear to me—it calls to my wairua every time I go home. Part of my non-negotiable self-care is having that quiet time to myself to reset. On the flip side, my family also fills my cup; there is nothing like a hearty laugh with my brother and cousins.
Te Hiku is unmatched because of the people. We have the biggest hearts, and we never fail to come together in full strength to awhi one another. My own village is made of people of all ages who offer me different perspectives from all walks of life, which allows me to soundboard across all avenues. That belief in our people is what led me to co-found Capability Builders NZ. What started as a passion project turned into a business dedicated to helping others reach their full potential. It’s about teaching the foundations of self-employment and empowering people to create their own paths.
My biggest hope for the families of Te Hiku is that they recognize the incredible strength and potential that already exists within them. Whether it’s through financial mentoring or helping someone start their own journey in business, it all comes back to the same goal: seeing our people succeed.”