Letters to the Editor: Kaikorai, the university and tourism
Today's Letters to the Editor from readers cover topics including the water quality in the Kaikorai stream, the uni's bureaucratic incompetence, and is tourism going to shrink? Decision humiliates University of Otago
The University of Otago's dreadful decision to put the Frances Hodgkins and Mozart Fellowships "on hold" shows bureaucratic incompetence: they were yanked after applications had already opened, closing in under a month.
Much worse, it highlights strategic ineptitude at the highest levels. These fellowships' support for artists has established an enduring legacy for not just the university but our city and all Otago. They somehow seem, however, to have failed to fulfil one of their key purposes: to foster interest in music and the arts within the university itself.
Does the university's "deep disappointment" suffice? No, and especially not when they then suggest benefactors might bail them out. Rather, the choice not to find $200,000 and avoid this reputational catastrophe humiliates the university, and shames those responsible. Fellowship's importance
I was saddened to read that the Frances Hodgkins Fellowship has been temporarily suspended because of insufficient returns from the trust funds that finance what is without doubt the most important visual arts residency in the country.
As a former two-times selector, while director of the Auckland City Art Gallery, and knowing several former Fellows personally, I am well aware of the Fellowship's great significance for the visual arts in New Zealand. I would hope that the University of Otago's development team is working hard to find a benefactor willing to add funds to the trust.
And on a related matter, while visiting Dunedin for a few days I was hugely impressed by the ODT 's arts coverage, and especially the weekly arts section. Besides reviews of the Auckland Philharmonia's concerts the arts get no regular coverage in Auckland's daily paper. Stream story
I enjoyed reading the article ( ODT 3.5.25) about the Kaikorai Stream.
I grew up in the valley and the stream wound its way past our house. I spent many hours playing in the stream, with access gained from the park opposite KVC. Eighteen months ago we took six of our mokopuna on a "Kaikorai investigation". We also found lots of rubbish in the water, including several used vapes.
It is disappointing to hear about the deteriorating water quality. I applaud the efforts of Aroha and Paul as well as Hendrick and others who are attempting to improve the stream by planting native trees.
We live beside Stevensons Creek, which feeds into Kaikorai Stream. We've noticed the changes in water colour at times but we also have a resident eel.
Thanks so much Mary Williams for an informative article and telling us about the positive attempts being made to improve the stream. Emotion and fact
Upon reading the letter (2.5.25) from Statistics NZ support manager Kathy Connolly I almost had to check it wasn't April 1 again. According to Stats NZ, ethnicity is now based on "self-identification" and "feeling", rather than the apparently outdated measures of race, ancestry and nationality. So, if you watch an enjoyable movie set in the Australian outback and awaken feeling a bit Aboriginal, that can be the new you. Officially.
How far this could go is mind-boggling, and it probably goes quite a way to explain the rise in various ethnic group numbers, somewhat at odds with normal birth rates. It also makes you wonder at the veracity or even the point of any statistical measurement, if emotion and feeling can be officially substituted for objectivity and fact. Wrapped around the axle of a juggernaut
Can we be adults about climate, private equity and overpopulation in regards to tourism in New Zealand?
As you might have worked out, as predicted, the world has been destabilised by blind stupidity of late so the question we have to ask is our current leadership smart enough to be ahead of the game or are they wrapped around the axle of this runaway juggernaut?
There appears to be no stomach for preparing for what is coming as our leaders' priorities are not matching up with reality.
Tourism is going to shrink as things get worse and that will be balanced by economic refugees trying to escape unfixable political problems so we should all be prepared to deal with this kind of event but also look at what Anglo-Polynesian New Zealanders need from their public spaces for their health and wellbeing, the nitty gritty that only creative people can create.
Be mindful that money is ethereal but people are real and use people with respect to present a country to be proud of, or as they say just be kind.
Oh and allow cycling and access in selected locations in our national parks for our older citizens to enjoy the retirement they deserve. The prince and the pauper
In the ancient Roman festival of Saturnalia, for one day or more masters became slaves and slaves became masters. Couldn't we revive and modernise that wholesome custom by having the master of all, President Donald Trump, change places with the servant of all, Pope Leo XIV, for one day at least, preferably for more?
Address Letters to the Editor to: Otago Daily Times, PO Box 517, 52-56 Lower Stuart St, Dunedin. Email: editor@odt.co.nz
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Otago Daily Times
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Fit that flatters
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Her hazel eyes are full of passion as she recounts the meaningfulness of the moment, her tone becoming more animated. "And when we actually laid out the pieces and looked at the different lengths of everything, her mindset about herself just changed. There's certain parts of herself that she wasn't so confident about, or that she would be really embarrassed about, and when she saw them laid out like this and not in numbers it changed the way she thought about it. And it was quite cool to see a little thing like that." Miscisco was raised in Cromwell, where her community has been a vital part of her work. After being taught to knit by her grandma, Miscisco reached out to women within her community to further her skills. "What I'm realising now is that wool is providing an avenue for me to connect with people. Sometimes when the wool stuff's not working as well as I want it to, I think of the connections with people that I'm making through it." After attempting to teach herself to spin wool for more than a year, she finally asked a Cromwell local who runs a wool-dyeing business, she explains. With her help, gradually Miscisco learned the art. "There are many people on the way from Cromwell to Dunedin that I'll stop in to see and have a chat and learn the tools and tricks, but also talk about older generation stuff and younger generation stuff." She speaks warmly of a blind woman in Cromwell who helped her finesse wool spinning, who she now catches up with often to show her work. The close-knit community has also allowed Miscisco's work to transition naturally into a sustainable venture. Recently, her grandma went with her to a wool fibre festival where she bought locally sourced alpaca wool. The vendors each had information on their farm history and land, meaning you could trace the fibres back to their origins. "I could place it back to the exact alpaca. So, it's cool to think you know the thing that's making it, and the grass that's feeding it." However, the designer is well aware that "sustainability" means more than using locally sourced fibres. She focuses on creating pieces that are adaptable enough to be staples in a wardrobe even as fashions change. Additionally, she is constantly thinking about how handmade pieces can be affordable to "everyday Joes", especially in the context of personalised clothing. But, the other half of that balancing act is being careful not to exploit herself. "Lots of people who make their own stuff take away a lot of [the potential for] profit from themselves, or don't pay themselves, because they're just wanting to get their name out there. But that's not very sustainable." Over the next six months, Miscisco will spend her free time spinning, dyeing and crocheting wool for a new five-piece collection that will be showcased in December, in a KAM Models show in Auckland. 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From winning awards against competitors who have been in the industry for years, to earning places in brand workshops and entrepreneur programmes, she is making her mark. In the future, she would "absolutely love" for Cisco Bella to expand and become a fulltime job. It's inspiring to see the seeds of change being sewn into the fashion industry, as the ubiquitous shroud of fast-fashion myth begins to fray. Young designers like Miscisco are reimagining how people can relate not only to fashion, but also to themselves. "If more little things like that keep happening," she says, "what will we see in the future?" Seren Stevens is a University of Otago humanities intern with The Weekend Mix.
The Spinoff
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‘Out of this world': Becky Manawatu on the Blackball Readers and Writers Festival
Blackball Readers and Writers Festival might be the smallest festival of its kind in New Zealand, restricted to just 50 guests. Writer Becky Manawatu was among them. Festival organiser Paul Maunder sits opposite esteemed guest, award-winning poet and national taoka Tusiata Avia. He describes how she 'burst onto the scene' with Wild Dogs Under My Skirt. Avia grins, and replies, 'Like out of a cake. At a bachelor party, sort of thing, Paul?' The crowd of readers and writers filling every seat in the classroom at Blackball's primary school roars with laughter – and one of the tones for what will be one of the most memorable literary festivals of my life is set. Over her 90-minute session Maunder prompts Avia to read poem after poem, the pair traversing the whenua of her career like giants on a Pacific journey – Paul citing landmarks, pointing to the next destination, the poet animating them. The result is hypnotising. Everyone is here for it. Between poems there's short commentary on craft and writing. Politics. She takes a chance to acknowledge activist and national organiser of Halt All Racist Tours, John Minto, who is among the crowd. In miserable contrast, David Seymour's name comes up. 'Aww, bub,' she says, reading one of her poems in response to his vitriol against her. Afterwards there is homemade baking, including a mind-blowing pumpkin spice cake and a ripper ginger crunch. People spill out of the classroom, make cups of tea, grab feijoas from the box offering them. 'Enjoy those,' one attendee says to me as I fill Avia's purse with fruit. 'They're under threat because of that disease.' Myrtle Rust. The festival is magic, uplifting, of course, but there is – given its theme: the role of the writer in a time of crisis – a sense of urgency. Not even our feijoa are safe. 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A coalescence of all the words said as if they've been dropped into a witch's cauldron. It is a festival virtually impossible to dip in and out of. The conversations come in waves, the next arriving before we make it to shore. The format mirroring the same potent and hypnotising format of Avia's session. Gluing us to our seats, making the seven layers of my own skin lift – ever so slightly – away from each other. Several times over the weekend, in an effort to ground myself, I take the risk of turning my head to watch the rain pattering on the classroom window, and look at the mist covering the forest on the foothills of the Paparoa Ranges. (Will I be told to 'pay attention please, Becky?') We're on a class trip together. Only it's more akin to those from one of my favourite childhood books: The Magic School Bus. Destination: the human conscience – in crisis. I have my five-year-old niece along for company. She's a hero and an emblem. She sits in on almost every session, joins us for each hot meal (lunch and dinner is provided for all attendees, both days) which parades an abundance of potatoes, swathed in butter or roasted. Beans and lentils, creamy cajun sauce. Pork belly. She sits in on a moving poetry reading by Kāi Tahu poet and award-winning musician Ariana Tikao. The event is made by an undercurrent of taonga pūoro pulling our senses further towards the acuity of her kupu. She reads a poem which will be included in her upcoming collection Pepeha Portal. The poem, 'Settling', is dedicated to Palestinian Bilal Saleh who was shot in the chest by an Israeli settler while harvesting his olive trees in the occupied West Bank. The poem asks in refrain and double entendre, 'Is this settling?' Over the weekend my niece entertained herself, listening and tattooing te Rā onto the palms of people's hands in blue biro. Minto sat next to her and pointed out a large mural of the solar system spread across the back of the classroom wall. 'What's your name?' she asked. 'John,' he said. 'Hello John.' She turned to publisher Mary McCallum. 'Mary, this is John.' Paul Maunder played Lego with her on the floor during one session; Tusiata applied lip-gloss onto her lips. Mandy played countless games of trickery with her which involved the hiding of notepads and pens beneath large bowls. Mary brought Gavin Bishop's Hinepau to read to her. The festival moved beyond being a class trip and soon felt more like a noho marae, only by night we were dotted about Blackball in various accommodations. Mary, Mandy, my niece Ariah and I stayed at the Brian Wood cottage. It had a fire, heaters in each room, almost a dozen hot-water bottles, a large claw-footed bath, a bucket to catch pesky drips from the ceiling and a morning view of the hills from the window above the kitchen sink. 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The poem 'Confessions of importance' examines her grief after losing her son, Reuben Winter, to suicide. It describes survival in this tino pōuri stanza: Face outward to go in – return to a body that craves sunshine in its bones, when death has rechartered the map of you People cried as she read and continued to cry well after she finished. Poet and novelist Majella Cullinane was beamed in via Zoom to speak about Meantime, her 2024 poetry collection that reflects on the loss of her mother to dementia during the pandemic. I saw people happy, and belly-laughing and people grief-stricken throughout the weekend. They'd come to the school near the foothills of the Paparoa Ranges to seek answers, to close ranks. They'd come to be sure they were not alone in this time of crisis. You couldn't have felt alone, it was a hybrid of class trip (all aboard the geeks, no bullies) and wānaka. The books there were being sold as sort of an afterthought. There was no rushing authors to the tables for sales and signings. After each session there was a strange feeling – almost awkward, in a good way I suppose – of having to carry on sitting together. Kōrero mai, grab a cuppa, a bit of slice and get your arse back in your seat for the next. Back at our cottage one evening I mentioned a woman at the festival who seemed very heartbroken. My five-year-old niece asked, 'Do you mean the woman with the beautiful long black hair?' Āe, tamahine. Tamariki are always listening, always watching. One morning after my car failed to start and we were running late, I ran towards the road hearing the sound of a Blackball's morning traffic – a lone vehicle – and I thrust my thumb out. A silver sports car pulled over. The woman with the 'beautiful long black hair' opened the door. On the passenger's seat I saw evidence of an artist. Wood, feathers, stone, a felt hat. 'Becky,' she said with a bright smile, and wet eyes. She took my breath away and in a flash of silver she boosted Mandy to the festival, while Mary, Ariah and I ambled down Main Road, waiting for rescue. Several minutes in, my niece said, 'We've been walking for hours.' 'Yes,' I said. Maybe we have. I hoped the woman with the beautiful long black hair found something at this intimate and intense festival to buoy her up, some wisdom in the wānaka, a sense of community in a time of crisis. Ngā mihi maioha to the organisers and people of the Blackball Readers and Writers Festival, it was out of this world.
Scoop
2 days ago
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Stars Align For Wellington's Matariki Ahi Kā
Press Release – Wellington City Council This years Matariki festivities begin with Mana Moana Pneke, a series of indigenous short films projected onto a water screen in Whairepo Lagoon, running on weekend nights from 7-22 June. Welcome in the Māori New Year in style as the waterfront comes alive with Matariki Ahi Kā – a whānau-friendly celebration of fire,projections, performances, and kai. This year's Matariki festivities begin with Mana Moana Pōneke, a series of indigenous short films projected onto a water screen in Whairepo Lagoon, running on weekend nights from 7-22 June. Matariki Ahi Kā will light up the waterfront every night from 6pm–9pm from 19-22 June, offering a self-guided experience that journeys through Past, Present and Future zones. Each zone will be marked with a tomokanga (entranceway) that embodies its kaupapa (purpose), guiding attendees through fire installations, large-scale projections, live performances, interactive storytelling, traditional Māori games, and kai from food trucks. Local talent will take to the Aroha and Takoha stages with acts including the Ngāti Pōneke Young Māori Club, Tom Knowles (reggae, roots), Rei (bilingual Urban and Electronic), Tui (soul, pop), and Awerangi (old-school jams). In a tribute to those who have passed since last Matariki, names submitted by the public will be projected onto a Memorial Wall on the side of Te Papa near the Solace in the Wind statue. Each evening of Matariki Ahi Kā, a ceremonial walk will start at 7.40pm from the Barnett Street car moving procession follows the journey of the Matariki whetū (stars). Visitors are invited to write down names, memories, wishes, and aspirations, and place these in baskets located at the Memorial Wall and Whairepo Lagoon before 7.30pm. These will be released into a ceremonial flame following the procession, sending them to the stars above. 'Matariki is a time to pause and reflect on the past year, celebrate our present achievements, and look forward to the future with renewed hope and aspirations. Here in Wellington, our Matariki celebrations emphasise the vital role of whānau and community in bringing us all together,' says Mayor Tory Whanau. 'We invite everyone – Wellingtonians and visitors alike – to join us in these special Matariki celebrations.' The celebration of Matariki and Puanga, the Māori New Year, dates back over 700 years. The rising of Puanga (Rigel in Orion) and the Matariki star cluster (Pleiades) marks a time to reflect on the past, reconnect with whānau, share kai, celebrate, and look forward to the year ahead. Other events in the region at this time include Matariki events at Council's Community Centres, Wellington City Libraries and in the Botanic Garden ki Paekākā. The WAITUHI Matariki flags will be on display in Frank Kitts Park from 18 June – 12 July. This year's WAITUHI Matariki public art series for the 8-flag poles is Te Kohinga Whētu: Collecting the Stars, by artist Reuben Paterson (Ngāti Rangitihi, Ngāi Tūhoe, Tūhourangi, Scottish). The Matariki exhibition opening 7 June in the Courtenay Place Light Boxes (77-97 Courtenay Place) is Tiaki by artist Shannon Te Rangihaeata Clamp (Ngāti Toa Rangatira Ngāti Koata, Ngāti Tama). Tiaki is a manaia, a bearer who connects the worldly and spiritual realms. Tiaki acknowledges the space between and overlapping people, atua, this place, its histories, and its presence. Event details: Mana Moana Pōneke 7-8 June, 14-15 June, 19-22 June 6pm–9pm Whairepo Lagoon Free event In the lead-up to Matariki Ahi Kā and during the long weekend, enjoy Mana Moana Pōneke, a series of indigenous short films projected on a water screen. The films this year have been curated by Israel Randell (Rarotonga, Tainui, Ngāti Kahungunu) and are guided by the wise words of Moana Jackson's: 'In time, like te ao marama emerging out of te pō, mourning gives way to dreaming.' Matariki Ahi Kā Thursday 19 June – Sunday 22 June 2025 6pm–9pm Wellington Waterfront Free event Matariki Ahi Kā is an immersive self-led walking journey including fire, performances, projections, a ceremony each night to honour those who have passed away and to express hopes for the future, the Mana Moana Pōneke water screen, and kai. Find out more on Council's website: Matariki Ahi Kā and Mana Moana Pōneke are accessible. Toilets, including an accessible toilet are available. There is an unmanned drop-off point at the Te Papa main entrance. To avoid parking frustration during this busy time, we encourage everyone to walk, bike, scoot, or use public transport. Cyclists and e-scooters, please follow diversions or walk your wheels, and pedestrians take extra care due to the changes.
