Karla Akuhata explores the work of the Te Whakaruruhau womens refuge

Kia ora, this is amazing reading....good work Roni and Ard and members of the Te Whakaruruhau team, kia kaha, Taima Story by Karla Akuhata (Waikato Times, 29/10/2011). Life for this boy was tough. The eldest child of 12, he was a gentle soul with anger buried deep beneath a bright smile. He showed all the promise, but carried wounds from watching his mother beaten every day for 20 years of his life. The 22-year-old talks about burnt dinners that resulted in hidings and the time his mother jumped out of the window, naked, trying to get away from his dad's fists. He is the face of one of New Zealand's most shameful statistics. A victim of domestic violence – damaged but not broken – he is before the courts now. A rap sheet that could tell its own story, this young man's future hangs in the balance. It is mostly misdemeanours, but he knows the latest incident could mean jail. Standing out on the precipice, he admits he is scared and says this is not the life he wanted. He wants a stable home with employment, a girl, perhaps marriage, and definitely children. He wants to be a father, one day – a better father than his was to him. Ruahine Albert knows this story – she's heard a million like it. She also knows there is almost always a way forward. The tumuaki of Te Whakaruruhau Maori Women's Refuge, Ruahine – or Ronnie to those who know her – says it's a matter of making the right decisions. Statistics from the police show the number of domestic violence offences in the Waikato have declined 4.11 per cent – 3112 callouts were reported in the 2011 financial year compared with 3368 for the year before. But Ronnie knows this is only an indicator of what is happening because at least 80 per cent of all domestic violence goes unreported. She says staff from Te Whakaruruhau make more than 1000 visits a month to women living in violent relationships. They are inundated with self-referrals from those who have had enough and the police scanner carried by the crisis team cackles with domestic-violence callouts far too often. Sitting in her office at the Te Whakaruruhau's headquarters in Victoria St, which overlooks the Waikato River, Ronnie shares some of her stories. She has worked in this field for more than two decades, but still her eyes well up when she talks about Leonie Newman. The girl with "Property of Leon" tattooed on her cheek, Leonie was the girl who was so demoralised by the man she loved that she avoided going out in public. Leonie was a favourite of Ronnie's and the other stalwart of Te Whakaruruhau, Ariana Simpson, long before she got that tattoo. Beaten by her first partner and the father of her children, Leonie had turned up at Te Whakaruruhau refuge in its first year of operation at a Pembroke St site. Ronnie can't remember when Leon Wilson first appeared on the scene, but she has a clear memory of him sitting on a table outside the Methodist building on London St watching Leonie as she took part in a workshop. She says Wilson's presence was always a little bit unnerving, but she suspected there was a fighter in Leonie – she just needed a chance to show it. Ronnie was right – well, sort of. Leonie finally worked up the courage to walk out on Wilson while he was in jail in the early 2000s. With time to breathe, she had decided to get her and her three children out. The new life, however, was short-lived. Wilson was released from prison in 2003 and, as soon as he walked out of those gates, he went looking for Leonie. He found her at a party in Huntly and beat her so savagely that he broke his thumb while choking her. Afterwards, he stabbed Leonie 28 times until her body lay lifeless on a bathroom floor. Leonie's last words were: "You were the only man I ever loved." Wilson was on parole at the time. He was arrested and jailed for murder, but earlier this year the police were looking for him again for breaching parole. A patched-up gang member, Wilson 's face glared out of the television screen on the eve of the opening of Te Whakaruruhau's new safe house in Hamilton. He was arrested later, but the image was a fresh reminder to Ronnie of all those years ago and the 26-year-old girl who had shown so much promise. Ronnie apologises for her tears before regathering herself and sharing one of her beaming smiles. Leonie is one of those cases – memorable, heartbreaking and unforgettable – but Ronnie can't let herself dwell too long. After more than 10 years of lobbying, fundraising and careful investment, Te Whakaruruhau opened its newest safe house in Hamilton in September. The sprawling two-building complex will be used by families who cannot return to their own homes because of the violence. But the safe house is only the beginning of Ronnie's vision. She would like to build a community centre on the site so that women and men whose lives have been scarred by domestic violence can attend seminars, workshops, meetings and appointments in a safe place. While the focus is often on the women, Te Whakaruruhau also has a policy to work with the men involved – if they are willing. Ronnie says many of the women end up going back to their partners and so working with some of the men is crucial. It is one of the reasons why Ronnie is so protective of the relationship Te Whakaruruhau has with Te Ao Marama, the Maori Focus Unit at Waikeria. Te Ao Marama manager Errol Baker was among the special guests at the opening of the new safe house and was invited to make a speech on the day. During his speech, Errol explained the origins of the unlikely partnership with a "bugger if I know". But afterwards, he was clear it was when Ronnie asked if the men could help repair desks at a school where he was a member of the board of trustees. From that has sprung a long-standing agreement between the two groups where work parties from Te Ao Marama patch holes, fix smashed windows, clear gardens, move furniture and help around Te Whakaruruhau in any way they can. The inmates sent to work at Te Whakaruruhau are screened by Corrections, because it is part of the department's work-release scheme, in which prisoners in the last 12 months of their sentence are allowed to work in the community. In exchange, Errol says, the women at Te Whakaruruhau support the men by attending their parole hearings and whanau days at the prison. "They provide advice and support when prisoners are coming up for release and have helped find accommodation for some men. "The partnership is important because it provides opportunities to reduce reoffending and to support an organisation that is organised and proactive in many areas that relate directly to many male prisoners offending. "Prisoners returning to the community can see that Whakaruruhau has women who are positive role models and that they are like the kuia of old. These women drive the philosophy of looking after and protecting our women and children, which is the role of the male, and they should be proud of it. "Two prisoners have worked their way through the process I set up for prisoners when I first went to Te Ao Marama and have been released with very healthy bank balances after completing nearly 12 months of release to work. "One is an ex-gang member who has set up house in Hamilton with his wife and family and is still helped by the refuge with his relationship." Errol says many of the men come from backgrounds where domestic violence has played a major part in their upbringing and so the work helps heal a few wounds. He says one working party was devastated when at one stage they had to return to a woman's house three times to repair damage caused by an abusive partner. "The prisoners learn to understand the devastating effects of family violence. They begin to understand that men are usually the instigators of violence in the family. They begin to understand that the refuge provides a safe haven for women and children who are the victims. "Working for the refuge gives them the opportunity to work and speak with women in a safe environment. It gives them the opportunity to work in the community in a positive way and sets challenges for them to return to the community and remain offence free. "Prisoners learn that Whakaruruhau will support them on release and that they are there to support men as well as women. Doing this work for Whakaruruhau in many ways returns their mana." In the dining room of the large rambling office on Victoria St, refuge worker Raewyn Curtis and one of her clients wait. The woman has agreed to talk about living in an abusive relationship and the support she has received from the women at Te Whakaruruhau, but the interview comes with the condition that she is not named. She is proud of what she has accomplished, but she is desperately trying, with her husband, to rebuild their lives and that of their two daughters. It's been a long road and Raewyn says she has a very clear memory of that day when the woman began her journey. She remembers climbing the steps at the women's house, saying to her colleague: "Arghh – she won't engage." But then the door opened and standing there was a woman ready to make the necessary changes, but she was determined that she was going to stay with her husband and Raewyn knew that, if the couple were to remain together, then the man would have to also engage. With the utmost faith, Raewyn supported the woman. And her husband stopped beating her. His acceptance of the challenge came two days after the woman gave up alcohol. Sick of the life he was living, the man also decided he wanted sobriety. The woman is frank about things and says booze was almost always the fuel to the violence between her and her husband. She says she knew if she wanted a new life, she had to give up the drugs and alcohol so that she could focus on her family. "Not in the beginning, but I have to be honest: It was the drugs and alcohol that drove the violence. "There was a lot of callouts, police callouts. Every time the police got involved, the women's refuge was involved." Back then, the woman didn't want to listen. She says she didn't want refuge interfering because she was "all good". "I was very ignorant, arrogant – no ears." She says it was a cycle – dole day, alcohol, an argument, the violence, callouts, a knock at the door, an offer of support, the protestation of being all right and then it would start all over again. But one day, the woman, who had been to the addiction centre at Hanmer Springs three times, decided enough was enough. "I was wanting them to be in support of us so we don't want to go back there. It was dark. "The change started last year but it was the beginning of this year when we started working together." The woman says she is proud of her husband, who is working fulltime now, six days a week. She says he is doing so well that he came home the other day with a new contract from his boss, complete with a pay rise. "We have Sky television now. We have got the good things in life that we didn't have before and life is not as much of a struggle. "I used to think there was no-one there for me, but now I have that support, so it is good. "I was just sick of living that dull, rotten life. I came to a point of wanting to reach out. "Now we have got a beautiful house, it is just tumeke. "He has got fulltime work and everything is beautiful." If you or someone you know feels unsafe, you can call the police on 111, Child Youth and family on 0508326459, or the Women's Refuge on 0800 Refuge for help.