Name Mr SL
Hometown Tāmaki Makaurau Auckland
Age when entered care 9 years old
Year of birth 1977
Type of care facility Children’s home – Manurewa Baptist Children’s Home; family homes – Witehira Family Home; Windrush Family Home; girls’ home – Bollard Girls’ Home in Tāmaki Makaurau Auckland; boys’ homes – Weymouth Boys’ Home in Tāmaki Makaurau Auckland, Helensville Boys’ Home, Epuni Boys’ Home in Te Awa Karangi ki Tai Lower Hutt; corrective training – New Zealand Legionnaires Academy in in Tāmaki Makaurau Auckland, Birch Camp; Te Whakapakari Youth Programme on Aotea Great Barrier Island
Ethnicity Māori (Tainui) 
Whānau background Mr SL’s parents separated when he was young and he mostly lived with his mother and younger brother. His father was in a gang, and in and out of his life.
Currently Mr SL is in prison. He has four children. He has worked as a cleaner and hospital orderly. His mum has always been there for him.  

“We thought we were going to die.”

I spent most of my childhood in and out of care. I was moved from violent home to violent home, and suffered serious psychological, physical and sexual abuse at the hands of people who were supposed to care for me.

This has had an indescribable impact on my life.

When I was 7 or 8 years old, Mum got a new boyfriend who was extremely violent. I started running away and getting into trouble. I lived on the streets and did a bit of stealing, and police and Social Welfare got involved.

I ended up in State care when I was about 9 years old mainly because I was running away – but no one ever asked me why. Social Welfare said I was in need of care, protection and control, but just put me wherever they wanted to. It was so unstable. I had no idea where I would be placed, and I never felt safe or settled.

I was about 15 years old when my social worker sent me to Whakapakari. 

The supervisors were idiots. Some were ex-gang members. They started abusing the boys and turned us against each other. They would use the older boys they trusted to beat us. Another supervisor came from a psychiatric hospital and smashed us in the woods.

I was made to dig trenches as a punishment because I was having a hard time getting along with other boys. We were punished during kapa haka time, too. If you made a mistake with the movements, everyone was made to do push-ups, and the supervisors would walk around and kick you in the face. We would get back up and have to practise the words. The supervisors singled out people and if they made a mistake, they got beaten. 

Everyone says we were made to dig our own graves – we were digging trenches. There was a worker there and he had a gun. Once, when we weren’t digging fast enough, he pointed the gun at us. We were terrified and thought we were going to die. One of my friends defecated on himself because he was so scared. I could see it coming down his pants.

The worst place was in the tents, where the older boys would come in and smash us. I tried to fight back but I was always outnumbered by bigger boys, and the supervisors were on big power trips.  

The older boys would sexually assault the younger boys and call them names at the same time. One of my friends had wooden sticks put up his anus by other boys – that wasn’t uncommon.

There was a ‘no narking’ culture among the boys and there was no way you could tell anyone about what happened to you or what you witnessed. If you did say anything, you got a beating, either from the staff or from the other boys.

A few of us were sent over to the other island, Alcatraz, as a punishment for trying to run away. It was awful. I was violated by one of the supervisors. They’d pull down our pants and sexually abuse us. Before this, we had been over to Alcatraz in groups. Sexual abuse occurred while we were there – they tried to put sticks up our rectums. It happened to me, and to the other boys. We always complained but no one cared about us.

There was no medical treatment at Whakapakari.

Most of the boys at Whakapakari seemed to have come from bad environments, bad homes. And a lot of those boys were young criminals. I learned a lot about crime and how to become a better criminal during my time.

Later, I was sent to corrective training at Birch Camp, Tongariro. That place felt like a holiday camp compared to Whakapakari. The staff weren’t abusive to us, but by this point I was a very hard young man. Corrective training did not change my trajectory, and it didn’t give me any skills to turn my life around.

I’ve been in so many prisons that I have a hard time remembering where I’ve served time and when. I consider myself a criminal through and through – I’ve never tried to be anything different. I’m learning coping skills now as an adult in prison and I’m really working on it. I need help to change the way I still think.

Because of my time in various placements, boys’ homes and corrective training facilities, my education opportunities have been limited. We were always afraid, and they gave us nothing. It was about survival and trying to look for opportunities to escape. I was never taught how to deal with anything properly as an adult – I am learning coping skills now in prison.

I had many case workers throughout my childhood. I told many of them about the abuse I suffered as a child, but it was always treated as a ‘wild story’. They said they investigated and nothing came of it. But I know they didn’t investigate. I complained about the repeated physical and sexual abuse I suffered throughout my time in care, but no one believed me.

I know that part of who I am is because of the abuse and neglect I was subjected to in care. I should have received care, protection, education and basic skills, but this was far from the case. 

We need to believe children when they tell us something is wrong. I was told my abuse was a fairy tale, but it was the truth. No one listened. This has to change.[90]

Footnotes