Disgruntled employees, allegations of misconduct, personal grievances - even breaches of its government-funded social service contracts - are some of the issues plaguing Dunedin health organisation Te Kāika.
Rob Kidd reveals details from a year-long investigation.
*Some names have been changed to protect identities
Te Kāika was established as a ‘‘one-stop health shop’’ for community care, an irresistible kaupapa that attracted some of the region’s top Māori professionals.
It has grown massively in recent years, picking up millions of dollars in funding to provide low-cost health and social services, primarily to Māori, Pasifika and low-income whanau.
As well as primary healthcare, Te Kāika offers dental services, mental health and addiction support, and a migrant and refugee service, and operates transition support for 16 to 21-year-olds who have been in care or youth justice placements.
Its shiny new Caversham Wellbeing Hub opened to much fanfare on May 2 last year.
Attended by Health New Zealand Te Whatu Ora bosses and Ministry of Social Development bigwigs, the opening was billed as the culmination of a dream 20 years in the making.
Some staff gave up lucrative jobs overseas to return to their tūrangawaewae, to give something back to their people; to be part of something bigger than themselves.
A look at the website - up until late June when it was updated, following inquiries by the Otago Daily Times - appeared to show many of them were still employed.
But in the past couple of years, staff have left in droves.
Some have been paid out over personal grievances, others say they became disenchanted, burnt out by what they felt was mismanagement by those in charge. The ODT has spoken to numerous current and former Te Kāika employees, all of whom were too concerned about the potential repercussions to be named.
They voiced a range of concerns - not about the underlying ethos of the charity but about the workplace.
All the people interviewed though, who included senior employees at other agencies, were unreservedly positive about the vision.
And how could they not be?
A low-cost service, cutting through the administrative red tape, allowing our community’s most vulnerable members to access vital services at a single location.
For many employees it was that which made leaving difficult.
Several spoke about hanging on only because of their belief in the value of the work, as well as the love they had for their colleagues.
But for some there came a tipping point when the strain became overwhelming.
‘‘The sad thing is, working for a Māori organisation, a lot of us really tried to come into the space to do good things for our people,’’ one source said, but they felt management did not allow them to do that.
Board chairwoman of Otakou Health Ltd (the charity which founded Te Kāika) Donna Matahaere-Atariki wrote a statement in response to a range of questions posed by the ODT.
She said the organisation was delivering ‘‘excellent healthcare services’’ and expressed surprise there would be any associated negativity.
Any question ‘‘based around a rumour from an anonymous source’’ would not be answered, Ms Matahaere-Atariki said.
Highlanders deal
In May 2022, Te Kāika announced its ground-breaking three-year sponsorship of the Highlanders - an unlikely marriage of charity health provider and professional rugby outfit.
Chief executive at the time Albie Laurence rationalised it as increasing Te Kāika’s profile and widening awareness about the importance of immunisation following the Covid-19 crisis.
He was pictured, arms laden with rugby balls, in front of a bevy of rugby players and grinning children.
Over his right shoulder were Ms Matahaere-Atariki and her son Matt Matahaere, side by side.
The latter, who was chief Māori adviser at the time, offered up a soundbite in a subsequent media release.
‘‘We share the same values as the Highlanders, particularly around building a culture, because this is where your values come through. Culture is the shadow that values leave behind,’’ he said.
The following month, there was an abrupt cultural shift at Te Kāika.
Mr Laurence, who played a pivotal role in co-founding the organisation, was gone, and stepping into the void was Mr Matahaere.
The change was sudden and Mr Laurence never spoke about his departure at the time or over the ensuing three and a-half years.
In his first interview as chief executive, Mr Matahaere described his predecessor as ‘‘amazing’’ but quickly turned his focus to the future and the plans for the Wellbeing Hub, an integrated healthcare and social services facility in Caversham.
‘‘Change is always good,’’ he said.
But some of the staff at Te Kāika would go on to disagree
After a few months in the role, it became clear to many staff Mr Matahaere’s reign as chief executive would be different from his predecessor’s.
As the grand opening for the hub approached last year, there was the predictable torrent of online meetings with stakeholders.
The ODT has been provided with a photo of one such forum showing at least eight people in business attire.
Then there is Mr Matahaere shirtless.
His mother conceded it was a bad look but stressed it only came about because of his diligence.
‘‘Mr Matahaere agrees that in hindsight this clothing choice did not reflect the professional standards that he endeavours to maintain. However, to be fair to Mr Matahaere he was on holiday and at short notice asked to attend the call whilst sitting on a beach with whānau,’’ she said.
First impressions
Jim* felt Mr Matahaere initially created a good impression at work.
‘‘He wasn’t trying to micromanage us ... just trying to get people with expertise,’’ he said.
Like many others, Jim was drawn to the lofty goals of the Te Kāika project, the opportunity to really help his people.
Meaningful work.
And the buy-in by staff was infectious.
‘‘The majority stayed because of the people we worked with,’’ he said.
But Jim felt the ‘‘cloak of care’’ - Te Kāika’s philosophical touchstone - and the people-first rhetoric did not always extend to its staff.
Many former employees approached by the ODT were unable to comment on their time at Te Kāika because it is understood they had signed non-disclosure agreements after resolution of their personal grievances and associated pay-outs.
Terms of such contracts mean they would be legally barred from making any disparaging comments about the organisation or discussing the circumstances of their departure.
But documents regarding some cases were seen by the ODT.
They detailed allegations of aggressive behaviour and bullying towards staff.
‘‘OHL promotes the organisation as one which operates under te ao Māori principles. However, the treatment [the employee] has endured, and the steps taken to attempt to dismiss him do not reflect those principles,’’ one document alleged.
The staff member had been lured to Te Kāika from overseas because of his belief in the vision but had been left disillusioned, the personal grievance said.
‘‘Instead of being raised up, mentored and motivated he has instead been bullied and ridiculed ... to breaking point,’’ it claimed.
‘‘In general, [he] is disappointed that an organisation such as OHL would allow a young Māori ... (or any employee) to be treated in that way that he has experienced. [He] saw OHL and its services as an organisation that would want to promote and support young Māori leaders in the community.’’
In a statement to the ODT, Ms Matahaere-Atariki refused to address the allegations of an adverse workplace culture or the claims of bullying.
Both questions elicited the same response.
‘‘We will not comment on gossip, rumours and anonymous sources.’’
Any criticism of the chief executive was unwarranted, Ms Matahaere-Atariki said.
‘‘The board is pleased with the new sense of accountability, transparency and reporting set in place by Mr Matahaere.’’
Donna Matahaere-Atariki. PHOTO: SUPPLIED
Climbing the ladder
When Mr Matahaere addressed the Christchurch Hip Hop Summit as a guest speaker a few months before his swift elevation to his current role he was asked for advice about building community.
His reply: ‘‘Lift as you climb.
‘‘If you don’t bring others with you, what we’ll do is get to a bottleneck where we have a culture that’s disconnected from the young people coming through. So if you’re in a position of power, your role is to push resources out and bring others up. And if you’re not doing that then sometimes I think we need to reassess where we are and what we want to do in life,’’ he said.
But as Mr Matahaere climbed the ranks to top the ladder at Te Kāika, instead of being lifted, some of those beneath him fell off.
‘‘When we moved into the hub, that’s when it all really fell to pieces for the clinic, I think,’’ a former member of the primary health team said.
Another felt the restructure that followed ‘‘culled everyone [Mr Matahaere] couldn’t control’’.
The ODT understands it resulted in seven personal grievances through which outgoing staff were paid out.
Despite the charity shelling out, Ms Matahaere-Atariki said Te Kāika ensured it followed ‘‘due process with regard to all employment transactions’’.
‘‘We underwent a restructure following the appointment of Mr Matahaere as chief executive to bring about greater efficiencies and economies of scale and ensure we were best positioned to deliver on KPIs.’’
She said the figure of $260,000 listed as ‘‘termination benefits’’ in the most recent audit included the appointment of expert legal and human resources consultants as well as other associated costs.
Ms Matahaere-Atariki said the Employment Relations Authority had recorded a high rate of such claims being successful, and industry groups had noted a 50-60% ‘‘surge’’ in employer requests for restructuring support, ‘‘reflecting broader workforce pressures and organisational change nationwide’’.
When asked how many staff had been paid out since Mr Matahaere’s appointment, she declined to provide a number.
Nor would she tell the ODT how many resignations there have been in the past three years.
Ms Matahaere-Atariki instead chose to focus on the broader picture.
‘‘Te Kāika is not alone in facing recruitment challenges,’’ Ms Matahaere-Atariki said.
‘‘It is common knowledge that New Zealand’s healthcare sector is facing critical recruitment challenges ... highlighting the urgent need for sustainable, long-term strategies to train, attract and retain staff to maintain effective healthcare delivery’’.
AS the ODT’s inquiries into Te Kāika progressed, the resistance grew.
After a staff member was interviewed at her home, Mr Matahaere wrote complaining about the approach and supposed access to ‘‘confidential personal details’’.
He said he was ‘‘deeply troubled by the implication that [the reporter] may have accessed our internal staff database or obtained details through inappropriate means’’.
The name of the employee was on Te Kāika’s website and her address was publicly available through the electoral roll.
Shortly after the incident, a source provided the phone number of an embattled Te Kāika doctor.
When Mr Matahaere discovered the GP had been contacted, he called the ODT and voiced his concern, suggesting illegal methods had been employed.
‘‘It wouldn’t be the first time that reporters have got into trouble for hacking into systems and getting people’s numbers, right?’’ he said.
‘‘Well, you do have an English accent, right? So, Daily Mail UK. I mean, it goes hand in hand, doesn’t it?’’
After being reassured there had been no illicit technological trickery involved, Mr Matahaere invited the ODT to meet him at The Hub.
‘‘I’m always open to engage with media, I’m always open for a coffee, bro. Let’s just be honest, mate, and we’d always just put everything on the table,’’ he said.
But that offer was quickly rescinded and by April a Christchurch PR professional became the contact point for all media inquiries.
Mr Matahaere would not meet for an interview, she said.
Former Te Kāika manager guilty of serious charges
As it was engulfed in turmoil behind the scenes amid staff personal grievances and breaches of its government-funded contracts, Dunedin health organisation Te Kāika was also fighting to hide the identity of one of its senior health workers who was before the courts on serious charges. Rob Kidd reports.
In March 2024, Te Kāika entered crisis mode after manager of social practice 40-year-old Rema Smith was hauled before the court on serious domestic-violence charges.
The charges stemmed from a relationship he had started with a Te Kāika co-worker 15 years his junior.
The court heard about his obsessive “stalking-type behaviour” and how he had turned up at the victim’s home with two patched gang members who were driving his work vehicle.
Te Kāika chief executive Matt Matahaere fought to keep Smith’s name suppressed - until a judge asked him to front up in court.
Mr Matahaere later gave Smith a glowing reference and told a subsequent employer the senior manager had been ‘‘groomed’’ to be a future Te Kāika chief executive.
Rose*, who has since been diagnosed with PTSD, was disgusted Smith’s reputation appeared unscathed since the domestic-violence ordeal he inflicted upon her.
She saw it as an extension of the manipulation she endured at his hands.
“I feel like my story won’t be believed because of Rema’s reputation as a social worker and his somehow continued glowing references from his employers.
“My ongoing trauma has been compounded by organisations who continued to employ and support Rema throughout this case despite knowing what he’d done to me,” Rose said.
When she first met Smith, she recalled being impressed with his openness and the way he could get on with anyone.
‘‘He seemed very charismatic, super switched on, smart, generous, charitable, take the shirt off his back for anyone,’’ she said.
But there was another side of him that soon emerged.
Rose recalled him losing his temper over something innocuous while they were socialising one night.
‘‘He followed me up the street, screaming. He just was losing it. It was not normal,’’ she said.
‘‘He was punching concrete walls with both hands.’’
Smith apologised, they reconciled, but then towards the end of 2023, in a chance encounter Rose bumped into his long-term partner.
He had never said he was in a relationship with someone else.
An Oranga Tamariki (OT) staff member is believed to have earlier flagged issues regarding Smith’s behaviour, which resulted in an incident at a child’s birthday party.
A source who attended the event described Smith ‘‘full on going at [the other man]’’ as parents looked on.
She said the OT worker and his family were ‘‘smuggled out’’ when Smith refused to leave.
In February 2024, the man’s obsession ramped up.
Rose had agreed to support him in seeking professional help but any romantic connection was out of the question.
‘‘He was just bombing my phone,’’ she said.
‘‘He was really upset and angry by that.’’
Smith had claimed he would make the long drive to her family home to see her.
The Otago Daily Times has viewed a cellphone log from the day showing more than 70 calls from him to Rose and a barrage of messages, warning he was on his way as she pleaded with him not to.
When he arrived, he screamed at her and made explicit threats of self-harm (having earlier sent her a copy of his will) during a protracted standoff, she said.
Police became involved but no charges were laid at that stage.
In court documents filed later, Mr Matahaere said Smith was placed on leave at the time and given access to a psychologist and counsellor.
Smith’s superiors had gone out on a limb to support him in the past, but to every question asked by the ODT they appeared to distance themselves from any connection.
‘‘Mr Smith has not been employed by Te Kāika for at least 18 months, and we have no interaction with him so will not be commenting further,’’ Ms Matahaere-Atariki said.
WHEN Rose came back to Dunedin to study, in March 2024, Smith redoubled his efforts to win her over.
Just days after the move, he turned up at her home unannounced, explaining he had driven every road in the suburb until he found her car.
‘‘Terrified’’, Rose asked Smith to leave her alone.
It made no difference.
Two days later, the senior social worker was back at the address.
He stood at the end of the woman’s driveway with an associate and told her he had four carloads of people nearby ready to ‘‘roll the house’’.
When they eventually left, Rose and a female flatmate fled, and she called police fearing Smith would follow through on his threat.
Over the course of the evening he called her nearly 100 times, messaged constantly, begging to see her, professing his love.
‘‘Please my baby,’’ Smith repeated.
His messages later took on a more menacing tone.
‘‘We almost there ... It’s over for them,’’ he wrote.
‘‘F... you then.’’
The flatmates’ drastic actions were vindicated when, just several hours after the initial visit, he turned up with several men and began banging on the doors and windows of the home.
Smith entered the property through a kitchen window and took Rose’s car keys from her bedroom.
A message he sent her at 3.51am - one of 35 consecutive texts that went unanswered — showed a photo of her car’s dashboard, the speedometer touching 120kmh.
Rose went back to the flat the following morning to pack up the rest of her possessions and was preparing to leave in an Uber when he turned up in her car.
‘‘The defendant was accompanied by two patched gang members who were driving the defendant’s work vehicle following behind him,’’ court documents said.
As Rose went to use her phone to call for help, Smith ‘‘launched himself’’ at her, wrapping himself around her arms and torso.
It was only when she got into her vehicle that she managed to alert a friend to her situation, who in turn called the police.
But before officers arrived, Smith sat beside her slamming his head into the dashboard, hitting himself in the face with a bottle, screaming at her to drive, attempting to get into the driver’s seat.
Police only found him 48 hours later in South Dunedin.
When Smith saw them arrive, he climbed on to the roof of Southern Rugby Club - a team he previously played for.
Officers found his phone in the guttering of the building but he refused to provide its PIN.
WHEN Smith appeared in court, he was represented by top criminal barrister Philip Shamy.
Two months later, the lawyer would be named a King’s Counsel, an honorary title reserved for only the upper echelon of lawyers.
Several sources have told the ODT Smith’s legal fees were initially paid by Te Kāika on the basis he would repay the debt.
When asked whether this was ethical considering Te Kāika held contracts that involved supporting the victims of domestic violence and the fact the victim was a former staff member, there was the same refusal to comment.
Regardless, Te Kāika was keen to avoid public association with Smith.
On April 4, Mr Shamy filed submissions with the court seeking suppression of the defendant’s name on the basis that publication would cause ‘‘undue hardship’’ to Te Kāika.
In an affidavit sworn four days earlier, Mr Matahaere said any adverse publicity for the charity would be ‘‘difficult to quantify’’.
‘‘Te Kāika is a values-based and driven organisation that is focused on strengthening whanau and contributing to the wellbeing of our communities,’’ he wrote.
‘‘The social licence we must operate with in our communities has been severely compromised through the behaviour and unwellness of a senior team member. The extreme hardship experienced to a one-in-one-hundred-year opportunity for Ngai Tahu to work in partnership with other government agencies to support our communities is not to be underestimated.’’
But Judge David Robinson, in documents released to the ODT, highlighted the ‘‘inconsistent approach’’ taken by Te Kāika.
Dr Asheer Singh, a Te Kāika GP and team doctor for the Highlanders, was appearing in court that same day on tax-evasion charges.
‘‘It seems surprising that someone with a senior role such as a medical practitioner has not sought name suppression for reasons of protecting the reputation of the employer, while a social worker is advancing that application,’’ he said.
So why the inconsistent approach? Why was Te Kāika so keen to have Smith’s name kept under wraps and not a high-profile GP?
He requested Mr Matahaere’s presence in court to be questioned about the contents of his affidavit.
But just days later Smith’s application for name suppression was discontinued and the proposed hearing abandoned.
In August, Singh had his application for discharge without conviction rejected and was sentenced to five months’ home detention and 200 hours’ community work.
The Dunedin District Court heard the doctor had unlawfully evaded nearly $140,000 in taxes, which he accepted was down to ‘‘self-entitlement and greed’’.
After a few weeks behind bars, Smith got bail to the Hawke’s Bay - escorted there by another Te Kāika staff member - and was eventually sentenced in the Hastings District Court in March on charges of burglary, unlawfully taking a vehicle, assault in a family relationship and breaching the Search and Surveillance Act.
His new lawyer Eric Forster characterised the crimes as ‘‘someone acting immaturely’’ and stressed the break-in was not a typical burglary.
Judge Bridget Mackintosh said it was worse.
‘‘There was stalking-type behaviour and perseverance,’’ she said.
The judge was also critical of how long it had taken Smith to take responsibility for his crimes.
‘‘The evidence was available from the phone and CCTV. Is it really something that should’ve taken a year to get to sentencing?’’ she said.
Mr Forster had little to offer but suggested there was little long-term harm inflicted upon the victim.
Rose disagreed.
‘‘It’s not hard to recall the events that got Rema arrested because I’ve watched it over on the security cameras, I’ve read over the threatening text messages in my phone, and it haunts my memory, my dreams and my behaviour as I go about normal everyday activities,’’ she said.
‘‘What’s most disturbing is that Rema knew the impact his actions would have on all of us when he abused me because of his professional background. The harm feels cruel and deliberate.’’
Judge Mackintosh acknowledged the extent of the ordeal and sentenced Smith to 12 months’ supervision and 100 hours’ community work, including among his conditions a ban from entering Dunedin while serving the sentence, monitored by an ankle bracelet.
She pointed to the extensive support Smith had.
The judge said his manager at Te Kāika spoke highly of him ‘‘but it seems perhaps working with others to overcome their demons has not assisted you in addressing what appear to be your own’’.
Despite the serious charges, while on bail, Smith secured a job at Dove Hawke’s Bay - an organisation which specialises in supporting whanau affected by family violence - and facilitated a men’s non-violence programme.
Chief executive Stewart Eadie said he had received an overwhelmingly glowing reference from Te Kāika.
Mr Matahaere had said Smith was being ‘‘groomed’’ for the role of chief executive before the offending, Mr Eadie told the ODT.
He was under the impression the validity of the charges would be challenged and once Smith was convicted, he was immediately placed on leave.
Mr Eadie said he felt ‘‘misled’’ by Te Kāika.
‘‘If I had all the facts, I wouldn’t have taken him on as an employee,’’ he said.
Smith was no longer employed by Dove, Mr Eadie confirmed.
SMITH remains suspended by the Social Workers Registration Board but the professional body was more lenient last time he was in trouble.
In March 2021, he obtained a motorcycle licence after sitting his test on the West Coast.
Only it did not happen.
The NZTA-approved tester who filled in the paperwork, 70-year-old Petre Jozef Kalinowski, fraudulently dished out nearly 300 licences to those willing to pay, police discovered.
Business at his Westport outpost was booming, thanks mostly to word of the scam spreading among the criminal fraternity.
Court documents noted the King Cobras got wind of the rort in February 2021 and Smith’s involvement came only weeks later.
After Kalinowski was prosecuted, police were faced with deciding which of his clients to bring before the court.
In Dunedin there were just two: Mangu Kaha Black Power boss Albert Epere and the senior member of Te Kāika’s staff.
At his sentencing in April 2023, Smith sought a discharge without conviction citing the possible impact on his ability to practise as a social worker.
But Judge Michael Turner rejected that, noting there remained no clear reason why Smith had been involved in the licence racket, he stressed.
In the aftermath of the court case, the Social Workers Registration Board assessed Smith’s fit-and-proper-person status and opted not to suspend him.
The ODT has been provided with a string of references written on the practitioner’s behalf.
Months after being made chief executive, Mr Matahaere wrote that he had known Smith for 20 years and raved about his ‘‘dedication and hard work’’.
‘‘When I moved to Te Kāika, I knew we needed some grunt in our social services and approached Rema to come and fill this void,’’ the reference said.
‘‘I knew Rema could hold this space for us and keep us safe as an organisation.’’
Mr Matahaere stressed how important Smith was to Te Kāika’s operation.
‘‘Rema sits in my executive leadership team and ensures that we are meeting our legislative requirements,’’ he said.
‘‘He is my go-to whenever there is a crisis in the organisation, I find his calm demeanour critical when we need to make hard decisions.’’
Others, including Ms Matahaere-Atariki, explicitly distanced Smith from any involvement in organised crime.
‘‘Rema does have whanau who are in a relationship with gangs,’’ she wrote.
‘‘He has never been a gang member himself.’’
Ex-Te Kāika staff members confirmed that gang members attended Te Kāika work events such as Christmas parties, and that they were uncomfortable with that.
A source confirmed to the ODT that concerns were also raised by patrons or security at a Highlanders rugby game after they recognised gang members with a Te Kāika representative in the hospitality area.
As with other questions, Ms Matahaere-Atariki refused to comment on ‘‘gossip, rumours and anonymous sources’’.
Smith was contacted by the ODT but did not respond to requests for comment.
* Name changed to protect identity
Doctor defends supplying cannabis
Days before Te Kāika’s long-awaited Wellbeing Hub was opened, a doctor allegedly supplied cannabis to a patient in a carpark.
In a statement to the Otago Daily Times, board chairwoman Donna Matahaere-Atariki confirmed an incident occurred and said it was reported to police and the Medical Council.
Police refused to release any documentation on the episode on the grounds that the need to protect people’s privacy was ‘‘not outweighed by any public interest in release of the information’’.
The ODT invited them to redact any paperwork so individuals were protected, to no avail.
‘‘Police will not be changing its stance on this request at this time,’’ a spokesman responded.
The Medical Council took a similar stance.
Chairwoman Dr Rachelle Love said while the council did not regulate cannabis clinics or products, it expected doctors to meet published standards on prescribing, informed consent, and communication with a patient’s healthcare team.
‘‘We are also unable to confirm or comment on individual notifications or complaints due to our privacy obligations,’’ she said.
A source, who was working at Te Kāika when the incident occurred, said the cannabis handover took place in the carpark as a Whanau Ora navigator was about to accompany a patient home.
There had reportedly been an earlier appointment during which there had been some ‘‘banter’’ with the doctor about the person being prescribed the drug.
The navigator seized the package and later passed it on to his superiors, the source told the ODT.
After obtaining legal advice, police were called to retrieve the cannabis.
Despite concessions by the police, the doctor, who no longer worked there, refused to elaborate on what took place.
‘‘Unfortunately, people telling other people about events they were not involved in has led to a lot of nonsense. Clearly the police thought the allegations were nonsense,’’ the doctor said.
‘‘I am a clinician that is licensed to prescribe and provide cannabis. I act legally and ethically - as was found to be the case after scrutiny by authorities.’’
He spoke enthusiastically about the medicinal qualities of the drug and appeared to back its decriminalisation.
‘‘I’m not a dealer,’’ the doctor said.
‘‘It’s a medicine. And for some reason ... it’s still, like, illegal. I don’t understand.’’
In a later email exchange he stressed the therapeutic power of the drug and expressed concern that it was not more widely used in New Zealand.
‘‘I prescribe a lot of cannabis. A lot of doctors do not and ignorantly refuse to educate themselves about it,’’ he said.
The doctor signed off his email: ‘‘Praise God/Jah for she/his/them blessings.’’
