White Ribbon ambassador Takurua Tawera experienced first-hand the pain of violence and abuse. It drove him to drug dealing and gangs. But almost 30 years ago his life was turned around and ever since he's devoted it to helping others. He shares his story with Sue Fea.
By 15 he and his mates had decided to start their own chapter of the Black Power gang in Tauranga.
Drug dealing as a Mongrel Mob associate in Petone would later see him in and out of the courts, and usher him down the same violent and abusive road as his father.
However, 28 years ago Mr Tawera's wife Cathy turned away from her heavy drinking and invited him to church.
''People there invited us for meals and showed a caring environment. For the first time it was like going back to when I was a real little boy with a home and a family.''
He began to turn his life around. Ever since then he has devoted his life to God, to stopping family violence and supporting other angry men to challenge the continuous cycle of abuse that has plagued their family lines.
Almost two years ago Mr Tawera's grandson Tamarau, now 2, was placed in his care as a result of serious concerns for his wellbeing.
Four months ago Mr Tawera moved with Cathy and Tamarau to Dunedin to reintegrate his grandson with his brothers and sisters, and his dad, an active Mongrel Mob member.
''Our son is a good father to his other children. However, his gang affiliations eliminate him from having custody.''
Long since free of his troubled past, Mr Tawera (54) now chairs the Te Kupenga Whakaoti Mahi Patunga (National Network for Stopping Violence) and is one of the few South Island ambassadors for the White Ribbon Campaign, which aims to stop violence against women.
In a few weeks he and his wife - the founders of White Ribbon's Maori arm, Te Ahi Kikoha - will head to Rotorua to lead the national White Ribbon Ride, up front on his 1800cc Boulevard motorcycle.
Illiterate when he left his old lifestyle, Mr Tawera now holds an Otago School of Medicine post-graduate certificate in addictions and co-existing disorders and a diploma in psychotherapy from the Wellington Institute of Technology. He has brought his years of experience to Dunedin where he is now working as a highly respected addiction clinician and psychotherapist at Moana House, a dedicated therapeutic community assisting offenders to achieve their potential and contribute to society.
''Our programmes are designed for people with significant criminal histories, addiction, violence, abuse and often coexisting mental health problems.''
In his 28 years working in the health sector he has helped many men with co-existing problems seek addiction services.
''Most have horrific backgrounds and struggle to manage moods. That often results in inappropriate behaviours. For other men it's been their lifestyle choices,'' he says.
Mr Tawera can empathise with their pain.
''They're usually angry, violent men, or addicted, and may have been suppressing the emotional pain of family violence for many years.''
''It's about working back through the complex nature of their behaviour ... like peeling an onion.''
But this now transformed, humble and gentle man is not just applying the lessons of his professional qualifications. He draws from a rich well of experience in performing his latest role.
''I've learned that the respect I earn from the men depends on the empathy I have for them.''
His background helps, but there's something more ... an understanding that has taken root as his life has been transformed.
''Each person has a unique story, but from a recovery perspective I can understand what people go through and how difficult it is for them. You can't just say 'get over it and get on with your life'.''
Diagnosed with leukaemia aged just 4, he has little memory of those days. Despite the diagnosis and his family's poverty during his early years in the tiny rural settlement of Te Teko in the eastern Bay of Plenty, things were happier back then. Mr Tawera's parents had found Christianity as the evangelical movement swept the Bay. And their little boy's health recovered.
''I remember those family times were all good until Dad left the church and then I recall all the alcohol use starting.''
The family moved to Tauranga to find work.
''Mum and Dad were hardly ever home, always at the pub. We'd wait in the car until they brought us out some money for chips. I don't know how long we were there, but it was daylight when we arrived and night-time when we all got home.''
A ''tin shed'' on what is now Mount Maunganui's million-dollar row was home and things got so desperate with six kids to feed that the young Takurua Tawera was bundled off, aged 7, to live with relatives for several years.
It was survival of the fittest: ''If there was a disagreement, us kids were told to 'fight it out'.''
When he moved back home, aged 9, his father was heavily into drinking and regularly bashing his mother and the children.
''When I look back Dad couldn't cope. The church at the time said to 'trust in God'. I guess he didn't really know he had to partner with God and work through his character.
''I recall Mum getting bashed by Dad and taking off back to her family in eastern Bay of Plenty ... Mum trying to run Dad over with the car when he tried to stop her.''
She was ''a good mum'', but verbally abusive.
''I don't think she knew how to cope with her emotions. She used to say some really nasty things to me.
''I was immature and angry with her words. On reflection I projected my hurt, so when Dad was beating Mum, I'd be thinking to myself, 'yeah, give her another one for me, Dad'.''
A victim of violence, Takurua eventually hardened to the physical pain.
''Dad used to give me some real hidings. He'd use sticks, belts, broom handles, even his boots. He'd boot me, rolling me around the floor like a football if I didn't have my shorts or boots ready for rugby.''
Then one day his father kicked him around in front of his friends, who were staying over.
''I got used to the hidings, but the shame and embarrassment of that was worse, that really affected me.''
There were some good times. His dad's mother was a tohunga, Maori spiritual healer, and young Tawera was captivated by her wisdom. His maternal grandmother was also a loving Christian woman: ''I would often go to her place and stay. It was safe being under her umbrella and listening to her gave me a sense of value,'' says Mr Tawera.
However, he recalls the day the situation at home all got too much. He was 14: ''My father was angry with me and about to give me a hiding. I ran outside and grabbed an axe handle and confronted him. He looked at me and walked away ... that was my last hiding''.
So at 15, Takurua and his mates started their own chapter of Black Power, which didn't last long.
Not long after that his father died of complications following a car accident, in 1974.
''He'd had a hard night out the night before and died in hospital as the result of a blood clot. I didn't grieve for him, cry or anything. I said 'yeah, OK', and bottled it all up.''
Before long, Mr Tawera was repeating the cycle, facing serious charges for an aggravated assault with a weapon.
He began using and dealing in drugs: cannabis, hallucinogenics such as LSD, speed and ''anything that could make money''.
''Being a drug dealer gave me recognition. When you're a drug dealer, you're `the man', but you don't realise it's not you, it's the drugs that they're after. You find out later when there are no drugs, that you're nobody.''
Nevertheless, the young Mr Tawera found he had a knack for business, a gift he'd already misused at school operating a racket as a bullying ''security guard'' with other children's lunches acting as payment.
This time it was a bigger and more dangerous business and the money was rolling in. But it rolled out just as quickly.
Eventually the drug and gang world became too dangerous. He realised people he'd classed as friends were only using him.
''What saddens me most is that most of my friends are dead. My closest cousin got shot during an incident with the police in Petone. It all started to take its toll.''
It wasn't until he met Cathy, in his mid-20s, an Otago girl, who stood up to him, that he learned the error of his ways.
''She was a strong Scottish lass. She was everything I didn't want in terms of getting my own way, but I could see she was able to stabilise me and I couldn't control her.''
''She'd already escaped an abusive relationship. She became a Christian and had an identity,'' says Mr Tawera.
In 1987, Mr Tawera entered the Salvation Army Bridge programme in Auckland and miraculously, he says, suffered no withdrawal.
It is clear that for Mr Tawera, the church has been an important part of finding his way back. He is ready with credit where he considers it due.
''My faith has been a huge part of my healing. The scriptures and the church gave me the key principles of life. My work is the outworking of my faith and it's taught me how to recognise my stuff-ups and show empathy and compassion for mankind, the same as God has shown for me,'' says Mr Tawera.
''The thing I love about Jesus is he offers me security, but I've still got to work through all the emotions.''
He says men struggle with their own emotions and find it hard to cope when confronted by their partners.
His younger brother is still ''notorious'' in the gang world as a patched Mongrel Mob member. Mr Tawera continues to maintain a relationship with him, but he and his sisters, also Christians, one whose husband is a former Black Power member, regularly encourage their brother to be a ''positive contributor to his family life''.
''On a couple of occasions we've removed two of his children, because of his lifestyle. He accepts the challenge and how his life affects his kids. He's a lot mellower now,'' says Mr Tawera.
''As whanau we have to be responsible and take a stand.''
That's the philosophy behind White Ribbon, says Mr Tawera, a man determined to stop the cycle.
''I encourage all men to say 'no' to all forms of violence towards women, children and whanau, by not condoning, remaining silent or turning a blind eye. As family we must step in and take responsibility.''
And for the men out there struggling to cut loose from anger and violence Mr Tawera is living proof that ''your past does not have to determine your future''.
- Sue Fea.
