Name Mr KA
Hometown Dargaville
Age when entered care 12 years old
Year of birth 1968
Time in care 13 August 1979 to 31 August 1979
Type of care facility Health camp – Maunu Children’s Health Camp.
Ethnicity Māori
Whānau background Mr KA was adopted and raised from birth by his grandparents. As the youngest of their 11 children he felt very loved and recalls being a happy child.
Currently Mr KA has nine children and three mokopuna. He is currently homeless.

“I’m not asking for a handout, but a hand up out of this nightmare.” 

I was only in health camp for three weeks, but the abuse I suffered had a huge negative impact on my life. I believe I would have a totally different life if I’d never been sent there.

When I was about 11 or 12 years old my family GP told me my hearing was damaged from a hole in my ear drum and that health camp would be good for me. 

I didn’t really understand what was going on. I had never heard of health camp and didn't want to go. I didn’t know why I had to be sent away to a camp for a damaged ear drum – why couldn't they just fix my ear and hearing? I just wanted to stay home with my grandparents. Eventually I was told I was just going on a camping trip but instead I was taken to Maunu Children’s Health Camp. I was never told how long I would be away for. 

I was sexually abused by one of the older teenagers, who was the biggest and the leader. He stayed in the room across from my room. About three or four times I woke up in the night in pain because he had his hand down my pants squeezing my groin and trying to have anal sex with me.

I shared the room with four other boys who had been there for a while, who would beat me up. 

I always had a weird feeling every morning when I woke up and went to breakfast. I always had sore feet because of no shoes, I was hungry and scared that I was going to be beaten and forced to do sex acts on the older boy.

The staff enjoyed my suffering and called me a “little black c**t”. They told the older boys who abused me that I had told on them, and watched me get beaten up and my fingers slammed in the door for telling staff what had happened to me.

I told the managers repeatedly but they didn’t care and did nothing when I complained. They were mean and abusive to me, calling me “black” and telling me to fuck off.

It was the first time I realised I couldn’t trust anyone in authority. I still don’t, why would I? I tried and tried to get them to help me, but no one ever did. I had no support and no one to trust.

I wasn’t allowed to call my grandmother for the entire three weeks that I was there. I wasn’t allowed any phone calls at all. I didn’t understand why, but I knew I was in trouble, I just wanted to survive. I wanted to talk to my grandmother so she could get me out of the place.

My grandmother came to visit me on my birthday, concerned because she hadn’t heard from me at all. She was shocked at my injuries and how the place looked – like a prison. I told her what had happened to me, and she believed me straight away. She argued with the boss and took me home.

I never got over the abuse I suffered over those three weeks. After the camp, I was no longer the cheeky outgoing boy – I had behaviour issues and was playing up. I couldn't tell anyone what had happened – I felt it was somehow my fault. I never received any counselling. 

I had changed after that when I went home. I started getting into trouble and I wasn’t going to school.

When I was 16 years old, my whānau decided to send me to Australia to live with my Aunty. While I was there, I got into trouble for a bag snatch. I was on remand at Long Bay maximum [security] prison. Because I was only 18 years old, the judge gave me two options – buy my own ticket and go back to New Zealand for five years or go to prison for five years and then get deported back to New Zealand. I decided to buy my own ticket and return to New Zealand. When I got back, I started beating up my cousins and stealing from my whānau. One time, when I stole my grandfather’s truck, he had a heart attack.

I joined gangs and have lived on the streets. If I wasn’t on the streets, I was in prison. Most of my life has been in prison, starting with the first prison, health camp.  

My whānau came to hate me, they made me an outcast when I was only 19 years old. I caused a lot of problems because of my paranoia and anger from the abuse. I didn’t know how to behave or how to control myself.

So many negative impacts have come from those three weeks in camp prison. I still have the fear of being molested. I suffered from ADHD, severe anxiety, paranoia, claustrophobia and depression.

I don’t trust anyone, and I think everyone is mean, it makes me mad. I struggle every day with the fear that l will be attacked and molested. I can’t ever trust the system because I don’t trust most of the people in that sort of position of power. They are always racist towards me. I feel it’s because of my colour, my Māori culture – it makes me dispensable.

My grandmother was the only member of my family who still talked to me, and she’s gone now. I have no one. I received $10,000 compensation through lawyer Sonja Cooper. It was a quick fix only and didn’t really help. I was told it was the maximum amount I would get, and that I should accept it and move on. But I received no support on how to rebuild my life, they just gave me a band aid. No roof over my head, no solid foundation.

I’m in the same cycle, back on the streets and into the gang life again. 

At the early age of 12 years old I was forced into this dark path and have remained here for the past 44 years. I am not asking for a handout, but a hand up out of this nightmare.

We keep heading down this one-way street with our kids, and there are no safe options. Years go by with more abuse happening and the Government does nothing. Staff need to keep their eyes and ears to the ground and if they suspect something, they need to act straight away. And they need to believe kids when they tell them something is going on.

The kids need aroha. Give them aroha and kindness. Build them up in a happy place.[35] 

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