Name Nooroa Robert
Hometown Huntly  
Age when entered care 2 years old  
Year of birth 1972  
Time in care 1974‒1989  
Type of care facility Various family homes run by faith-based organisations; Anglican Trust; Stoddart House; Methodist boarding school – Wesley College; Owairaka Boys’ Home.
Ethnicity Cook Islands  
Whānau background Nooroa came to Aotearoa New Zealand with his mother aged 2 years old. A younger sister was born soon after. He has never known his father and his mother passed away. Nooroa lost contact with his sister after they were both taken into care.  
Currently Nooroa has no connection with his biological family or his culture.

“I was put in so many places, moved around so many homes, abused by so many different people.” 

I experienced all forms of abuse during my time in care. At times I told staff, but nothing happened. It was documented and written somewhere but it was never followed up. No one believed me or they just didn’t want to listen or didn’t care. 

I didn’t tell anyone else about the abuse until I was 40 years old. You just don’t talk about that sort of stuff. But I’m 50 now and because of my age I am stepping up to do what I can, as if it were my last move.  

When I was 2 years old, Mum and I left the Cook Islands and moved to New Zealand. She was pregnant. She didn’t have any support and struggled to care for me and my sister on her own, and I was placed into the care of the Anglican Trust for Women and Children soon after we arrived. To this day, I don’t know where my sister is, but I know she went into care. We should have been kept together. 

I went into a family home, and I was there for about eight years. The couple who ran it were violent. He was a real prick, and she was scared of him, so she went along with everything even though she knew the abuse was wrong. At times she would support us, but she was abusive, too, sometimes. We were black and blue from the beatings and sometimes got broken bones from them, especially if we ran away.   I was moved around different homes, different locations. It was the same setup at each home. There were house parents and other kids there. We wouldn’t really say much to one another or mingle. When you’re in there, you’re already broken down and smashed so you don’t want to know what their stuff is about.  

At one place, I was groomed and sexually abused by a female staff member. She showed me attention, made me feel loved, bought me flash stuff, took me to the movies and gave me gifts. It started off with grooming and moved to kissing. After that, things started to get a bit more hands on. She bathed me, and from there it progressed to other sexual acts. She did this for about two or three years.  

I was placed at Ōwairaka for about six months, and I hated it. Staff members would get on the piss, then they would come back and beat us up. It was a cesspit of ugly. There were a few people who killed themselves there and I can remember kids just giving up on life. I’m glad that place got bulldozed. 

I was also placed at Stoddart House. There, kids were taken to a room and beaten up, where nobody could see what was going on. I was physically assaulted by the older kids, but it was worse when it came from staff.  

In 1983, I was sent to Wesley College, a Methodist boarding school, and was there until 1989 as a full-time boarder. There was so much physical violence and mental abuse at Wesley, from both students and teachers. It was like being back in the homes, but nothing prepared you for this. The violence and bullying mainly came from the prefects – they were supposed to be role models for us. There were flats where the seniors stayed and we were called up to there to be humiliated, bullied and beaten up. You just had to try and keep yourself out of those situations. 

I was put in so many places, moved around so many homes, abused by so many different people. It’s not just the Anglican Trust that is responsible for what happened to me – there are many, like my abuser, Wesley College and others. 

Drinking was my way of coping with things. I first started to drink when I was maybe 11 years old, in one of the family homes. The older kids were doing it, so we did it as well. It became an addiction that I’m fighting to this day. When I made the top 18s for rugby league it was all about the drinking and the image. Then, when I was 21 years old, I passed as a qualified welder and I managed to get some decent money, but habits got in the way of progress. Alcohol was a big part of my coping strategy and I started hitting the liquor pretty hard. I got convicted for drink driving – it was my first encounter with the police and the courts, and it was not my last.   

I make no excuses for what I did. What I will say is that my childhood and all of the abuse I went through goes a long way to explain how I became addicted to alcohol and the issues that developed. I drank to forget all the sexual and physical violence in the homes and boarding school.  

I suffer from PTSD (Post-traumatic stress disorder) and anxiety because of what happened to me. The anxiety doesn’t rule my life like it used to but it’s still there. It will always affect me. I’m still hurting. There’s heaps of emotions of shame and anger, it’s just wicked. I am currently going through a claims process with ACC for my PTSD. But that is taking ages and I’m not getting anywhere with it. 

My redress process with the Anglican Trust took a long time. I gave up on it, I told them to go and stick it because it was all just going round and round in circles. After six years, the Anglican Trust threw $60,000 at me and told me to shut up. That was it. I gave it all away, I blew it. It could have put me in a better place, you know, but it was dirt money. Don’t take it any other way.

I want to ask the Anglican Trust why it didn’t give me back to my family. I’d been told they didn’t want me. But two years ago, I got my file and in the part that’s not blacked out it says my family came to look for me many times. Then it says, “No follow up,” and that was it. The Trust lied to my family and said they didn’t know who I was. I want to ask, why didn’t you give me back to my family? Why did you give me this life? I was all about exposing them. But they just give you ‘shut up’ money.  

I don’t see how throwing money at people who don’t know how to handle money is the right way to do it. You need to regulate this because these are people that don’t have skills with money. They spend half their life in jail, they don’t know how to handle money if you just give them $50,000–$60,000, then say: “Sign on the dotted line and you can’t say anything about any of the shit that happened to you. But, go and have some fun.” Most of the people who got redress money are dead now or in rehab or back in jail.  

You need an apology but an apology, 15, 16, 20 years down the track, doesn’t really hold much, does it? A few years ago, I probably would have said ‘no’ to sharing with the Royal Commission, being a reserved man. But I am coming forward to share my experience to stand up and hold others to account. What’s changed since I was a 2-year-old kid?  

I’m glad the Commission is opening up Pandora’s Box. I hope this goes somewhere. We need to listen to our kids and give them a voice when they’re in care.[36]