1[The Detail] A $20 million magic wand | Pioneering kiwi research for hydrocephalus patients A life-changing diagnostic device tested on sheep in New Zealand is about to be trialled on humans. Work being done on a farm outside of Rotorua has the potential to change, and save, the lives of hundreds of Kiwis and potentially millions globally. Just outside of Rotorua is a sheep farm that looks like any other. Until you climb the stairs of a big shed and peer inside a small room that is a surgery, where the sheep are operated on. Look closely at the sheep in the pens and you might see that they have small scars on their heads. They are the pioneers of research that is set to change - and save - the lives of hundreds of Kiwis and potentially millions of people around the world who have the brain-swelling condition hydrocephalus. The diagnostic device at the centre of this research is a tiny implant in the brain and a wireless wand that is held over the head. It's been successfully tested on the sheep and is about to take the momentous next step to human trials, first on adults and then children. It is the result of 20 years of research by a team at Auckland University's Bioengineering Department and the university's medical technology company, Kitea Health. If the human trials are successful, the device could be in New Zealand clinics and used by patients with hydrocephalus next year. A key part of the process is the welfare of the sheep, overseen by the university's vet and animal welfare officer, Dr Jodi Salinsky. "We take great, great, great pains to ensure in the ethics applications that the animals are well cared for their whole lives, that we respect them and that we treat them as well as they can possibly be treated," says Salinsky, who is keen to emphasise the team's deep feelings for the animals. "It's really exciting," research team leader Dr Sarah-Jane Guild tells The Detail. "To be so close to actually being able to place this in a person who has hydrocephalus is incredibly exciting." Hydrocephalus is a build up of cerebral spinal fluid and often develops in the first two years of a child's life, but continues into adulthood, or can start in adulthood. According to the university, every year 100 New Zealand children are diagnosed with the condition which can be congenital or because of injury or cancer. Without drainage it can be fatal within a few days. For the last 50 years a lifesaving shunt has been used to drain the fluid into the stomach, but the shunt's tube blocks easily, with about half failing in two years and about a third failing in six months in children. Symptoms of failure include irritability, headaches and vomiting, as the pressure builds up inside the brain because the fluid isn't draining properly. Researchers say it's not a matter of if it will fail, but when. At a table in the sheep shed, Guild shows The Detail how the small-tubed shunt is inserted into a model of a human skull. The silicon tube carries fluid from the brain down into the stomach where the fluid drains out. If the shunt is not cleared within 24 hours the patient can die. But the only real way of knowing if the shunt is blocked is by drilling a hole in the head - a drastic procedure that can only be done in hospital, says Guild. But that is all about to change thanks to the research that has included the trials on the sheep at Auckland University-owned Ngapouri Research Farm. It couldn't have been done without the sheep," says Guild as she waves a table tennis bat-sized wand over the head of a sheep. "Absolutely not. No one's going to let us take something to clinic and use it in a human, in a child, before we have shown that it's safe to do that and this is the only way." Sheep are used because their brain is a good size, their basic physiology and mechanics of the spinal fluid are similar to humans, they are robust animals and reasonably compliant, she says. The wireless wand she passes over the sheep's head powers the sensor implanted in its brain to take a measure of intracranial pressure, or brain fluid. The researchers compare the readings over time to make sure the sheep are stable and not impacted by the animals' reaction to the sensor or to external factors. Guild says the results are "gloriously boring" which means they can now proceed with the human trials. "The idea is that we will place this pressure sensor when we place the shunt tube, and then patients and their families will be able to measure the pressure at home." The device will offer peace of mind for families, and reduce unnecessary trips to the hospital. "Seventy percent of the time patients turn up at the emergency department with symptoms that might suggest their shunt is failing and they are sent home because their shunt is not failing, it's something else," says Guild. "That's fine if you live 20 minutes from Starship Hospital, not so good if you live anywhere else where you don't have access to neurosurgery." The device would have made a huge difference to the lives of Catherine Burnet and Jeremy Muir, whose little boy Will had hydrocephalus. The year baby Will was diagnosed with a brain tumour and hydrocephalus, the couple had to make frequent trips to Starship for shunt revisions. "Each time it was the same story. We would go in, wait in the emergency department to be transferred to a ward, once we'd been seen by a doctor who ascertained that we needed to go to a neurological ward and then the people at registrar consultant level would wait for the situation to declare itself," says Burnet. That meant waiting for symptoms such as vomiting, rolling eyes and headaches. Burnet remembers constantly measuring Will's head, looking for signs of change that could indicate a fluid buildup. The first year was made more difficult by surgery to remove a tumour and chemotherapy. Will died when he was five and a half. "I wouldn't wish that on anybody but I wouldn't change it for us because it was a very positive experience to have him in our lives," says Burnet. The couple would often "dream" about a device that they could wave over Will's head that would detect whether or not the shunt was working. "Certainly at that time we had no idea how technically that could be done," says Muir. They have shared their experiences with the researchers and invested in the development of the device. "We look forward to the start of human trials at Auckland Hospital and Starship and that will really hopefully demonstrate that this is something that's going to work, not just on happy sheep," he says. [Saturday 24 February 2024, 05:00]

2[Sporting Witness] Zamalek Stadium Disaster One of Africa's worst sporting disasters happened in Cairo in 1974. On 17 February 1974, 48 people were killed in a stampede at Zamalek Stadium. Mahmoud Al Khawaga recalls fearing for people in the stands as he and his fellow teammates warmed up. It was supposed to be a friendly match between Egyptian giants Zamalek and Czechoslovakian side Dukla Prague, but before the game started there was a deadly crush in the crowds. The day before the game on 17 February 1974, the venue had been changed from the larger Cairo Stadium to Zamalek's home ground. It was reported that 48 people died and 47 were injured in a stampede. Josephine McDermott hears from retired Egyptian international player and Zamalek winger Mahmoud Al Khawaga who was there. Production and interpretation from Riham Eldeeb in Cairo. Released on: Saturday 17 February 2024

3[The House] Fa’anānā Efeso Collins: In his own words Fa’anānā Efeso Collins has been fondly remembered and much praised by his colleagues. Here is his own message; the maiden speech he gave a week ago. Tēnā koe, Mr Speaker. Mai i ngā hau o Ōtāhuhu-nui-a-Rangi, o Maungarei, o Motukaroa; mai i ngā awa o Hikuwaru, o Tāmaki e rere ki te Waitematā, kei te Mānukanuka-o-Hoturoa, ko Kaiwhare, ko Taramainuku kua tau, kua tau ki ngā whenua o Ngāti Toa Rangatira, o Taranaki Whānui ki Te Ūpoko o Te Ika. Tēnā anō tatou. [From the winds of Ōtāhuhu, of Mount Wellington, of Hamlin's Hill; from the rivers of Hikuwaru, of Tāmaki flowing to the Waitematā, to the Mānukau Harbour; Kaiwhare and Taramainuku have arrived, have arrived to the lands of Ngāti Toa Rangatira, of Taranaki Whānui in the Wellington region. Greetings to us all.] [At this point in Ofesa’s speech he switched to Samoan for a period. Unfortunately the Samoan text is yet to be inserted by the Hansard Office.] It is an indescribable feeling to stand up and address this House. As a son of Samoan immigrants who made the mighty Ōtara 274—Southside hard—their home, I am well aware of the giants whose shoulders I stand on and the masters whose feet I learnt at. The courage, foresight, entrepreneurial spirit, and hope of our ancestors who journeyed thousands of years ago through the vast waters of Te Moana-nui-a-Kiwa brings me here today. My parents arrived in New Zealand in the early 1960s, told that this was the land of milk and honey. Dad started off as a taxi driver with South Auckland Taxis, and mum on the factory floor at New Zealand Forest Products in Penrose. We lived in a four-bedroom State house on Preston Road in Ōtara, and I attended local schools: East Tāmaki Primary, Ferguson Intermediate, and the great Tangaroa College. We're forever grateful for the State house that was our home for around 20 years, and the quality public education we received from our local State schools. I did try my hand for a short period at a decile 10 school outside of Ōtara, but that experiment lasted only two weeks. It was during the time in the late 1980s, when families from poorer areas were being discouraged from going to local schools because they weren't considered up to scratch. I'm glad we changed course and decided to high school it in Ōtara, where the motto of our school was "Waiho i te tokā tu Moana"—"Steadfast like a rock in the sea". Later, at university, I went on to write my Master's dissertation on brown flight, critiquing the Picot reforms that have wreaked havoc on our public schooling system. That period was also a challenging time for my family because we were being told by our teachers to stop speaking Samoan at home and only to speak English. My parents didn't want us to fail at school, so we were allowed to speak English at home and over time we stopped speaking Samoan altogether. In the end, I lost my language. I struggled, I was embarrassed, and I felt incomplete. Even speaking to you in Samoan this evening gives me major tremors. There's a saying in Samoan: "E le tu fa'amauga se tagata"—no one stands alone, no one succeeds alone—and, for me, no one suffers alone. Over the past years, with the support of my family and friends, I've taken to trying to converse again in Samoan, reading more texts in Samoan, praying in Samoan, and sending our youngest to a local Samoan early childhood centre. Our beautiful language, Gagana Samoa, has returned to our home and is helping to overcome the inadequacy that had taken root in my soul. As I speak this evening, I'm mindful of the many young people who are navigating these at times treacherous and unsettled waters in life, filled with so much potential, energy, and hope, yet too often misunderstood. In my time as a youth worker in South Auckland, I've spoken with hundreds of young people with massive dreams for the future. We need youth workers, we need social workers, and we need mentors to walk alongside our young people, and, yes, we want our youth to be responsible and caring and considerate. So it's our job in this House to resource the people and organisations who will model the behaviour to them that we expect, but who also won't give up on them and won't come with a saviour mentality. Many of our societal challenges are driven by poverty. We can achieve greater social cohesion and lift our sense of belonging by addressing poverty. I've been honoured to run youth mentoring programmes for nearly 25 years—that's about how old I am—and to this day I mentor young people. When we undertook and published research on youth gangs some years ago, the youth we spoke to had the solutions and just needed the means to make it happen. Too many of our young people are filling our prisons, and it is wasted human potential. Give them the tools, the resources, and the means to make a meaningful contribution to the world, and they will. I was at a conference recently about the threats to democracy and an attendee spoke about their work in developing nations and used the familiar retort, "You can't eat democracy." And I couldn't agree more. This House, this centre of democracy, needs to do more to engage our people, all of our people, so that they can see this House is not just relevant but an essential part of their lives. The greatest challenge facing our generation is climate change. The Pacific Islands nations are among the most vulnerable to climate change in the world. The world's continued reliance on fossil fuels, loss of coral reefs, rising sea levels, and increasing severe weather patterns means that our extended whānau in the Pacific are in immediate danger. We, as a collective, must do all we can to do as we say out south "flip the script". Truth is, those who've done the least to create this predicament are being the hardest hit. Our challenges, whether ecological, geopolitical, or cultural, are diverse, but we're bonded by the inextricable ties we have to our lands and our oceans. We've inherited philosophies, knowledge systems, and profound ecological wisdom that holds the answers and drives our collective resilience—from West Papua to Hawai'i. Our fight for a climate resilient, nuclear-free and independent Pacific remains as strong as ever. We are not drowning; we are fighting. I haven't come to Parliament to learn—learning happens as a matter of course through reflection. I've come to this House to help. Helping is a deliberate act. I'm here to help this Government govern for all of New Zealand, and I'm here to open the door, enabling our communities to connect better with this House. During the election campaign, I spoke to people frustrated about their lot in life, scared for their and their children's futures, and feeling their dreams were slipping away. The people I spoke to expect the Government to do more and move faster. And I know that there are some in this House who believe Government is not the answer to these challenges and that less Government is better. But here's the thing: the Government cannot be a bystander to people suffering confusion and disenfranchisement. New Zealand must close the divide between those who have and those who have not, because the reality for my community is that those who have more money often wield more power, more health, more housing, more justice, more access, more canopy cover, more lobbyists with swipe cards, and more time. And the opposite is true for those who have fewer resources. It's hard to be poor, it's expensive to be poor, and moreover, public discourse is making it socially unacceptable to be poor. Whether it's bashing on beneficiaries, dragging our feet towards a living wage, throwing shade on school breakfast programmes, or restricting people's ability to collectively bargain for fairer working conditions, we must do better to lift aspirations and the lived realities of all our people. To that end, I want to say to this House with complete surety that the neoliberal experiment of the 1980s has failed. The economics of creating unemployment to manage inflation is farcical when domestic inflation in New Zealand has been driven by big corporates making excessive profits. It's time to draw a line in the sand, and alongside my colleagues here in Te Pāti Kākāriki, we've come as the pallbearers of neoliberalism, to bury these shallow, insufferable ideas once and for all. And this, sir, is our act of love. Paolo Freire, in his seminal work Pedagogy of the Oppressed, said love is an act of courage, not fear; love is a commitment to others. No matter where the oppressed are found, the act of love is a commitment to their cause, the cause of liberation. The most recent election campaign left many in our Māori communities bruised and targeted for the perceived privileges supposedly bestowed upon them. Shared governance is a rich concept about how we include those who've been excluded for far too long in the work of this House and the democratic institutions that are fundamental to our collective wellbeing. We are Tangata Tiriti and we have nothing to fear. As a New Zealand - born Samoan living in South Auckland, I've experienced, written about, and spoken about racism in this country. I've also been on a well-publicised journey in understanding the needs and views of our rainbow communities, and I have a long way to go. And my message to whānau who often experience the sharp end of discrimination—disabled, ethnic, rainbow, brown, seniors, and neurodiverse—is thank you for trusting us with the responsibility of facilitating a new discussion on how we move forward together and make possible what was once deemed impossible. The American civil rights activist James Baldwin said, "Not everything that is faced can be changed, but nothing can be changed until it is faced." We commit to working across this House as a nation and with each other irrespective of our post code, income bracket, skin colour, or level of qualification attained. But, in order for that work, we must come with humility, the desire to listen, and dare I say it, maybe speaking last. If I was to inspire anyone by getting to this House and my work over the next three years, I hope that it's the square pegs, the misfits, the forgotten, the unloved, the invisible—it's the dreamers who want more, expect more, are impatient for change, and have this uncanny ability to stretch us further. Finally, may I take this opportunity to thank those who've assisted with my most recent campaign: [Names to be inserted by the Hansard office.] And to the coolest people in the Greens—dare I say it, the South Auckland branch of the Greens—and the Pasifika Lived Experience Network, thank you. Te Pāti Kākāriki, my friends, my colleagues, who opened the door to me and warmly welcomed me into your whānau, thank you. To all our family and friends who've made the journey to Wellington and are here in the gallery this evening, thank you. Finally, to my family, [Samoan text to be inserted by the Hansard Office.] To my dad, Tauiliili Sio, and my brother Thomas, who are both watching from Heaven, and my mum, Lotomau Collins, who is here in the gallery, thank you all. To the most amazing woman in my life, with whom I'd like to wish a belated "Happy Valentine's"—to my beautiful wife Fia, Kaperiela, and Asalemo, I love you. Kaperiela and Asalemo: a quick reminder that I will be your Valentine's for ever, because in true Samoan fashion, you can't get married till you're 50! My favourite part of the Mass on Sunday is when our parish priests will rise and say, "The Mass has ended." It's about that time that I start to think about what we're going to be having for lunch! But our priest continues, now with his arms outstretched, and he will close with this charge to the congregation: "Go now in peace to love and serve the Lord." Mr Speaker, it is with that spirit, the spirit of peace and love and service, with which my extended family who are here today come to this House. Nō reira, tēnā koutou, tēnā koutou, tēnā rā tātou katoa. [Applause, hongi, and harirū] Waiata—"Fa'afetai i le Atua" [Sunday 25 February 2024, 07:30]