Karahuihui mai. Today, we're looking back at some of your favourite stories from 2018. The first is from the East Coast. Raising an autistic child can be isolating and overwhelming. In fact, studies show the parent of a child with autism can experience stress levels similar to that of a combat soldier. But last year, Ruwani Perera met a mother of six from Wairoa who's come up with a simple solution that's helping other whanau. (CHILDREN LAUGH, YELL) The whole world's just too full on for them. Far out. You know, all this sound, all these people. (CHILD SCREAMS) The brutal realities of raising a child diagnosed with autism. It can push some parents over the edge. The amount of people you have to gather together to help that one child, it's quite overwhelming. You know, you see parents who are just so, so desperate to have a break. But, finally, a breakthrough. Not from the medical experts, but from those who've walked the same path. And that's when all the answers started happening, and it was from all the families in Wairoa. And this is their story. I take my hat off to these parents, because they live it. They have lived experiences. They live it 24-7. (WATER GUSHES) (CALM MUSIC) Seven-year-old Kiwa Tipuna can't tell you just how much he loves swimming or cuddles with his Mum. Kiwa has autism and can't communicate verbally, and that brings with it huge challenges day to day. What did you know about autism? Nothing at all. I just thought, my children won't` you know, my children will be fine. I'm healthy. I look after myself. But it doesn't matter. It doesn't matter at all. There's no one reason. Kiwa, come, kai. For many years, early childhood teacher Susan Tipuna couldn't work out what was wrong with her son. Things progressed and got a bit worse with his behaviour and his tantrums ` banging his head on concrete steps ` and that wasn't good. At what age was that? That was... yeah, around 3ish. Around that time, he was going to kindy and just beating all the kids up and... you know, whacking me and... Oh, it just wasn't cool. I couldn't take him out in public. And now he's 7, you know, he's a lot more settled. But, you know, there's still the toileting stuff, you know? He's scared of the toilet. Susan was a single mum and on her own, with three other kids to look after. Brings back some yucky memories. Yeah. But he's all right. He was a blessing, so... mm. (SNIFFS) With one in 68 New Zealanders diagnosed with autism, it's hard enough getting seen to if you live in the city. If you live in isolation, it's practically impossible. Susan had to travel long distances from Wairoa for Kiwa's specialist appointments. We would have been on a waiting list for a year, cos being in Wairoa, we're in between Napier and Gisborne, we have to go to Napier or Gisborne for help. Frustrated with playing a waiting game, Susan went looking for answers herself three years ago. Kia ora! Haere mai! Oh. Oh. Thank you for coming. Her search to help better understand what Kiwa was going through led her to disability advocate Dorothy Taare-Smith. I said to her, 'So, what do you want from me?' And she said, 'Well, I need the experts to come to Wairoa to help me with my son.' And so I said to her, 'Well, to tell you the truth, you may get experts coming to Wairoa. 'It may be 6 months, it might be 12 months. 'I would suggest that you get together with other parents, and you learn from one another, 'because you are the experts of your children. 'You're actually on the ground in the community. You know one another, and you can help one another.' She empowered me to start it, and that's when all the answers started happening. And it was from all the families in Wairoa. So it was faster than waiting in line. And this is what Susan started, Kura Precious Ones ` a support group for parents of kids with special needs. (BOTH MURMUR LOVINGLY) Thank you for coming. Mai atu. Oh, wow. Many of the parents here are like Susan, who have autistic children. They meet once a month to share their experiences, frustrations and swap advice and stories. I mean, he was in his teens before I let him cross the road by himself, because he had trouble judging how far away things were. It's a safe space where they can let off steam so they can be at their best to look after their kids who have such complex needs. Some of the children are being fostered, because the parents just can't manage anymore. You know, having one child is tricky, but having lots of children and one with a special need is actually... (TAKES DEEP BREATH) really tiring. Tiring with one, exhausting with more. 45 minutes inland from Wairoa is the tiny settlement of Tuai, home to mother-of-five Lucy Moses, who has been to one of Susan's meetings. She has her hands full with not just one autistic daughter, but four, including a set of twins. (CHILDREN CRY) Lucy remains remarkably calm, despite the sheer chaos. With four non-verbal kids under the age of 7, even the simplest of tasks is a mission. Breakfast done, getting dressed, doing everything. Even cleaning is... (CRIES) ...just really not possible. They all have their demanding little ways. This one, for example, won't leave my side. She follows me everywhere, always got to know where I am, very demanding. Lucy has to manage the morning routine on her own while her partner is at work. She relies on the support of her eldest daughter, 11-year-old Bernadine, who's a huge help with her little sisters. They've recently got some respite, with a care worker coming in five mornings a week to help with the twins. Well, with the twins, it's mainly their behaviour people can't handle. (CHUCKLES) It's just too much. (LAUGHS) 6-year-old Armani needs to wear padded headgear to stop her harming herself during her uncontrollable outbursts. Is she violent? She can be, towards others, towards herself. That's got to be tough, Lucy? It is tough, but they all have their own uniqueness. And they're all different. Oh, I just want to hug her. Having that many autistic children, you've got to have a big heart, you've got to be one strong wahine. (CHILD CRIES) What was the one most important thing that Susan's group gave you? It just gives me a chance to talk about what goes on in my life with other people who live the same life. That was the bestest thing of attending her meetings. You actually think you're the only one in the world with a child with autism. But that first meeting, there were heaps of parents. Back in Wairoa, Tracey Te Kahu is attending her first Kura Precious Ones hui. She's come along with her daughter Renee and grandson, 5-year-old Levi, who was diagnosed with autism a few years ago. What was the attraction of coming along today to this hui? I think it's the support` basically, really, the support that most families need with children with disabilities, because it's huge, it's isolating. Levi is a runner ` a term used for autistic kids who can take off at any time with little sense of danger. 30-year-old Renee is on high alert, constantly having to follow him around everywhere he goes. And Tracey worries about the effect it's having on her daughter. Cos this is what it is, day in, day out. This is how it is for her. She doesn't have a life, she doesn't have a social life, she doesn't have friends, she doesn't have people to go to. This is her. This is it. Tracey hopes introducing Renee to this group will help her feel a little less alone. I was overwhelmed with the amount of things we have in common. It really hit here, because... Sometimes do you feel like you're the only one living through this? Yeah, yeah, I do. I do. I feel like no one will understand. But being here today, I feel like we're part of this whanau. Knowing that you're not alone. Yeah, you know those lonely times going, 'oh, man'? You know, you're not alone. And I always think of all those families and their stories that we share within that time. And go, 'Man, there's worse scenarios than what I'm going through, so harden up.' You just want to help and go there. (LAUGHS) But at the next one, I can give you an update. Yeah, that'll be cool. And we just keep in touch. Susan's philosophy is simple ` a kai, a cuppa and a korero, and the tears inevitably flow. We're always crying. You know, we just talk, cry, eat and just share experiences. Give them a break ` sit down and have a kai, have a cup of tea, and it's amazing what that can do, just that little break, that korero. You don't profess to being an expert in autism? Nah, no way. (CHUCKLES) But if you live and breathe it, you know a bit more than the experts, the ones that are trained up in it. Kura Precious Ones from Wairoa. (AUDIENCE CHEERS) The lives Susan has helped change with her down-to-earth approach saw her recently named supreme winner at Trustpower's Community Awards. I just want to thank all our whanau back home that believe in the kuapapa. And I know it'll continue, with or without money. All you need is aroha ` love. Her prize will go towards empowering parents in other remote communities who are in desperate need. She's shown that you actually don't need the experts to come and tell you how to, I guess, raise your child. As long as you've got a strong community, and you've got friends and family who love you, then... it'll get done. It will get done. Love you. Na Ruwani Perera tera ripoata. And we're happy to share Susan and her partner recently welcomed baby number seven to their whanau. Ka hoki mai Te Hui akuanei. Auraki mai ano. 89-year-old Kahungunu writer Renee Taylor has been a pioneering figure in New Zealand literature and is said to be one of the first playwrights whose work showed the complexity of Maori women's lives. Last year, Renee was presented with the Prime Minister's award for literary achievement, and Rewa Harriman was there to capture it. 'Everything starts with a moment, 'and that moment leads to a letterbox with "(BLEEP) off, bitch" on it, 'and that leads to Fowlds Park and Patu, and who cleans the toilet, 'and why don't we say anything when he hits her, 'and why, why, why and then why not. Why not. 'Simple.' Renee is a pioneer ` a gifted writer, playwright and novelist, who's always pushed women to the front. I really wanted women to be centre stage. I made no secret of the fact that I was there to write great roles for women, and they weren't going to be there because they were someone's cousin or sister or mother. They were going to be there out front because they were the hero. And two more. But to many, Renee herself is the hero. It's so powerful ` her writing ` and just who she is. I don't know where we'd be in literature in this country without her. I think she's been that important. Writing has been a great source of joy and irritation and anger and total pleasure. Renee Taylor is 89 years old, but it wasn't until she was 50 before her career in literature and theatre really took off. The first play that Mercury put on of mine, I could have rolled around laughing, really, because there were about` I think there were five women, and four of them had big parts, and there were two men. They were both well-known actors, and one had just a walk-on. (LAUGHS) And the other one had two or three lines. And honestly, I could've` It was just so funny. The mother of three wrote a number of plays, before moving into fiction novels. Writing is instinctually to me as kind of eating or whatever. And that's not because I get it right every time. It's not that at all. I don't. No one does. But it's just home ` coming home. Yeah. That's my mother there. You can't see her all that well, because they're old, faded photographs. Renee was born in 1929 and brought up by her Maori mother in Napier. The world went into a deep depression. (CHUCKLES) And then Napier fell down. There was the earthquake in 1931. And then in 1934, my father shot himself. And my mother, Rose, was left a widow with three kids. It wasn't usual for a Maori woman to be living in a Pakeha community. And she liked to smoke. She had rolled her own, and she'd walk along the road smoking, you know. Like, this was not done. And I mean, it was nothing for a kid to say, 'Oh, your mother's a hori', and so you learn very quickly what racist behaviour is all about. Renee marched in the 1986 protest for homosexual law reform. A lesbian herself, she remembers the abuse they received. We got a really hard time. It wasn't a big group of us, and how we had got up the courage, I don't know, but we did anyway. And people were shouting dreadful things. And then I went with my granddaughter ` we marched for marriage equality, and, oh, the difference. There were people there with pushchairs, people there with dogs, people on the footpaths were clapping. And I'm glad I lived long enough to see the change in attitude. Nine decades of experiences and memories ` Renee finally started collating them for her memoirs. When I was 86, I said, 'OK, I'm sick of the nagging. 'I'm going to write my memoir, OK? 'But I'm not going to do it chronologically, and I'm just gonna do it my way, 'and I'll stick one up every week.' So, I put that on. About three minutes later, I get this message from Mary McCallum at Makaro Press, saying, 'Can we publish it?' And I hadn't put a word on the screen at that stage. When we launched her memoir last year, 'These Two Hands', and we went round the country, the love people feel for her. They remembered vividly seeing her at some point in their lives, either seeing her or reading her work, and how it impacted on them. They remembered her being in these revues` these crazy revues they took around the country. Women talked about being in these packed little sweaty rooms watching what hadn't been seen on stage before ` scenes with tampons in them, for God's sake. And I quite like doing the exercise, you know, the short, short sentence that we did, you know? 'For sale ` baby shoes, never worn.' At 89 years old, Renee is still crafting stories and passing on her wealth of knowledge to the next crop of would-be writers. Writing is hard work. It's very, very hard work, and the trick is to make it look like it's easy. There's a great quote ` 'You can edit a bad page; you can't edit a blank one.' Over the years, Renee has received a number of awards ` a Queen's Honour as well. And just last month, she was recognised again. Please welcome the 2018 Prime Minister's Award recipient for fiction, Renee. (CHEERING, APPLAUSE) A special moment for Renee and her whanau. I'm a playwright ` I've got a script. (LAUGHTER) While she doesn't consider herself a sociable person, this evening is an exception. And there it is again ` the feeling that you're part of a story. And now I'm part of your story, and you're part of mine. Kia ora. (CHEERING, APPLAUSE) It seems to me to be a lovely thing to receive it and to know that your work has been appreciated in this way. Renee says her story is far from over. How long are you planning to keep writing for? (LAUGHS HEARTILY) Until my hands fall from the keyboard. Yep. I will keep going. (POIGNANT MUSIC) Ka hoki mai Te Hui akuanei. You might think that poi is solely the domain of women, but you'd be mistaken. In fact, poi was traditionally used for men to strengthen their co-ordination for hand-held weaponry. Now there's a new generation of poi dancers who are taking the artform to new level and challenging colonial concepts of gender roles. Anei te korero. (HAUNTING TRUMPET MUSIC) They have style,... they have grace,... and they have pois. So, I'm always doing the poi. In class, out of class, lunchtimes, morning teas, before school, after school. (UPBEAT ACOUSTIC GUITAR PLAYS) (GUITAR CONTINUES) (JAZZY TRUMPET MUSIC) (HAUNTING TRUMPET MUSIC) (UPBEAT ACOUSTIC GUITAR RESUMES) (HAUNTING TRUMPET MUSIC RESUMES) It's just always, like, a part of me. Like, you see me, you see poi. Dot. (UPBEAT ACOUSTIC GUITAR RESUMES) (PIUPIU SWISH) Poi Boys. Poipois. Yeah, poipois. Ae, te Sky City. Te waiata kete. Te waiata. (ALL LAUGH) (UPBEAT ACOUSTIC GUITAR CONTINUES) (ALL LAUGH) Shake, shake. To ra! Waiwaia! Coming up next week ` (DRAMATIC MUSIC) ...it's the event where brute strength, force and power combine. The Arnold Schwarzenegger festival in Melbourne is where the strongest on the planet go head-to-head. And among the action is a pocket rocket from Auckland. Yeah! Whoo! And it's really cool lifting crazy stuff around. I really love it. (LAUGHS) Leehane Stowers might be small, but she has everyone in awe. You know, she's a real go-getter, positive kind of person, so she'll just keep smashing her goals and reaching for the stars. I feel pretty proud already. Yep. And happy. It's a massive achievement for anybody to compete at this competition, but it's even more impressive for Lee, because she has terminal cancer. Kua hikina te hui mo tenei wiki. Pai marire ki a tatou katoa. Captions by Elizabeth Welsh. Captions were made with the support of NZ On Air. www.able.co.nz Copyright Able 2019 ALL: He mea tautoko na Te Mangi Paho. The Hui is made with support from NZ On Air.