The Root Crop

#VoicesOfTheVillage

  • Why Not Me? Inspiring Pasifika Women to Step Into STEM and Beyond

    #VoicesOfTheVillageSeries

    Featuring Helen Latukefu 🇹🇴

    You’ve carried out a path across science, pageantry and grassroots activism and I just wanted to ask what sparked your passion to step into such diverse spaces, and how do they all connect for you?

    I was reading this book the other day and it had a quote about water, and it said the best reason to do anything is because you can’t stand not to. And I think in a lot of ways, the reason as to why I do the things that I do is because I can’t stand not to.

    Getting into science and going through ecology, it really spoke to me, and I knew that I could niche down into different routes such as climate, water, or into marine science — the options were endless. Even with pageantry, there is no Pacific Miss Earth Australia, and I thought, why not be a great role model to my little cousins so they can see themselves everywhere? This is what gave me the courage to try things.

    Even with my poetry, it definitely expanded my mind a lot and opened me up to different perspectives and industries. The way that they all connect is having me, a Tongan-Australian woman who has a lot of love and curiosity. I had the opportunity to bring myself into all these different spaces.

    We grew up really simply, and as a birthday present each year my mum would always buy me books, so I would read books on rainforests and Antarctica — that was my exposure to the environment. I felt that when I went to uni, I had imposter syndrome, as everyone else in my classes grew up being actively in nature and going hiking, whereas me, a girl from Guildford, did not have that kind of upbringing.

    But in saying that, this is the difference that I bring — as that girl from Guildford. How can conservation and nature be brought into the Western Sydney context?

    How important is cultural representation in these spaces, and how do you hope to inspire other young Pasifika women?

    I believe representation is so important, especially given how we’ve been perceived historically here in Australia. When I was going through high school, I felt a lot of people treated me like I was stupid, and it was an experience that many of us have gone through. And if you don’t centre yourself on who you genuinely are, you let it become who you are.

    Luckily for me, I always knew my mum was smart, as she went to the top school in Tonga. She could do all my homework in high school, and she would explain many things to me. Because of her intelligence, I was confident that I was not stupid.

    I felt that in life I always had to explain myself, and I would get reactions from people like, wow, they didn’t expect that from me. And I hate how they look at our youth like that — it breaks my heart.

    A careers adviser in high school once said to me, “What do you want to do?” and I told her I think I want to study science. She said to me, “I think you should consider something a little bit more realistic, like science requires a higher ATAR, so maybe you should consider something like administration.” And that experience really challenged me.

    When I studied for my HSC, I had that experience dwelling in my mind — that this lady judged me in that kind of way. Having ourselves in these diverse spaces is the best way to lead by example.

    I have given tours to some of the engineering students from Western Sydney University at the purified recycled water centre, and I saw one Samoan boy in the class, and we just nodded at each other. To see each other in these spaces is an honour and a motivator — that we can do it. If it’s God’s calling for you, then yes, you can do it.

    Are there any traditional Tongan practices or beliefs around nature or sustainability that you draw inspiration from?

    My mum has raised me on living simply. My mum always told me not to worry about what people think about us. She would always remind us of our circumstances living in Western Sydney, and taught us not to overconsume and to live within our means.

    My siblings and I found ourselves without all the extra material things. This has helped me to be a sustainable person. Even when I went into pageantry, I wore a lot of thrifted outfits, as I believed it was important to honour the concept of being sustainable through utilising thrifting especially as the Miss Earth platform focuses on being environmentally friendly.

    Is there any final words you’d like to share?

    I hope more Pasifika people of all ages join the STEM space! There are many opportunities for our people to thrive in this sector.

    Mālō ‘aupito, Helen, for sharing your story. You are breaking barriers and making waves simply by showing up as your full self. Your journey is opening doors and reminding Pasifika people that we belong in every space.

  • The Answers Are in the Villages: Reclaiming Inclusion and Health Equity in PNG

    #VoicesOfTheVillageSeries

    Featuring Pala Leka 🇵🇬

    What does KumulCare aim to achieve for communities in Papua New Guinea?

    KumulCare began in 2020 with a simple idea: repurpose discarded assistive devices like wheelchairs and crutches for those in need. As a support worker, I saw usable equipment being dumped while my own family in the village lacked access. We collected and repaired these devices with help from a local facility, but we knew from the start that disability work couldn’t just be charity. We partnered with Apricus Health, James Cook University, and the University of Worcester to provide technical guidance and virtual training. Today, our focus has expanded—before assistive tech, we must first tackle stigma and raise awareness in PNG’s rural communities.

    So, we’ve slightly shifted away from focusing on sending devices and are now building out three key programs:

    1. Awareness Programs – These are designed to challenge the stigma around disability at the community level, especially in rural villages. It’s about changing the conversation and encouraging more understanding and inclusion.
    2. Ambassadorship Model – We’re creating a digital resource pack that young people in PNG and across the Pacific can access. If someone wants to run an awareness campaign in their school, community, or family, the toolkit will be there for them to use. It’s about empowering young people to become KumulCare Ambassadors, driving awareness and change from the ground up.
    3. Inclusion Training for Workplaces and Schools – Our new advisory chairwoman, Ipul Powaseu is the former co-chair of the Pacific Disability Forum and also from PNG. She brings a strong focus on workplace inclusion, climate change inclusion, and policy development. With her guidance, we’re planning to roll out training for organisations and schools to help create more inclusive environments.

    Why is disability inclusion and health equity important to you?

    Disability inclusion is personal to me. My little cousin, born prematurely and deaf, has faced developmental delays. He hasn’t been able to attend school—not because he’s unwilling or incapable, but because nearby, affordable schools can’t accommodate his needs. Watching him miss out on the experiences other children enjoy has opened my eyes. His story drives my commitment to building a world where every child is supported to thrive, no matter their abilities.

    My passion for health equity stems from my time studying biomedical science and now through my global health studies. I’m driven by the urgent need to expand access to basic and primary healthcare across our rural Pacific communities. The rising burden of non-communicable diseases, stagnant child health indicators, mothers giving birth on hospital floors, and the emerging HIV crisis in Fiji and PNG are sobering reminders of the inequities we must confront. These realities fuel my commitment to advocate for systems that prioritise dignity, access, and self-sufficiency.

    If you could share one insight from your experience working with disability communities in rural Papua New Guinea, what would it be?

    Working in rural villages has taught me that communities know what’s best for themselves. Our role isn’t to impose solutions, but to listen and learn. In our first villages, the need was simple: access to church and social gatherings. The assistive devices we provided supported that goal. People in rural PNG are incredibly resilient, yet outside perspectives often overlook their lived realities. Over the next five to ten years, our focus must be on gathering data and stories to guide meaningful change. The greatest insight I’ve gained is this: the answers we seek are already in the villages.

    How does your culture shape the way you lead and give back?

    Compassion is woven into Pacific Island culture—we grow up in large households where care, empathy, and respect are everyday values. It’s a foundation I carry with me. But when it comes to disability, culture can be both a strength and a barrier. Raising awareness means asking communities to rethink long-held beliefs, which is deeply sensitive work. Disability inclusion in the Pacific isn’t linear; it requires navigating cultural tension between tradition and progress. Yet, our cultural compassion remains a powerful force. It’s what grounds our communities—and what gives me hope as we work toward more inclusive futures.

    What message do you have for other young people who want to make a difference?

    Creating change doesn’t require much—just a willingness to roll up your sleeves, keep an open mind, and work alongside others who share your vision. Anyone can be part of it. If something feels urgent or important, take action. When it truly matters to you, you’ll find a way to make a difference. Collaboration is the heartbeat of progress.

    Health Sovereignty and what it means for our Pacific countries.

    Pacific Island health systems are dependent on foreign aid, a cycle that has persisted for decades. This reliance leaves countries vulnerable to shifting donor priorities and global crises, as seen earlier this year with USAID funding contractions. My argument is that aid has often focused on short-term fixes rather than building long-term resilience. To break the cycle, I call for strategic reforms, stronger local governance and health leadership, and investment in domestic health workforces. Donors should also co-develop clear exit strategies to support sustainable transitions.

    For Pacific nations, reclaiming health sovereignty is not just about doing what is right – it’s a matter of national security. Now, more than ever, Pacific countries must take greater ownership of their own health initiatives to build resilience, ensure sustainability, and protect the health of future generations.

    Tenk yu tru, Pala! Your work within PNG and across the region is truly inspiring. We look forward to seeing where you go next and the positive impact you will continue to make for our communities.

  • Leading with Hope: Bubutei’s Vision for Inclusive Climate Action

     

    At just 23, Bubutei Taateti is already making a meaningful impact as the Communications Officer for the Kiribati Deaf Association (KDA). KDA operates under Te Toa Matoa (TTM), the national umbrella organization for disability in Kiribati, with both TTM and its affiliates headquartered in Nanikaai, Tarawa. Bubutei’s work is grounded in a strong commitment to advancing the rights and inclusion of people with disabilities, particularly as Kiribati faces increasing challenges brought on by climate change.

    For Bubutei, one of the biggest challenges is that many in the Deaf community – particularly youth – simply don’t know what to do when climate shocks hit. “If a king tide comes, there is confusion,” she explains. “There are no early warning systems that reach us in time.” This gap is not just technological, but systemic. Currently, Kiribati lacks inclusive early warning systems, and Bubutei stresses the need for support from national ministries to ensure timely and accessible communication during emergencies. Without this, the Deaf and broader disability communities are left extremely vulnerable.

    Despite these challenges, the Kiribati Deaf Association continues to push for change. Funded by the Disability Rights Fund and the Pacific Disability Forum, KDA focuses on advocacy grounded in the Convention on the Rights of Persons with Disabilities (CRPD) and the Sustainable Development Goals (SDGs). Since joining the organisation, Bubutei has been part of several key initiatives. “KDA advocates for the meaningful inclusion of deaf people in both decision-making processes and community activities” she says. KDA also champions the right to vote, conducts regular capacity-building workshops, and promotes employment opportunities for people with disabilities.

    But when it comes to climate education, more still needs to be done. “Many children and youth don’t finish school because schools are not inclusive,” Bubutei shares. “That’s where it starts – making sure education is accessible for everyone.” Without inclusive schooling, Deaf youth miss out on basic knowledge about climate change and environmental issues that are crucial to survival in an island nation like Kiribati.

    Bubutei believes that addressing this will require targeted funding for workshops, awareness programs, and community activities that are disability-inclusive. “Most climate programs in our communities are not inclusive of people living with a disability” she says. “They really need these trainings as climate change affects us all”.

    Her message is clear: inclusion must be at the heart of climate action. Through her role at KDA, Bubutei is not only raising awareness but also paving the way for a more resilient and inclusive future for people with disabilities in Kiribati. 🌱

    #ClimateActionNow #JusticeForAll #InclusionMatters #SDGs #Kiribati

  • From Freshwater to Whenua: A Young Leader’s Path Through Identity and Impact

    #VoicesOfTheVillage Series

    Featuring Kirrah Stothers ✨🌺✨

    Hi Kirrah! Thank you for joining us today. Could you please start us off by sharing your name, the communities you belong to, and your educational and professional experience so far?

    Hi everyone! My name is Kirrah Stothers and I am 21 years old. I’m a proud Jawoyn woman from the Northern Territory, belonging to the Freshwater people on my mother’s side. On my paternal side, I’m Te Rarawa through my grandfather and Te Whakatohea through my grandmother. I was raised by my whānau in the Waikato region of Aotearoa, with strong ties to Maketū and Rakaunui Marae (Kāwhia Moana, Tainui).
    I’m currently in my final year of a Bachelor of International Security, minoring in Peace and Conflict Studies, at the Australian National University in Canberra. I’ve also been working for the past two and a half years at Indigenous Allied Health Australia, an organisation founded by my mum in 2009. Our work focuses on advocating for and strengthening the First Nations allied health workforce, supporting students from high school right through to university and their professional placements.

    Wow, so impressive! Kirrah, as you know, we are heading into July, which is a special time for First Nations communities as it’s NAIDOC Week. What does NAIDOC Week mean to you, and how do you feel young people contribute to the importance of this event?

    NAIDOC Week is a huge time for our family. It’s actually when my brother and I were both born, so it’s always held special meaning. For me, it’s a time to celebrate how far our people have come and to honour the strength of our elders. I see so much power in the younger generation of my family, like my little cousins. They’ve grown up with a sense of safety and belonging that earlier generations didn’t have, because our parents and grandparents did the hard work of breaking cycles and carrying generational trauma. What’s beautiful is that this generation doesn’t feel like they need to walk in two worlds. They show up fully as themselves, and that inspires me. A lot of the work my generation is doing right now might not benefit us directly, but it will definitely benefit those who come after us.

    How was your experience growing up in your local community, especially in terms of education for young people in the Northern Territory?

    Education in the NT is really complex. I ended up moving to Adelaide for boarding school in my senior years because I found that the education system in the NT wasn’t supportive. The high school I was attending wasn’t equipped for Aboriginal kids, especially those with learning difficulties or behavioural needs. We were often seen as too much to handle. The school was underfunded, there was no consistency, and a lot of the teachers came straight out of university with no preparation for the cultural richness and complexity of a place like Katherine. There was a really high turnover of staff. I had four different principals in three years. There were no emotional supports, and it wasn’t until I moved to Adelaide that I realised how far behind we were. In Katherine, we often had combined year-level classes due to staff shortages. It made learning feel really disjointed and disconnected.

    As a proud First Nations and Māori woman, how have your cultural identities shaped your journey, especially in advocacy spaces?

    I feel incredibly fortunate to have grown up on my mother’s land in the NT, and to have also spent regular time in Aotearoa with my nan and aunties on our whenua. My parents made big sacrifices to make that possible, and I’m so grateful. Being grounded in both my First Nations and Māori identities has always given me strength and clarity. I know who I am and where I come from. My extended family has supported my dreams from day one. When you have that kind of foundation, you don’t feel like you need to prove yourself within colonial systems that were never meant for us. I always come back to the idea of being a good ancestor. My mum reminds me that the work we’re doing now is for the benefit of future generations. That’s who I’m doing it for.

    I love that. You’re already thinking like a good ancestor at such a young age. You’ve already overcome so much, from reaching ANU to being featured in national media. Can you share some of the barriers you’ve faced and how you pushed through them?

    When I was featured in a documentary in high school, it brought a lot of public attention and opinions. Some people criticised my decision to study law, saying I should be a doctor like some of the other students in the film. I was only 17, in Year 11, and we were in the middle of a global pandemic. At the time, I took those comments to heart and started to doubt myself. When I got to ANU, I began studying law, but I didn’t see myself in the content. The teaching felt outdated, and there was a real lack of cultural representation. As someone who values connection and shared experience, I just didn’t feel like I belonged. I eventually realised I wasn’t enjoying it, so I stepped back and switched into International Security. In that space, I could specialise in the Pacific and Southeast Asia, which reflect the communities I grew up with in Katherine. It made more sense. It was hard to let go of law, but I had to put my ego aside and choose something that genuinely lit me up. I’m much happier now.

    What do you see as the next step in your journey?

    After studying for 17 years straight, I’m definitely ready for a break. I want to get some real-world experience working within government systems, so that I can return to grassroots work in the long term with a deeper understanding of the structures that influence and guide our communities. My heart is in working alongside grassroots groups, but I also know that to truly support them, I need to understand how policy is made, how funding flows, and how decisions are shaped at higher levels. That knowledge will help me be more effective and impactful when I go back to serve community on the ground.

    What’s one piece of advice you’d give to a young woman from your community?

    Don’t be afraid to pause and go home. There is so much healing in being on Country, sitting with your nan, and sharing food with your whānau. Being away from home can take a toll, and burnout is real. Prioritise rest. You don’t have to be on all the time. Rest is powerful. It’s necessary. It keeps us grounded and strong.

    One last trivia question. When it comes to sports, who do you support: Australia or New Zealand?

    My dad was sneaky. He put me in an All Blacks jersey when I was little, and I’ve supported them ever since. I’m a proud girl from the mighty Waikato, so I back the Chiefs. My mum came around too because the Chiefs colours are the same as the Aboriginal flag, so it worked out pretty perfectly.


    Nga mihi, Kirrah. Thank you so much for sharing your powerful story with us. You are a trailblazer and a great ancestor in the making. May God continue to bless you on your journey.

  • From Western Sydney to the world! A Pasefika story in motion.

    From Western Sydney to the world! A Pasefika story in motion.

    #VoicesOfTheVillage Series

    Featuring Melissa Sina Applin ✨🌺✨

    Talofa lava Mel, thank you for joining us today! Could you please share with us your name, age, villages and also if you are currently working/studying?

    Talofa! My name is Melissa Sina Applin, I’m 24 years old and I proudly hail from the villages of Alafua and Falelima as well as the beautiful island of Manono. My mother is Samoan, and my father is from England. I’m currently studying a Bachelor of Archaeology at Macquarie University, which I’ll complete at the end of 2025. I’m planning to pursue a Master of Research in Indigenous Studies starting in 2026. I also work two jobs! I’m part of the Student Recruitment team at Macquarie University, where I help students access pathways into uni. I also work at the Australian Museum as part of the Pasifika Education Team, where I develop and deliver programs and work closely with the First Nations team.

    I’m interested to know, what has inspired you to undertake Indigenous Studies in 2026?

    Growing up on Dharug land in Western Sydney, I’ve always felt it was a privilege to live on Indigenous land. My parents migrated here in the 90s and I was born in 2000. Over time, I’ve done research on different clan areas, and I’ve always resonated with the way Indigenous Elders share their stories, it reminded me of the rich oral traditions of the Pacific. Even when I couldn’t fully engage with my own culture growing up, learning about First Nations histories helped me feel connected. My hope with Indigenous Studies is to focus on the Pacific diaspora, especially how Pacific performing arts—like dance, song, and community—can reinforce cultural identity while living away from our ancestral lands.

    What has your experience been like growing up as a Pacific diaspora youth in Western Sydney?

    For me, Samoan culture is many things—food, language, practices, but I didn’t grow up with much of that. My mum was the only Samoan I was exposed to in my early years. It wasn’t until my late teens that I started recognising a deep sense of cultural identity loss. I wanted to learn about where I came from, where I belong, and how I’m connected to those before me. Growing up, there weren’t many Samoan families around, but over the past 20+ years I’ve seen our community in Western Sydney grow beautifully. Places like Matavai Pacific Cultural Arts helped me reconnect through dance and song. They played a huge role in helping me rediscover pride in my identity and navigate the complexities of being diaspora.

    In June, we celebrate Samoan Independence Day. What does this day mean to you?

    It’s actually my older brother’s birthday, he was born on June 1st and my mum intentionally chose that date because it’s Samoan Independence Day, which is such a special connection! To me, it’s a day of pride. It’s about honouring the generations who sacrificed for our independence—Samoa was the first Pacific Island nation to gain independence, and that’s significant. But it’s also a reminder to stand in solidarity with other Pacific nations still on their own journeys. It’s a celebration of our past and a powerful hope for the future.

    You’re preparing for the Miss Samoa NSW Pageant—congratulations! What motivated you to enter?

    Thank you! Honestly, I never imagined myself doing this. I grew up obsessed with the pageant but didn’t feel it was suitable for someone like me—a fair Afakasi—to be on that stage. But over the past year, I’ve grown in confidence. I felt a calling to represent my family, my villages, and especially my beautiful mum. I kept thinking, if not now, then when? This is my moment to try something bold, push myself, and represent my NSW community. I want to learn, grow, and see where this journey leads me.

    If you become Miss Samoa NSW, how would you use the platform?

    I would love to focus on performance through traditional storytelling. I’m passionate about musical theatre and drama, and these have always been part of Pacific ways of storytelling for thousands of years. My dream is to direct a theatre piece in Samoa with an all-Samoan team—from performers to crew. There’s already incredible work happening within the Pacific theatre space in Aotearoa, and I’d love to collaborate with teams there. I want to show our Pacific youth that the stage is a powerful space to celebrate who we are.

    What message would you like to leave for Pacific youth in NSW?

    Thank you for the question, great pageant practice haha! My biggest advice: don’t box yourself in. Reach out, explore the resources around you, learn new skills—even ones you don’t think you’re “good” at. You never know where it could lead. Find mentors and surround yourself with people who uplift you. Step into the unknown, because that’s where the magic happens. And above all, have fun in everything you do. That’s the heart of it.

    Fa’afetai tele lava, Melissa, for sharing your story with us. Your voice is such a powerful reflection of the journey many Pacific diaspora youths are navigating. Wishing you all the best on the Miss Samoa NSW stage and beyond!

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