77-year-old wants to get her drivers licence so she can drive herself to church

77-year-old Sepiuta Skudder has just passed her Learners and is on the road to her Restricted Licence and freedom. Photo / Michael Craig

English is not Sepiuta Skudder’s first language.

So to study and learn the Road Code in English and the tough questions in Tongan, was not an easy task for a woman who was taken out of school aged 8 to help support the family by cooking and cleaning while all the rest of the siblings and parents worked on a Tongan plantation.

But last week, the 77-year-old - who is 78 tomorrow - passed her Learners test with a 100 per cent score and is just one test away from a restricted licence and freedom to drive when and where she wants.

“I was happy with myself when I pass the test,” Sepiuta told the Herald.

“I still have to have my daughter in the car as a learner driver but I will go for my restricted licence in May and then I will be able to drive to church to my church meetings and to visit my husband at the cemetery, when I want and not have to bother the children or grandchildren.”

Sepiuta her husband and three children migrated to Aotearoa from Tonga in 1970. For the next 50-plus years they set up the family home in Mangere, where the couple raised five children.

Sepiuta had been driven around by her husband or one of the children.

Full class for the Manukau Urban Māori Urban Authority drivers licensing course. Photo / Supplied

But when her husband passed away in 2021, Sepiuta spent two years in deep and respectful mourning. Her daughter Ella Skudder said her dad’s funeral, then unveiling, had kept her mum’s mind occupied.

But when her mum was recently voted into a leadership position in the Tongan Catholic Church, Mangere congregation, things had to change.

“Because mum was voted leader of the Legion of Mary group, they travel to different homes for prayer nights each week,” Ella Skudder said.

“I wanted mum to keep her independence for as long as possible and that’s why we looked at where mum could go to get her licence.”

That place was the Manukau Urban Māori Authority (MUMA) which runs a Ministry of Social Development funded Drivers Licensing Programme, and has already helped hundreds Māori, Pasifika and Pakeha get licences.

A drivers licence, according to MUMA CEO Tania Rangiheuea “is not just a driver’s licence but a passport to life,”

Sepiuta Skudder is in the driving seat. Photo / NZME

Sepiuta was enrolled in the MUMA course because they offered a multilingual approach, so her mum could learn in English and Tongan.

Ella accompanied her mum for the classes and the pair would go through each session reviewing the questions Sepiuta got wrong.

On her first test, Sepiuta scored 15 out of 50 and then 24 out of 50 for the second.

“I come home and study my mistake and I tried and tried and see where I went wrong,” Sepiuta said.

“The next day we went and we test again and the last day, I got them all right and got my learners licence.

“I’m so happy.”

Sepiuta said learning with a group was rewarding and the others looked on her as a nana or aunty.

“I was the oldest in the room, but I don’t mind,” Sepiuta said. “I’m scared because my English is not that really good but my daughter pushed me and said ‘it’s OK mum if you make a mistake’

“I sit with all the young ones and for me I’m OK because I’m not shy. I try my best for myself.

“All the class were very happy I passed. They asked Ella ‘did the old lady pass’?

Sepiuta said what motivated her to get behind the wheel was that she felt sorry for her daughters, who both work and then come home to drive her about.

“I feel for my children, so I go to the class and I do it and I’m so happy,” she said.

Sepiuta was taken out of school aged 8 in Tonga after her mum remarried following the death of her dad.

She had to cook and clean for the entire family, while her siblings supported the family by working the plantation.

Arriving in New Zealand for a new start, Sepiuta’s husband was a carpenter and quickly got work while she worked at night cleaning Middlemore Hospital to help the family make ends meet.

Next month Sepiuta will sit for her restricted licence.

She’s already bought a car and can’t wait for the day when she can driver herself - without a person with a full licence beside her - to church or to visit her husband at the cemetery.