KEY POINTS:
I cried for the Muliaga family, who reminded me so much of my own - the father who hadn't wanted to leave Samoa for New Zealand; the mother who dreamed of better things for herself and her family.
Folole Muliaga was 44 when she died, the mother of four children. She taught at a preschool. She had a diploma in early childhood education. She had a gorgeous smile. Her family loved and needed her. And until she became sick, her family had lived the NZ dream that brought them here. They had a modest home in Mangere. She and her husband were both working. Their family were happy.
But as they discovered, the line between happy and struggling has become perilously thin for people like them.
When a contractor hired by Mercury Energy called at the Muliagas' house on Tuesday to cut off their power, Folole was breathing with an oxygen machine. She would have expected him to understand her plight. She had asked him, her children said, for a chance to pay off their overdue power bill. She might have begged.
I imagine her being ashamed and distressed. I imagine her distress being aggravated by the fact that the contractor was unmoved, that he went ahead and cut the power anyway.
I imagine her thinking about the cost of calling an ambulance as she started to feel unwell, wondering if she was really sick enough to justify the bill that they wouldn't be able to afford.
A little over two hours later, she was dead.
And if that wasn't shocking and tragic enough, the actions of Mercury Energy in the days that followed have been astounding.
Until yesterday, when Mercury Energy finally fronted up to the Muliaga family at their Mangere home, on the advice of its Samoan workers, it had been more intent on being right than being sorry, insisting it was in the clear, that it had done nothing wrong.
As if this was about being right.
No one at Mercury seemed to notice how offensive it was for a state-owned enterprise that made a net profit of more than $100 million last year to wage a public relations battle against a grieving widower who now has to support himself and four children on an income of just over $400 a week.
On Thursday, general manager James Moulder was confident "the communications we had with the customer were very clear about the circumstances that would happen". He seemed to have forgotten the circumstances that happened were that "the customer" died because her power was turned off.
What they should have done was to say sorry as if they meant it, and promise to do everything in their power to prevent something like this ever happening again. They should have been more concerned with sparing the family more pain than with their image.
And they should have been working on ways Mercury Energy could better respond to people like the Muliagas, who can't pay their power bills, even with the best will in the world. They have work to do there, yet nothing they've said even hints at a recognition of this.
Mercury Energy's chiefs shouldn't have needed their Samoan workers to tell them how to respond. This wasn't a cultural issue, it was a human one. Their apology yesterday, with fine mats and a $10,000 cheque for the funeral, would have gone some way to assuaging the hurt. But it must have been a bitter-sweet moment for the Muliagas, who would still have Folole if not for a $168.40 bill.
Folole died despite the family making two fortnightly payments amounting to $106.90 in the past month; they'd paid what they could every payday. Their last bill showed the outstanding amount of $168.40, on top of current charges. It gave them until June 13 the total.
Mighty River Power chief Doug Heffernan said the "level of payments was less than the amount accruing. The family was getting further in debt despite payments being made." Mr Moulder said that "making small payments on larger bills does not mean you get out of that disconnection process unless you come and talk to us about it".
He needs to take a closer look at his company. Last year, I got a disconnection notice. I'd been a little distracted - my mother had died - and I'd forgotten to pay.
The bill totalled more than $900. The notice said I'd be disconnected if I didn't pay within 48 hours. I rang Mercury. The overdue amount was in the $400s. Could I pay that, I asked, and pay the rest when it became due?
No, said the unsympathetic woman at the other end. If I didn't pay the whole amount in 48 hours, my power would be cut. There was nothing I could do, nothing Mercury was prepared to do.
I wondered then what happened to people who really couldn't afford to pay. Now we all know.
