Fifita Latu, 28, has always had a passion to advocate for others. Photo / Supplied
Working in a high-security men’s prison is not exactly the dream job Fifita Vai ‘Utukakau Latu’s family and friends had in mind for her.
“They will eat you alive,” she was told.
But the 28-year-old has always had a passion to help those who find themselves in the toughest of life’s situations; and describes advocacy work as her ultimate calling.
Latu has just graduated from the Unitec Te Pūkenga with a Postgraduate Certificate in Applied Practice (Social Practice).
It was a qualification she sought a few years ago while employed as a youth worker - a job she held just before landing a role at the men’s high-security prison in Wiri in South Auckland.
One day, a social worker connected to the company she worked for at the time could not attend a court appearance for a young man who happened to be Latu’s client.
“He had no support. His family didn’t want to show up. They were kind of whakamā (embarrassed) of coming into court.”
What happened next proved to be a pivotal moment in Latu’s life.
When the judge asked if anyone was in court to support the young man, she stood up and spoke about the things he had been doing to change his life.
“When I came back to work and I told my manager...she was like: ‘Fifita, you have no right to speak in court because you’re not a registered social worker’.
“I explained to her there was nobody else. If I can help, I’ll help. So I decided to go back to study.”
Latu’s dream to be a social worker came about after a sometimes tough upbringing and a longing to fit in.
An island upbringing
Just before her first birthday, she and her parents travelled to Tonga where her birthday would be celebrated at a huge occasion with family members in the motherland.
Instead of returning home to New Zealand, however, Latu’s grandparents asked her parents to leave their daughter to be raised in Tonga.
Latu hails from the villages of Mataika, Leimatu’a and Ofu in Vava’u and the islands of Pukotala and Ha’ano in Ha’apai.
Up until she was about 8 years old, Tonga and all its cultural richness were all she knew.
But as her grandparents started to get older, a decision was made for Latu to return to her parents and brothers back in Auckland.
“I found it very hard coming back to live with my parents; especially with the [differences] in culture.”
The family attended the Ellerslie Tongan Methodist Church.
“That was my only safe haven growing up when I came back from Tonga - was church. That was the only thing that reminded me of Tonga - the language and the people. This was my little Tonga in New Zealand.”
By the time she was a teenager, the family had moved to Māngere, where her parents had bought a home.
Her two eldest brothers became affiliated with gangs and started bringing their mates home.
‘I thought it was the norms...everyone’s going in and out of prison’
“For my parents, it was a no-go. [They’d say]: ‘You don’t bring the gangs around here! But for me, I was like: ‘Nah, there’s more Tongan kids here. It’s cool!’ I loved it.
“Just growing up, the neighbourhood boys would go in and out of prison. I used to think it was the norms growing up in South Auckland - that everyone’s going in and out of prison.”
Latu becomes emotional as she talks about a time when she started to lose her sense of identity.
“My parents found it very hard to discipline us in this society. We were at the stage where we were talking back and everything.
“I kind of lost my whole Tongan cultural values and stuff. I drifted off. In high school, I was suspended so many times because I was fighting with everything and anyone.
“I guess for me, I was just trying to find my belonging. I felt like I had no identity, I had no belonging. I just didn’t know where my safe place was.”
Latu said the catalyst to getting back on the right track was when her grandparents from Tonga moved to New Zealand and her grandfather encouraged her to complete her studies so she could help their family.
“When I came to understand myself and my identity, I knew that actually, our grandparents didn’t migrate from overseas for us to come and stay in prison.”