Deb Curreen Author

  My dear Dad. You  have now been gone for half of my life and I have now, outlived you, by four years, and I am probably going to live a whole lot longer than you did. But still I live my life, with you no longer in it. For all the years you lived, and all the years you never got to live, while I remain; the legacy that you left behind is something I am unlikely to outshine. And while I know I made you proud of me with my fumbling efforts, these days I see more of you in myself, than either of us would have imagined. What I was once embarrassed by, about you - I find that now it amuses me to see those identical, cringe-worthy traits in myself. When I am tailgating slow drivers on the road, I hear you coming out of my mouth, telling the dozy gits to get out of my bloody way. I break speed limits constantly for the satisfaction of being king of the road. Like you, I get up in the middle of the night, to answer calls from someone in need; then I drive off into the darkness to help them.

 On Tuesday morning the team from Rongopai House in Kaitaia, Haley, Lucy, Roberta, Debby, Susan and a handful of loyal volunteers, were busily setting up the hall at St Saviours Anglican Church.          There was much excitement and anticipation for the Anti p Ministry were coming to share their stories and their kaupapa, giving koha of t-shirts and hoodies.  Arriving in their big yellow bus, the team led by Brendon was accompanied this time by Benny, Bex, Mohi and Jason.                            The big yellow, Anti p Ministry bus parked outside St Saviours. The visit was the brain child of Haley, a former meth user and dealer, now a one woman success story-her life is now a small anti-P ministry in itself. Haley had made contact with Brendon, found accommodation for the team and put together the major part of the organisation for the day, including the catering. Dino, director of Rongopai House, had a poster designed  Haley created Facebook posts, the team shared them throughout t