Valedictory Statements

O le a ou le toe faloina le afaloloa pe lalafo foe ole savili, aua o lea ua taoto le aupeau, I le e’e papaaao ole paia ma le mamalu ua ali’itia ai le maota nei, ma oute fa’atulou atu I lau afioga I le fofoga fetalai, le mamalu ole saofaiga a le Palemene, ma lau tapuaiga Aotearoa. Tulou, tulou, tulouga lava.

Fakaalofa lahi atu kia mutolu oti Tau magafaoa, Moe tau kapisiga Kua tolotolo mai he aho nei Kehe higoa he iki Ko iesu keriso.

Tihe-i mauri ora! Ka tū ake ahau i runga i te aroha, heoi anō, he mihi poroporoaki ki a koutou katoa kua tae mai, tēnā koutou!

[Behold the breath of life! I rise with a feeling of compassion and, furthermore, to make a farewell tribute to you who have arrived here. Salutations to you collectively.]

It is an honour to address this House for the last time, as the MP for Maungakiekie and as a proud National Party member. While I have been a public servant for the last 10 years, my first taste of the National Party was in the mid-1990s. I remember being invited along to a meeting by a colleague at Russell McVeagh. I turned up to a regional policy committee meeting and in the time-honoured tradition of political parties, I was co-opted on to a committee. Unlike Ms King opposite I avoided being made the secretary, and I was instead assigned as the events organiser. I was dispatched to organise a guest speaker for the next month, and I thought: “That’s easy.” I would invite my university professor of economics and supervisor of my dissertation—none other than Professor Tim Hazledine. I could not make the presentation, but I was notified that the meeting was a mild success with some robust questioning of the learned professor.

I then thought that if they enjoyed Tim Hazledine, I could invite another professor from university who supervised my other dissertation, so I notified the committee that Jane Kelsey was next month’s speaker. Well, the reply from HQ was swift and it was abrupt: there are no delegates available for that meeting and the boardroom is fully booked out next month, anyway. Suffice to say, I was not asked to organise a National Party policy meeting again. But lesson No. 1 in politics: watch the company that you keep.

I left for overseas and I returned to help campaign for my old schoolfriend and current colleague, Mr Paul Goldsmith. Paul ran in Maungakiekie in 2005. It was to be a dress rehearsal for 2008, and I learnt a lot from doorknocking with Mr Goldsmith and, of course, I learnt a lot about canvassing for the party vote. He also learnt a lot from me. I remember telling him on election day that I was scrutineering at a booth in Ōranga, and he asked me: “Where is Ōranga?”. I told him that it was in our electorate, and he mumbled in his Goldie-like way that maybe he had overlooked it on the map. Twelve years on, I am assured by David Seymour that Paul is as scrupulous with that Epsom map as he was with the map in Maungakiekie.

Of course, 2008 was the year of change in New Zealand. A dynamic John Key swept to power on a platform of lower taxes, better front-line services, fiscal discipline, and setting national standards in education. I was grateful to be swept along during that wave of aspirational leadership and positive change, behind a group of committed volunteers and supporters to win Maungakiekie, a traditional Labour seat. I remember well that night at Skycity, and I said to my mum: “Happy birthday, Mum. You’ve got a thousand people at your party and it didn’t cost me a cent.” Mum, I know you cannot be here today; you are watching in Auckland. Get well soon. I love you.

At this point, can I acknowledge the contribution of the many thousands of National Party volunteers who got me here. I want to acknowledge the presidents, Goodfellow and Kirk, and regional chairs, Alastair Bell, Scott Simpson, Alan Towers, and Andrew Hunt. I want to acknowledge Roger Bridge, Peter Kiely—I could go on. You know who you are. Thank you very much for your support of me and the party. Of course, I have also got to acknowledge my electorate chairs Cheryl and Seamus, and also my really good friends Dr Lee Mathias, Graham Malaghan, Mark Nicholson, Mark Thomas, and the hundreds locally who supported me and my campaign.

On 11 November, after the election, I travelled to my first caucus. I remember congregating with other new MPs at the Koru lounge. It was my first time in the Koru lounge. A couple of Pacific women who voted for me came up to congratulate me on my victory. They said: “Well done on your hard work. You’ve made Pacific people proud and you’re going to make a fine MP.” But I quickly learnt as a new MP to try not to let this get to my head. They gave me their business cards and said to call if I needed their help, even for campaigning. Well, I was feeling pretty chuffed, and as I walked away they wished me well and said: “God bless you, Su’a William Sio.” True story—true story.

But at that first caucus meeting the advice for new MPs was to work the electorate; you will be measured on those first 3 years—and so will you, son—and especially that first year. And, as you do, I set about attending every school fair, prize-giving, Rotary club dinner, and sports club function on offer. It also allowed me to listen to queries, hear opinions, and receive feedback. I enjoyed the work and I reminded myself that this was what public service was about: dealing with the issues of people in need.

In my maiden speech I spoke of the nature of public service and of servant leadership. My mantra in public service, as many of my staff will attest to, is that I wake up each day asking what I can do and what our team can do to improve the lives of New Zealanders and their well-being, and also how to better serve their needs. I believe that if you help one New Zealander, you have had a successful day; if you help thousands, you have had a stellar day and you can retire. I knew that if I could do that with vigour and compassion that I would be re-elected with an increased majority. Serving in Maungakiekie required a lot of patience, active listening, care, and compassion. I would see some of the pain and suffering and abuse that are sadly a part of our society.

I remember doing human hoardings at Panmure roundabout one morning just before the 2011 election. An elderly woman approached me. She said to come and visit a family who were living in her garage. I visited them that afternoon where I met a teenage mother who was living in a garage with her 1-year-old son. She was heavily pregnant and her son, who had a heart condition, was running around half-clothed on the concrete floor. As I went home to my family that night to celebrate my birthday, that sad family image was burnt into my consciousness and I was determined to do something about it. My staff and I worked with Housing New Zealand and other agencies to ensure that her needs were met. Thankfully, by election day I had increased my majority in my seat and, more importantly, this mum and her two kids had found a new two-bedroom apartment to call home.

I joined the National Party because I believe in the power of families and communities to care for our own, unencumbered by the Government. However, I believe, like many New Zealanders, that when absolutely required, the Government can and should provide assistance and help. I want to thank my electorate staff at this point—most of you are here: Jenny, Josh, Ali, Pua, and Darrell—and there are literally hundreds more stories where we have improved the lives of the many that we have served through that office. Fa‘afetai tele lava.

Looking back over the last 10 years, I was proud to launch the new blue recycling bin service. This initiative was done by our local council when I first got into council and it reduced the waste to landfill by about 20 percent—not bad, I thought, for a few months’ work in the council. I had become a blue-green by accident, but I was proud of what we had done on the council. Then, on the council, I advocated for the restoration of the Onehunga foreshore. This was an example of how, with the cooperation of the Onehunga Business Association and The Onehunga Enhancement Society, both Auckland Council and the New Zealand Transport Agency provided the first significant access to the foreshore since the 1970s. That 7 hectare park now provides beaches, picnic areas, and open spaces for families, and, crucially, it will provide them for generations of New Zealanders to enjoy. After first advancing this project as a councillor, I was finally honoured to help cut the ribbon in 2015 as a Minister of the Crown.

Last year also saw the replanting of trees back on to Maungakiekie, or One Tree Hill. It was an issue that meant a lot to many in my local community and one that I had championed and worked through with our Treaty negotiations Minister—and I salute you, sir. Through those settlements with local iwi and hapū and via the support of Auckland Council we were able to do that. The ceremony was witnessed by hundreds, and I had the honour to plant one of the tōtara trees, which I hope and pray will survive the rigours of the weather to once again stand tall on my maunga, Maungakiekie. Sometimes such public symbols divide, but I believe that these trees will unite my community, our city, and this nation.

Finally, in our local area we have seen the rise of the Tāmaki Regeneration Company. This is the first large-scale transformation project in New Zealand and it will deliver over 7,500 quality homes. But for me it is more than that. Its vision means partnerships with mana whenua, local residents, businesses, and service providers. I tell you these achievements not only because I was involved in a small way but because they involved local people, their views, opinions, and, most importantly, it involved their aspirations.

On 17 January 2014 I received a call that all MPs long to receive, and covet. I got a call from Prime Minister Key that I would be a Minister in his executive. I remember taking it while spending precious time with my daughter, Hope, at Potters Park. Getting an unexpected call from the Prime Minister like that is either one of two things: there is trouble on the horizon and you may be forced to resign or you have done well enough to get promoted. Thankfully, it was the latter.

However, trying to have a conversation with the Prime Minister while doing water play during a gale in a park full of kids was really hard, but having to explain to a 3-year-old why you were interrupting her daddy-daughter date was even more challenging. I want to thank Sir Toalesavili John Key for the opportunity. It was a huge honour to serve with him and other Ministers in this National-led Government.

Taking on the Pacific peoples portfolio and becoming Associate Minister of Local Government were a natural fit. I am particularly proud of the work that was completed by the ministry in implementing the Pacific Employment Support Services scheme. It is a scheme that focuses on motivating, training, and matching young Pacific people to jobs. It had an 83 percent success rate in terms of placement into jobs or further training. That is simply stunning for any job or training scheme.

Later that year I got another call. This time I was on a beach, following the 2014 election. I got the call from Sir John, who told me that I was being elevated to Cabinet. Hope and Jules started dancing in the background, and then Jules asked me: “What portfolios?”. I said “Corrections.”, and she said “Jeepers! What did you do wrong?”.

Some would see Corrections as a poisoned chalice. I believe it was a true honour. To the 10,000 men and women who serve in Corrections, some risking their lives every day—I salute you. It was a privilege to be your Minister, despite the challenges—and there were many—in that portfolio. I was proud of what we achieved. I recall visiting Rimutaka Prison one day. I sat there with six prisoners. They were about to be released, and I asked them—I said: “Look, what one thing would make a difference in your lives?”. One fellow said: “Actually, two things.” I said: “Two—OK.” He said: “Two things—a pack of cigarettes and a chocolate ice cream.” “But seriously”, I said. To a man, they said: “What we really want are jobs—we want jobs.” That was the key to getting out and staying out. That is why it was important to set up four more working prisons, host an employers summit alongside the Prime Minister, and double the number of educational learning places in prisons, while launching a secure online learning service.

I was also honoured to be the Minister for Ethnic Communities. I spoke in my maiden speech about the ethnic diversity of Maungakiekie and of New Zealand. This role allowed me to engage with the many faces of New Zealand’s ethnic communities, often through celebrations of culture, language, faith, and heritage. As a migrant to Aotearoa myself, I empathised with their plights and understood many of their issues and their ambitions.

Finally, in my health portfolio I was pleased I was able to pass the standardised packaging legislation. Of course, this was initiated by Dame Tariana Turia. Smoking kills, and it prematurely kills up to 4,500 to 5,000 New Zealanders a year. Standardised packaging is proven to reduce smoking rates, and I am glad that this Parliament supported that bill.

Of course, a ministerial office is a difficult place, where people are expected to serve under the most extreme of conditions. My staff did that, and more. I want to thank my staff for their contributions—and some of them are here today—especially Mark, Margaret, Gay, Lucy, Jess, Gail, Moa, Salote, and Colleen. I also want to acknowledge Caron, Alisi, and Luaipou.

I want to wind up this speech by giving thanks to the people of Maungakiekie for putting your trust in me to serve for the past 10 years. I believe I have left it in a better place, but you will be the judge of that. I know a lot of that progress is due to your resilience, your determination, and your spirit. I know that Peter, Amanda, and Sheryn are in the crowd today—thank you. I also leave knowing you are in capable hands with Denise Lee. She is one of us, a local—compassionate, hard-working, with a heart for people and public service.

From Parliament and all the people who make this institution a paragon of democracy to the over 700 people who serve this nation alongside us, the MPs, who often serve with very little kudos—thanks to the security staff, IT, Parliamentary Service, all the support staff, and, yes, even my favourite people, the press gallery.

To my parliamentary colleagues, this is said to be a caustic and a harsh place, but I have made many friendships across this Chamber. I will not name and shame you today, because I know some of you are seeking re-election. But I do want to wish you and your families well. To my caucus colleagues, you are a team of talented and gifted people whom I am proud to have served alongside.

We have had three terms because we have been focused on the things that matter to New Zealanders—jobs, affordable and accessible healthcare, quality educational services, and safer communities. We have been successful because we have been united in our resolve to serve New Zealanders of all hues. To gain a fourth term, you need to maintain that trust and confidence that comes with engaging with people for every hour of every day until 23 September.

May I acknowledge our leader, “the Rock”, our Prime Minister Leuluaialii Bill English, or Simon William English—you are someone I admire and one of my role models in this place, and I want to acknowledge you. You are a rock, and you are more stable and dependable than a rock star, I can say. My distant cousin, the original Rock, Dwayne Johnson—[Interruption] That is right. The Rock had a saying. He said: “Can you smell what The Rock is cooking?”. On 23 September I hope “the rock” is not cooking that pizza, but that you are cooking up a fourth term for the National Party.

May I thank a few mentors—Michael Bassett, John Sax, Tino Pereira, Sir John Graham, and Tim Edney. These people offered me sage advice, as well as caring about me as a person. A special thanks to my Church family at Royal Oak Baptist Church. I know some of you are here today. To Edith, Indrani, Erik, and Karen—your prayers are always felt. To my men’s group—Nick, Rob, Steve, and Ben—your support has been immense.

To old friends, Leilua Winston, Lilomaiava Yvonne, Jo, and Ngawati, Malia, and Sailauama—you have all believed in me from the beginning, and you are even more supportive of me at the end.

Finally, to family—my siblings Lolita, Brigitta, Ken, and Julie—thanks so much for supporting and tolerating me these past 10 years. Thanks to my parents for your sacrifice, your dedication, and your love. We miss you today, Dad, and I know you are watching with Samaria up there. To my Uncle Aiga—after Dad left you stepped up as my go-to guy. Thanks, Uncle.

To the Iiga, Sio, Mailo, Kasupene, and Stevenson families, thank you. To Mum Stevo—she is up there somewhere—well, you are the gold standard for mothers-in-law, I can tell you; fakaue lahi for all your love and support. To Luka, my son—ah, my son—you arrived last year. He has got only two speeds, as you have heard. It is either full speed or asleep, and he is due for a sleep. Hope, the apple of my eye and the passionfruit of my heart. I will never forget—I told you last December that I was leaving Parliament. It was priceless. You said: “Gee, thanks, Daddy. It’s about time.” You have taught me that public service starts at home. I love you, Tiges.

To Jules, my eternal love: well, we started this journey together, as you know. I proposed to you at the end of my first Auckland Marathon, and I said I was ready to run the marathon of life with you. Well, today I propose that I am ready to do an Ironman. What does that mean? Well, I suggest one thing. I suggest that we pursue one of your dreams and make it one of ours. I love you, bubs.

Finally, I want to thank God. Yes, it is unfashionable to talk about faith in the public square, but every day I thank God for life, family, friends, and the privilege to serve here and live in this wonderful country that is Aotearoa New Zealand. I thank Jesus for his sacrifice and the Holy Spirit for his counsel.

I want to end my speech with a Māori proverb and a quick Samoan farewell.

Kia mataara, e tū i runga i te whakapono, kia kaha, kia whakatāne, kia meatia ā koutou mea i runga i te aroha.

[Be wary, stand upon the belief of being staunch and manly, and perform your responsibilities with a feeling of compassion.]

It means: “To all members, be a champion for what you believe is right and, in doing so, be strong, but whatever you do, do it with love.” Finally: Ia alofagia e le Atua le moata nei, maua se tofa mai le Atua, aua le fofoga fetalai ma sui mamalu o le Palemene, ae ou ola I le alofa o le Silisili-ese. Soifua, ma ia manuia. Thank you, and God bless.

[Applause]

Pese

Tēnā koe e Te Māngai o Te Whare Pāremata. Kia ora mai tātou, tēnā tātou katoa. When I came to National from Labour, it was out of spite, but, like any convert, I became more zealous than many born to it. Maybe that is why the worst insult you can offer me is to call me a Tory. I joined the party in 1987 after my party, Labour, had moved so far to the right it was unrecognisable and the National Party had moved almost equally to the left—they had swapped sides. I had recently had my hopes of farming dashed by pressures of Labour’s reforms in the banking industry and the removal of assistance for farmers, which had been put in place post the UK moving into the European Economic Community. I scurried off back to the police and found myself as a sole-charge country cop in Pātea.

The then Minister of Labour had recently decided unemployment was getting too expensive. Instead of continuing the Work for the Dole and Public Employment Project scheme, which kept a lot of our troubled unemployed busy through the day and too buggered to play up at night, Labour decided it would can the scheme and just pay out the benefit because it was too expensive to administer. I knew it would turn to custard on the first day. Black Power decided to have a big booze-up to celebrate, and that developed into a huge scrap that I had to deal with alone. As I walked up to the melee, I thought to myself “Where the hell are you now, Prebble?”, and I resolved, surrealistic as it may seem, to join the National Party and teach the Labour Party a lesson.

A couple of weeks later, Neil Walker—who is somewhere in the gallery—knocked on my door while canvassing on behalf of Venn Young. I gave him $2 and joined the National Party, and I doubt that anybody in the Labour Party noticed. I do not want over-egg it, but I like to think that some of them have now. The funny thing is that for the next two elections I went into the booth and at the critical time I just could not tick the right box. Shamefully, some other third-party candidate got my squandered vote. I get accused of being in the wrong party by both parties.

It was quite a revelation to finally become an MP in 2005 and to see many of the faces from Lange’s Cabinet, and Labour candidates who in 1990 had campaigned solidly on Rogernomics, trying hard to extricate themselves from any connection whatsoever and swimming like crayfish backwards. In response to yet another assertion that National has only ever been interested in corruptly feathering the nests of its donors and does not care about the impoverished, I remember bellowing across the House in a general debate that Labour needs to keep its voters poor and pissed off so it will have someone to blame. My old mate Rajen Prasad was absolutely disgusted that I could say such a thing, but there it is—that is the House.

In the end, it seems to me that the right is about aspiration, accountability, and expectation and the left is about patronising, blaming, and excusing actions and behaviour. It is not what happens to us in life but it is how we respond to it.

Our “class of 2005” came into Parliament in Opposition, and we all agree that it was the best way to start a career in this place. Our seniors had long decided that they had been there long enough and had moved from grievance mode into looking like an alternative Government. I remember my daughter Katy sent me a note on the first day, wishing me all the best and advising me not to let the big kids push me around.

I worked with Simon Power on the justice and law and order team. He told us one day—I cannot do a very good Simon Power imitation, but it was something like: “They are not your friends. Labour’s got our jobs. You new guys just don’t hate them enough.” Funnily enough, we soon learnt that he himself regarded all members pretty well and was well regarded by all members, and I sought to take a leaf out of his book. I recall a line from his valedictory when he said “I came here to do things, not to be things.”, and I resolved to try to do the same.

In Opposition, I was appointed the police and youth justice spokesman. Anne Tolley and I spent several months working on policies that we would introduce in Government. When we visited the youth residence at Rolleston we found that 80 percent of the youth were there for their third, fourth, or fifth sentences of the maximum 3 months. This allowed them to be released long enough to reoffend and create new victims, before being sentenced again on another short, pointless, custodial sentence. Our policies included expanding the sentences available to the Youth Court and allowing for drug and alcohol, literacy and numeracy, anti-violence, other supervision sentences—such as supervision with activity and military activity camps (MAC camps)—and special conditions, all to be bolted on to a sentence such as supervision with residence.

The day John Key announced these policies he made it clear that a MAC camp was not a boot camp with some grumpy old sergeant major screaming at young offenders but precisely aimed at the complex needs of kids who offend and had been labelled “ticking time bombs” by the Principal Youth Court Judge. The next day the Dominion Post had Tom Scott’s cartoon of John Key in a sergeant major’s uniform calling a kid a scumbag. It fitted the purpose of the media and the Opposition, and I see from this week that nothing changes. Nevertheless, these changes halved the number of youth being sent to the District Court for sentencing, and have been independently attributed to drastically reducing youth offending. Just because a programme uses military premises and role models does not make it a paragon of a failed system. Youth passing through MAC camps who did go on to reoffend did so less frequently and less severely, and wanted desperately to stay on rather than go back to their homes because, for the first time in their lives, people were invested in them, cared about them, and wanted them to succeed for no selfish reason. History has shown there has been a marked drop-off in the number of youth appearing before the courts and a decline in offending, albeit serious offences are still committed by youth as they always have been, sadly.

One of my accomplishments was to convince our justice team that we could collect a DNA swab without a warrant in the same way that we collect fingerprints and photographs incidental to arrest. Previous to this time, we needed a separate warrant from a judge to be able to collect DNA. This simple change meant that any time an offender left skin, hair, semen, saliva, or blood at a crime scene, they could be identified. That ability has probably allowed for early identification and arrest, and prevented the victimisation of thousands of people.

I believe this Government has made some response for the inequities of our justice system so far, but that does not mean there is not stuff that we could do better. The first is to recognise who we are dealing with. I recall speaking at a Sensible Sentencing Trust conference once and having been challenged to put victims at the centre of the justice system, I responded that they were at the centre of the justice system and some of them were standing in the dock. That did not go down too well—but the truth hurts.

As Minister for Courts, Associate Minister of Justice, and Associate Minister for Social Development, I had the opportunity to apply myself in portfolios that I believed in, and had some experience with prior to coming to Parliament. I think my ministries’ greatest frustration was that I knew too much about the portfolios and was happy to turn up—in the Tony Ryall sense—unannounced, any time, anywhere. I was at a loose end in Christchurch once and wandered into the District Court and sat in the back row of the public gallery to have a listen. I had trouble hearing proceedings so I leaned back and closed my eyes, trying to concentrate on what was being said. A big burly policewoman tapped me on the shoulder and told me I could not sleep there. I told her to make it interesting and I would do my best to stay awake. A few minutes later, I had a nervous little court manager sitting beside me.

We expanded audiovisual links quite rapidly, which saved a lot of prisoner movements and the threat of violence that accompanies the cramped transport and accommodation of prisoners to court appearances. I have a vision for Skype-type courts, as it seems wrong to me that we can communicate across the planet on Skype but not within a courtroom in the same country, or even city. For administrative hearings or standard tariff guilty pleas, why can a lawyer and their client not appear by Skype from the lawyer’s office?

I also initiated a trial in the North Shore District Court to place the defendant alongside their counsel, just a couple of metres in front of the judge. This was to get around the ridiculous situation where the alleged offender is 10 to 15 metres away from his counsel and the judge, and not even part of the conversation in a hearing that, for those few minutes, is all about him. It also took account of the fact that the most frequently asked question at the end of any court case in this country is: “What the hell just happened?”. It does not look remotely like justice to me. The trouble is, much of our business in courts is conducted in a foreign language to those appearing before it. Some judges and counsel are very good at using plain English and taking time to engage with defendants, but many are not. At the end of the North Shore District Court trial nobody except the now ex-Minister and the defendants liked the reconfiguration, so nothing happened, but I think we missed a chance that we should have taken to make justice a little more real.

We had the opportunity to make big changes while I had the three hats of courts and youth justice policy and practice, and so constructed the Youth Crime Action Plan, which built a framework of policy and precedents for engaging with troubled youth for the next 10 years. It recognised that we needed to work across agencies: in this case Justice, Police, Corrections, Ministry of Social Development, Te Puni Kōkiri, Health, and Education. We have a plan and the test has been to see it implemented across portfolios, but these things need to be driven. It is very easy to wait Ministers out and then revert to business as usual within agencies, and that is a shame. Trying to get agencies to stop thinking in silos and pretending that whatever great initiative they have should not have to come from their budgets was tricky. People just pay tax. Politicians and bureaucrats divide it up into various buckets and guard them with their lives.

It is always important to see the irony and humour in any situation, and in politics it is the same. Having a sense of humour is key to not taking oneself too seriously. One of the debates I got stuck into early on was to run the conservative line on anti-smacking—the repeal of section 59. I drafted an amendment with the help of the Law Commission, which, on the face of it, looked like a pretty ugly amendment because it virtually prescribed a method for smacking your kids—but at least it would have been clear. It all ended when I heard on the radio that John Key had done a deal with Helen Clark. I was told to withdraw my Supplementary Order Paper (SOP), but that did not stop Rodney Hide crossing out my name and writing his, so I had to vote against my own SOP on the same day that I withdrew it.

Later on, John Boscawen came in to Parliament with the untimely departure of David Garrett—and I do not know whether his demise was more ironic or humorous, but it was bloody funny at the time—and he promptly printed off my amendment, crossed out Hide’s name, and wrote his name on it, and I had the happy joy of voting against my handiwork for a second time. In hindsight, the changes are working well and parents are much better at finding other ways of correcting their children than with violence. Fewer children are assaulted, although our serious child assault statistics remain appalling. Sometimes Parliament has to take the lead.

Around that time, I was involved with raising some money for a local wildlife reserve at Lake Rotokare. I got John Key, Bill English, and Nick Smith to paint a painting—under close supervision in my office. They were going to sign it themselves and everything. So they dutifully did exactly what they had to do, and while we were chatting away, John, for some reason, loaded up his brush with some bright red paint and drew a diagonal line from one corner to the other and then just put two sploshes of paint in each corner. I said “What the hell did you do that for?” and he said—I do not “do” John Key very well—“I think it looks pretty good, actually.” I told him he had taken it from the dark corner of the lounge to back of the dunny door. When it came to the auction, my very clever masterpiece, which I had sweated over for hours, sold for $530 and his went for $2,300. What the hell do I know about art?

I think one of the most enjoyable parts of being an MP is to see ourselves grow and our views change with more information and opportunity to rub shoulders with a different set of acquaintances. In 2014 I voted against gay marriage for reasons that were more legalistic than anything moral or principled. I thought the real debate was about gay adoption and that we should have debated that—I would have happily voted for gay adoption. Good parenting has got nothing to do with gender. But I have since been privileged to officiate as a celebrant at the wedding of a gay couple and recognise that people who love each other and form families are the backbone of a strong society. We should encourage them regardless. My view is that sometimes you just have to grow up, and I think I have—a bit.

I am proud of some of the achievements, such as securing integration of Wanganui Collegiate School, as failure to do so would have cost the city dearly. Working with Chris Finlayson, Maggie Barry, Nicola Williams, and Greg Anderson in securing the money to strengthen and renovate the Sarjeant Gallery is another project. Finally, seeing the Normanby alignment completed and opened was another, and smaller wins on behalf of constituents fighting against bureaucracy are just as rewarding.

Working with constituents is always rewarding, but sometimes challenging. I have enjoyed cutting through red tape, which has opened the doors for people needing surgery and for businesses wanting to expand and employ more staff. I worked to get some compensation by way of an ex gratia payment from Cabinet for the Berryman family, after several attempts before that had proven unsuccessful, and also for a police officer devastated by post-traumatic stress disorder.

I think of the battles that my Whanganui-based executive assistant (EA), Viv Chapman, has led on my behalf with Immigration, ACC, and the Ministry of Health, and getting in up to her elbows and knees in the lives of people to help get an operation, a visa to reunite a family, to make life better for an older person, or to get a house for a young mum who has just run up against a brick wall. We really do make a difference. Viv is also just as likely to turn up with a trailer load of firewood for a client. Viv, like rust, never sleeps.

I have had a number of run-ins with my former colleagues, you will be surprised to know—

💬 Hon Members: Ha, ha!

My colleagues in the police, rather, over the years. I have had a few run-ins with you lot too, actually. It all started with the police when I went from policeman to defence counsel. I was congratulated by my new colleagues on stepping into the light; the others thought I had gone to the dark side. Anyway, I picked up my fair share of speeding tickets, but when I became a member of Parliament, with my name and face all over my car, I became a real target.

The most high-profile incident, of course, was when I apparently ran over the toes of the aptly named Ms Treadwell—she did not, did she—when I had Minister Paula Bennett in the car. Thankfully, the matter was recorded in vivid technicolour by the media, and it is the first and only time I will say: “Thank God for the media.” I was tempted to quip that she should never had got between Paula Bennett and a shoe shop, but that was inappropriate and was not true. I was more annoyed than worried about the prosecution, but to have the police running around soliciting Crown prosecutors on the Thursday and Friday before the Monday trial was a bit over the top. I am grateful for the support, though, that I had from MPs across the House and from my caucus who paid over half the bill.

I recall another case when a young mum was suffering from a condition that meant that she desperately needed gastric bypass surgery. She was 205 kilograms, 25 years old, and had been told that if she did not have surgery quickly, she would pass away. I lobbied the district health board (DHB) for surgery but it refused. I gave the matter some publicity and eventually the Korean Government stepped up and offered to fly her to Korea for the surgery that she needed. She had the surgery and returned with no ill effects, and she has now lost her weight, maintains good health, and has had two new children since the operation. I only wish the Whanganui DHB could take credit for that.

I got a scathing email from someone calling on me to stop helping out people who should be helping themselves. No doubt, this guy is built like a Norwegian racing sardine. He said the woman just needed to eat less and exercise more, so I responded with a one-word email: “Idiot”. My wife, Ella, absolutely bollocked me and said: “What the hell are you going to do if this turns up on the front page of the Dominion?”. I said: “Look, there are idiots out there and we have a duty to tell them before they start playing with matches and running with scissors.”

Finally, I want to say thanks to all those whom I have been privileged to work with in Parliament, in Government, and in caucus. I want to thank you, Mr Speaker—David—for making this role fun. I do not think anyone comes into Parliament aspiring to be the Deputy Speaker. It is generally offered as a compromise or tarted up as a compliment in lieu of the job you really wanted. But thanks for your leadership and friendship, and the leadership and friendship of your team—and friends—Roland, Lisa, and Oliver.

Thanks to Sir John Key and the Rt Hon Bill English for their leadership in standards and discipline, which has kept our party on a straight course and heading into another election in good nick—confident but not cocky. Thanks for the opportunities given and the team spirit generated from that strong leadership.

Thanks to my caucus mates, especially the “class of ’05”, for the fun we have had and the gains we have made. I am relying on classmates to delete certain video clips of certain re-enactments—Coleman. At class drinks on a Wednesday night, it will be straight home for me from now on. I especially want to single out in the House my cousins Chris Finlayson and Annette King. I was absolutely convinced I was the favourite cousin of both of them until recently, but I am prepared to concede it is a three-way tie.

To my electorate team chairs like Neil Walker, Gerard Langford, David Bennett, the late Paul Mitchell, Jan Bullen, and Katrina Warren, and all the campaigners, confidants, supporters, and donors—many, many thanks for your care, love, support, and wise counsel.

To all my staff who have become friends over many years—Viv Chapman, Sue Turahui, Marie Stowe, and Kath Weir in the electorate offices; EAs Kristy Ortel, Kate Pullar, Hannah Hammad, Carla Hemmes, Vasoula Kappatos, Orphee Mickalad, and Rob Webb; my senior private secretary, “Captain” Marie Morgan; Frances Kerei, Oliver Searle, Richard Beresford, Lo’l Vole, Casey Freeman, Rachel Sutherland, Amy Smith, Logan Morton, Michael Warren, and Rachel Crawley—it has been magic working with you. The fact that the old ministerial office still gets together and has breakfast once a month—or about once a month—is a huge compliment. Thanks so much.

To those who make this place tick in the Office of the Clerk—the Table Office, Hansard—Parliamentary Service, VIP Transport Service, and Ministerial Services, a big thanks. To security staff and Chamber security—thank you so much, especially to Jenny Ng who has been such an encouragement in respect of my painting.

I want to thank the media for generally being available. It is usually the other way around, but it is part of our job to get oxygen for the stories we want to get up—as you have been pretty obliging, I want to say thanks. There was the odd story I wish had not got up and got legs, but it was usually at times when I had opened my mouth to change feet, so no hard feelings. I think about the odd quip in select committees about policing in Wairoa; about health and safety, Mike; about depositions hearings, Simon; about the Rt Hon Winston Peters at other times. On occasions these stories have led me to apologise to the caucus for saying what I really thought. On other occasions we have ended up in a better space. I have often wondered why the media and politicians do not get on better than we do, bearing in mind we are equally hated, mistrusted, and misunderstood by the public. We hardly exist without the other and we eat each other’s lunches to survive.

I want to thank tangata whenua who have steered and guided me in many ways that have led to a far greater understanding of who I am as a Pākehā—actually, of who I am as Chester Borrows. I enjoy a warm friendship with iwi of the Taranaki and Whanganui, for which I am most grateful, and especially to Dame Tariana Turia, for her aroha, wise counsel, and the odd telling remark. From the time I turned up as a 28-year-old still-wet-behind-the-ears policeman in Pātea, until today as a 60-year-old, you have walked alongside me, you have steered me generously, and I thank you so much for that. You have changed the way I am and will be for ever.

I want to give a nod to the mayors and the councils of the electorates with whom I have always had a good working relationship. For a while the most frequently asked question I was asked as the member of Parliament for Whanganui was: “How do you get on with Michael Laws?”. I can honestly say that we got on very well and he helped me immensely. Michael tried very hard to keep the “h” out of Whanganui and when he could not, he got the “f” out of Whanganui. But I do miss the challenges and the conversations that we had and hope we can catch up soon. To the others: Mary Bourke, Ross Dunlop, Neil Volzke, Annette Main, and my old combatant Hamish McDouall—thanks for your collaboration and all that you do for our communities. To my successor, Harete Hipango, I wish you all the best in your new role as MP for Whanganui.

Kia kaha, ngā mihi nui ki a koe.

[Be strong, and huge thanks to you.]

Most importantly, I want to thank my wife, of whom I am very proud. She stood by and watched the germ of this dream through its execution and now completion. Ella has always encouraged me to have a crack at my next biggest ambition whatever it was—within the Police, farming, back to the Police, politics, the law, back to politics, and who knows what now, after completing some commissioned paintings and a few odd jobs around the house. Thanks for everything.

My kids, Abi, Katy, and Zac, and their partners, Mike, James, and Kristina, I am so grateful that you never got on the news for the wrong stuff—not like your father. In spite of all the missed events over the past 18 or so years, as I have either tried to get here or tried to stay here, we are still on good terms. I look forward to spending a lot more time with you, making up for lost opportunities.

To wider family and friends—I acknowledge that the public think that we live in a bubble without family members who get sick and need operations or die on waiting lists, and without friends who offend and go to jail or lose their jobs or lose their businesses, but we do not. I have lost my dad to cancer and I have lost my mum to dementia, and I miss them horribly. You friends have kept me real when many think that MPs have no tangible link with reality, and I apologise for neglecting you over the years and I look forward to re-acquaintance over a beer, the footy, at the beach, the pub, or at our place sometime soon.

Finally, in my maiden speech I quoted the scripture Micah 6:8, which says: “What does the Lord demand of you but that you love kindness, do justice, and walk humbly before your God.” It is for others to debate, or to pass judgment on, but I hope that I have lived up to that.

That is it. It is a privilege to give this valedictory; many do not get that opportunity. But the fish and chips are ordered and they will need to be wrapped in something. We all want to be remembered fondly, so I guess I will choose the manner to which I have become accustomed. As I said to my previous boss, Sir John Key: “I remain that loyal old Labrador you’ll never know whether to pat on the head or boot up the arse.”

Nō reira, tēnā koutou, tēnā koutou, tēnā tātou katoa.

[Applause]

Waiata

On 17 September 2005 Chris Tremain and I turned Hawke’s Bay, the best region in New Zealand, National Party blue. Hawke’s Bay has the best environment, the best food, the best wine, the best apples, the best lamb, the best golf courses, the best beaches, the best restaurants, the best cafes, the best iwi, and, of course, the best, friendliest, most laid-back people in New Zealand. The major difference between 2005 and 2017 in Hawke’s Bay is the confidence we now have in ourselves across the bay that we can now begin to realise our awesome and amazing potential.

To the families of Hawke’s Bay, thank you so much—thank you so much for the privilege of representing you for the past 12 years. The bay is absolutely humming. Confidence is up, job growth is up, investment is up—everything is heading in the right direction.

To my Tukituki team, especially Kevin Trerise and Ian Ellengold—what a successful ride we have had. To my campaign teams: Tony Mossman, Todd Hansen, Tim Morris, Nick Stewart, Laurie Harrison, Jo Harvey, Jackie Black, Aimee Stewart—thank you so much, to you, to your families, to your partners, and to everyone else who has helped us along the way. We built, in 2005, a new campaign model. We beat a Labour Minister, and we won, and we won, and we won, and we won. We are all finishing undefeated.

To the Hansen family, David in particular, thank you so much—and, of course, the entire Shoal Beach gang, who have been so supportive but kept me very, very grounded.

Since joining the Nats—the National Party—in 2000, throughout some initially very tough but, later, the best of times, you could say I have done 17 years hard labour, of which 12 years were as a National MP, with 5½ years as a Minister. My parliamentary goals were always to be true to my values of honesty, integrity, trust, fairness, and empathy; to stay positive; and to always be respectful and never get nasty and personal. None of those attributes tend to rate very highly in the annual “marks out of 10” score cards of political success, but they matter totally for me, and I think they matter a lot for most of New Zealand. For me, politics was the price to pay for a better New Zealand. That price has been pretty expensive along the way, as I increasingly struggled to fit my value set with the value sets and the values that are recognised and rewarded in politics.

Recently on Parliament TV, unfortunately, it looked like I had a comb-over. I was mortified. I checked the mirror, ran the tape again in slow motion, and convinced myself that, no, I did not have a comb-over. It was just the harsh lighting on TV, which, incidentally, also adds quite a few kilos to all of us—I know that all members will agree with me on that one.

I entered Parliament to help build a better Hawke’s Bay and a better New Zealand—a country that would have a decent chance at sharing our children’s future. We have come so far since 2005, when 30,000 friends and family were leaving New Zealand every single year. Family and friends are now coming home and staying home. That is the best measure of what a great, fantastic country New Zealand is. But there is so much yet to do to lock in our hard-won gains and to continually realise and raise expectations of what is possible in this stunningly beautiful country.

To me, the “black box” of politics was—and often is still—quite a mystery. Sometimes it does not matter how logical, rational, good work and positive outcomes might go into the “black box” of politics; sometimes quite illogical, irrational, and negative outcomes come out of that “black box”. But that is politics.

When CJ and I first flew into Wellington in 2005, we were greeted by a quite pleasant chap. He offered us a ride into Parliament. He seemed very interested in us and was asking a lot of questions. This was a very early lesson in politics. We later discovered he was from the lobby firm Saunders Unsworth, and he used that information to complete a book about new MPs, which they went on to sell for about $600 a pop.

For the past few months I have been in the “departure lounge” on the ground floor of Parliament House. The press gallery, much to our horror, recently moved in next door, to their very flash, newly refurbished offices. Press gallery photos going back over 100 years now adorn our corridor, and I could swear that some of the current press gallery members, who often advocate for renewal and rejuvenation, feature in some of those very early photos.

To my wonderful wife, Kristal, and my darling daughters, Sophie and Laura—thank you so much for allowing me to do this crazy job, which at times totally took my attention away and blinded me to the things that really matter. Kristal, you deserve such thanks, such recognition, and, no doubt, a showering of gifts. What incredible strength you have, my darling. Sophie, thank you so much for all your support. Mum and Dad are so very, very proud of you. The world is totally yours for taking—you are so very, very talented. Laura, thank you so much for all of your support. Mum and Dad are so proud of you. You have only ever known me as an MP, but, yes, I am very keen to be your helper, your driver, and your chief horse poo picker-upper as long as I am needed. I have practised a lot down here.

To my parents, Ray and Rosemary, who always believed their little boy from Taitā and Naenae and Lower Hutt could become an MP—thank you, Mum, and I have finally forgiven you for my having to wear the plastic rugby boots when times were a bit tough in our early days. To my brother, Brett and his family, Leonie, Mikayla, and Zoe; to my sister, Sharon—and happy birthday to Sharon—and her family, Alan and Claire; to Ann Benda, who looked out for me even as a little boy in Taitā; and also to Kristal’s family, Graeme, Nick, David, Stefan, Kathy, and your wonderful families—thank you so much for all of your support.

I am a total team player, always putting the team before myself, and I value immensely the teams I have built and worked alongside. Everyone who has been part of “Team Foss” over the years is very special to me, and I am indebted to you.

We depend very, very heavily on our electorate staff, and increasingly so as we become Ministers. Susanna Clark, thank you so much. I am sure you will whip Lawrence into shape as much as you have trained me. I so wish Glen was still with us, at least to keep you in line! I would even drive a Holden if it would bring him back.

Matthew Kenning, who has been by my side right from the start—thanks, mate. You are an absolute legend. And by the way, the only reason I gave you a hard time about your beard was because of my pathetic attempts to try to grow one myself. Judy Young, constantly bossing us around and telling us off—thank you so much, Judy. Faith Sarten and Susan Palmer from my original parliamentary team, Julie Hartnell, Leanne Marshall, and Jo Lyndon—thank you again so much. To Rachael Kerr, who is watching in Dubai, I think, now—congrats on your new adventure. Your wicked sense of humour was exposed to us all when Judy told us how she worked out how much her husband, Alan, weighed. To Steph McKay—we had such great fun together, and I forgive you for always being that person whom Customs, Immigration, and security always pull aside for a quick chat. Lauren Newell, you have done a great job. Back yourself, and you will do very, very well.

To my oldest and truest friends, my mates from primary school and secondary school, and, of course, the legendary Hutt Old Boys J7 Scaley Scumbag Griffith Memorial Trophy winners—sorry for losing touch. Please put a beer in the fridge. I will be coming round for a catch up. Your pride at my success and your messages when I have been under the pump have been so, so valuable to me.

To our “class of 2005”—the National Party class—we have had a lot of fun together. There were 24 of us who came in. Our whips were terrified of us. They were terrified of the trouble our idle hands could make, as we outnumbered the wise heads. They desperately searched for ways to keep us busy and out of trouble. I still remember the classic line from our whip at the time: “Talk to me if you have anything to hide, and in the meantime, read all of the briefings to the incoming Ministers and select committee reports.” Of course we did. Our Wednesday night drinks often finished some time early on Thursday morning, as we shared our wisdom, strategies, and solutions. Most political problems were solved on those nights, but were somehow forgotten the next morning.

My first ministerial role was as Minister for Racing. On day one, having just received my warrant, I proudly sat at my desk on the sixth floor of Bowen House, contemplating the racing industry. I looked out the window and, much to my amusement and surprise, there in my direct line of sight, mounted on top of the cenotaph, was the rear end of a horse.

As Minister, I represented the Government at numerous national days. For the Russian national day, my speech was written phonetically. I thought I had delivered it very well, pronouncing all the tough words as they appeared in front of me. I later learnt that I had welcomed the diplomatic corpse, instead of the diplomatic corps. Apparently, Murray McCully did not notice any difference.

As Minister of Broadcasting, I attended my first board meeting with Television New Zealand in its offices in Auckland opposite the Skycity hotel. All was going very well, as I was seriously laying out my plans and ambitions for broadcasting. Much to my surprise, a naked man appeared above the shoulder of the chairman. I am sure this naked bloke had absolutely no idea that at that moment, the sun was at just the right angle for us to see him standing starkers at his window, looking down on the board meeting of Television New Zealand. And, for the record, no, I did not recognise him.

I loved the irony of being driven down at 160 kilometres per hour on a 14-lane freeway of oil-black asphalt between Abu Dhabi and Dubai, powered by a deliciously humming V8 combustion engine, when with me were the environmental spokespeople from the Greens and the Labour Party, who were also enjoying the ride.

I leave behind many legendary exploits, I say, as a member of the Parliamentary Rugby Team. The highlight was playing, and beating, England at Twickenham. In another game I marked and heroically crash-tackled All Black legend Frank Bunce. I thought I had done very well and I was thinking that the All Black selectors would now realise the error of their ways for never ever picking me. Sadly, a photo was taken of the incident. It shows me on the ground wrapped around Frank’s ankles holding on for dear life, while he is beautifully balanced, getting a pass away, oblivious to this puffing wreck on the ground below him.

Thank you so much to my various private secretaries, whose contribution makes all the difference. You are such valuable members of our team. I heard back from a department where an official wrote: “It was an honour to work for a Minister of his integrity and determination.”

Statistics New Zealand is probably the most undervalued asset on the Crown balance sheet. It is a golden nugget, a centre of absolute global excellence of data gathering, analytics, and stewardship. I hope it can cope with the disruption that is coming. I worked very hard with Statistics New Zealand to change its culture to an open-data environment. On two separate occasions different male private secretaries took this openness a bit too far, for literally, for a few hours in the Beehive office, they decided that wearing trousers was optional.

To the staff from the various portfolios and select committees, CEOs, and chiefs, New Zealand and I owe you so much. You are the foundation for New Zealand consistently being at the top of global rankings for public service transparency, accountability, and excellence.

I have had 17 different portfolios and many select committees, often as chair or deputy. I drove the reform of the New Zealand financial markets, company, consumer credit and protection, and intellectual property law. We now have world-best commercial and consumer legislation. Watching loan sharks now being held to account in the courts is very satisfying.

The Financial Markets Conduct Act (FMC) was a massive piece of legislation—about 700 pages—to update, upgrade, and modernise the New Zealand capital markets. We introduced new ways and new pathways for capital, such as crowdfunding and peer-to-peer lending. The FMC is the platform that can enable New Zealand to realise and leverage its excellent position around the world. My reference points were always quite simple, and the context of the question I would always pose was what was in the best long-term interest for New Zealand. My mission was always to lower the financial risk premium on New Zealand, thereby lowering the cost of capital. Or, to put it simply, all of these reforms contribute to lower mortgages for us all.

The passing of the Patents Act was initially quite a struggle. Feelings got quite heated. One side was saying I was captured by evil American software companies; the other side said the world would end if I did not allow patents for software. We found a solution, and the bill passed unanimously. There was always an obvious clue to the direction I was going to take. My surname is Foss—the acronym for free open-source software—and they missed it. Turning off analog TV to make all broadcasts digital was another highlight.

I appointed many people to many different boards. I was asked why I kept rejecting the initial lists of finalists for appointees. I replied that there were hardly ever any women, Māori, Pacific Islanders, or Asians on the final lists. Very competent and successful female directors are out there just waiting to be asked. In the end I think I appointed at least 50 percent females in my time. Diversity is not a threat. It is not some trendy, silly, lefty idea. It is actually quite rational and sensible. Studies demonstrate that organisations that embrace diversity actually outperform organisations that do not. It is not a big deal; just get on with it.

Prime Minister, I wish you and our team the very, very best. Your experience, depth, intellect, and respect on the world stage serve New Zealand so well. In these globally turbulent times, stability and experience are exactly what is needed to keep our country safe, our economy growing, and our family and friends at home or returning home. Your strong family values and your faith serve New Zealand very well.

There are many issues that Parliament talks about that, much as we would like to, we simply cannot fix. An attitudinal and cultural shift is needed to stop so much of the hurt. To begin, we need more homes than houses, more dads than fathers, more mums than mothers, more nanas and grandads, and fewer caregivers. Far too many partners—far, far too many partners—are abusive. Children are getting hurt. Unconditional love is not known, not felt, not even recognised by far, far too many. That must change. That must stop. And the change must start now.

My personal highlight in Government was as Minister of Veterans’ Affairs. We owe the freedom of this House and this country to so many who were put or put themselves between us and danger. Let me share a story that started at 12.51 on 22 February 2011 in Christchurch. I was in the tragic and incredibly frightening big earthquake. I was so lucky to get out that night, back to Wellington. I was attending a business luncheon when the quake struck. I took refuge under a table with, would you believe, Michael Cullen and about 20 others. As we left the smashed-up restaurant, I turned round to Michael and said: “Mate, don’t take it personally, but I really didn’t want to spend my last few hours with you.” “To be fair,” Michael said, “the feeling’s mutual.”

When we were safely outside I called Gerry Brownlee. I said there had just been a huge earthquake in Christchurch, and asked whether there was anything I could do to help him and his family. He said: “Thanks, mate. Sorry, but I’m in rehab.” I thought: “Really?”. I hung up thinking: “Well, Gerry’s in rehab. We’ve kept that quiet.” Actually, as it turned out, Gerry was in Riyadh, Saudi Arabia, not in rehab.

There were many, many deaths in Christchurch, particularly in the CTV Building. New Zealand and Turkey forged an enduring and unique bond at Gallipoli in 1915. What is not commonly known is that a beautiful, 31 years young, Turkish woman, Didem Yaman, who was killed in the Christchurch quake was actually from Gallipoli. While I was in Gallipoli in 2015 for the centenary of Anzac Day, I visited her dad. There was a shrine to her in his home. Her passport, her tandem skydiving photos, her library cards, and photos she had sent home were all on display. With all the conflict and terror around the world at any time, at that moment nothing else mattered as I comforted that dad. He missed his daughter so very, very much. We hugged and we cried. Atatürk’s famous words that our Johnnies were now safe were now even more true—with a few changes—with this Turkish woman now resting in New Zealand.

In April 2015 I took a taonga to Gallipoli. I wanted to take something from Hawke’s Bay to the place where so many from Hawke’s Bay and the East Coast had served and now lay buried. The whānau of the late, great Tama Huata gave me a stone from the Tukituki River that was blessed with the mauri of the Tukituki and Heretaunga. In April 2015 I placed that stone on the mass grave of 632 New Zealanders buried at the top of Chunuk Bair. In August 2015 I visited again for the commemorations of Chunuk Bair. We climbed the Kiwi track and on reaching the top found the stone now well nestled into the ground. Someone had placed a pounamu on top of it. An incredible sadness came up from the ground and enveloped all of us. That very, very special moment will stay with me for ever.

I am very proud to have led the policy change to allow repatriation of New Zealand soldiers buried outside of a recognised war cemetery. I visited each soldier’s grave in Malaysia and Singapore. I paid my respects and placed a poppy on every grave. As I placed my poppy, the New Zealand uniformed defence representative accorded his compliments and saluted. I discovered that one soldier’s wedding anniversary was on the day we were at his grave in Malaysia. His wife was still alive in New Zealand. I quietly organised a full bouquet of flowers for the soldier, and placed it on his headstone.

Recently I was asked why I did not tell the press about that type of story—I have many, many similar stories. It would have been a great tear jerker of a story for TV and media, and fantastic for my political image. I replied that I just did not want the integrity of what I was doing, or the dignity of the soldiers, to be diluted in any way by a few free headlines back home. I simply did what was right and dignified. Throughout my career I would often weigh up gaining political advantage and profile versus doing what was right and good. I kept the faith that those in the end who truly matter will know of the good that I have done. Some say it is my political weakness; I say it is my personal strength.

Finally, I have recently completed the advanced management programme at the No. 1 business school in the world, INSEAD. That programme was a stunning reminder to me of what can be achieved in a positive, stimulating, and diverse environment. I am very proud to have been chosen as one of the leaders of 79 CEOs and C-suite people from 33 different countries.

I would describe my time in Parliament in one word: awesome. Of course there have been a few bumps and disruptions along the way, but they are so outweighed by the amazing opportunities and unique experiences. It has been a total privilege to be the member of Parliament for Tukituki, Hawke’s Bay. Please take care of yourselves. They say nice guys finish last in politics; on the contrary, this nice guy is finishing first. Thank you very much.

[Applause]

Tērā te haeata takiri ana mai i runga o Hikurangi!

Ara tai uru, whai uru, whai uru!

Ara whai ato, whai ato, whai ato!

Ara rā tini, ara rā tini, ara ri!

Tēnei au tetahi o ngā uri a ngā koro tūpuna, a Porourangi rāua ko tōna teina, a Tahupōtiki me te kōka tipuna, a Hamoterangi, e mihi nei. Tēnā koutou, tātou, e whakawhāitihia tātou, ākuni ka hiki Te Whare Pāremata mō tēnei tau toru. Tēnā koe, e Te Mana Whakawā, koutou ko ō kaiāwhina, kaimahi hoki e whakahaere nei i tēnei Whare rangatira, tēnei matatini o ngā rohe katoa o Aotearoa whānui. Kei te mana whenua Te Ātiawa, ngā mihi ki a koutou ngā kaitiaki o tēnei wāhi, e manaaki nei i a mātou, e whakamahia ngā tikanga mo ngā iwi katoa ēhara, mā koutou anakē, tēnā koutou. Kei ngā iwi katoa o Aotearoa, iwi taketake, iwi Tiriti, ngā hau e whā, tēnā, nau mai, piki mai, ki roto ki tēnei Whare, tō hau te marae o ngā tangata katoa, te marae mō ngā tangata katoa, hara mai, hoki mai, hara mai.

Me poroporoaki tātou ki a rātou kua mene atu ki te pō, kua hipa atu te tatau a Hine-nui-te-pō, haere koutou, haere. Ko Parekura tēnā, taku tūngāne, moe mai rā. Hoki mai ki a tātou ngā waihotanga iho o rātou mā, ngā kanohi ora, huri noa i tō tātou Whare, tēnā koutou, tēnā koutou, tēnā koutou katoa!

[The rays of the morning sun strike a new dawn upon Hikurangi!

Rise up the inland, follow it through,

fence it in, surround it,

arise the many, the innumerable, arise indeed!

Here I am, this one of the descendants of the forefathers, Porourangi and his younger sibling Tahupōtiki, and the grandmother, Hamoterangi, making this acknowledgment. Salutations to you collectively, and to us assembled here. Parliament will rise presently for this third year. Accolades to you, Mr Speaker, and your assistants and workers as well, who administer this noble House, this complex that belongs to all regions of New Zealand at large. To you the mandated authority, Te Ātiawa, guardians of this place, who take care of us here and carry out the cultural requirements on behalf of all tribes, and not just for you alone, well done. To all the tribes of New Zealand, the indigenous ones, Treaty ones, and ones from the four winds, now then come hither, climb aboard, come into this House, yours, the marae that belongs to everyone, and for all the people, welcome, welcome home, come forth.

Let us farewell those ones who have assembled in the void, who have passed through the doorway of Hine-nui-te-pō, depart you ones, farewell. That is my brother Parekura, rest there. Let us come back to us, the ones they left behind, the faces of the living throughout our House, salutations, acknowledgments, and accolades to you all!]

Today is a day of thanks. My performance as a member of Parliament and as a Minister is a matter of public record and for others to judge. I am leaving with a great sense of gratitude for the immense privilege it has been to serve, in this way, in this time, my fellow New Zealanders and our country. I am leaving satisfied with what I have been able to contribute, proud of a number of achievements, stronger and more resilient than I ever imagined I would have to be. I am leaving with huge optimism for our future and the settled conviction that I was blessed to have been born to these Pacific isles a New Zealander—well, a Ngati Porou woman New Zealander, to be absolutely accurate. I guess I was just lucky.

We, all of us, are the sons and daughters, descendants, of adventurers, navigators, visionaries, risk-takers, brave and tenacious people with imagination, grit, and hope, who crossed Te Moana-nui-a-Kiwa, whether by whale, waka, ship, or plane, to make this place, Aotearoa New Zealand, their home. Ours is a small, smart, sassy nation, and all of us have a responsibility to our forebears and to those who come after us to make it even better.

I have enjoyed the great gift of being a part of this House of Representatives, and our Government, as we have taken up that responsibility. We have served 9 years as a National-led coalition Government to build a better New Zealand than we found it, and we have done that in many practical, significant, and measurable ways. All of those will be examined and judged over the coming weeks, and I trust that New Zealanders will value the unique blend of stability and competence, fresh ideas, and the detail and experience to execute them that our team offers. I leave knowing that my place and those of my colleagues who are also leaving are filled by capable, energetic, and thoughtful people. We must constantly refresh if we are to stay relevant to New Zealand families, and I am proud that our caucus and new candidates reflect that challenge.

As our coalition separates for the battle ahead, I want to acknowledge our partners, United Future, ACT, and Te Pāti Maori, and to thank them for the support they have given me in the policy and legislative initiatives I have pursued. Ngā mihi. To my parliamentary colleagues: thank you for being a part of the active democracy that New Zealand is and must always be, and for your commitment to making this the best country that it can possibly be. Tēnā koutou.

I found it extremely difficult preparing for this valedictory statement. It is a challenge to distil to a handful all the memories, to ensure all those who should be mentioned are, and that Hansard records a fitting end to my time here. The expectations feel very high. It reminds me of a time I was standing in the wings of the year 7 to 13—that would be form 1 to form 7—leadership conference in Taranaki, and I asked my 11-year-old introducer what he thought I should say. He looked up at me hopefully and asked: “Can you be funny?”. In a nanosecond I could see he had written that possibility off and trudged on to the stage with me following in his wake—just so you know.

I am proud to be a member of the National Party, to have served in a National-led Government, and to make policy based on values of equal citizenship and equal opportunity, of individual freedom and choice, of personal accountability and responsibility, of competitive enterprise and rewards for achievement, and of limited Government and the challenge to create the conditions in our economy and our society so New Zealanders of whatever background have the opportunity to realise their potential. That is the essence of rangatiratanga, the kind I am interested in—the personal, practical, everyday kind where New Zealanders are self-determining, are in charge of their own lives, are able to make choices, and are able to live independent of the Government. I have always said I will leave the “tino” variety to iwi.

In my maiden speech almost 9 years ago I said that I wanted to contribute to developing quality citizenship for all New Zealanders, and a defining aspect of that would be the reduction of dependence on the State. I have been part of a Government that has, in response, focused on a strong and growing economy, the creation of new jobs, raising the level of qualifications and skills, finding new trade opportunities, and investing in infrastructure, science, and innovation. None of that on its own sounds that sexy or exciting, but unless we have those, we do not have the ingredients for the recipe of a sustainably better life.

The other side of that is the social well-being and welfare of people. That is what our social investment approach led by the Prime Minister is about. To achieve equality of citizenship, there must be unequal resource and support for those most vulnerable, those least able to help themselves. We know better than ever who we need to help, and how we marshal the resources of the Government to do that. In turn we have seen a reduction in benefit dependence.

The binary nature of politics is that if you have not done absolutely everything, you are accused of not having done anything. Not true. We have done much, and there is much more to do, but in doing so we have to keep in mind the hard work of New Zealanders represented in their taxes and savings. I know that when promises are made to spend more it is not the “Government’s money” as so many assert. It is the teachers’, the nurses’, the policemen’s, the builders’, the plumbers’, the electricians’, and the businesses’, small and big. It is my whānau’s, planting seedlings on eroding hillsides in drenching rain, or collecting hives in blistering heat, or fixing potholes and slips and drains as logging truck drivers loop tediously along State Highway 35. That is whose money it is; not the Government’s. That is whom we have to account to, and I have never lost sight of that as we have sought to make the best decisions with their money.

In my maiden speech I also said that I wanted to “join the crusade for literacy and numeracy and for a good-quality education for every New Zealand student.” I said that “We must adopt an uncompromising attitude that failure is not an option. All our other aspirations for economic growth, raised standards of living, and national confidence and pride will flow from getting these basics right.” And, of course, I had the tremendous opportunity as Minister of Education to carry out my 6-year crusade.

I came from a modest background. We did not own the home we grew up in. We never owned a car all the time we were growing up. With the change in our family circumstances, we were so grateful for a State house and my mother for the DPB, as it was then known. We worked before- and after-school jobs to support our family, and through it all we knew that getting a good education was the answer to a better life. Every opportunity I have had has arisen out of having that education, and hard work. That is why I have been so focused on rewiring our education system to make sure that every one of our young people gets the opportunity of the best education possible.

But before that, I held portfolios or associate responsibilities for women’s affairs, ethnic affairs, energy and resources, the community and voluntary sector, and ACC. I learnt something from all of these, but energy and resources was the portfolio I learnt the most in, in understanding what a rich set of resources we have around and in our country. It was also the portfolio that got me pretty much excommunicated from my tuakana iwi, Te Whānau-a-Apanui, for proceeding with the approval for exploration for oil and gas in the Raukūmara basin. It was somewhat awkward, given that we have a home there and we would have to drive past garages and fences saying bilingually just what an egg I was.

It was also during my stewardship that the Māui Gas pipeline went down, taking with it all the hot water in hotels and motels from Taupō North, turning off milking sheds, factories, and businesses across the same vast area. I learnt there was a protocol for the priority of who got reconnected first as the line became restored, and I was lobbied and lobbied. But in that process, I learnt that Sanitarium, Chelsea, and Fonterra were the necessary trifecta for half the country getting a good start to the day. And, of course, Orion energy made sure that it could restore power safely and methodically across Christchurch. One of the privileges one has as a Minister is to meet outstanding New Zealanders, and to see the skills, knowledge, ingenuity, and good humour they bring to their everyday work, and most particularly in a crisis.

And then, I got Education. This was my dream job and the reason I ran for Parliament. When the then Prime Minister rang to tell me, I practically perforated his ear drum I was so excited. Apparently that has not often been the response to being offered the education portfolio. In addition, I was given the Pacific Island affairs portfolio, and what an honour that was. Back when I was training to be a diplomat in our Ministry of Foreign Affairs—I know, when people think of me the first word that springs to mind is “diplomatic”. Back then in the 1980s I was arguing for a more Pacific-centred policy, for New Zealand to see itself as part of the Pacific, not just on the other side of it.

I loved my time in the portfolio, meeting Pacific people, who were working so hard, who were committed to their children doing well, who were singing in church the way we did growing up, and who were producing some of the best sports men and women and increasingly excelling across the health sector in particular. I also learnt from this, together with the ethnic affairs portfolio, how real and alive the diverse cultures are that make up our communities and the richness this adds to all our lives. I think they also have more hui and longer hui than the Māori people do—just saying.

I want to thank our former Prime Minister the Rt Hon Sir John Key for his leadership. He brought a clinical set of decision-making tools to the job, together with a wholehearted embrace of this country, a confidence about our place in the world, and an unshakeable optimism about what was possible. As a boss, he appointed you to a role, gave you general guidance, and trusted you to get on with it. That was at times both scary and exhilarating—probably for him as well as me. I want to record my thanks for his unflagging support.

It was the Prime Minister in 2013 who encouraged me to look at something big for education. Of course, it was the then Minister of Finance, the right honourable Prime Minister today, who had to be persuaded to fund it. And that, folks, is how we got what I think will truly be transformational for our education system: communities of learning or kāhui ako that keep everything that is special and different about individual schools and early learning centres but systematically joins them in a collaboration centred on the child and their 18-year learning pathway. It cost a shipload of money—$359 million, the biggest single social investment initiative we had made as a Government. It puts the emphasis on the student and their learning and achievement, and it creates 6,000 new roles for teachers and leaders. I want to put on record here my appreciation of the leadership role that the Post Primary Teachers’ Association took in this initiative. To be clear, peace did not then break out; we did continue to argue and disagree about other things.

I also want to thank the many teachers and education leaders who not only have embraced this opportunity but every day bring care and commitment, capability and competence, fun and innovation to the children and young people in their centres and classrooms. We have some of the best educators and education practices in the world, and we see the value in that in the rising achievement of our young people. We have about 2,500 schools and over 5,000 early learning centres and just under a million young New Zealanders engaged in learning. My relentless expectation as Minister of Education was that every child in every classroom every day was learning and achieving. I appropriated from a speech I heard from the then Chief Review Officer, Dr Graham Stoop, a line that said: “The core business of a school is to cause learning to happen and to know that it did”—as simple and as complicated as that.

We have an education system with an architecture that is one of the best in the world. But, like my generation and smart phones, we use only a small amount of its potential. I saw my job as rewiring the system and leveraging that architecture to make sure that it serves every Kiwi kid, to push those who are doing well to do even better, and to pick up those that the system had been leaving behind. I am glad to say that we now have the data to know that all population groups have lifted, and, in particular, at senior secondary, Māori and Pasifika students are achieving at almost twice the rate from when we came into Government in 2008. Those are real kids with real results able to make real choices about what is next for them. That is great for them and that is great for our country.

I had the privilege as Minister of Education to visit centres and schools up and down the country and to see the magic that so many of them create. Little Ōturu School in the Far North is developing natural cures for cellulitis and then selling them. Sylvia Park School is involving its whole community in art and sculpture and the living environment. A primary school in Māngere East is lifting numeracy through “Bobbie maths”, a culturally based team approach. Te Kura Māori a Rohe o Ngā Tapuwai is turning out ki-o-rahi exponents and top scholars. Tarawera High School in Kawerau, Tamatea High in Flaxmere, and Pātea High in Taranaki are achieving phenomenal results due to high-quality leadership. Tolaga Bay Area School is leading a whole-of-community inquiry based on the transit of Venus and an ongoing ecological project partnering with iwi and the wider community. Kaiti School is leading the way in teaching excellence. A little Nelson Lakes school is introducing ethics-based studies to 6, 7, and 8-year-olds. There are 23 Marlborough schools forming a community of learning. Haeata Community Campus, formed from four schools in Christchurch East, is leading a revolution in learning and lifting the community as it does so.

I have this brilliant idea—are there any other kinds—that I offer to the universe today: develop a weekly broadcast programme modelled on Country Calendar showing a different school, kura, or kāhui ako and see the stories unfold and the difference they are making—magic.

This is the fourth year that the Prime Minister’s Education Excellence Awards have been held. It is a way of showcasing and celebrating the best practice in our education system and, I hope, part of the way of changing the public conversation about education to a far more positive one. This is the second year of the Education Council, which is dedicated to growing and lifting the teaching profession. But a word of caution: no matter how much we invest to grow and develop the profession, they simply cannot and should not be expected to take up every latest demand. As I said earlier, the core business of schools is to cause learning to happen. It is not the job of schools to become the default for everything young people should learn. As Minister I was lobbied to have schools become social welfare hubs, health hubs, to provide financial literacy, sex education, and so on. Different schools can and do make decisions about how and what they operate. But schools are not our mothers and fathers; they are not our families or whānau. They cannot be everything to everybody and nor should they. Theirs is already a huge responsibility: to educate our kids.

I want to table for the House today, my calling card for this past term of Government—it is just sitting right there. It sets out the system changes that are under way. Helpfully, on the back are references to the relevant key papers. It provides a short summary and saves the House a fuller recitation. But small and colourful as this postcard is, it represents a lot of work by a lot of people.

I said that today was a day for thanks. I think we have a magnificent Public Service. I think it is the best in the world. It is probably one of the smallest, but certainly one that delivers above and beyond. Ahakoa he iti, he pounamu. Although small, it is of the quality of greenstone. Thanks to all those public servants who supported the work of my portfolios. The education portfolio is not the most popular, which I can testify to, but it is incredibly rewarding, and the work we did together has been some of the most satisfying of my professional life. I want to thank Peter Hughes, both for his leadership of the Ministry of Education and the education sector in Government, and for his full support of me and my work programme. He tells me with sincerity and good humour that he loved it—although not always in the moment. Thank you, Peter.

I want to thank Iona Holsted, first in her role as Chief Review Officer at the Education Review Office where she asked me what I was looking for and then with intelligence and conviction she over delivered—such a woman thing! Then as Secretary for Education she has gotten stuck in, bringing all her social policy background and grit to bear.

I want to thank Karen Poutasi, heading the New Zealand Qualifications Authority—do not worry, I am not going to go through every principal in the country as well—and her board in particular for the strategic vision they have been working toward. Take notice: assessment online, anyone, any time. In a truly student-centred education system, the choice of what and when a student gets assessed will have profound changes, not least of which in the manacle of timetabling that serves adults more than the students.

I just want to segue quickly to illustrate the powerful difference that the multiple vocational pathway choices young people have in our system today under our Government and how much more engaging this is for so many of them. I was visiting the Build a Bach project in New Plymouth and was talking to the students working on it. I asked one young guy what the key education thing he had learnt building the bach was. He said: “I know why I have to be able to read now” and, pointing to a stack of cans, he said: “cos that shit’s flammable, Miss. That means it burns.” But we need flexibility in timetabling to make more of this happen more easily for our students.

Peter, Iona, and Karen have been served by a leadership team of deputy secretaries, some of whom have gone on to serve elsewhere, whom I am proud to have worked with. Every one of them unstintingly worked to meet really high expectations, and I want to thank them all, and their teams. I trust I will be forgiven for naming just two people for special reasons, but who exemplify the commitment that all have shown. I want to acknowledge Katrina Casey and Coralanne Child, and their leadership in the Greater Christchurch, Selwyn, and Waimakariri education network over the past 5 years. Both had family or homes also affected by the earthquakes, and both led staff similarly affected. Day in and day out, at night, and on too many weekends they worked to restore, repair, redevelop, support, and sustain the people and the education system there, as many other public servants did also. They accompanied me when I met with every community at least once—many multiple times—to explain, to listen, to apologise, and to deliver.

I completely accept that we got some things wrong. But there was not a manual for those circumstances. We did not have 5 years to think about it. We did the best we could. Thank you both and all those who worked with you. I know that we are about halfway through the billion dollar programme to repair and rebuild and build 115 new schools, and already the network is fulfilling its promise in the continued growth in learning and achievement.

I want to thank the ministry folk who staffed my office over the years and the advisers in my office who have organised me, prepped me, planned for me and around me, who repaid the high trust I placed in them many times over. Thank you for looking out for me and after me: Kararaina Cribb, Otene Wharerau, Hiria Parata, Julie Ash, Florence Faumuinä, Charlotte Haycock, Tupe Solomon-Tanoa’i, Ana Barbono, Nick Venter, Jasmine Higginson, and Brigitte Morten, with a special thanks for keeping me up on pop culture, trending Netflix series, fashion, latest diets, and Wellington on a Plate.

[Florence Faumuinä’s surname was originally spelt incorrectly; text corrected.]

Thanks too to Geoff Short and Matt Sanders for their fountain of knowledge, incredible networks, and good advice.

I quickly turn to the National Party. I want to acknowledge former president Michelle Boag, who first recruited me in 2001 and has been a steadfast supporter of mine ever since. I want to acknowledge Patricia Morrison, who inducted me into the ways of the party and could not have been a better mentor. To Peter Goodfellow and the board, our regional chairs, and those who are sitting behind me, which seems appropriate now because I have always felt the National Party behind me, and electorate committees, members, and volunteers who are the backbone of our Party—thank you all.

I have cause to be particularly grateful to those who have voted National, because they have put me in Parliament these past three terms of Government as a list member. Despite early mornings on Police Hill beside State Highway 1, hammering up hoardings, leafleting letter boxes, and generally throwing myself at the Mana electorate, I have not been able to uncouple it, first from Luamanuvao Winnie Laban, and now Kris Faafoi—both thoroughly lovely people with a peculiar political penchant. We have, however, won the party vote twice and are working very hard to keep that arrangement this September. It is here that I pay particular thanks to the Mana electorate team. A number of you are in the galleries today and you have my thanks for your support.

My special thanks go to my dear friend and her whānau, who since we set out on this waka have been with me and mine all the way. Pania Tyson-Nathan, you are amazing. Whatever I have needed, whenever I have needed it, you have been there; Evan Nathan for your long, suffering support and assistance; Enoka Mareikura who, press-ganged into my campaigns, became the handiest thing on a nail gun and the smoothest mover in human hoardings, to now being the father of a gorgeous wee girl; and Kaylim, who has practically grown up in the National Party, featuring in our pamphlets and singing for many of our suppers.

We have had fun and challenging times, but we have been dedicated and focused. I remember once when teams of us were out leafleting I got a call from Enoka saying: “Mum’s been bitten by a dog and we’re going to A & E.” I raced over to Kenepuru to see how she was. It was pretty bad. She had been stitched and had multiple shots and was on pain medication. Once I had established, however, that she had been sorted I was able to ask: “Um, did you manage to finish that street?”. Sorry Parn!

To the three Dames and two Sirs who in different ways and at different times have offered me wisdom, encouragement, poetry, prayer, and love—thank you Dame Iritana Tawhiwhirangi, Dame Jenny Shipley, Dame Karen Sewell, and Sir Brother Patrick Lynch. The other Sir I will come back to. An excerpt from the poem “From Landfall in Unknown Seas” by Allen Curnow became a touchstone for me: “Simply by sailing in a new direction you could enlarge the world.” Thank you, Karen.

We have a brilliant caucus, with an extremely able Cabinet, led by a good man. To the Prime Minister, the Rt Hon Bill English, it has been a real honour to work with you and for you, to debate policy with you—some might say argue vociferously—to be prepped and on my mettle ready to make a Budget case when you were finance Minister. Thank you. I wish you every success in this election because apart from every other qualification you have for the job, you are the only Prime Minister who can shear a sheep, and where I come from, that counts.

To our Deputy Prime Minister, Paula Bennett, tēnā koe. You are a fierce and feisty warrior woman, whose hard work, strength, and sense of fun have been a model to us all. I salute you, and your mana wahine. Together, I think your leadership is awesome.

To the 2008ers, all 16 of us, it is been a blast. I could not have wished for a more diverse, smart, talented bunch of people to come into Parliament with.

Mr Speaker, to you and your colleagues, and all the people who make this place tick—my thanks. It is a veritable ecosystem that keeps the machinery going to ensure we have the active democracy we do. A special shout out to the VIP drivers, who we often spend more time with than our families—thank you. To the press gallery, my apologies. I just could not shake the conviction that if I just explained why, you would all say: “Oh, now we get it. OK, we won’t report it the way we were going to.” And, sorry, to all my press secretaries, I just couldn’t get the knack of the sound bite either—self-evidently.

To my family: what a roller coaster ride we have had. Thanks to all my brothers and sisters and partners for always, always being there. To my two sisters, fabulous educators themselves, who have stood silently behind me and proudly for me, Apryll and Nori, thank you. To my nieces and nephews, apart from being great campaign “volunteers”, thank you for your wraparound love of your two cousins.

To Wira, my pragmatic, phlegmatic, soldier protector. Thanks for looking after our girls, thanks for tweeting right back at them, thanks for this decade doing this stuff. And to our daughters Rakaitemania and Mihimaraea who have grown up in this funny kind of life that is politics, you make me so proud. In this time you have gone from early primary school to completing university—or within one semester of—from young girls to gorgeous young women. It has not been easy, as everyone in this House knows more than anyone, to have a parent in politics. But you have understood the call to public service, and you have been unflinching in your love and support of me. I came here wanting to make a difference for our country and for a better future. I know you have understood that and been proud of me and my work, but I also know how glad you are that I am making this valedictory statement today. I love you always and forever.

And, finally, I would like to thank the mums and dads, nannies and papas, the families, whānau, and aiga who care passionately about the well-being and education of their children and young people, and who wrote to me, met with me, attended education events, and who give up their time to coach, to support their schools, to be on the board, to encourage art and drama productions. Thank you all. Our children’s education is better for it.

I am speaking almost from where I started in this House—a full circle. I have loved my time here. I am humbled to have had the opportunity and honoured to be a participant in making our country better. And so to those who gave me advice, told me where to go, and how quickly I could get there—I am on my way. Hoi anō rā: “Ka pū te ruha, ka hao te rangatahi”—ngā manaakitanga ki a koutou katoa, kia ora tātou!

[And so “The old net is cast aside while the new one goes a-fishing”—cares upon you all, and an appreciation to us!]

Waiata

Sitting suspended from 6.43 p.m. to 7.30 p.m.