Then last year, she was diagnosed with breast cancer and forced to take medical leave (as did Marama Davidson, the Green Party co-leader, a few months before her). She returned to work a few months ago, and here she is talking with Dale about what it means to advocate for South Auckland — and her continuing recovery from breast cancer.

 

Tēnā koe, Lydia. I always start with names because they can be revealing, as our old people gift us names that we carry. Can you tell us about your names, please?

Well, I’ve been practising my pepeha that I learned a few years ago. So I’m just going to quickly say it!

Kia ora koutou katoa. Ko tōku ingoa Lemauga Lydia Sosene. Ko te iwi Ngāti Hāmoa. Ko te hapū Anoama’a Falefā, Falevao. Ko te maunga e te Falevao e Hāmoa. Ko te awa e Falevao Falls e Hāmoa. Ko te pāpā Ofisa Nuualitia. Ko te māmā Litia Nuualitia. Ko rohe, ngā iwi ngā hau Māngere. Ngā mihi nui.

Tēnā koe. Is Lemauga a chiefly title afforded you for your wonderful mahi over the years?

Yes. In my ‘āiga in Sāmoa, we have a number of roles that both women and men play in family set-ups. In every village, very similar to iwi and hapū, you’d have orators, and you’d have those who make the decisions or head the clans. If you have a title, you’re given the right to be an orator for your whānau. The role also comes with the obligation to care for your whānau, for your ‘āiga. You have a responsibility to be their advocate.

More than a decade ago, I was given this responsibility, which is the title of Lemauga, which is the name of my grandfather’s maunga at the back of his whare in Sāmoa.

Lydia comes from my mum, Litia. She was a nurse when she arrived in New Zealand in the early 1950s. I’m named after her.

Tell us about your mum and dad and their journey across here. What drew them here?

From the late 1940s, there were many Sāmoans migrating offshore for jobs to help their families back in Sāmoa. A lot of industries in Aotearoa didn’t have enough workers, so the immigration settings were quite relaxed to encourage Pacific people to come here. You didn’t have to go through what we have to go through today. You were just taken in because you became part of the workforce. You went straight onto the factory floor.

My father came out first, and his younger brother joined him not long after. They stayed in a boarding house in Parnell when they first got here, and they both found employment quickly, at the pulp and paper mill in Tokoroa. My father met my mother soon after.

The church played a strong role in your parents’ lives? I see your dad was the founding minister at the EFKS church in Ōtara.

By the time I was born in Ōtara, my parents were already building the church and fundraising for that. My father had some education at the theological college in Sāmoa, so he was able to assist many of his cousins and people who only had broken English. So he did a lot of interpreting right from the get-go.

My mother was a nurse, and although she lived in this country for 50-plus years, she still had broken English right up until she passed.

I’ve always marvelled at the ability of Pasifika people to fundraise when they have a common goal, such as the construction of a church. Those projects come with big costs, and require big fundraising and a big commitment to make them a reality. What does that say about Pasifika peoples?

For Sāmoans, it’s God first. So, irrespective of your faith leanings, irrespective of your family background, whether you’re quite well-off or whether, in Sāmoan terms, you’re a villager, it doesn’t matter. What matters most is their faith. God is first, then family, and then everything else comes after that.

So, in Sāmoa, the church is very strong. If you’ve ever been to Sāmoa, you know that, on Sundays, nothing happens. You’re expected to wake up, have breakfast, go to church, come back, have lunch, go to sleep, and then wake up and go to church again. Sunday is also the day when families come together. It’s a relaxing day, a rest day for everyone.

Where do you come in the line-up of siblings?

I was the last one to arrive. I have three brothers, and my parents also adopted our oldest cousin and one sister. Although I was born in Ōtara, the family shifted to Henderson for a couple of years. Then my father accepted the EFKS church’s invitation to be the founding minister in Papatoetoe. We were there until my dad retired.

Did you guys speak Sāmoan at home?

We never spoke English at home. We had to speak only Sāmoan. My mother was very strict about that. As a faletua, a minister’s wife, she enforced those standards.

Even when we brought friends home, when we walked through the door, it was “Talofa,” and then we were expected to go straight to the kitchen table, sit down and have a meal or something. And then my mother would grill them. “What is your name?” “Why are you here?”

She ran our home with an iron fist. Even though my father was a reverend, my mother ran the household and pretty much her kids and our church community.

So many Pacific people came out in similar circumstances, really just wanting to get a better shot for the kids, and it’s worked out wonderfully for many. People like you have gone on to have successful lives and careers. But back in the day, there was something of an “us” and “them” between Māori and Pasifika. There was a barrier to us recognising our collective and shared whakapapa, DNA, and linguistics that create us together as Pasifika peoples. That standoff between Māori and Pasifika kaupapa has eased over the years, don’t you think?

Yes, I would agree. But the funny thing was, many of my uncles and cousins ended up marrying Māori women. When they had children, those children naturally shared both kaupapa.

It’s happened in my own family. Both my boys are with wāhine toa. They are teaching our moko both Sāmoan and te reo Māori. They tell me that the meanings of words are so similar.

But you’re right, back in the day, I think our relationship reflected society in general, which didn’t embrace diversity and set us up against each other.

In this country, we’re governed by a system imposed upon us, rather than of our making, where our cultural norms and nuances are embedded in the democratic process. How can we embed more Pasifika, including Māori, concepts into our democratic processes of government?

Part of the problem is the individuals who are in positions of power. As a politician, I feel I have a duty to help educate people about Te Tiriti o Waitangi, because I feel very strongly about recognising the people of the land, the tangata whenua.

In the big whare, we have to understand that Aotearoa New Zealand is becoming browner. Our young ones are fruit salads, whether people like it or not. When I look at my own whānau, we have a number of cultures, and that’s our family.

But in a place like parliament, it can be very challenging because you’re dealing with political parties with different caucuses, and every caucus has their own rule book, and it’s quite different.

As a politician, I have a job to do to represent the people in my community. And one thing I do know is that it’s a very diverse community. They may have differing views, but I have to stand up for all my people.

When you think of your public roles, both on local community boards and now as an MP, who would you describe as people that you’ve been influenced by?

The people who influenced my thinking and values, even though they’re no longer with us, are my parents. They were people who served the community. They were very strong in their faith. And sometimes when things didn’t go my way, or their way, they would teach us the values of the good book and tell us that things happen for a reason.

Sometimes I would need to accept change, even though I didn’t like it. They taught us to think: “Well, something better will come along, and God’s timing is always perfect.” Those values have carried me through life.

Did you go to university, Lemauga? What led you into politics?

In the late ‘80s, I started working at Inland Revenue after living and working in Melbourne. It suited me to remain in the public service as a young mother. I was working in a community service portfolio role for Inland Revenue, liaising with MPs’ offices, and that led to me starting a new role with parliamentary services.

Then, I decided to put my name forward for the newly amalgamated Auckland Council local body elections. I was successful in being selected for the local Labour team, and I was elected. That was in 2010.

In 2017, I started part-time studies at the Auckland University business school to complete a diploma in business. I thought it was a great time for me to step back and re-educate myself because I was keen to go into business. I’m very interested in economics and the economy, but I wanted to do some formal training.

But I haven’t finished. I only managed to do a diploma. And then when I got the call-up for the Māngere seat, I was like: “Okay, these opportunities may come around only once.”

So, in 2022, I finished with Auckland Council as the elected chair of the Māngere-Ōtāhuhu Local Board, and my part-time role as a parliamentary staffer. And the following week, in May 2022, I was sworn into parliament as an MP.

The Super City’s only been going 15 years, but right from the get-go, you were on the Māngere-Ōtāhuhu local board, eventually chairing between 2013 and 2022. What were some of your standout achievements or things you take pride in during that period?

One of the highlights for me is really fighting hard for budgets. I don’t look at Māngere-Ōtāhuhu the way the media describes it. I look at Māngere-Ōtāhuhu as a very young area with lots of youth, with lots of family, and very diverse. To me, that’s a real blessing.

Then I looked at households. I looked at incomes. I looked at poverty. I looked at dilapidated council buildings and services, and I began to really unpeel the onion. I asked myself: “Why do people in Auckland Council think of Māngere the way they do?”

So I questioned pretty much every decision that was being made about us and for us, but which didn’t include our voices in that kōrero. Auckland Council has a huge focus on the economy, on businesses, on things like buildings and services, and so I would always ask: “Why are you making that decision for Māngere? How come Māngere doesn’t get a bigger piece of the pie?”

I know you chaired the board when we got our pool for Ōtāhuhu. I’d been a resident here for 23 years. Our tamariki marched from the monument to the site when John Banks, as mayor, was taking it off the 10-year plan. Now it’s such a strong feature of the local community, and you were steering the ship on that board at that time. That’s an example of advocacy at work.

I learned to fight for the ratepayer dollar. I would say: “You need to take more off that side over there (Remuera and the North Shore), and bring it over to the South Auckland side of the ledger.” I would really challenge and advocate for our community, and I’d say: “What’s good for over there — whether it’s services in a nice building or a nice library or better roads, better infrastructure locally — you need to do that for our side.”

And I absolutely persisted. I’d keep saying: “You need to help me understand why more of that ratepayer dollar goes on people who can already afford those services. What about our people here?”

I believe in equality. I believe in our people having good homes, good services, nice libraries, nice roads, and supporting local businesses. I believe in all of that stuff.

And the other thing I would always throw at them is: “You people always come to our whenua because of the airport, so we’re gonna start charging you people tolls because you’re ruining our roads.”

You mentioned the Ōtāhuhu pool, Toia Recreational Centre Ōtāhuhu, and that was an important asset for our local community. To get the funding behind it was one thing, but then we had to get the design right. I would constantly argue: “You need to ask the people who are living in that community what they want. Don’t bring your Pālagi-fied stuff over here, because we have diversity, we have our Māori people, our Pacific people, our ethnic folk.”

Every time I do a manu into the bombing pool, I’ll think of you, Lemauga!

Yes, please. That would be great!

The reality of life is exposed to us when people in high-profile positions, yourself included, as well as Marama Davidson of late, are touched by cancer. You weathered the storm, but shared your journey publicly, as Marama did. Talk to us about being in public office but dealing with the harsh realities of health, and particularly cancer journeys, when we don’t know how they’re going to end.

I was in shock when I got the diagnosis, and because of the way it was delivered to me. It was really blunt. It was: “You’ve got this — and now you need to do this.” I looked at my husband, and my husband looked at me, because we had just come back from seeing our moko overseas, and all of the emotions came up. “Oh my gosh, what am I going to do?”

You actually require some time to just sit down and take in a medical diagnosis like that. And then, rather than beat yourself up, you need to take a deep breath and listen to what the medical team advise you. In my journey, I found it helpful to ask a lot of questions and to write everything down. I needed to understand the diagnosis. I wanted definitions. And when the surgeons referred to papers in medical journals, I would say: “Can I have a copy of that?”

I went through surgery, and it was during the recovery period that I started thinking: “Am I going to be in a position where I can still do my job and represent the community, because if I can’t, then I need to make a decision.”

Because I love public service, and because I like being a strong advocate, I thought the best thing I could do with what I’d just been through for several months was to help educate the wāhine toa around me. And that’s what I decided to do.

Yes, you have to look after yourself. You’re going through a journey, and it’s brutal. But then you think: “This is what it must have been like in World War One and World War Two as a soldier. So pick up your lips and pick up your eyes, and just carry on.”

It’s been a pleasure talking with you, Lemauga, and thank you for your service. Just as an aside, I called in on Willie Jackson today. He’s got his electoral office at Ngā Whare Waatea. He sends his regards. How do you rate him as a politician?

We need strong men like Matua Willie in our party, because there are times in opposition when you’re sitting there listening to all the kōrero from the other side, and you’re thinking: “My goodness, what planet are we on?”

One thing I really appreciate with Matua Willie is he just stands up and yells back at them, and tells it as it is. He’s been kicked out by the Speaker, but that’s all good. He takes it in good heart. He’s a really strong advocate. And the noise and the rubbish and the changes that are coming in, you know, we have to stand up and fight back for our communities. So I really appreciate his leadership.

What about the future? What’s ahead for you? Have you got any plans or you just gonna roll with the punches, Lemauga?

Yes. I think roll with the punches, because now is the time to all get out and unite and work hard. I’ve still got a lot in me where I have to stand up and fight for our people, because there are so many who are voiceless, especially our elderly and our disabled, and if we don’t fight for them, who will?

So, yep, roll with the punches, see where it all goes.

Tēnā koe. And finally, I always ask this question at the end because sometimes we talk to people about their work, but not about what they love. And so I wonder if you’ve got something that recharges you that’s far removed from politics.

Well, health has become the number one priority now. And we’re really lucky in parliament because we have a pool, we have a gym, we have trees around us. So it’s my daily routine now to go for a walk, breathe some fresh air, know that life will get better. Sometimes you have to walk out of that building to remember that, yep, I’m in the right place at the right time.

But the other thing is my two little moko. They’ve given me new life. That’s my happy place, around family and friends. I have found that after going into the big whare, you just want simple things such as time with your whānau, the ones that you love. That is the reward at the end of every week that I look forward to.

(This interview has been edited for length and clarity.)

E-Tangata, 2025