Rachel Karalus: A spirit of service

Efeso Collins’ high-profile run for the Auckland mayoralty in 2022 was the closest we’ve come to having a Pasifika mayor in Aotearoa. This year, Pacific mayoral candidates seem to be just as thin on the ground. There’s Ted Johnston, a criminal lawyer and former leader of the New Conservative Party, who’s having another run in the crowded Auckland race. Ken Laban, a well-known former rugby league player and broadcaster, who’s one of four candidates contesting the Lower Hutt mayoralty.

And there is Rachel Karalus, a lawyer whose family has deep connections in the Pacific community in Kirikiriroa (Hamilton), who spoke to Dale just before voting started.

 

Talofa, Rachel. Our whānau spent five years in the Waikato, so I’ve got a bit of a soft spot for pretty Kirikiriroa. Ngā mihi to you for your decision to stand for the mayoralty.

Thank you. It’s been a journey.

I’d like to pronounce your surname properly. Some would say Ka-ral-es, but I’m thinking it might be more Kau-ra-loose?

Here in New Zealand, we do say Ka-ra-les, but because it’s a Lithuanian name, it’s more appropriately said as Kau-ra-loose, as you’ve just said. But Ka-ra-les is acceptable and commonly used.

I don’t speak to many Lithuanian people, Rachel, so it’s lovely to talk with you. Could you tell us your full name and connections to your villages out of respect for your old people, please, Rachel?

My full name is Leaupepe Rachel Fuatino Karalus. Leaupepe is a Sāmoan matai or chiefly title, and it originates from the village of Fasito’outa on Upolu. My family also connects back to another village on Upolu, Luatuanu‘u. And then on Savai’i, our villages are Salelologa and Safotu.

My middle name, Fuatino, is a taupou name, which is effectively a high chief’s daughter.

I read that you are part of a big Catholic family, and you’re one of nine. But were you born in Sāmoa?

Yes, I was born in Sāmoa. My mother (Peta, short for Elisapeta) is Sāmoan, and she is the matriarch of her family. She was the first in our family to receive the Leaupepe title, decades ago.

She was a nurse, and she went on to lecture nursing at Wintec. Then she founded K’aute Pasifika with others, as a response to Pacific peoples having difficulty accessing health, education, and social services. That organisation is roughly a quarter of a century old now — and she ran it for 18 years.

My dad (Noel Karalus) was raised in Taranaki. He was a respiratory physician at Waikato Hospital for many years, and his roots hail back to Lithuania, Switzerland and Poland. My nana was Swiss, and she spoke Swiss German, so the heritage is close.

I’m very much the sum of many parts, like many New Zealanders, and I think that’s a real blessing. I’m the eldest of nine siblings. Six brothers and two sisters. Mum and Dad, both being from large families, and also from faithful families, have raised us in an environment where faith, service, education, and hard work are the foundations of wellbeing and prosperity.

Those core values go to who we are, and they’re the reason we’ve ended up in the different spaces that we’ve all ended up in. That’s a credit not just to Mum and Dad, but to those who went before them.

Tēnā koe. If I was at a Karalus family gathering and I shouted out: “Is Dr Karalus here?”, I suppose there’d be a whole lot of answers.

Well, it wouldn’t be me! But there might be six or seven. Five of my siblings are doctors, Dad was a doctor, and then I’ve got a brother who’s a vet. And I’ve got one who’s a physio, who just graduated as an osteopath as well.

Very health-focused. And I just really want to emphasise that this is about hard work and sacrifice. It’s not about being the smartest person — it’s about aspiration and hard work and that drive to serve.

What an awesome whānau you’ve got. Now, you’ve got a family, too?

Yes, I have three sons and one husband!

Tell me about your boys. Are they following in your footsteps, or are they drawn to medicine?

I don’t know. They’re 14, 12, and eight, so they’re young.

Drawn to PlayStation, then.

Something like that!

That big fale that I see beside the stadium in Kirikiriroa. Is that the base of K’aute Pasifika now? I was there when they were building it, and I was really intrigued by how it was constructed — there were ropes all over it and guys abseiling on the roof one time — and I was thinking: “Wow, that’s a feat of engineering!” What a huge achievement getting that built.

Twenty-five years ago, a group of Pacific communities in Kirikiriroa came together and held a fono at what was then the Wintec marae. They agreed that they would work together for the betterment and advancement of all.

Out of that came this aspiration for a Pacific community space — the fale, Pacific-focused healthcare, and a Pacific early learning centre. K’aute Pasifika was also born out of that discussion.

So, what you see there now, across from the FMG Stadium, is the K’aute Pasifika Village. At the front, you have the community space with the meeting house, much like you’d find in a village in Sāmoa. And then you have the workhouse, which used to be the Hamilton Stadium Bowling Club. That’s now been refurbished and accommodates K’aute Pasifika’s workforce in the health, social services, employment, housing and education spaces. And then behind that is a purpose-built Pacific early learning centre for up to 85 children.

It’s a real testament to those founders at the outset. They had a vision and the resilience and the tenacity to just relentlessly pursue something that they understood would become the platform from which the wellbeing of their peoples could be supported.

And I think it’s really amazing and a wonderful thing that Kirikiriroa, the council, and the broader community supported that.

Fale ataahua! It must have been a wonderful day for you and your whānau. I know it’s for the wider community, but I get the feeling that your whānau were very much involved in working towards it. What were your emotions or feelings on the day of its opening?

It really wasn’t about our family. It was about the community. You could see the sheer unbridled joy of young children, teenagers, and the parents and grandparents. The opportunity to do their cultural dances, to have their fine mats, to have their cultural treasures out on display — you can’t buy that.

And then you think about the generational impact they will have. The ability to connect to your identity is such an important part of wellbeing, and to have that in the heart of Kirikiriroa is pretty magical.

I was the CEO of K’aute Pasifika at the time. I took over after Mum, and I was in that role for nearly eight years. Of course, that was after a very robust recruitment process by an independent agency.

I should say too, Dale, that we had some miracles along the way — things that were entirely outside of the control of anyone involved — and I have to credit God for those.

Well, it reinforces your faith. And, you know, the fine mats need a fine fale to really shine. Being the tuakana in the whānau is a pretty interesting role. It’s not something you choose for yourself, but you assume a sort of responsibility towards your siblings. How does that sit with you, being the oldest of a large brood of nine?

My personal view, and this is the same in the organisation, is that everybody is a leader if you choose to be.

But as the eldest in our family, I think there are cultural expectations that are unique to being Sāmoan, that are different to the expectations that sit in my father’s culture. But I think it’s unavoidable. Your destiny is unavoidable. Your purpose is unavoidable. And I’ve learned that from watching my mother.

Where did you go to school, Rachel?

I went to Sacred Heart Girls’ College, which is a Catholic school, and then Melville High School. And then I got a scholarship to attend St Paul’s Collegiate for a year.

And if you know Kirikiriroa at all, you’ll understand how each of those schools differs. I had the opportunity to see and move in spaces with those who have very little, those who have some, and those who have much.

And what I learned is that people are largely the same. We all want the same fundamental things. We want our children to be cared for. We want the best for our children. We want to be loved. And we want the best for our parents as they age. It doesn’t matter what your socioeconomic status is — we have these things in common.

I think if we can embrace our differences and build on these commonalities, we would be stronger and better for it.

Was there much criss-crossing with te ao Māori through your schooling, Rachel?

At primary school, I think we were the only family with any Pacific heritage, and I remember there was one family, a large family as well, with Māori heritage. I don’t recall any te ao Māori in our education then, but I certainly do at St Paul’s Collegiate. I had an amazing teacher, Rodney Hamel, and he taught us about the New Zealand wars in a way that I believe sat outside the traditional curriculum.

I’m assuming you studied law at Waikato? There’s quite a focus at law school now on New Zealand’s history and how the legal system and Treaty issues are intertwined. How would you describe some of what you were exposed to during that university stage?

I studied law at the University of Otago, and in my first or second year, I did the Māori land law paper taught by Professor Jacinta Ruru.

That was my first real insight into the use of legislation to confiscate land, and the sheer scale of it. Then, when I first started practising law, I happened to take a job at a firm in Hamilton where they’d had a partner who had a Māori land law practice. He’d passed away, and so I took over some of his work. And I got a firsthand insight into the disconnect between a Pālagi construct and the tangata whenua and mana whenua relationship with land.

So you had a number of years of law, but what caused you to pivot and move across into this Pasifika space?

I’m a pragmatist, but I was also a bit of an idealist when I got into law. I came to understand quite quickly that there’s a very big difference between a legal outcome and a just outcome. And I wanted to move into a space where there was stronger alignment with my values.

That’s the fundamental reason that I made the shift from law into the for-purpose space. That’s not a reflection on the legal profession itself. I acquired some awesome skills that were incredibly useful for the next phase of my journey, which was, of course, K’aute Pasifika.

And before I took that step, I’d spent over a decade representing city councils at the height of the leaky building crisis, so I got a very good understanding of the complex environment within which councils operate.

I never envisaged myself stepping into the Pacific space, but I have no regrets about that step. I can hand on heart say that it was very purpose-filled and a satisfying environment to work within, and I received more in return than what I gave.

It positions you well for governance roles, which allow you to contribute to many different kaupapa simultaneously. When I look at some of the organisations that you’ve been involved with, there does appear to be a thread — LifeLine, Child Matters, Korowai Taangata o Kirikiriroa, Habitat for Humanity.

I guess it takes us back into that expectation of service that your folks had for you and you perhaps have for yourself. How important is it to be involved in these types of organisations to lend a steady hand?

Oh, it’s extremely important. As soon as I started my first job, I sought out a governance role, and I was fortunate to be able to join Lifeline Waikato, which then translated into a Lifeline New Zealand governance position.

It was about service. It was about giving back while I was also practising law, and I consciously chose roles where there was a resonance. Child protection is definitely something that’s dear to my heart, and similarly, homelessness.

I believe we need to utilise our talents for the betterment of others. Otherwise, what’s the point of life?

Good on you, Rachel. What about local policy? What is it you’d like to do, and why do you think you’re the right person to do it?

I think I’m well-positioned because I do bring a different set of skills. I’m not part of a council now, which means I haven’t been institutionalised. I am independent. I don’t have ties to any political parties, which means that my only priority is Hamilton. I believe in Hamilton, I believe in the people of Hamilton, and I believe that, together, we can build a city that everyone enjoys living in.

I think there’s a need for the council to be really clear across every level that there must be a spirit of service — that council is there to serve the ratepayers and the residents of Hamilton. And in doing so, there should be thoughtful stewardship of every ratepayer dollar. Each decision maker with a budget should be looking at each dollar as though it were their own hard-earned dollar.

I have three priorities, which are strengthening the foundation and unlocking growth, advancing through technology and embracing innovation, and planning boldly for generations we’ll never meet.

And if we focus on those, we’ll have a real shot at transforming Hamilton from the good city that it is right now to the great city that it can be.

Tēnā koe. You’re in the heart of the Kīngitanga, so it’s a culturally focused role too. We have to tend to the economics, but as the mayor of the city of Hamilton, even the name comes under pressure from a Māori perspective, which you’ll be aware of. There’s going to have to be some delicate considerations or maybe even front and centre considerations of a cultural nature. It can be pretty fierce in the middle there, Rachel Karalus. Are you geared up for that as well, and do you think that you’ve created some allies in the Māori world that can awhi you in your run for the mayoralty?

We had to work very closely with mana whenua to be able to build the K’aute Pasifika Village on the west town green belt in the heart of Kirikiriroa. And we’ve worked hard to build a relationship with the Kīngitanga. I also had the opportunity, especially during Covid, to build relationships with iwi leadership and kaupapa Māori providers. So I have a platform to continue to build on these relationships.

Tēnā koe. I don’t separate Pasifika and Māori, bearing in mind we’re all of Pasifika origins. I’m just saying there are a lot of pressures from mana whenua and from Māori to be factored into the decision-making processes in all communities. It can be testy ground politically, and I wonder if you think those cultural challenges can be overcome if we can get some community cohesion and consensus as communities.

Absolutely. I fully believe the challenges are surmountable with community cohesion.

The first challenge that we must overcome is the binding referendum on the Māori wards. I think that this is at risk. I’m supportive of Māori wards and from my perspective, this is about democracy. This isn’t about privilege. Everybody knows that Māori have been underrepresented in many institutions over a long period of time, and this is one way that we can honour the Treaty.

But at a practical level, I believe that it’s an incredibly beneficial voice to have at the table, because mana whenua genuinely believe in putting the wellbeing of people before money. They don’t plan according to political cycles, and they’re prepared to plan longer-term and with a view to respecting our limited natural resources and the environment. That voice is a must in decision-making.

I’m pleased you touched on that too, because companies don’t look 500 years ahead, but if we hope to safeguard the whenua and the water resources for our mokopuna and beyond, we really do need to consider the long-term implications. Imagine at the council table, saying: “Righto, guys, we’re here to discuss our 500-year strategic plan.”

Is there something else you’d like to say, Rachel?

Yes. Roughly 85 percent of the eligible population of Kirikiriroa are enrolled to vote. Yet, at the last election, less than 30 percent voted.

And what I know from talking to people is that they either don’t know what council does, or they don’t trust politicians. I think people are tired of empty political promises, and they’re tired of politicians around election time saying that they stand for something that they haven’t stood for the whole time that they’ve been in term.

There needs to be some accountability and transparency mechanisms, not just for the operations of the council, but also for governance. And I’m really keen to hear from the community on what that might look like. You don’t want to measure what’s not meaningful to people, but you do want people to be able to see that the people they’ve elected are doing the things that they said they were going to do.

I think that’s right on the money. Which brings us to the other side of you, Rachel. I know you’ve got three lads, that probably keeps you flat-out. But we need to draw strength for the work that we do. Is there something from left field that keeps you grounded? Do you ride motorbikes or play rock and roll? What do you do to keep fresh, Rachel?

No. I’m pretty dull in that regard, Dale. I took up knitting a few months ago, and that’s been quite calming and soothing. But I actually really draw strength from my faith. That’s it.

Well, let your faith be your guide, Rachel. And I hope you’re able to knit together the votes that you need to get to get yourself through on the mayoralty run. Mauri ora kia koe tuahine.

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

Voting for the local body elections is now underway and will be open until October 11, 2025.

E-Tangata, 2025