An account of the terrible problem of suicide in a small community in New Zealand

1. Ringed by golden beaches and temperate Pacific seas, Kaitaia is
unconscionably pretty, dotted with
flaming red pohutukawa trees and blessed by year-round blue skies.
The town of 5,000 people on the northern tip of New Zealandʼs
North Island should be known as a
holiday resort, but instead it has been dubbed the murder capital of
New Zealand after four homicides
and six suicides in a single year.
“It is like the town has become haunted,” says Nina Griffiths, 18,
who lost two friends to suicide this year.
“People say you have to get out of Kaitaia, you have to get out of
this shithole. There is a sense of
hopelessness if you stay here ... we donʼt feel like our lives are
valued enough to put effort in to save
them, and make sure this never happens again.”
Kaitaia is the last major stop on state highway one in the far north;
300km from Auckland or a $150 plane
ticket out.
Half the town earn less than NZ$20,000 a year, and 60% are Maori,
with unemployment at more than
double the national average.
While it is pretty, the town is also remote, poor and increasingly
stigmatised as the place dreams go to
die.
“We are a community that feels doomed,” said He Korowai trust
chief executive Ricky Houghton in
October, still reeling from the suicide of his nephew, and four
other young men aged under 25.
October, still reeling from the suicide of his nephew, and four
other young men aged under 25.
“If these deaths happened anywhere else in New Zealand it would
be front-page news - a crisis. But
because itʼs Kaitaia weʼre forgotten, no one cares what happens to
us. People think there is no future for
the people here.”

2. Senior leaders openly acknowledge that Kaitaia has a range of
entrenched and long-standing social
problems, including a lack of viable employment, isolation and
strong gang and drug links.
But they also say 2016ʼs glut of deaths may finally prove a turning
point for their “forgotten” town – that
the deaths have spurred a formerly broken community to unite and
stick up for itself in a way they
havenʼt seen in decades.
Earlier this year, Kaitaia fire chief Colin Kitchen considered
quitting his job after attending two hangings
and a stabbing homicide in a 24-hour-period.
“Our town has been knocked for sure, weʼre still in shock. When it
happens once or twice, well sadly that
is expected, but when it keeps happening you think ‘what the hell
is going on here?ʼ I did feel at one
point that I would have to walk away from it, that Iʼd had enough,”
says Kitchen, who has been with the
fire brigade for more than four decades.
He Korowai trust chief executive Houghton in Kaitaia, Northland,
New Zealand. Photograph: Jessie Casson for the Guardian
“But if we stepped away from it, who would look after our
community, and what kind of message would
that send, if the leaders desert? I think this year has been so bad itʼs
been a wake-up call, and I am
finally starting to see things turn around. The town is getting
stronger and regrouping.”
By August six people killed by their own hand had passed through
the Kaitaia morgue. With some of the
strictest guidelines in the world for the media reporting on suicides,
the slew of “sudden deaths” fuelled
Kaitaiaʼs reputation as the murder capital of New Zealand, and
rumours in town twisted and warped, with
some hearing as many as 15 people had died.
Griffiths was feeling sick to the guts. Traumatised by the futility of

3. her friendsʼ lives so bluntly ended, but
also frustrated by the communityʼs initial response – which she
describes as muted and repressed, with
people referring to the deaths as “passings” instead of suicides and
murders.
Griffiths felt Kaitaia – and young people especially – had two
options: implode, or change, fast.
“This town is so small everyone was affected by the deaths,
literally everyone,” says Griffiths, who has
received a NZ$10,000 AMP scholarship to set up a youth space in
town, intended as a retreat for
vulnerable kids.
“People are always asking me when we go away for sports events
and stuff – ‘oh so youʼre from the
murder capital.ʼ And that doesnʼt help us feel better about
ourselves, or our town. It makes us feel really
embarrassed of where we live and this past year there has not been
a lot of pride around here.”
In July Griffiths contacted comedienne and mental health advocate
Mike King, begging him to travel
north and facilitate a straight-up conversation about suicide in
Kaitaia.
Suicide professionals tried to dissuade her, as they had attempted
to dissuade King when he visited in
2013, saying discussing the deaths in a public forum could inspire
copycats, or “stir up emotions”.
But Griffiths ignored their warnings and went ahead with the
meeting – attended by hundreds – all
desperately seeking guidance from King on how to stem the flow
of young lives.
King and Griffiths say most of the suicide prevention teams in
Kaitaia refused to attend.
“I know for a fact that Nina got a lot of flak for organizing the
meetings, and told she was a silly little girl
who didnʼt know what she was doing,” says King.

4. “But she was absolutely right, her approach is backed up by the
latest research, that talking about
suicide is what communities need to do. There are a lot of young
people up there who feel like no one
cares about them, and no one loves them, they feel hopeless. Until
that is addressed and brought into
the light, the stats will continue to rise.”
--
www. TheGuardian.