Eyewitness

Is this what it's like to die? This was one of the thoughts drifting through sixteen year old Barry Watkins mind as he clung on to the edge of his brand new surfboard. In a story of terror and survival Barry recalls what it was like to come face-to-face with a great white - the fifth shark attack in Dunedin history.Out in the ocean, a dark shadow lurks beneath the surface unbeknownst to the person swimming above. And what that individual doesn't know is that he's about to be caught in the teeth of an unwieldy, man-eating shark. "The first thing I had to do was find out where the shark was...I was absolutely petrified." The thought of coming face-to-face with a Great White is terrifying. And anyone who has ever seen Steven Spielberg's 1975 thriller, Jaws, will probably agree. The film (featuring a mechanical shark) terrified viewers on its release, and its impact made people afraid to go into the water.But five years before that movie, Bryan Watkins would find himself staring into the eyes of this deadly ocean predator. There had been five shark attacks in Dunedin between 1964 and 1971. Three had been killed, with one of the bodies never to be found again. And Bryan Watkins was one of only two survivors. Not much was known about the habits of sharks around this time and people suspected they preferred warmer water. But if you were to encounter one, defending yourself was simple."Punch it in the nose, they don't like it," Watkins says of the advice on offer."But if anyone can put that into practice while they're being attacked, I would certainly congratulate them." It was a Tuesday morning on the 30th March, 1971 when Watkins, then 16-years-old, headed out to St Clair Beach. He was skipping school with a couple of friends. An avid surfer he was keen to try out a new board. "It was in a time when surfing was going through what was called the short board revolution. We were going away from surfboards that were in the 8-9 foot range and boards were getting shorter and shorter."Watkins' brand new board was only 6-feet-long, and he says they were considered 'the perfect new design.' There are 30 beaches within a half-hour drive from the centre of Dunedin, which is known for great surfing with its wide open swells from the South West to the North East, ranging from up to six metres or more during winter. And St Clair Beach was no exception. Despite local residents' awareness of the previous shark attacks, Watkins wasn't deterred from getting in the ocean. …Go to this episode on rnz.co.nz for more details

Rugby legend Sir Bryan Williams made All Blacks rugby history as the first player of Pasifika blood to play in Apartheid-era South Africa in the early 1970s. He talks to Sonia Yee about the cultural obstacles and challenges heading into the three-month tour, what it meant for Black South Africans and why he's advocating for Pasifika players today through Moana Pasifika.Today, Pasifika players are commonplace in the All Blacks, and rugby in general. But that hasn't always been the case. During Sir Bryan Williams' time there were cultural barriers. ​Listen to the podcast to find out what it took for Sir Bryan Williams to alter rugby historyThe year was 1970 when a shy, 19-year-old Bryan Williams was selected to play for The All Blacks. It was an exciting and daunting time."I was selected alongside many of my heroes - Colin Meads, Brian Lochore, Malcolm Dick, and a whole array of top players who I'd spent the 1960s absolutely idolising, and then suddenly I was selected alongside them, so I was terrified," Williams recalls."Coming into the All Blacks, you're always under pressure. There's the expectation that you live up to what the jersey stands for."Williams was only just getting used to the spotlight in his rookie year, when he was selected for a three-month tour to play against the Springboks in apartheid-era South Africa.While Williams was not the first Pasifika player to join the All Blacks - Walter Batty, and brothers Frank and Dave Solomon came well before him - Williams would be the first to travel there, but not without some anxiety leading up to the tour.The system of apartheid, which translates as 'apartness' in Afrikaans was built on a legislation of separatism and racial segregation under a white-led National Government.Formally coming into law in 1950, apartheid kept those of black and coloured skin completely separate from whites in the public domain. Designated areas were set up on the basis of skin colour.'Whites Only' signs would be seen hanging in shop windows, on park benches, at entrance ways to cafes and restaurants, and even access ways to beaches.Interracial marriages were banned and all South Africans were classified into four groups - black, coloured (mixed race), white, and later, Asian (for Pakistanis and Indians).Previously, in 1960 Māori All Blacks were banned from touring to South Africa and New Zealanders were signing petitions opposing the exclusion and the tour.Ten years later, Williams and the three Māori players - Sid Going, Buff Milner and Blair Furlong - would be admitted under a special pass, giving them what was referred to as 'honorary white status.'…Go to this episode on rnz.co.nz for more details

Not much is known of the suburban zoo that was once situated in Christchurch's North Beach. But those who visited recall eyeing up a mysterious crocodile in a small glass enclosure. In this episode of Eyewitness, Sonia Yee uncovers some myths, and finds out why it has left many with a mix of wonder and bewilderment.Roaring sounds of Suzy the lion would wake up local residents in an otherwise quiet suburb in Christchurch. The mini zoo known as North Beach Zoo was situated at 153 Beach Road. A former aquarium it was re-imagined by Bill Grey who bought it in the late 50s. ​Listen to the podcast to hear more of Miles Dalton's adventures with the animals and why the zoo leaves behind mixed emotions. "It had a very special place in my heart," says Wellington-based Aaron Alexander. Alexander visited the mini zoo many times with his grandmother who lived in the area. And to this day, the crocodile in a glass case near the entrance, remains firmly in his memory. "As a little kid I wouldn't want to get any closer...it was a beautiful mix of terror and excitement," he says. The zoo was established before Orana Wildlife Park, which didn't open its doors until the mid-seventies. So for many visitors, the mini zoo provided an opportunity to see large, wild animals up close and personal. But what also made this zoo peculiar is that it was small - a stone's throw from the beach and across the road from a golf course, it was also surrounded by residential properties. "It wasn't really aimed as a big money making venture," says Miles Dalton who worked there part-time as a student. Dalton says the entrance fee for visitors was around $3 dollars for adults, and half that again, for kids. During the summer months it was bustling with families and tourists, and visitors could buy cups of food to feed to the smaller animals. Although it seemed like an odd location for a zoo, it was established before the area became residential. "There was a point where Bill used to take the lion for walks on the beach," says Dalton. "But then it got too populated, so he couldn't do that." Dalton refers to owner Bill Grey as a 'hard worker and a lovely man who really cared for the animals,' some of which, had been acquired not by choice, but because previous owners had mistreated them, and the animals had shown signs of neglect. …Go to this episode on rnz.co.nz for more details

At a time when women were embracing their femininity after the war years, Barbara Herrick wanted to change the way women felt about themselves through fashion. She speaks to Sonia Yee about Dior's New Look that took the world by storm, carving a path in Auckland's high-end fashion scene with her label, Babs Radon. And shares what it was like to meet Her Majesty Queen Elizabeth II at The New Zealand Wool Awards. "We risked everything for fashion," says Auckland designer Barbara Herrick of the celebration of femininity seen on the streets of central Auckland after the war years. ​Listen to the podcast to find out more about Barbara Herrick and Babs Radon During the Second World War, women had entered the workforce in large numbers to help with the labour shortage. It was then that utilitarianism became the order of the day. But the launch of Christian Dior's debut collection would reinvigorate the fashion industry.Launched in 1947, just two years after the end of the war, Carmel Snow, former Editor in Chief for America's Harper's BAZAAR coined Dior's collection 'The New Look'. It was an exciting expression of the female form, taking women's curves - and imaginations - to new heights. Full skirts, curved collars, padded hip-lines and cinched in waists took a global hold of women's wardrobes, and New Zealand was no exception. "Women suddenly looked so feminine after the bleak years of the war," recalls Herrick. "You tried your best even if you might have a little cardigan on, which was the thing about New Zealand girls - always in their little cardigans." Herrick wasn't one to don a cardigan herself. In fact, she loathed them.Like many women, she was mesmerised by Dior's 'New Look' which signalled a social shift for women. There was no longer any need to conserve fabric and leisure time was being brought back into everyday vocabulary. But these new garments weren't always practical. "The only problem was getting on and off trams because the skirts were quite long, and your heel would often catch in one of these layers. Very dangerous!" Herrick recalls. Herrick, the daughter of a knitwear designer, was also studying fashion at Auckland's Druleigh College. She was determined to pick up the tools of the trade and had her sights set on starting a high-end fashion label. After completing her course at Druleigh, she picked up odd jobs and also worked part-time for womenswear designer, Emma Knuckey, which would later set her up to go out on her own. …Go to this episode on rnz.co.nz for more details

Little is known about The Wizard of New Zealand who took centre stage in Christchurch's Cathedral Square from the 70s until the Christchurch earthquakes in 2011, which saw the city in a state of disrepair. A man who challenged political, social and cultural ideology, The Wizard posed provocative questions in this public space, much to the delight, and sometimes dismay, of passersby. But the background to why The Wizard was there in the first place has been something of a mystery... until now. Sonia Yee finds out more in this episode of Eyewitness.Anyone who visited Christchurch's Cathedral Square before the 2011 earthquakes will know of The Wizard of New Zealand - an iconic figure and mainstay of the city centre.Often dressed in a velvet kaftan and pointy black hat, the Wizard carried a wooden staff and performed on a step ladder that acted as his portable podium. Listen below to find out more about The Wizard and the mark he made on the history of Christchurch: These days, you'll find The Wizard, who refers to himself simply as 'Jack', living a much quieter life, spending his time between Christchurch and Oamaru.But what many won't know is that the man formerly known as Ian Brackenbury Channell, was also part of a larger project that would see him become a living work of art. "That means everything about you is created by yourself as an artwork," says The Wizard. "Your identity is only one thing, but you need to have a whole lifestyle - your family and friends, the universe you live in and the way you see the world - has to all be turned into something aesthetic, rather than moral or rational."The Wizard's transition to becoming a living work of art began to take shape while he was living in Melbourne.It was 1969, and he was starting a new position in the Department of Social Science and Sociology at the University of New South Wales, where he specialised in religion and revitalisation movements. During this period, he was looking into new ways to challenge social and political ideology. But he wanted to activate this by steering clear of violence, and instead, confronting people with what he refers to as 'unusually creative responses.'For The Wizard, that was very much like street theatre. But he was keen to push the envelope further by creating a fully formed aesthetic. To make this official, he and his partner, Alice, visited the National Gallery of Victoria. It was there they met with the director, Eric Westbrook, who was excited by The Wizard's proposal.Becoming a fully-fledged living work of art was edgy and provocative. No one had ever conceived of something like this before…Go to this episode on rnz.co.nz for more details

This year marks 100 years since the first radio transmission in New Zealand and the man behind it is also responsible for laying the foundation for the oldest radio station in the country - Radio Dunedin. Sonia Yee finds out why Radio Dunedin couldn't broadcast the weather during World War 2, and more...Radio has always been a form of entertainment that takes you somewhere else. And when longtime Radio Dunedin presenter, Lyndsay Rackley was a teenager, it provided the ultimate escape.'I'd go to sleep with the headphones on and listen to YA and ZB and Life with Dexter," he says. Listen to the podcast to find out moreRackley says he feels lucky that he's been around for the past 60 years at Radio Dunedin which is due to celebrate its 99th birthday in the coming months.Considered one of the oldest stations in the world, it is the longest running station in New Zealand and five-weeks older than the BBC. And to this day has continued to run as an independent station since its inception in October 1922.But the reason the first station began in Dunedin is its connection to the first radio transmission in New Zealand, which came out of an Otago University lab 100 years ago, headed by Professor Robert Jack, who was the Head of the Physics Department.Together with some of his students he constructed a small transmitter with parts imported from Britain to create the first successful transmission on 17 November 1921.Professor Jack was a legend, and without him, Radio Dunedin may not have come into being, at least not so early.Gordon Paine who is the President of the Otago Radio Association and also a current presenter says in the early days Radio Dunedin, then known as 4XT, broadcast right through World War II. But there were restrictions in place."They weren't allowed to broadcast the weather forecast in case the enemy heard it and decided it was a good day to bomb Dunedin."Paine volunteered for the first time at Radio Dunedin as a teenager. A big music fan, he says Radio Dunedin played the latest offerings from overseas, which other stations in NZ during the 60s and 70s didn't play."Back in the 60s the music industry in New Zealand was strictly controlled, so a lot of our famous bands and singers were not doing their own material."Instead they were mimicking the big hits from overseas.And because of this, the international record companies wouldn't allow these overseas hits to come in. Through an exchange - Radio Dunedin was playing religious programmes from the States, in turn, they supplied the station with the latest records.As a volunteer, Paine also had a chance to meet one of his idols after he took over the Country and Western show…Go to this episode on rnz.co.nz for more details

What Now is New Zealand's most successful and longest running children's television show and this year celebrated 40 years. Rex Simpson who founded it says it was a platform to grow new talent, and a place where kids were encouraged to get off the couch.What Now is New Zealand's most successful and longest-running children's television show and this year celebrated 40 years on air.Rex Simpson, who created the show, says it was a platform to grow new talent and encourage kids to get off the couch. Listen to the podcast to find out moreSimpson, a former presentations director, started his TV career after making a sideways shift from live radio to state television in 1976, when there were only two channels."I was only 21 or 22 years old at the time. There was more of an opportunity to experiment and people were more prepared to take risks," Simpson says.Experimenting is what Simpson does best.During his early days as presentations director, he created what he refers to as a segue slot that bridged the gap between a couple of other programmes.That was a show called Nice One Stu about a cheeky schoolboy who gets up to all sorts of mischief.When the segment launched, Simpson hadn't informed the executive team who were in shock when it went to air for the first time.But while they might have been thrown by Simpson's experimental programming, the show became an instant success."I recall one time we went to Gisborne and it was like we were The Beatles - we had to have security guards to ensure we weren't being trampled. It was just nuts."Nice One Stu's popularity gave the executive team the confidence they needed to let Simpson do what he does best - create new content.And later, that would lay the foundations for What Now, which launched on Saturday 9 May, 1981 from a Christchurch studio.Starting out as a half-hour show, What Now was founded on Simpson's belief that children's television should be educational, informative, and entertaining. And more importantly, it would also provide children with inspiration and ideas of what to do once they turned the television off.The irony of making a show that encouraged kids to get off the couch while also transfixed by the show wasn't lost on Simpson."It was an interesting conundrum," he laughs."By actually having a programme that was all about young people showing what young people could be doing, we actually garnered a large audience."Getting kids moving, especially in those early days, was a high priority for What Now. At the time, aerobics was taking the world by storm, and for Simpson, it was a no-brainer to incorporate it into the show…Go to this episode on rnz.co.nz for more details

It was the spirit of adventure that took teacher, Tony Washington and his family to Pitcairn Island. One of the most isolated communities in the world, Pitcairn is just over five-and-a-half thousand kilometres from Christchurch. From an outsider's perspective, it looks idyllic but was it the adventure Tony and his family expected? Find out more in this episode produced and presented by Sonia Yee.From the early 2000s, Pitcairn Island caught international headlines relating to incidents of historic sexual abuse and assault on women and young children on the island.These shocking stories emerged at least a decade after Tony Washington, a former teacher, lived there with his family. Listen: "I learnt some things about my family, self-sufficiency and accepting what you had" - Tony Washington"We had interviews with the Kent police who came out from England to interview a number of people including my wife, my children, and myself," Washington says.As his family were outsiders, Washington believed the locals made sure they didn't know or suspect anything.One of the most remote communities in the world, Pitcairn has a population of around 50, but in Washington's time, there were about 65 people living on the island.He recalls one community dinner where a crowd of men aged between 16-25 years-of-age, surrounded his daughter.Washington managed to fend the young men off. But there were other times when he felt things weren't quite right, but the family carried on none-the-wiser.When the family relocated to Pitcairn between 1990 and 1992, the overarching decision was informed by a career opportunity - Tony Washington would be appointed as Pitcairn's School Principal and Government Advisor.Another appeal was the simplicity of island life and an experience that would allow them to have some quality family time. They had been sent a home video made by one of the former education officers."They were zooming around on a rubber duck and having a great ball of fun, there were cricket and soccer matches," he says.But although the video provided some insight into life on Pitcairn, Washington says it didn't give them the full picture."The family would encounter new obstacles. There are no roads on the island, so they would get used to travelling by foot, and usually on uneven and muddy ground. They would also be living in isolation with little, or next to no contact, with anyone outside Pitcairn.Washington says many an unrealistic view of life on Pitcairn and on a couple of occasions, visitors working on the island for a 6-month stint found themselves at the Washington home, a place where they could air their concerns…Go to this episode on rnz.co.nz for more details

In this episode of Eyewitness Sonia Yee takes a look at why The Great Crunchie Train Robbery was a runaway success at a time when the advertising industry hit a turning point.What do an old train carriage, a chocolate bar, a guitar and a lawn mower have in common?The answer: They were all involved in the making of one of New Zealand's most iconic and longest running ads, The Great Crunchie Train Robbery. Listen to: New Zealand's most iconic ad - The Great Crunchie Train RobberyThe commercial was made in 1975, and according to its director there were a number of components that contributed not only to its longevity, but also its success."I think it was the storyline ... the way that it develops and builds and goes into the surreal," says Tony Williams from his home in Kangaroo Valley, New South Wales.Set in the Wild West, the story was bursting at the seams with distinctive characters, interspersed with black-and-white, World War II footage and scenes from old westerns that Williams had sourced through an industry friend working at Paramount Studio in Hollywood at the time."I got it for next to nothing," he laughs.The story was also action-packed and filled with the kind of suspense that kept its audience hanging on.As for the location, it couldn't be further from the Wild West, but was filmed inside an old train carriage in Lower Hutt, just outside of Wellington."We put tracing paper on the windows and had lighting outside," says the veteran filmmaker whose job it was to keep the action moving.But the hardest task fell into the hands of the helpers and assistants outside the carriage who had to bring it to life."Every time we were about to do a take we'd say, 'rock the train,' and these poor guys were out in the middle of the night in the freezing cold, rocking the train with their crowbars."Williams recalls a fun, party-like atmosphere on the set with a cast that included young actors Bruno Lawrence and Stuart Devenie, who were in the early stages of their careers."You couldn't get the guns off the guys during the morning tea breaks ... they were in their characters of cowboys and were practicing their fast draws," laughs Williams.The commercial ran in New Zealand for more than two decades and was also a runaway hit overseas, winning lots of awards.But when the director moved to Australia in 1980, industry insiders struggled to believe that this very successful ad had been made in New Zealand.Williams remembers visiting an ad agency and handing over his showreel. The Great Crunchie Train Robbery was right at the top of his list…Go to this episode on rnz.co.nz for more details

An epic train journey for a game of rugby marks the end of an era. Produced by Julie BenjaminMy father Harry Benjamin came from Westport, and after finishing high school in 1946, he started a pharmacy apprenticeship. He soon purchased a new camera and began to click away on black-and-white film.When I went through the pile of photos and negatives from dad 's youth, one photo stood out: three rows of well-dressed, young men smile at the camera.It had been taken inside what looked like a pub. Dad's in the middle row, laughing as he squeezes in between two of his friends. All of them wear medallions with long white streamers.What was going on?Because dad died young, I couldn't ask him to explain. So I showed the photo to Brian Collins, one of his closest friends from Westport.Brian immediately recognized the faces.The image had been taken in 1949 on a rugby trip, and most of these lads played for Westport's Old Boys Rugby Football club. They were there to support Buller, a minor union, in their attempt to take the Ranfurly Shield off Otago. They had travelled for 17 hours on an overnight excursion steam train to Dunedin, as few people in Westport owned cars back then.Buller supporter, Jim Kissell, was 19 and worked in the Forestry Service in Invercargill with Brian. Together they met their weary Westport friends as they alighted at the Dunedin railway station around noon on Saturday 30 July. They then gathered at a nearby pub.A young woman, 23-year-old Vera Cooper had also been on the train trip with her fiancé, Bill Cargill, and five others. She grew up in Millerton, a coal-mining town outside Westport and knew many of the Buller players who had gone to Granity High School with her.During the long and noisy journey from the west to east coast they got little sleep. Instead, they had singalongs 'and there were lots of laughs'.Vera had packed her make-up bag, scarf and gloves, as well as a warm 'brown coat with velvet trim... all rugged up for the weather.'On arrival in Dunedin, Vera and her friends freshened up at the Central Hotel, then walked to Carisbrook. It was there that a photographer snapped the attractive Buller women entering the ground. The photo later featured on the front page of the Sports section.The game turned out to be a tense battle, particularly in the second half of the match.Jim Kissell says the stand-out players for Buller were the 'country' boys,"They were rugby players, probably brought up playing soccer up on the mines.""Old Geordie Anderson used to have a few pints before he played."Hear more about the epic journey, and the match, in the latest episode of Eyewitness. Go to this episode on rnz.co.nz for more details

Basketball has taken Whanganui born and raised, Megan Compain all over the world, including competing in the 2000 and 2004 Olympic Games. But she also made history as the youngest player (and the only New Zealander) to be selected for the Women's National Basketball Association or WNBA - the counterpart to the NBA in the United States. It’s 25 years since the WNBA was established and along the way, Megan also had her fair share of interactions with some legendary players...and Kobe Bryant was one of them.Becoming part of women's sporting history wasn't at the forefront of Megan Compain's mind when she was selected to compete in the inaugural year of the WNBA - the counterpart to the NBA in the United States. "I should have kept my memorabilia," laughs the former Utah Starzz basketballer. Listen to: Making WNBA History But despite leaving her uniform in a cardboard box back in the U.S more than 20 years ago, Compain still remembers what it was like to don the jersey and being handed her own gear. "You were kitted out from head-to-toe and you didn't have to bring your own socks and sneakers...there was this incredible feeling of pride, pulling on my training jersey with my number, and that WNBA badge on it," she says. It was 25 years ago, on the 24th of April 1996 that the announcement was made about the formation of a women's basketball league. At the time, there were no other professional opportunities for women in basketball, unless players opted to go to Europe after College, or compete in the Olympic games. For women, that only became an option from 1976. The prospect of playing for the WNBA was a chance for women to be recognised in the sport. There would be eight teams, and twelve players on each roster. The only downside - there were only two spots available per team. Compain says the top players who were already competing internationally would take a majority of the spots, so the competition for the remaining selection was tough. At only 5 ft 9" she would find herself competing against much taller athletes, which meant she would be put through her paces in a sea of 300 to 400 girls, all vying for selection by NBA scouts. "You've got to wrestle your own team mates to showcase what you can do," says Compain of the rigorous weekend trials held around the country. As with the men's teams in the NBA, players who were competing for the WNBA had their eyes set not only on winning these coveted spots, but also playing for particular teams. "We all joked that anywhere but Utah would be alright," she laughs. …Go to this episode on rnz.co.nz for more details

Empire Day fell on the 24th of May and was celebrated in New Zealand from 1903 - two years after Queen Victoria passed away on 22 January 1901. The date was The Queen's birthday, but it was also one shared with a 7-year-old boy. Find out what happened on this special day and hear the personal story of a young boy dreaming of reuniting with his Dad who was fighting in the second world war, in the latest episode of Eyewitness.Holidays allow us to celebrate with family and keep us sane, but also give us a moment to commemorate the past. But one special date that has been long forgotten for many, is Empire Day - once an important day widely celebrated across New Zealand. Listen to: The Rise and Fall of Empire Day This special calendar event commemorated Queen Victoria's birthday, May 24th, and became recognised in New Zealand two years after her death in 1903. Chris Cameron was about 7-years-old and recalls what happened on this public holiday. "We thought of Britain as the head of the Empire," he says. For Kiwis, Empire Day consolidated the country's national identity and its close ties with Britain, the mother country. It was also a half day for school children. Chris had just started at Auckland's Cornwall Park School in 1942 when Empire Day celebrations were held. "Cornwall Park School in those days had a huge collection of all the flags of the Empire - Australia, Canada, South Africa. I remember I marched at the head of the group with the New Zealand flag because it was my birthday," he says. The children paraded around the vast school field with marching music blasting from a large gramophone, while families and people from the community came to watch. But pledging allegiance to the British Empire and the flag was also at the forefront of Kiwi's minds because New Zealand soldiers were away fighting in the second world war.Conversations about the war were common in the playground, and it was common for children to play with toy guns pretending to be soldiers. "All the children there were the same...we missed our fathers and mothers who were overseas and tried to keep track of them," he says. According to Chris, everyone had a heightened awareness about what was happening abroad and who was winning or losing. "It was very public and the radio was our key means of what was going on in the world." Chris' father was a former teacher who became a Captain in the 34th Battalion. As an avid letter writer, he kept in touch regularly with his only son, and Chris' mother. But one day, the letters stopped. …Go to this episode on rnz.co.nz for more details

What is it like to be catapulted to overnight stardom? That very scenario happened to five Kiwi girls who became part of all-group Truebliss back in 1999. South African-born Megan Alatini recalls the moment that changed her life and what it meant to be on Popstars - the first music-based reality TV show of its kind to have a world premiere.The year was 1999 and it was one that Megan Alatini will never forget. The South African born-singer was 23-years-old when she was hand-picked to be part of an all girl group in a new reality TV show called Pop Stars. Listen to Making Pop Stars - TrueBliss Every step of the way, singers were filmed by a television crew. And Alatini laughs thinking back to the moment that changed her life. "That was a wonderful feeling and experience," says the Auckland-based singer. "I felt like such an idiot because I started crying...I was so elated and I was thanking my family like I was at the Grammy Awards!" Alatini's tears are forgivable. She was filmed for a show that was the first of its kind in the world - a TV show looking for singing sensations. Pop Stars was a precursor to the popular X-Factor and Idol shows, but the show that launched Alatini's career became an international franchise. Everything about the show was new and Alatini agrees that at times it felt more like an experiment. But she has a lot of fond memories associated with the show that ultimately changed television history. And while being part of a show that was finding its own feet wasn't always easy, she got to share that experience with four other girls in the band: Keri Harper, Jo Cotton, Carly Binding and Erika Takas who she is still friends with today. For a pop band, establishing an identity can be pivotal to success. And TrueBliss were dead-set on making an impact. Alatini laughs now, recalling how they resisted the 90s baggy jeans and grunge look of the day, opting instead for glam glitter and sparkly Bindis. "Usually girls would have one bindi on their forehead and they might have two on the side of their eyes. I decided to go the full haul and had them all above my eyebrows and in the middle..." Alatini was taking a leaf from some of her drag queen friends, but says she ended up looking pretty tragic. "We had a really, really great team who looked after us beautifully. And it wasn't actually the choices of the stylist sometimes that were not so wonderful, it was actually us thinking that we knew better," she says. But the glamour and over-the-top Bindis weren't to last. …Go to this episode on rnz.co.nz for more details

Tiwai Point is a polarising place, people tend to love it or hate it. 2021 will be its 50th year of operations, it could also be the smelter's last. Eyewitness follows the history of the Tiwai Point aluminium smelter.The first of Tiwai Point's pots were fired up on the 23rd of April, 1971.But the story of the smelter starts at least a decade earlier. Tiwai Point opened in April 1971.In 1960, the New Zealand government signed an agreement with Consolidated Zinc, giving the Australian mining company the go-ahead to build a smelter on Tiwai Point and a hydro-electric power station to fuel it at Lake Manapōuri, in the nearby Fiordland National Park. Listen to Tiwai Point: Fifty Years in the FurnaceBy 1963, the company realised it couldn't afford to build both a smelter and a power plant, so the New Zealand government, led by Sir Keith Holyoake, agreed to build the power station.It was the start of a partnership that has spanned half a century and has had its ups and downs.In July 2020, the company, now Rio Tinto, announced it would be terminating its contract with Meridian Energy, the current owners of the Manapōuri power station, and closing down the smelter. A reduction line at Tiwai PointRio Tinto has cited high transmission costs as the reason, but Meridian says it offered the company $60m of savings.But even back in the 1960s the company, which was then called Comalco, was asking for more than New Zealand wanted to give. Sir Alan MarkIt wanted to raise the level of Lake Manapōuri, which sits in the protected Fiordland National Park, to increase power production. Initially, the government agreed, but the public wasn't happy. After huge protests - the biggest the country has ever seen - the lakes were saved.Sir Alan Mark, now an emeritus professor at Otago University, was a young botanist in the late 1960s. He oversaw the research into what raising the lakes might mean for the surrounding area."By our assessment the increase in lake levels would only increase the annual generation of electricity by 4.5 percent," said Sir Alan, "(But) the cost ecologically, environmentally and aesthetically would have been major."Sir Alan went public with his findings. Meetings were held and protests staged. One petition put together by Forest and Bird recorded 250,000 signatures, which equated to about 10 percent of the population of New Zealand."It was very obvious that the public of New Zealand was strongly opposed to the lake raising," said Sir Alan.Amongst all the controversy, Comalco was getting on with building its smelter at Tiwai. Construction begins at Tiwai Point…Go to this episode on rnz.co.nz for more details

Prior to 1958 mortality rates for babies born with heart conditions was extremely high. But a groundbreaking open heart surgery performed 62 years ago at Greenlane Hospital by Sir Brian Barratt-Boyes changed medical history forever. Sonia Yee looks at the lead-up to the big day and the innovative machine used in the operation.Helen Harris (nee Arnold) was about 10 or 11-years-old when she underwent New Zealand's first open heart surgery performed by Sir Brian Barratt-Boyes at Greenlane Hospital in September 1958. "I was a blue baby," says Christchurch-based Harris who was born with a large hole between her right and left ventricles. Listen: "I was a blue baby"- New Zealand's First Open Heart Surgery Her surgical procedure was a progressive, groundbreaking event using new surgical techniques that drew attention from the international medical fraternity. An important innovation used in that procedure was a piece of equipment called 'The Melrose Machine'. "They'd been working for two years to get the heart-lung machine up and running - they'd done 17 sheep before me," Harris says. One out of 100 babies are born with some form of heart defect, and prior to Harris' operation, there was no effective treatment. "Congenital heart disease is much more common than people realise," says Dr Alan Kerr - a cardiologist who spent much of his career working alongside Sir Brian."Many of those die in early infancy... some survive to be disabled and die prematurely, and some actually recover spontaneously," Dr Kerr says. But the first open heart surgery required a lot of preparation and was an incredibly risky procedure. There were a number of factors that had to be taken into consideration. From a medical perspective, Harris' age at the time made her an ideal candidate - she was the eldest among six other children of varying ages being considered for the operation. Kerr says the risk of performing the surgery using the heart-lung bypass machine on babies could cause blood poisoning. "Most of the first operations were done on older children because it was technically easier to do the surgery on someone who was bigger, rather than a baby," Dr Kerr says. A bigger team was also brought on board, including engineers and technicians, to get the machine up and running, and to ensure that the operation was a success.And clearly it was.Today Harris is in her 70s and has undergone five procedures to-date, including four pacemakers, which help keep her heart beating…Go to this episode on rnz.co.nz for more details

In the 1940s, Marie Storey was part of the third intake of women to join the police force in New Zealand. She speaks to Sonia Yee about being used as a decoy to catch a pervert; segregated training and why women were working as plain clothed officers.In 1943, while many New Zealanders were away fighting in the war, 18-year-old Marie Storey (nee Nixon) made the decision to join the police force and she was part of the third intake of women to do so. But the police force was nothing new to Storey. Her father was a Senior Sergeant and editor of the Police Gazette. He had witnessed the very first intake of women to join the force. "He came home one evening in 1941 and said he'd seen history made in New Zealand - the first ten police women sworn into the police force," Storey recalls. Listen to The First Female Police Recruits Her father remarked, "They were a fine bunch of young women." In that very moment, Storey also made her mind up - she wanted to join the force. A year later, she saw an advertisement in the paper calling for new recruits. She had no real expectations of what the job would entail, only, she knew she wanted an outdoor job where she also had the opportunity to contribute to the community. Her application was accepted, and she was placed in a three-month female-only training programme which was held over the summer. Storey was posted to Wellington and she says back then, roles for women in the force weren't the same as they are today. Much of her time was spent patrolling parks and community areas where groups of people congregated, and also on jobs that concerned women and children. Female officers were also used as decoys to catch male predators. One evening Storey was sent out to Mount Victoria in Wellington where she had to confront one of her biggest fears - she was scared of the dark - an obstacle she would have to quickly overcome. "There had been women living nearby complaining of a male molesting them," she says. This particular night was pitch black and deadly quiet. And Storey says all she could see was the city lights below. The lack of visibility was one obstacle. The second obstacle was that she was alone on the job. A detective had been assigned to accompany her, but on this occasion he was nowhere to be seen. So Storey set off up an uneven, dirt track in total darkness, making her way back-and-forth at least half a dozen times. What's more, she had to do it clambering in a skirt, blouse, hat, gloves and a handbag - appropriate attire for women in the day. …Go to this episode on rnz.co.nz for more details

Rebuilding the iconic Mount Cook Road was both a challenge and a privilege. Find out more in this episode of Eyewitness.Drive inland from Tekapo and in under an hour, you'll hit a road like no other. Just 55 kilometers long, it follows Lake Pukaki - one of our largest southern lakes - to our longest glacier and to our highest mountain, Aoraki/Mount Cook.On the southern flank is the towering Ben Ohau range. In summer, lupins paint the land a dazzling purple. In winter, the cold is so intense it freezes cars to the ground. Above is a night sky filled with stars and officially designated a Dark Sky Reserve.We call this remarkable road State Highway 80, or the Mount Cook Road.David Chamberlain used to call it his place of work.He built this road and calls the four years he spent here the highlight of his career."Just looking straight up the lake at Mount Cook. Yeah, you don't get any better than that," he says. Listen to The Most Beautiful Road in the WorldGeographically, this area is called the Mackenzie Basin. Politically, it's referred to as the Mackenzie District. These days its commonly known as the Mackenzie Country after the Scot who may (or may not) have rustled cattle here and forms part of the region of South Canterbury.Ngai Tahu, who call the land here Te Manahuna, came to tend their mahinga kai and to be with their ancestor, Aoraki, but in 1848 a dodgy bit of business called Kemp's Purchase meant the area was sold to the Crown. Tourism began in the late 19th century and a gravel road was built from the end of Lake Pukaki to the village further up the valley. By the 1950s thousands of people travelled this road every year.But the road had its challenges. Wide rivers and streams slowed down vehicles and dust blown up by the summer nor' wester ruined clothes and choked motorists as well as obscuring the view. Winter conditions were a real adventure, with freezing fog, snow and ice.In the 1960s the Mackenzie Basin became the setting for a massive hydroelectric power project. The plan called for the raising of the level of Lake Pukaki by 37 metres to feed the dams which meant drowning sections of the old gravel road. A new (and better) road was now a priority.David Chamberlain was a 26-year-old engineering associate for the Ministry of Works. In 1972 he was shoulder-tapped to lead the project."I sort of jumped at it, really," says David. "I actually didn't have a job title. I was just the boss."…Go to this episode on rnz.co.nz for more details

Forty years ago the Māori language was on the brink of dying out. Only 5% of Māori spoke it fluently. A massive push to save it was underway and at the heart of that movement was a little school at the foothills of the Urewera Ranges...In 1978, a little district school at the foothills of Te Urewera in the Bay of Plenty became an anchor for the Māori language, one that caught deep and held strong.Ruatoki School was founded in 1896, a small school for the children of Tūhoe to learn the mainstream curriculum.Nearly a century later, as the language spoken in the homes and marae of these students was decimated, it became a place of refuge for te reo Māori Listen to the story of Te Wharekura o Ruatoki: The Leap of Faith To Save a LanguageBy the 1970s, the first generation of Māori born after the urban migration began arriving at University. Their parents and grandparents had come to the city and abandoned their language. John Rangihau, 1984And now this generation was feeling the loss.They became the catalyst for change and we began to see a concerted push to have more te reo everywhere, but especially in schools.In Ruatoki, the lobbying began to have tamariki taught in their language.In this 2018 interview with John Campbell for RNZ's Checkpoint, Turuhira Hare described the many, many meetings held through 1977 as the Tūhoe people fought to make their school bilingual.Dr Richard Benton worked for the New Zealand Council of Educational Research at the time. In 1973 he had written a booking raising the idea of having bilingual schools. But he said the Department of Education would only agree to "consider without commitment".Benton said the breakthrough came when the outgoing Education Minister Les Gandar asked John Rangihau what he could do for Māori.Rangihau asked for a bilingual school at Ruatoki and the decree went out. The Department had to comply. The school got the go-ahead to become bilingual. A new principal, Tawhirimatea Williams, was brought in. Tawhirimatea Williams spent 19 years as principal of New Zealand's first bilingual school. His wife Kaa, worked as a teacher alongside him."I was jumping into the unknown," said Williams, "What the heck was bilingual education? What's Māori medium education? Even the (Education) Department didn't know what it meant really at that time."Tawhiri Williams describes some of the challenges he faced in this interview with RNZ.He was always very aware of his responsibilities to the Tūhoe people and the trust they had put in him to teach their tamariki…Go to this episode on rnz.co.nz for more details

How culturally diverse is New Zealand television and when did things start to shift? Sonia Yee explores the making of character Dr Grace Kwan - the first Asian character to become part of mainstream TV on New Zealand's most loved soap opera, Shortland Street.Twenty-five years ago, actor Lynette Forday was a pioneer on our screens, playing Dr Grace Kwan - the first Asian face to appear on mainstream New Zealand television.And we still have a long way to go to improve how people of colour are represented in the media and on our screens, Forday says.A graduate of the National institute of Dramatic Art (NIDA) in Sydney, Forday played Dr Grace Kwan on Shortland Street between 1994 and 1997. Listen to The Making of Grace KwanForday was sent some episodes of the show before her audition, and found the cultural diversity of Shortland Street appealing. And when she landed the role, she was more than happy to leap across the ditch, and onto our screens."She was such a well rounded character...she was fun, loved shopping...she loved food. She was very three dimensional," Forday says of playing the feisty, fun-loving, Dr Grace Kwan.Forday was 28 when she made her first appearance on Shortland Street, joining the popular soap two years after it launched.The show initially received mixed reviews - Kiwis could barely stomach hearing their own accents played by an array of young actors who were learning the tricks of fast-turn-around TV on the job.The format of the show was new for New Zealand, and much of it came across as trial and error.On top of that, introducing an Asian character onto the show came with some obstacles. Back then, there were not enough Asian actors in New Zealand who were suitable to play the role of Kwan. So the casting directors had to look further afield in Australia to find Forday.Forday says Australian TV wasn't exactly multicultural in the mid-nineties either, but she grew up watching shows on channels such as SBS, which were always culturally inclusive."I didn't imagine that the colour of my skin would ever be an issue," she says.At the time, Forday was to become the first Asian face to be on mainstream television in New Zealand. But being part of a show that was breaking new ground was as eye opening for Forday as it was for viewers.After appearing on the show for only a couple of weeks, the biggest shock came when she opened the weekend newspaper and saw an article written by a well known journalist."It was the very first bit of prejudice I received...on the cover it said 'Grace Kwan must go'."And if that wasn't eye-opening enough, the headline that followed read "Asian Invasion"…Go to this episode on rnz.co.nz for more details

New Zealand is the third largest producer of kiwifruit in the world. But in November 2010, that looked to change when kiwifruit vines across the country became ravaged by the bacterial disease PSA. It spread like wildfire and wiped out the Zespri Gold breed at the time. Sonia Yee speaks to award-winning researcher, Professor Russell Lowe and New Zealand's leading organic kiwifruit breeder, Jeff Roderick, to find out how PSA affected the wider industry and what it took to fight a disease that was destroying one of New Zealand's most precious export products.New Zealand is the third largest producer of kiwifruit in the world behind China and Italy, and despite the global pandemic, kiwifruit exports have shown no sign of slowing.In 2019, 149 million trays of green kiwifruit were produced for export. And the gold variety on supermarket shelves known as Zespri Sun Gold rose from 67 million trays to 75 million in 2020, proving popular with its smooth skin and perfect oval appearance.But the road to the success of the Zespri Sun Gold variety has been bumpy. Listen to the podcastIn November 2010, the HORT 16A gold variety, was ravaged by the bacterial disease PSA. This variety of gold kiwifruit was smaller in size and had a flat, almost woody beak.The disease spread like wildfire."The general consensus is that PSA was imported on pollen," says award-winning scientist at Plant and Food Research professor Russell Lowe, who this year was awarded the Plant Raiser's Award by The Royal New Zealand Institute of Horticulture.Very little was known about the disease in 2010, including how it behaved or travelled, and how fast it could spread."It was pretty nerve-racking at the time," says Lowe.The news of PSA hit media headlines almost as quickly as the bacteria spread across the country."Once PSA spread from the original site across the Bay of Plenty and arrived on the Te Puke Orchard, visible signs of infection were seen right throughout the plants," he says."One of our researchers did some forecasting based on the number of plants that were dying over a short period and estimated that within a year or two there wouldn't be a single kiwifruit plant left," says Lowe.PSA spreads rapidly, especially during rain and the symptoms include wilting young shoots and visible die back in the canopy. And as the bacteria begins to multiply, red ooze begins flowing from mature branches.Kiwifruit growers across the country were sent into a state of panic. And with approximately 100 scientists across the country working on ways to eliminate the disease, the only way to contain the spread of the bacteria was to eradicate any plants showing signs of disease…Go to this episode on rnz.co.nz for more details