A lot of the men who join Fathers for Families describe it as a post-prison 'box-ticking exercise' – at least at the beginning. But many have found the group backs them to the point where their behaviour – to their partners, their kids and themselves – begins to change.
When community leader Mateni Lynch jokes around with his siblings, there’s the kind of good-natured ribbing and bursts of laughter that seem to stem from way back. But the truth is the relationship between them wasn’t always this strong.
Once deeply immersed in gangs and drugs, Mateni’s way of life had a huge impact on his family.
“My family growing up was, I’d hate to say it, but it was a broken family having Mateni doing what he was doing,” says his brother Sam.
“I knew what was going on at a very young age because I was exposed to the police coming in looking for him... It would just be 5am and the police are knocking on our door and coming in and flipping the house upside down.”
Mateni’s mum Tuifua recalls going out to look for her son when he didn’t come home, racked with anxiety and fear.
“Sometimes to be honest I can’t sleep when I hear the (police) helicopters flying around because he’s not home,” she says.
The oldest of eight siblings, Mateni’s early years were mired in violence. “Home should have been my safe place,” he says. Except it wasn’t.
And so began his descent into lawlessness. “Throughout my whole life I grew up in gangs, violence, crime and prison,” he says. But throughout it all his mother never let him go.
“She was the only one there whether I had court cases up and down the country,” he says. Even if he was only appearing in court for ten minutes, “she would up and run and make sure she is there for that ten minutes and she did that throughout my whole life”.
Tuifua says not being there for her son was never an option.
“I can see when I went to the court case some people there, there’s no family coming in to support, it’s sad... so every time he’s going to the court case I make sure we are there for him,” she says.
'I was ready to give up'
After years of being in a gang, Mateni made the decision to leave and make a go of his relationship with his partner and kids, but past trauma caught up with him. “I couldn’t speak about it, I just continued to oppress it and the more I oppressed it the more I was dysfunctional within my relationship,” he says.
Gang life had become the norm, real life was harder.
“In the gang I can get what I want, easy as that, and I couldn’t do that within my relationship.”
Mateni says he turned to drugs, meth, whatever he could get but with his life imploding around him he found himself in a dark place.
Exactly two years ago he reached his lowest point. “On 28th of December 2023, three o’clock in the morning I just thought that, you know, this was my destiny and I was ready to give up... I got down on my knees and I just bawled my eyes out and cried and I just prayed to God. I said if you’re real please get me off the drugs and I’ll do the rest.”
‘The rest’ included making a New Year’s resolution to never touch drugs again and doing a Google search on how to get help to become a good father. This search led him to a group called Fathers For Families.
‘They want to be better husbands and better fathers’
Fathers For Families was set up as a charity in 2021 and relies almost entirely on donations. The programme’s senior facilitator Monty Valivaka says it exists in response to “the domestic violence that has been happening in our community.
“We have guys who have been in gangs or who are still in gangs, we have guys who are fighting to see their children and through court. I think when it comes to the background, regardless of where they come from, what they’ve been through, they come for one common thing and that’s to be a father… they want to be better husbands; they want to be better fathers,” he says.
Monty doesn’t sugarcoat it. Many of the men have been through the justice system, to prison, and been ordered to attend the Fathers for Families programme by the courts. In short they’re not actually there because they want to be.
“Many of the men that have come through are pretty dark,” he says.
‘I was a lost child, always in survival mode’
Se’ula Aitu admits he was one of those men, just attending because it was a requirement. “To just tick boxes for court,” admits.
“I grew up with no parents never had a father figure never had the love of a mother since birth, I grew up with my grandparents, I was a lost child, I was always in survival mode,” he says.
“A lot of it (the programme) was really confronting. I came here thinking that I was a strong man, but being confronted about a lot of things that I identified while I was sitting on the course made me nervous, kind of scared.”
The 14-week programme is divided into three parts. The first five weeks concentrates on the individual “the man”.
The next few weeks are about “the husband”, looking at ways to strengthen their partnerships.
And then there’s “the father” focusing on responsibilities as a role model and father.
I didn't think it was manly to say 'I love you'
Se’ula says he never realised his children were scared to talk to him, especially his son.
“I always hear him say he loves me, I never said it back, I didn’t think that was a manly thing,” he says.
“I coached him in footy for seven years and it was the same thing, he could do one hundred good things on the field (but) one little mistake (and) I would go off and I didn’t identify how fearful he was of me until I sat this course,” he says.
During the programme his mindset changed.
Separated from his kids who live in Australia his son flew over to New Zealand to play football in a Māori tournament. Se’ula turned up to watch him play and caught up with him before the game.
“I told him ‘son, I’m proud of you’ and he burst into tears crying, he’s never heard me say that,” he says. “He played his best footy, yeah, in that whole tournament”.
Se’ula is now the programme’s Lead Health and Wellbeing Coach and it’s not unknown for him to be up at 2am taking desperate calls.
“I’m answering the calls of broken men. I was in their position once, I’m not saying I’m the perfect man right now but I’ve seen it,” he says.
Most of the men who go through Fathers for Families have been in many of these kinds of programmes before, but Fathers for Families is different.
Henare Hadfield, who’s just graduated, says what’s made a difference to him is the ongoing support even once the course is completed.
There are peer support groups, a twice weekly ‘walk that talk’ and a gym to promote wellness.
“They’re very consistent with, like, checking up on you and making sure that it’s not just about getting a certificate and moving on.”
His experience is echoed by others.
Like Sionetane Lea’aemanu, who’d spiralled into a world of gangs and crime and spent a large amount of years in the justice system. “So I’ve done a lot of programmes inside prison and outside prison,” he says.
The difference was that Fathers for Families didn’t just let him go once the course was finished.
“To be quite honest if they didn’t keep making contact I may have just dropped off”.
He says he found courage to change because “there was no judgment there was no making me feel like I failed and I had to be punished for it”.
“I wasn’t used to the positive information, the good words, the reassurance, the positive feedback and stuff like that... I was actually quite uncomfortable with a lot of it.”
Fathers For Families is like a brotherhood of men who have been through tough times but want a different life. Sionetane says it changed who he saw as his friends.
“What shifted for me was the realisation that the peers that I felt so much loyalty to didn’t share the same love and loyalty in return and I had to eventually realise that, well, I’m basically nothing to those people so I need to start working on the ones that kept showing up.”
His relationship with his kids who “saw me through a glass window, essentially, growing up” has changed and he wants a better future for them.
“I’ve been there, I’ve seen it and I wouldn’t wish it on anyone especially my children”.
Sionetane is now a lead facilitator for the programme and enjoys supporting others.
'The violence ends with me'
On graduation night, it’s a heart-warming scene as families gather at Mela Restaurant in Papatoetoe. Tough looking men surrounded by the reason why they did this course to start with: family. After every name that’s read out there’s applause, photos snapped by proud family members. A child runs to the front with a lolly necklace to put around his graduating dad.
Mateni Lynch has come full circle – he is now lead community mentor and facilitator for Fathers for Families. He stands with mana as his mum and brother Sam watch with pride.
For Mateni it’s very simple. “It was really scary to understand how toxic I was... The violence and some cultural belief system ends with me and the legacy I want to leave behind is there is a different approach to life.”
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