Whānau up front

Concluding our series, REBECCA MACFIE is in South Auckland, where a community-led approach is bridging the gaps between struggling families and fragmented bureaucracy

The car park at Papakura Marae on Hunua Rd is busy. A queue of vehicles is snaking through, their occupants stopping to load food parcels into boots, before quietly pulling out into the traffic. A young man with an iPad is helping to co-ordinate the effort. I tell him I'm here for a meeting, but I'm a little early. "Have a seat in the wharekai," he says. "Grab yourself some lunch."

Mine is a white face among mostly brown, but no one looks at me with suspicion or asks for proof that I have legitimate business here. No one directs me to tap my details into a touchscreen. It's just haere mai, be comfortable, have a hot meal.

This is tikanga. The arms of the marae are as open to me, a Pākehā stranger from Christchurch, as they are to the thousands of local whānau who come for emergency kai, healthcare, housing support, budgeting or any of the 52 services that are provided here.

With its large wharekai, tukutuku-lined wharenui and immaculate garden, Papakura Marae is an oasis of welcome and acceptance amid streets of struggle.

There are areas of significant wealth around Papakura, but the University of Otago's deprivation index colours huge swathes of the South Auckland suburb red, signalling a community that's among the poorest 20% of New Zealanders.

It's also a young population - nearly a quarter are under 15, compared with fewer than 19% for the country as a whole; 9.1% are infants under four, compared with 5.9% nationally.

The usual markers of hardship are evident around the town centre - abundant $2 outlets and discount stores; shop verandas stained with mould and grime that could be easily tidied by diligent landlords. There are also obvious signs of community spirit: vege gardens inviting passers-by to "take some, leave some"; vibrant street art.