The Defence Force took evacuees from Waiohiki to Hastings sports centre after Cyclone Gabrielle. Photo: RNZ / Angus Dreaver
Some Hawke's Bay whānau are still living on a marae almost five months after Cyclone Gabrielle sent floodwaters rushing through their homes at Waiohiki.
They first evacuated to their own marae, but it soon became an island - so they were rescued by the army and taken to Waipatu Marae, where they have been ever since.
Despite being desperate to return to their whenua, in their temporary home have rediscovered aspects of te ao Māori they hd previously lost.
RNZ reporter Lauren Crimp visited Waiohiki whānau at Waipatu Marae.
Kiriana Laison makes introductions in the lounge of the Tamatea rugby clubrooms, next to the wharekai at Waipatu Marae.
"Kia ora," people call out from their beds, or from the couch in front of the gas fire.
Among them, four-year-old Lilah Sprague - the youngest of 12 people from Waiohiki who have called Waipatu Marae home since the cyclone.
When we sit down, she plonked herself on my knee.
"I live in a new house because our house got flooded," she said.
She points out pictures she has drawn of her old house on a papakāinga in Waiohiki - and what she hopes the new one might look like.
"Do you like it here?" I asked.
"Yeah," she said, nodding.
Her toys and clothes were stacked up neatly beside her bed, which she has slept in for around 130 nights.
Her kohanga reo is just across the grass - Waiohiki and Waipatu kohanga reo are working together for now.
A handful of nannies have their own room for warmth and privacy.
At the peak, there were 45 Waiohiki residents staying here - some outside in tents - but Laison said most were now in homes provided by the government's Temporary Accommodation Service.
On weekends, they would usually be back on their whenua clearing silt and fixing what they can. But the day I visited it was too wet, and their cars would have got stuck, she said.
The main thing keeping them from going home was their damaged or destroyed septic systems.
"Most of our septic tanks need to be fixed," Laison said.
"Some of them may just need a clean, but having the piping go to the houses or go to, you know when we do get cabins through TAS [Temporary Accommodation Service], or even privately, having those amenities working so that we can go home."
But even then - there was a long list of people waiting for builders.
"They feel guilty, we feel guilty, they just want to give you a hug and we just want to cry because, 18 months to two years before we can even think about putting a gib board up in our house, or putting pink batts in our house.
"Most of the whānau are pretty much doing it themselves, if they have the means to - and then other whānau are just like, we're stuck, there's just nothing we can do about it."
While they have had lots of support from a range of people and organisations - and Laison lists many - she said they were lacking cash.
Many were uninsured.
Last weekend, whānau from nine marae got together for a fundraising concert at the Taradale RSA.
It was a full house, and Laison pulled me up a chair at a Waiohiki table.
She was up and down every few minutes introducing me to friends and relatives as they trickled in.
"It's like a family reunion," she said.
All the proceeds from the ticket sales would go to Waiohiki whānau to help fix up their homes.
In the meantime though, Laison said they were floored by the generosity at Waipatu.
"They just look after us like we're family, and we have become a family.
"They're a part of us."
Her mum, Hera Taukamo, said while they had lost almost everything, there has been something special to gain here.
"Staying here, there's something that I've missed in the past - you know that whanaungatanga, that manaakitanga, that arohatanga.
"We haven't had that for a very long time since our parents and our uncles and our great grandparents have left.
"Being here has brought that all back, and to me it's like home."
Taukamo's cousin, Te Koha Tareha, said they had also built connections with whānau.
"It's like our niece Deirdre, I haven't seen her since she was a young girl.
"She's here as a mother, and a grandmother, you know it's just amazing getting to know our mokopuna here.
"Eh, honey?" she said, smiling at Lilah.
These whānau do not know when they can return to Waiohiki, or where the funding, supplies, or workforce will come from to make it happen.
But they said they were grateful to be together with a roof over their heads, and a newfound whānau who will remain in their lives well after they return home.
"I can't wait to go home, can't wait for all of us to go home," Taukamo said.
"I'm gonna miss this place, though."
