Natalie Dixon helps sort out toiletries for Tauranga Women's Refuge. PHOTO/RUTH KEBER
There are high fives and hugs all round as the Tauranga Women's Refuge team hears the news one of their women has got a place of her own.
After bravely walking away from a violent relationship, the woman has nothing, no belongings to put into the rental property. But after the spontaneous celebration, the team starts to change that, rallying around to find blankets, clothing, whiteware and cutlery for her with huge grins on their faces.
As a journalist covering news I am aware of this country's domestic violence problem. But I had not given a thought to what happens after the police come.
That changed after my day with the refuge team.
More than 110 Bay women and children stayed at the Tauranga Women's Refuge's four bedroom safe house in 2013, manager Angie Warren-Clark tells me.
The children, she says, are shellshocked.
Their mothers arrive bleeding, bruised, with broken bones, black eyes and raw skin. Their clothes and self-esteem are torn away by a man they believed once loved them.
I arrive at the refuge's community office to find it is crazy hair day to celebrate safe house co-ordinator Wendy's birthday.
After being handed a Tina Turner-style wig to wear, I'm told there will be cake for morning tea.
But it's not all fun and games. Before I do anything else I have to sign a confidentiality waiver.
We have men who abuse to that level, who don't think twice about stalking, strangulation, you name it.
After touring the office we leave to travel to the safe house and I am under strict instructions not to say where in Tauranga it is, to keep the women and children who use it safe.
There are five women working for the refuge, two full-time and three part-timers. Last year, on top of the safe house, they dealt with more than 700 crisis calls from women seeking advice, advocacy or help. They also worked with 356 community clients - women who are dealing with some form of domestic abuse, but who can stay in their homes.
Part of socialworker Robyn's job is a weekly meeting with Tauranga police where she gets a list of high-risk women - the cases that could end in murder, suicide or hospitalisation because the violence is so serious.
Between two and 10 women are referred to her every week.
"We have men who abuse to that level, who don't think twice about stalking, strangulation, you name it," she says.
"And despite what some people think, its not a cultural thing. We have a significant problem with domestic violence in Tauranga, one of the highest incidents in New Zealand, only just behind South Auckland."
It's a shameful reputation but Angie Warren-Clark is quick to say it's based on reporting statistics. People are speaking out about their situation, neighbours are calling police when they hear yelling, more now than ever before, she says.
"In the past people might have thought "it's not our business" when they heard raised voices or yelling and yes, you may get it wrong, it might just be a verbal fight, but what if it isn't?"
Wendy is a motherly figure who organises the women and children who come to the safe house because they have nowhere else to go. She's seen it all but says she is still shocked by many of the abuse stories. "It's the psychological stuff that gets me," she says. "You see women come in with less than an inch of self esteem left. It is that degradation, they have lived with that most of their lives. That gut-wrenching fear, constantly being frightened, in a way it is the worst part."
She tells me a volunteer comes to massage the safe house women for three hours every week.
"Some of them have never been touched like that before, by someone who did not want anything in return," she says.
The team also work with children who have witnessed domestic violence.
Children's advocate Amanda works with children aged 5 to 12 in The Butterfly Room, a brightly-coloured room filled with toys and colouring-in supplies in the community office.
She puts them through a 10-week programme that teaches them ways of dealing with domestic violence.
"We create safety plans, for the house, at school," she says.
"We teach them how they can keep themselves safe and we teach them that violence is not their responsibility, that they can't be responsible for someone else's behaviour, but they can take control of their safety."
It's not just Tauranga the team covers. Their patch includes a population of 140,000 and includes Matamata, parts of Waihi , Pukehina Beach and inland toward Rotorua.
They are underfunded for the task, receiving just $190,000 through CYF each year, an amount that has not had a CPI increase for more than five years.
In the past people might have thought "it's not our business" when they heard raised voices or yelling and yes, you may get it wrong, it might just be a verbal fight, but what if it isn't?
Every month it is Angie Warren-Clark's job to find an extra $10,000 to cover the refuge's operating costs - electricity, food, and other necessities that keep the doors open. They pick up boxes of food from Good Neighbour Food Rescue twice a week but have to buy their own meat.
"At the moment all we have left is sausages," Angie Warren-Clark says.
"The fact we have to fight for funding is insane, especially when you consider the cost of family violence on the community, the hospital visits, time off work, the disruption to the children's schooling," she says.
"We could close the refuge today, as we have met all our funded targets. We could have closed it three months ago when we met them but of course we can't possibly do this to the community we serve. There is a need. Thankfully the community here is generous." A huge shed belonging to the refuge is stacked to the roof with beds, tables, chairs, pots and boxes marked with the size of clothing inside, proof of that generosity.
Anything retro is sold to artists who onsell it at the markets to raise extra cash for the refuge to help pay electricity and food bills.
Among the fondue sets, whiteware and copper pots there are Christmas decorations, waiting to adorn the homes of women who have not yet had the courage to leave abusive relationships.
I can't help but try to imagine the women who might receive these donated goods in the future. Will they have children? How will they feel choosing some of these things for their new home? What made them stay with an abusive man? And what would make them walk out and ask for help?
The fact we have to fight for funding is insane, especially when you consider the cost of family violence on the community, the hospital visits, time off work, the disruption to the children's schooling.
Nearby is another building, piled with boxes of toiletries, from shampoo and conditioner, to soap, moisturiser, tampons, toothpaste and combs.
My job is to sort them all out, throw out anything past its use-by date and create emergency bags that will be given to women and children who have had to leave behind everything they have and come to the safe house.
I'm told to keep an eye out for "deodorant of any kind" among the donated goods. It's almost as precious as gold.
I spend the day sorting the boxes and labelling them with their new contents to make it easier for other volunteers that will come and make emergency bags, before starting to put some together.
I'm not helping these women and children get out of a gut-wrenching situation like the amazing women at the refuge but at least I can help make them feel comfortable during their first night.
Just as I'm getting ready to leave I see a single bottle of roll-on anti-perspirant amongst the piles of soap. It's only one bottle but I can't help singing a silent, triumphant Hallelujah in my head.
* If you are interested in also helping the refuge, or donating items, more information can be found here.
* If you or someone you know are in immediate danger phone police on 111. If children are in immediate danger phone Children, Youth and Family 0508 326 459
He founded Kiwi Can in Ōpōtiki and Tauranga, reaching over 3700 youth weekly.