KiwiHarvest founder Deborah Manning talks about her work and life. Photo / Supplied
Ten years ago, Deborah Manning walked away from a law career to start KiwiHarvest - a solution to the dual problems of food insecurity and food waste. From its beginnings rescuing food in her car, KiwiHarvest is now Aotearoa’s largest food rescue organisation, serving communities across the country.
I was born in London because my father was there studying medicine when I popped out. We returned to New Zealand on a ship when I was about 3 and I have so much admiration for my mother, being at sea for six weeks with three children under 5.
We returned to Manawatū, to Palmerston North, where mum and dad still live in our family home, and when I turned 13 I went to Ngā Tawa, a country boarding school, in Marton. Boarding school is not for everybody, but I took to that world like a duck to water. I loved all the sport, the incredible friendships and living away from home helped make me very independent.
I knew I wanted to go to Otago University, then I had to decide what to study, which is the opposite of what you’re supposed to do. But both my parents went to Otago, my brother David was there, and I wanted to be in the South lsland and have that student experience. I thought about law, but my brother Peter was doing that at Canterbury, and I didn’t want to be compared, so I followed in my mother’s footsteps and studied physiotherapy.
After graduating, I worked at a hospital in Auckland where I met my husband. Patrick was a house surgeon, which is such a cliché, for a physio to marry a doctor. But I always knew I’d leave school, get a degree, marry, have kids, bring them up and help support my husband’s career. Which I did, until one day I was ready to focus on me.
Thinking about what to do next - we were in Dunedin by then - after our third child was born, I went to university to study law. It took me six years to complete a four-year law degree. I loved the learning and I wasn’t in a hurry to start practising as a lawyer because I wanted to enjoy the process, to value it rather than rush through. That was only possible thanks to the support of my husband. I always knew he’d support me as I had supported him.
Learning was harder as an adult. My brain had to switch from multi-tasking and managing family and friendships to focusing on theories and how to apply them. Law is all about recognising grey areas and how to analyse things, then coming to a conclusion based on facts. It was a joy to use my brain in that way, although it took a year to feel comfortable with that kind of learning. Happily too, there were quite a few mature students, many of us women, and we formed lasting friendships.
After graduating I worked in law firms and did a bit of teaching. I enjoyed being around people, and helping them, but I had a big problem with charging lots of money. To hear people’s deepest worries and biggest problems felt like a privilege but then to send a bill, that didn’t sit well with me.
I was also thinking about my goal in life. What sort of role model did I want to be? What legacy did I want to leave? What did success even mean? So when the children had nearly all finished school, it was time for me to step back, let them become who they wanted to become, and focus on something new and meaningful.
I was still working when I started to open my mind to the idea of something new. The key is recognising an opportunity then having the courage to take it. As I was thinking these things, I read a newspaper story. On one side of the page was an article about dumpster diving. About a person who went to supermarkets at night to look for good food that was being thrown away. Literally, on the same page there was a story about child poverty. Families unable to afford to feed their kids, and children going to school with no lunch or to bed with no dinner. Thinking about the consequences on their lives and subsequent generations, I had my a-ha moment. What if we kept food out of dumpsters and got it to the people who don’t have enough to eat? And how could we do that in a safe, mana-enhancing way, so it didn’t seem like rubbish, but was simply seen as food?
The idea wouldn’t go away, so I spent six months researching food rescue - the concept of collecting food that is good enough to eat but not able to be sold, then to give it to people in need. That’s how KiwiHarvest began. I then gathered a board and set up a legal structure. I also found a lawyer, as I knew I’d be giving up my practising certificate. I learned how to keep food safe and I found an excellent accountant, because not-for-profits need good accounting transparency.
My brother David Kirk came on board as chairman. After six months of me preparing, researching and writing manuals, he asked when was I going to start rescuing the food. He pointed out that I could never know everything or anticipate every problem, so I jumped in my car and did my first collection. At the first store that had agreed to come on board, I collected the equivalent of 10 meals.
At first people didn’t take me seriously. They thought I was just a housewife, or a lawyer who couldn’t make it, but I kept plugging away. When you work in this sector, you do get a lot of rejection but you can’t let it upset you or put you off. Instead, you have to turn “no” into “why don’t you let me explain it to you”.
To think of that first day, when I went down in my little car to collect one bag of food, and to now be 10 years later with branches around the country, a fleet of vehicles and over 25 million meals saved and distributed, that is mind-boggling.
Over the years I’ve learned that failure can be a positive thing. I’ve tried different things and sometimes they haven’t worked, but I now see those “failures” as positive because they’ve built my resilience. You can’t have success all the time, and if you are succeeding all the time you’re not taking enough risks. I like to tell people, don’t be afraid to fail, because what’s the worst thing to happen? You learn something and move on?
I’ve also learned not to focus on the end goal. Instead, I strive to enjoy the journey, which has been both wonderful and incredibly hard.
Tall-poppy syndrome is a thing, and I’ve had to weather some ugly stuff from keyboard warriors. People contacting me personally to say terrible things about people living with food insecurity. Or others working in the same sector, accusing me of stepping on their toes, when all we’ve wanted to do is give. Some people have felt threatened that we’re moving in on their “turf” but we’ve ironed most of those things out.
It is a crime when food is produced, then doesn’t fulfil its intended purpose of nourishing people. We also have to stop sending food to landfill because food waste is an endemic harm on the environment when it rots and produces methane. In Aotearoa, 9 per cent of our biogenic methane emissions and 4 per cent of our total greenhouse gas emissions are from food and organic waste. Over a 20-year period methane is 80 times more potent at warming the planet than carbon dioxide. Not to mention how in growing the food, if it’s not eaten, all that land, labour and water are completely wasted.
Food is the most powerful tool we have to connect with people across every age range and cultural barrier. Food brings people together because sharing food is about caring, love and kindness. It’s about families and neighbours, so as long as we’re working to reduce food insecurity in our communities, and trying to address that, I’m in my happy place.
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