Dr Jessica Sneha Gray

When I drove into Matatā last week to speak at the Residents Association as part of my candidacy for the Bay of Plenty Regional Council, the first thing that struck me was the venue. An old pub-like building, now a community hall, buzzing with voices and filled with people who care deeply about their town.

Four minutes is all that’s allotted to each speaker. Four minutes to introduce yourself, outline your vision, and field questions. As a social scientist and counsellor, I know well that four minutes barely scratches the surface—especially for someone like me who has spent a lifetime “dwelling in the shadows,” listening, observing, and reflecting. But in those four minutes, I found what mattered was not just speaking but listening.

As many of you know, my expertise lies in understanding how humans shape, and are shaped by, the places they live. Place is not just a backdrop to our lives—it is part of who we are. And in Matatā, that truth could not have been more visible.

What I saw and heard that evening was a community unafraid to articulate its needs and aspirations. Residents spoke passionately about the necessity of a proper waste reticulation system. They reminded us that Matatā is the gateway to Whakatāne—a fact that should influence how regional infrastructure and services are planned. But beyond the policy points, what stood out most was resilience.

Matatā has weathered storms—literally and figuratively. Yet the people there carry a strength that refuses to be diminished. They never give up. Their determination to see their community flourish is both humbling and inspiring.

It is easy in politics to become absorbed in numbers, budgets, and competing interests. But Matatā reminded me that the true measure of governance is not abstract—it is the lived reality of people who rise, adapt, and endure. Their voices matter not only for their town, but for all of us. Because resilience, once recognised, can ripple outward.

The beauty of Matatā is more than its coastline. It lies in the humanity of its people, in the pride they hold for their place, and in their refusal to be overlooked. If we are serious about building communities of human flourishing across the Bay of Plenty, then we must carry forward the lesson that Matatā so powerfully teaches: resilience is not just survival. It is a vision for the future, spoken boldly by those who refuse to give up on the places they call home.