Refuge facing 'unprecedented demand' seeks new safe house

A Dunedin refuge is facing unprecedented and escalating demand as it marks 50 years of supporting women and children.

Ōtepoti Dunedin Whānau Refuge triaged close to 150 referrals in September alone - usually it was closer to 90 and even that figure had jumped in recent years.

The refuge celebrated the milestone on Wednesday by unveiling ambitious plans to fundraise for a new community hub to cater for the growing need.

Refuge manager Simone Claire-Waring said family violence in the city was on the rise.

"We have got 90 plus referrals a month. I can't even go that's an average, I used to go 45 to 60. Now we're at 90 plus a month," she said.

The types of family violence in the community were extensive and included physical harm, child abuse, coercive control, animal torture and withholding access to basic needs including food and sanitary products.

"We've recently worked with a wahine who was only allowed to eat rice and oranges, and only allowed to feed her four tamariki rice and on the very occasion, a slice of orange," she said.

The refuge used a Kāinga Ora 12-bed safe house, but it was not fit for purpose or big enough.

Next year's fundraising campaign was to help create a purpose-built safe community hub that had whānau at its heart, she said.

"Within their own home, that has not been a safe place. The bedroom is not a safe place, the lounge, the kitchen, there's nowhere that's safe. So we want to create a space that is safe," Claire-Waring said.

"We want to create a space that is safe for our māmās to heal, to move towards their resilience, to move towards hope, that is the goal."

The refuge fed about 90 people a week, she said.

Board chair Zoë Bristowe said it was all part of a growing demand.

"The need for our services are escalating. At (the refuge), we're seeing unprecedented demand with whānau navigating increasingly complex circumstances, compounded by housing challenges, financial hardship, the cost of living," she said.

The new community hub was expected to cost at least $2 million.

It would be more than an emergency shelter, Bristowe said.

"It's going to be a place of warmth and dignity and belonging. Somewhere where tamariki can sleep peacefully and play, and where whānau have the space and support to recover, rebuild and determine their own futures," she said.

The refuge had humble beginnings in February 1976 when Dunedin feminists Yoka Neumann and Suzanne Menzies-Culling hosted a public meeting in a Dundas Street flat to ask the community if they backed a safe house.

Menzies-Culling said they started getting phone calls the next day.

There was not a lot of information about domestic violence at the time, she said.

"I had no idea. I just thought it was poor people, blokes who were drinking and all that sort of stuff. The first couple of calls, one was from a wife of a Presbyterian minister," she said.

A 24-7 roster was created as they searched for a safe house.

It was challenging mahi, she said.

"We thought once women left and had a safe place with their kids they'd be able to start a new life, but they weren't," Menzies-Culling said.

"We didn't understand anything about the emotional control that the abuser has."

It was depressing the refuge was still needed 50 years on, but she was excited by the energy and support for it, she said.

"It's more professional. I don't know if it's better resourced.

"I remember when I was involved with Te Whare Pounamu (former name of the refuge), the amount that they got per bed night for women and children was hardly anything compared with what the government was prepared to spend on prison beds."

The Ōtepoti Dunedin Whānau Refuge will launch its fundraising campaign early next year with hope it will help create a safe sanctuary for family in need.