Fame, loss, leukaemia and finding God

I was raised in Onehunga, a vibrant and colourful suburb in south central Auckland, New Zealand. Music and song writing have always been my passions, and from a young age, I harboured ambitious aspirations.

With close friends at Onehunga High School, we formed a singing group called Purest Form. Drawing inspiration from musical idols like Boyz II Men, we believed that acapella music represented one of the purest forms of musical expression.

We would venture into town in the evenings to busk, performing a mix of ‘90s R&B boy band tunes and gospel acapella, songs we’d grown up with at church. One memorable night, our performance caught the attention of a man from the crowd who offered us an opportunity to perform at the theme park, Rainbows End, on weekends—eventually leading to a television advertisement.

In the early ‘90s in New Zealand, national television exposure was still a significant milestone. As four Polynesian boys, our success resonated deeply within our community. For many Polynesian families, witnessing their children on national television symbolised a tangible achievement, particularly in a community where educational attainment was highly valued.

As one of the first Polynesian “boy bands” to make it big in New Zealand, our group’s accomplishments, including winning NZ Single of the Year in 1995, TV appearances and reaching number two on the national pop charts, were thrilling milestones—especially for young Polynesian boys fresh out of high school. 

However, by 1997, our group’s success began to wane as members pursued different paths, ultimately leading us in separate directions. Regrettably, our initial success faded swiftly.

losing my dad

After the band broke up, I started to pursue a solo career—trying to keep my fame alive. Amid these life changes, a profound moment in 1999 halted my trajectory. I was very close to my father. He was my biggest cheerleader and supporter. In the winter of 1999, my father suffered a severe stroke, plunging him into a critical coma. That night, as I kept vigil at the hospital, I made a decision that continues to weigh heavily on me.

Torn between a critical television appearance and my father’s bedside, I chose the former and missed the chance to bid him farewell. My father, my hero and family patriarch, passed away while I was not there. The event left me devastated and consumed by guilt for prioritising personal pursuits over cherished moments with loved ones.

I don’t think I’ve ever fully recovered from this. There was shame, a constant repeated self-examination and a part of me kept thinking, I didn’t think I was raised to be so self-centred. This haunts me, even to this day, in a way I’ve never expressed until this opportunity to share my story.

In those first moments of silence, I remember just falling on my knees. I didn’t even have the strength to lift my head. I would honestly say, I felt like the biggest failure.

There was one thing I saw in the corner of my room—a Bible. We had several Bibles lying around the household, but I’ve never held the Bible so tightly to my chest as at that moment. I’d never seen myself as someone who would chase fame over family, but I resolved to embark on a new path and seek purpose. This pivotal juncture steered me towards a spiritual journey.

Seeking for answers, I attended a Bible seminar at a local Seventh-day Adventist church. It captivated my interest and I began attending church regularly, culminating in my baptism before the turn of the millennium, a source of pride for my mother.

my cancer diagnosis

Even when you think nothing can go wrong in your life, life (in my personal experience) is full of unexpected turns. The year 2006 ushered in another life-altering turn.

I remember vividly my wife Ana’s reaction to my prognosis of leukaemia. Seeing the effects of an announcement that you have cancer on those you love is a husband’s worst nightmare. I remember the tears that flowed straight down my face and the wailing cry from both Ana and my other family members who were present in the room. My son Tevita was only three. I remember holding him tightly to my chest as I lay on my hospital bed.

During my hospitalisation, a hospital chaplain imparted a prayer that left a lasting impact. Learning that she had studied at Laidlaw College, I pledged to follow a similar path upon emerging from leukaemia and achieving remission. This was a breakthrough for me. Not only did I experience having to fight cancer, I felt a call to help those who felt helplessness and committed to studying theology (the study of God) to becoming a beacon of hope and solace through prayer for others in times of need.

sharing my story with the world

Earlier this year, as I was due to speak at an annual gathering of our church young people in Auckland, I felt deeply moved to share my personal story. 

Moments before I stood up to speak, on the brink of tears, I felt compelled to set aside my sermon notes and instead open up about my own personal experiences. It became clear to me that morning, as I shared my own story with those young people, that I was being reminded of my purpose and the profound impact that our personal narratives can have in inspiring others.

A few months earlier, I’d learned about a young man in one of our churches who was battling leukaemia—a situation that struck a chord with me. He was bright, talented, ambitious and an entrepreneur. It evoked memories of nearly 17 years earlier. 

On the morning of the youth gathering, I made the decision to pause the program and lead a collective prayer for this young man. It was not for show or spectacle, but a simple gesture to unite everyone in support of him. It was an opportunity to demonstrate that, as a faith community, we prioritise the most essential aspects of life—compassion, empathy and solidarity through prayer. Together, we paused and prayed.

This experience underscored two core values that remain central to my life today: my faith and the profound impact of standing alongside others in prayer.

Here I stood, now a pastor and leader of youth ministry for the north island of New Zealand, overwhelmed with emotion as I reflected on my purpose. While a life marked by ambition and acclaim had its allure, there was no greater fulfilment than offering prayers of support and standing alongside those in need, embracing the broken, and uplifting them through prayer.

Today, I stand as a cancer survivor, a testament to the power of prayer and the ongoing exploration of life’s wonders. I am grateful, indebted and humbled by the journey that has led me to this moment.

I am thankful and attribute my resilience and growth to an unwavering faith in God. I owe this to many people in my life, including one of my biggest inspirations, my dad—after whom I named my son.