hen Loto* saw the police arrive at the rural property in New Zealand where he had been held captive for nearly two years, the man who had imprisoned him there told him to run. Instead, Loto quietly waited to be discovered by police. Loto had spent 17 months being held as a slave on a property in Hastings on New Zealand’s North Island. He was never paid for his work and was subject to cruel beatings from Joseph Auga Matamata, a 65-year-old Samoan chief, or matai. Nine days before police arrived at the property in January 2017, Loto had begged another Samoan he had met working at a plant nursery to report him to the police for overstaying his visa. Before he was deported, Loto told police his story, triggering one of the largest and most complex immigration investigations ever undertaken by officials in both New Zealand and Samoa. Eventually, officials uncovered a web of offending by Matamata spanning 25 years. On 16 March, more than three years after Loto escaped from Matamata’s control, following a five-week trial, Matamata stood silently in the dock at the high court in Napier as he was convicted on 13 counts of dealing in slaves and 10 counts of human trafficking between 1994 and April 2019. It is the first time that anyone has been simultaneously convicted of both charges in New Zealand. His oldest victim was Loto, at 53, his youngest victim was just 12. Chores, abuse and beatings Despite their cases spanning decades, the stories the victims told over the five-week trial were similar: they met Matamata in Samoa and he paid for their flights and visas to New Zealand, promising them work or schooling. But upon arrival they found themselves working 14-hour days in the fields as “bags of cash” were handed to Matamata, a horticultural contractor, but never passed on. After working in the fields all day they did chores around his home late into the night and were subjected to brutal beatings if work was not completed to his liking. They were not allowed to leave his property without permission, speak to anyone at work or church, or talk to their families in Samoa. The crown prosecutor Clayton Walker told the jury that all of Matamata’s victims “trusted him completely” because he was a matai, a Samoan chief. “That trust was misplaced. He abused his matai position.” Loto, who arrived in New Zealand in winter 2015, says that he was often punished for working too slowly, having to “offer” up his head for Matamata to hit with a piece of wood, a power cord, secateurs or a broom. At the beginning of the trial Matamata often wore an ’ulafala, a bright red pandanus key necklace symbolising his chiefly status over his suit and tie. As the weeks wore on it gave way to a black hoodie. He sat quietly, sometimes smiling, often looking bored, as his victims gave evidence against him. None of them returned his gaze. A middle-aged woman, shielded from him by a screen, sobbed as she described how as a 15-year-old girl she had attempted to run away from Matamata’s house in 1995, but that he had tracked her down, bound her wrists and ankles and driven her back. He had promised her parents in Samoa she would be educated in New Zealand but instead found herself cooking, cleaning and looking after his children. Her day started at 4am and often didn’t finish until 11pm. A 15-year-old boy, who was adopted by Matamata and brought to New Zealand when he was 12, described how his adopted father once threw a pair of secateurs at him so hard they lodged in his arm. When Matamata finally took the witness stand he denied everything, saying he never assaulted anyone, his visitors did not have to follow strict rules, and the fence around his property was there to “protect his family” in a dangerous neighbourhood. He claimed he had brought people to New Zealand for a “holiday”, not work, and it was out of his control if they ran away and became overstayers. “I am a matai. I help people,” he said. ‘I’m glad he was caught’ Many of Matamata’s victims come from the village of Falefā, just 20km east of Samoa’s capital of Apia. With a population of nearly 5,000 people, the village is a collection of colourful European-style houses and traditional Samoan fales (houses) surrounded by lush gardens, overlooking the sea. Despite his connection with the village, the first that the mayor of the village, Fanualelei Tominiko Purcell, heard of Matamata’s trial was when his family presented a substantial amount of money in a traditional apology (ifoga) to the village council. Purcell would not confirm the exact amount. “We were all surprised when [Matamata’s] extended family showed up and presented the traditional apology,” Purcell says. As part of the Samoan culture, anyone found guilty of any wrongdoing or of shaming the village in some way is bound to be penalised by the council, especially if such accused holds a prominent position within the village. Next door to Falefā is Matamata’s home village of Faleapuna, which has a population of around 1,500 people. Some of Matamata’s victims came from this small village, and there is anger there about what happened to them and a feeling that Matamata’s crimes had tarnished the reputation of their village, which is rapidly developing into a tourist hub. A group of four young men hanging out on the seawall say they were well aware of the trial in New Zealand and referred to Matamata as “The Sifi”, before starting to laugh. Sifi means “chief” in Samoan, but is also slang for the villain in a movie. Si’usega Manuele, a young mother from Faleapuna, says she knew Matamata from the village and that he was a prominent figure in their local church. “We go to the same ward for the Mormon church or the Latter Day Saints, he loves to go to church whenever he comes to Samoa and I just can’t believe he could’ve done something this bad to our own people,” she says. “I was shocked when I saw the news as well on TV that night, and I’m glad he got caught.” Back in New Zealand, the conflicting image of a loving matai and a brutal slave master is something many who know him have struggled to reconcile. “It’s like it’s a different person I’m reading about,” says Peleti Oli, who grew up with Matamata, attending the same church and playing rugby with his sons. “I’m shocked. He’s a great man and father figure to me.” Oli, a local councillor, does not condone what Matamata did, but does acknowledge that some of his offending is considered common in Samoan culture. “It’s very common for us as Samoans to be disciplined in a physical manner,” he says, adding it is also normal for family members to work without getting paid. “Even when I was a kid I worked, almost to 21, and I would give all my pay to my family. That is how we do things.” He never had any suspicions about the stream of people who came to stay at Matamata’s home or attended their church, a sentiment echoed by his neighbours. No one ever saw or heard anything strange at his house, though some did think the tall wire fence and locked gate around his property were odd. In the end, the jurors took just seven and a half hours to deliver 23 guilty verdicts. Matamata was acquitted on one trafficking charge. He will be sentenced in May. Each slavery charge carries a maximum penalty of 14 years in prison and the human trafficking charges carry a maximum penalty of 20 years in prison or a NZ$500,000 fine. He now faces spending the rest of his life behind bars. Matamata’s lawyer, Roger Philip, says his client is “extremely disappointed” in the verdicts and is now “taking some time to consider his options”. ‘Tip of the iceberg’ Matamata’s conviction is an extraordinary achievement given such cases are normally “notoriously difficult” to prosecute, says Natalia Szablewska, a senior law lecturer at Auckland University of Technology, who is an expert in modern slavery. “The evidentiary burden is often very high and complainants can be confused about what happened to them, or even that what happened to them would constitute slavery or human trafficking.” Before Matamata’s prosecution, there have only been three other human trafficking cases in New Zealand in the last decade, only one of which resulted in a conviction. “Modern slavery is much more widespread than we suspect,” says Szablewska, who hopes Matamata’s conviction will open doors for other cases around the world. “International statistics tell us there are 40 million people in some form of slavery so it’s probably quite right to say this is just the tip of the iceberg and there are many more potential cases of this happening in New Zealand or elsewhere in the world.” None of Matamata’s victims were in court to hear the guilty verdicts but were informed by phone and were “delighted” with the result, says Immigration New Zealand manager Stephen Vaughan. “They were very brave and courageous in coming forward. This has been a very difficult time for the victims involved.”