The title of this recording is "Chloe Coombe profile". It is described as: Chloe Coombe, PhD candidate in history at the University of Otago, talks about her research: A Study of End-of-Life Care and Cultures of Commemoration during the HIV and AIDS Epidemic (1980s-1990s) in Aotearoa New Zealand. It was recorded in Museum of New Zealand Te Papa Tongarewa (Tory Street), 169 Tory Street, Te Aro, Wellington on the 17th February 2025. Chloe Coombe is being interviewed by Gareth Watkins.  Their names are spelt correctly but may appear incorrectly spelt later in the document. The duration of the recording is 46 minutes. A list of correctly spelt content keywords and tags can be found at the end of this document. A brief description of the recording is: Chloe Coombe, PhD candidate in history at the University of Otago, talks about her research: A Study of End-of-Life Care and Cultures of Commemoration during the HIV and AIDS Epidemic (1980s-1990s) in Aotearoa New Zealand. The content in the recording covers the decades 1990s through to the 2020s. A brief summary of the recording is: Chloe Coombe, a PhD candidate in history at the University of Otago, discusses her research on end-of-life care and commemorative practices during the HIV and AIDS epidemic in Aotearoa New Zealand from the 1980s to the 1990s. The interview, conducted by Gareth Watkins at the Museum of New Zealand Te Papa Tongarewa, explores Coombe’s personal connection to the subject, as well as her broader academic focus. Coombe’s interest in the topic is deeply personal, as her father passed away from an AIDS-related illness in 1995 when she was nearly five years old. For much of her life, the circumstances of her father’s death were kept a secret from her and her sister. It was only years later, after investigating inconsistencies in family narratives, that she discovered the truth. By obtaining her father’s death certificate and reaching out to old family friends, Coombe and her sister confirmed that he had been living with HIV since at least 1983 and had died from AIDS-related complications. The secrecy surrounding his illness reflected the intense stigma of the time, which deeply affected her mother’s ability to openly grieve and share the reality with her children. Coombe’s research examines how individuals and communities in New Zealand experienced the HIV and AIDS crisis, particularly focusing on the final stages of life and the ways people memorialised those who had passed. A significant part of her research involves oral histories, collecting the personal testimonies of those who lived through the epidemic - whether they were individuals with HIV, caregivers, friends, or members of support organisations. She explores both public acts of remembrance, such as the New Zealand AIDS Memorial Quilt, and private, more intimate ways people have honoured their lost loved ones. During the interview, Coombe describes her first encounter with the AIDS Memorial Quilt, a significant artefact in the history of HIV and AIDS commemoration. She expresses being initially anxious about the emotional impact of seeing the quilt in person but ultimately found the experience deeply moving rather than overwhelming. The physicality of the quilt, with personal objects such as a soft toy cat sewn into panels, made the memories of those it commemorated feel more tangible. She contrasts this with viewing the quilt online, where the digital experience, though detailed, lacks the same emotional immediacy. Reflecting on her father’s death, Coombe discusses how her mother’s secrecy affected her understanding of her family history. As a child, she was given conflicting explanations, including that her father had died of cancer. Over time, inconsistencies in these accounts prompted further investigation. She and her sister began questioning the circumstances of their father’s death, ultimately leading to the discovery of the truth. She notes the broader societal stigma surrounding HIV and AIDS at the time, which likely influenced her mother’s decision to withhold information. Coombe’s academic work is interwoven with her personal journey, making the research both a scholarly pursuit and a means of processing her own history. Balancing personal emotion with academic detachment is a challenge, particularly when conducting interviews with those who have similarly intimate connections to the epidemic. Some interviewees describe preparing for death only to be saved by the introduction of highly active antiretroviral therapy in the mid-1990s - a medical breakthrough that came just a little too late for Coombe’s father. This contrast between survival and loss is something she finds both uplifting and heartbreaking. Her research also delves into the challenges of commemoration and the ways in which people continue to honour those lost to the epidemic. She is particularly interested in the private rituals of remembrance, such as the ways people cope with loss in their daily lives. While public memorials like the AIDS Memorial Quilt provide an educational and collective grieving space, personal remembrance practices often go unnoticed but are just as vital. Coombe expresses an interest in contributing a panel to the AIDS Memorial Quilt in honour of her father, though she acknowledges uncertainty about what she would include, given how little she remembers of him. She reflects on childhood memories, such as placing daisies in his coffin as a substitute for the cigarettes he once smoked. These recollections highlight the significance of personal storytelling in the grieving process and the importance of passing down memories, even when direct experiences are limited. Looking ahead, Coombe plans to continue her PhD research, taking a temporary break for parental leave before returning part-time. She anticipates several more years of work, including further interviews and analysis, before completing her dissertation. She hopes that her research will not only contribute to academic understanding but also help preserve the stories of those affected by the HIV and AIDS epidemic in Aotearoa New Zealand. Her work raises critical questions about historical memory, stigma, and the importance of oral history in capturing experiences that might otherwise be lost. By amplifying the voices of those who lived through the epidemic, Coombe aims to ensure that the narratives of loss, love, and resilience remain part of the historical record. The full transcription of the recording begins:  So I'm Chloe Coombe. I, um, am from Dunedin, uh, the University of Otago. I'm doing my PhD in history. Um, we are at Te Papa Tory Street, um, and I've just been looking at the, uh, Um, quilt, a quilt block, um, from the AIDS Memorial Quilt, um, yeah, which is amazing. Is this the first time you've seen one of the AIDS Memorial Quilt blocks in person? Yes, yeah, it was much more, I guess, I was quite nervous because I thought I would be really emotional, and I, I guess I was, like, looking at, um, At them, but I thought I'd be bawling my eyes out and I did not. So, I'm kind of glad for that. Um, but yeah, I've seen the photos online and stuff, but I hadn't seen one. It was incredible being able to actually see one of the ones. That I saw I had like a soft toy cat, um, and being able to see that was just amazing. Yeah. So why did you think you, you might be bawling your eyes out? What was, what, what gave you that kind of idea? Um, so, My dad died of an AIDS -related illness when I was five, which was, oh, sorry, just about five, um, in 1995, and, um, I'd been thinking, oh, I wonder if I could make a panel for him, and then I had been thinking, what would I do, I wonder what other families do, like, how do they show their person, or show their love for their person, um, In just such a small space, um, and, uh, one of my interviewees has done some panels and talking to him about it was, was really emotional, um, just hearing his experience and story and then seeing how he had done the panels and so I just thought, oh, I'm gonna see these panels and I'm just gonna get really upset from the, uh, I suppose the grief and the love that has gone into them, yeah. What is, um, can you describe the difference between seeing the panels online versus actually seeing one in person? Seeing them online, it's... Great, and the photos are really high definition resolution. Um, really good quality, and so you can zoom in really well. But there's almost like a, I don't know what the word is, like you're looking at a screen, you're not, um, it almost feels more intense. Um, like looking at, um, At the panels in person, it feels like, it's almost like the person is there, kind of. I think, um, I mean, the ones that I looked at, a lot of them are really specific and show a lot of really, um, intimate things about those people, and so it makes you feel like, And being able to, like, with the gloves on and stuff being able to like, touch. Little bits of it makes you kind of feel like you got to know them a little bit. By being able to interact with it in person. At it's quite interesting, isn't it, that you know, for, for decades these quilts were, were laid out very lovingly in a whole variety of places like in parks, at schools, and they were touched with, with, with human hands. But now, being in a museum there is, it's slightly removed, isn't it? Yes, and, um, I did think it's so interesting, um, Hau. Well kept they are, considering they've been, you know, flapping around in the wind in a park and, you know, there are school kids probably, like, probably been told maybe don't get your grubby fingers on it, but kids are kids and they probably, you know, I want to touch this kind of thing. Um, I was, like, quite impressed with how well they've been maintained. Um, yeah. So you're saying that your, your, your, your father passed away, um, when you were around five from, from age -related complications. At the time, was that talked about? No, so it was an absolute secret. Um, my sister was three and I was, I turned five in January and he died at the start of December in 95. And we... I don't know what we were told at the time, but um, it was, it was a secret. Like, the next day we were sent to preschool, um, which we only found out later by seeing a school photo. And I had said, oh, my sister, she looks so... Distraught, like, what's, what's happening in that photo and mum saying, Oh, that was the day after your father died. That's how she always talked about your father. And, um, I was like, I can't believe you sent us to school like the next day. It's really intense. And, um, I mean, in hindsight, there probably could have been people who looked, would have looked after us, but also like she would have just been, you know, someone who looked after us. And, um, I mean, I wouldn't be here if it wasn't for those people. Um, The first time I met someone in real life with psoriasis, I was like, I'm so sorry. Like, you're gonna die. This is really awful. And they were like, what are you talking about? I just have a skin condition. And I was like, oh, that's so random. I must've gotten, I thought I must've gotten the name wrong or something. I've, I've, I've, I've, I've. Misheard something at some point, um, and then about, I think it was about three years ago, my sister and I started talking about how things didn't match up. And, um, for instance, we didn't realise that this wasn't normal, but my whole life, you know, we would get phone calls or people would come to our house. We grew up in a very small town in central Otago. And they'd be like, oh, is Bob, is Bob here? We'd be like, oh, mum, someone's asking for dad again. And she would go and break the news. Oh, Bob died of cancer in 1995. And these were his friends. These were people he knew. Um, and so we would get, you know, we'd get phone calls. And my sister said the first time she really, Like, questioned what was going on was probably five years ago, maybe, between five and ten years ago. Um, we were in Dunedin, we'd moved to Dunedin, and there was a phone call at the house, and she overheard Mum telling the person that Dad died from complications from heart failure medications. And my sister was like, that's not quite... That's not what you said, that's not right. Um, and so she kind of stowed that away. And so what we did was, once we realised things weren't adding up, I asked mum, I said, I said, I kind of called her out and said, You know, things don't seem right. You said he died of cancer and psoriasis. And she got very defensive and said, You know, I don't know what to do. I don't know what to do. I know he did die of cancer. He died of cancer. And I was like, okay, no, that's fine. I just wanted, you know, I just wanted to check. Um, but we didn't, I didn't quite believe her. Um, and she had said, you know, it's none of your business. Um, and so what my sister and I did was we sent a Facebook message to one of mum and dad's, like, Couple friends from years and years ago, they, they lived, we all lived in the same small town. Um, and they came back to us and they said, we're so sorry that you haven't been told. We thought you would have been told by now. Um, but your dad died of AIDS and that was so like, Left field for me, like I was, I kind of thought, oh maybe he died, he smoked a lot, maybe he died of lung cancer, maybe it was a different kind of cancer or from, from drinking too much or something. Um, and I was like, what the heck? Like, what is this? Um, didn't know anything about HIV or, or AIDS. Um, I think we'd learned about HIV in school, maybe, but that was like the first time. The very early 2000s, so how correct would some of that information have been as well? Um, and so my sister, she organised to get Dad's death certificate, which we didn't know that you could do. And a friend had said, um, get, order his death certificate. And it turned up and it said, 1983, HIV positive. Um, 12 years, AIDS, um, 1995, three months. And then he died of bronchopneumonia on the 4th of December. Um, and I remember, um, Reading that and being like, holy moly, like, what is, what is going on? Like, that's such a long time, did they, like, so many questions, did they know? In 1983, like, they were married, they've been married since 1981. Um, and I went and saw my mum once we got the death certificate, because I wanted to make sure, like, even though I was like, of course I believe our friends, but I wanted to have proof in case she... Um, and I went and talked to her about it and I tried, I was very angry, but I tried to be... I tried to be kind, um, and I said, you know, like it must have been so isolating for you being in a small town and no one knowing, I mean it must have been really scary because... I remember the tiny amount of research that I did in between those, like, the few days. I was like, okay, there's, it seems like there was a lot of stigma. Um, she would have been so alone, so lonely, um, but she didn't take it well at all. Um, basically tried to blame me and my sister for dad dying. And I, and I wonder if that was her just kind of, I don't know if she truly believes that, or not. Or if that was just her like, 25 years of secrets have crumbled down in front of her, and she was just panicking, um, and then she was like, I guess you never want to talk to me ever again. And I was like, well, I don't really know how I'm gonna deal with this, and what I'm supposed to do. And, um, when I found out we talked to my GP, Eruera Rerekura, Te Karere. We should just test you just in case. Like, it's so unlikely, but just in case. And so we got tested and it was negative, um, but all of my medical records have been, they're missing, missing, disappeared from before I was 18. So, um, they were like, there's no proof that you ever got tested, uh, when you were a child. And so I asked mum and she said, no, you were tested. Um, and the first tests came back as false positives, so we had to be tested again. Um, and then the, well, and I don't know if this is my mum, if the doctors just told her this to appease her fear of people knowing, being in a very, like, the one doctor's medical centre in a very small town. Um... They said, oh don't worry, we've buried the tests, we've hidden, um, no one will know that it's a HIV test, no one knows that your husband has AIDS, um, and As far as I'm aware, from what mum said, no one knew until the next doctor, until our GP retired and the next doctor came about 12 years later and looked into our records and was like, what is this, you know? Um, but, yeah, um, I did some research and found out that dad was in the army. Um, he went to Singapore. And I think 1979 to 1980 and then he was discharged after that. Um, and mama had said that he, Oh, your father got AIDS in Singapore in the army in a brothel. And I was like, but that doesn't, the dates don't line up. Um, and I wonder if they just thought the earliest. It could have been in New Zealand as 1983, so we'll just say it is then, or if he did actually, um, something happened in Singapore, and also, like, she was very certain that it was with a female prostitute, or through, um, injecting drugs, um, but also, like, he was in the army, he, like, It would have been very normal to have had sex with another man, um, which also could have been the shame that she felt as a married woman. Um, so yeah, I think I will probably never know the full story, um, as much as I'm trying to find out more and more. Um, I, that's kind of... Where him edu -ing mai PHD on the epi -demek is because I E think stories is so important And that's how I love to learn Its through hearing people's stories And I'm like we need jihiri Molerah fi stories before Is too late Um And I think Is married The stigma is different today I think is till is Um Particularly with people who have no idea about the epidemic or what actually happened. Um, so yeah, it's a tricky, tricky thing to figure out what is the right thing to do. And tricky in terms of, uh, balance within... You know, you've obviously got a very, um personal connection to the research, but also I'm guessing you want to be slightly removed from, when you do the research. How do you... how do you um, keep that balance between um, those two things? Mm, that's really hard umm, and I don't know if I Eruera Rerekura, Te Karere. Do it well. Um, I've done, um, some interviews with people who either are HIV positive themselves and were in, say, Heron Bay House and were dying and then medication came in. And so, like, them sharing their end of life story. It's really emotional for me because I automatically think, how was that for my dad? He didn't have the support of going somewhere like Herne Bay House or, um, perhaps even knowing anyone else who had an AIDS -related illness or anything. Um, and had that, I suppose. Desire to keep it quiet. Um, keep it a secret. I think doing, uh, doing the interviews with people has been really emotional and I've definitely cried in some of them and the people that I've talked to have been so kind, um, and especially have said, you know, Um, we're doing this, we've chosen to do this because of your story. Um, because you have a relationship with the story. Um, and so, in a way, it's like I'm thankful for my story because I can connect with people. Um, then. Reading, say, secondary literature, it's a lot more removed, um, and a lot easier for me. I feel like I can be a lot more distant, um, and although that stuff is really important, especially for my thesis, um, and understanding, uh, certain things around the epidemic, I think, you know, being in the archives and doing interviews with people, it's really helpful. That really, like, gets me. Um, and I'm really lucky the, the department at, at Taigo, the history department, they've been really supportive. Um, because I did, so I did my honours dissertation, when was that, 2023 I think. Um, and they. We're all like, okay, we know your story, and I had wanted to do, I had wanted to do interviews then, and they were like, actually we think it's, perhaps it's too soon, maybe you could start out being a bit more distant and looking at responses to the epidemic, so that we can support you better, and then we'll see how that goes, and if you continue on, um, to do further postgrad work, maybe we can, um, I think about doing interviews. And so they saw how I was able to handle doing my dissertation and coming up here and being in the archives just for a little bit. Um, and they were like, okay, like Chloe has really good friends support. Um, I see a psychologist every week to keep me in check and she's incredible. I think without her, I would have, it would be. Really difficult. My, my partner, um, I have all these people who just check in, um, and make sure that I'm okay, particularly after interviews. Um, there was, there was one interview where I found it really difficult and afterwards I, Was, well, in the last, like, probably 20 minutes of the interview, I was just bawling my eyes out the whole time, and then afterwards, I went back to the office, my office, and I was just crying, and, um, everyone was just so nice, and being like, you need, okay, now you need to take a break, you need to not even come into the office for a few days, and just being like, your mental health is more important than doing your hours, kind of thing, um, Which has been, yeah, a real, I feel very lucky that I have those people that have been able to keep me grounded. But also I think it's important to, I don't know if anyone can truly be unbiased in their work. And I think my story, um, and my experience makes the work that I'm doing. I don't, I don't quite know the word, more, more something. Um, and I think it's important to lean into that in a way, um, even if it's really hard. Yeah. Can you describe what your PhD is about? So, I am looking at the epidemic, particularly Um, at the end of life journey and concerns. Um, And support that was given to people, uh, not just people who were dying of AIDS -related illnesses and conditions, but also the people who were supporting them, um, nursing them, um, their family, their friends, their lovers, um, the volunteers in the organisations and stuff. And then I also... kind of related to that, I want to look at commemoration. So that's why I've been looking at the quilt because I think that's one of the big things in New Zealand was the quilt and beacons of hope. I've, yeah, talked to some people about that and also people's own personal Ways of commemoration, their personal, their like the quiet ways they do it at home. Um, because I think there's, it's really important. The quilt is an amazing example of this, of ways people, um, remember. their loved ones. Um, and they can do it in a personal way that is also public, that also educates people and continues to educate people today. Um, but then there's also, that's a really public thing. There's also the, I just makes me think, like, well, what do people do at home at night time when their person isn't there? You know, um, they're not in bed with them anymore, they're gone. Um, I, yeah, it made me think, what do people do? And so I want to make sure to share that part as well. Um, I think it's really important. And is this covering a certain time period? Yeah, so I think. I'm technically going to start from about 81, um, just because that was kind of when it was first worldwide, um, acknowledged and, and found out about. Um, and I think I'll probably, at the moment I'm looking at going to about 2000. Um, I, I considered stopping in 96, 97 with um, the introduction of highly active antiretrovirals because that made a huge difference, but that still didn't stop some people from dying and I think it's important to... note that there were despite medication coming in there were still people who died and there was still grief and loss after this really monumental time Um, but of course I have to put an end date somewhere and it's really hard to choose. But I think probably just the end of end of the decade So we're talking say around 30 to 40 years ago. How has it been finding participants to be interviewed? It's been really interesting actually. Um, when I did first, um, did my ethics, um, application, I was thinking I'm only, I'm hardly going to be able to find ten people who would be interested in doing this. Um, but it's really snowballed and I've already talked to over ten people and I think I've only been doing this for... Maybe eight months now, so I, and I, and I still have a long time to go. So, um, and the people I, I was able to, um, get names from people like you, um, but also. Reaching out to Body Positive, um, the Brunette Foundation and they, um, well I know Body Positive put it in their newsletter that I was looking for someone, um, and the Pride NZ Facebook page did, um, and I had some people reach out from there and then just names that So if I've interviewed someone and then they give me a whole bunch of names and then, or they'll talk about it with their friends and their friends then reach out to me and say, I talked to this person and this person and I want to tell you my story too. Which is just amazing because it makes me feel like I, I think perhaps I did something right in the interview, like I was able to listen and make sure that the people that were telling their story were cared for, um, enough that they feel comfortable telling their friends that they should talk to me or something. I'm really amazed. I think I'll have to put, again, I'll have to put a limit at some point, but I just want to hear as many stories as I can, because I think it's important that people's stories are heard. Yeah. My experience with recording interviews for Pride NZ around HIV and AIDS is that, you know, you have these two extremes of people that absolutely want to put their story on record to make sure the story is recorded, but then you have other instances where people have been so affected by what happened in the 80s and 90s. They just don't want to talk. Um, have you found similar things? Um, I have. There's been a couple of people that I've reached out to that understandably have said no. Um, because they were so affected. Um, and that's, yeah, I, I'm not really surprised at all that there are people who kind of, Just need to keep doing the next, you know, I've just got to take the next step. I've got to do the next thing, because what happened was so traumatic, um, over such a long period of time, that, um, I think, no wonder there are people who feel like they don't want to share. Um, and then there are people who do want to share, and then... They do the interview and I say, um, because I do all my transcribing myself, um, without AI or anything. And, um, I say, you know, once you've read over the transcript, if you change your mind, you want to take anything out or you want to clarify something. Um, I've had people say, oh, I didn't actually, I said this, but I didn't mean that. Or, actually, can we take that out because that's not what I meant. Um, And I think it's really important to, like, let them do that, because it gives people, I suppose, like an element of control over their story, um, through a story that there wasn't, there was no way to control what was happening, um, you can't You couldn't stop the snowball of what was happening during the epidemic. You couldn't stop, you couldn't make your friends not die. And so, in a way, it's, it's like, there are people who need to share their story, and there are people who, who feel like they can't, and that's their way of... Being able to deal with that now, and I think that's, yeah. Totally understandable. I'm imagining the interviews, well, I mean, the interviews will be highly personal. And I just wonder from like a practical point of view, when you walk into somebody's room or a house or, um, doing it online, like, where do you even begin? What, like, what is your first question when you do these kind of interviews? Um, so usually I. We'll just ask them how they're doing and what it's, what's life like in whatever city or town that they are in. Um, and then to properly begin, um, and I learnt this from you actually, was not to dive straight in with the really personal question of, like, tell me about your person or something. Um, Because that's really intense. And, um, so I, I ask, when did you first hear about HIV and AIDS? And do you remember how it made you feel? Um, and that's been really interesting, hearing people's stories of like, like, Um, they heard it while they were overseas in various places, whether it was Europe or America, um, or Australia or whatever, or here in Aotearoa. And, um, and I think one of the common threads is that, that uncertainty, that fear that something, this is going to be really big and we don't know what's going to happen. But, um, But it seems really scary and, yeah, I think, I think it is, and I suppose I'm in this academic field that is very like, you know, you look at facts and that kind of thing and I think hearing about how something made someone feel just makes it more real. It brings a different side to it and, and I think hopefully it helps those people feel a bit more, um, at the beginning of the interview, helps them feel a bit more relaxed into potentially talking about further, um, Really intense things. Yeah. And I guess jumping to the end of the interview, you've gone through a very personal experience. How do you, how do you close? How do you end? How do you know when it's the right time to turn the recorder off? Well, sometimes they tell me like, okay, I've told you everything, um, or. I will come to, so I have a list of questions and, but then I also, um, kind of jump in with other questions if something comes up. I'm like, oh, that's really interesting. I would, I want to know more about that. Um, but my very last question is usually, is there someone that you want to remember? Um, so that could be, they could, be very specific and name them, um, or it could be very general or they could, um, like I've had people who have said, you know, I want to remember these organizations and these people for what they did to help, um, That kind of thing. Um, and then also, I'm having a baby, and so the, um, when I've been doing most of the interviews, I've actually been very unwell, and so, and the people, the people I've been interviewing have been so kind when I've said, I have to, I might have to just run and throw up, and so that kind of, I might have to just run and throw up, and so that kind of thing. Makes an awkward, um, part. I haven't had to like, leave the room yet, but there was one where someone was very upset, and I was trying really hard not to throw up. Um, and I was like, I need to end the interview, but I also need to support this person. Um, And so I don't even know how we did it, but somehow we came to a, like a natural close. And then as soon as I turned it off, I was like, I've got to find a bathroom. I've got to go be sick. Um, so, yeah, it's... It's, it's kind of been really natural, um, but also a bit forced, um, in terms of like needing to go be sick. You will be accumulating, um, some amazing oral histories, and I'm wondering, uh, what will happen with those tapes? So, with the ethics, um, I don't know what you call it, the ethics people at Otago, they have kind of said like, you keep them for 10 years and then you delete them, um, that kind of thing. Um, and I don't know if my interviewees actually would want that to happen. And so I'm not sure how. Or what will happen yet, whether, um, I would obviously get all of their permission, um, whether they are deleted, um, though there is still the transcripts, um, or I don't know. If there's some way that I could deposit them somewhere, um, but I would, I would need to properly look into what the, um, Otago University Ethics people actually say. But I think, personally, I think it would be a disservice to just delete them, um, but. Yeah, I don't know. I don't quite know yet. I still have a little bit more time. Like I, I um, will go on maternity leave and take a year off and then go back part time. So I've still got a few more years to, before I have to. Definitely no. Um, yeah. What is the, um, what is the kind of the timeline, the journey for doing a PhD? You're eight months in. Um, what does the future look like? So, um, I have been doing it full time, so 40 hours a week. Um, and then I, so in... June I'll take maternity leave and then I want to come back, um, part -time because I don't want to burn myself out with a baby and trying to figure out what's going on, but I really want to come back because I, I really love the work that I'm doing. I really love the people that I've been working with. Thank you. I've been able to talk to and work with, and I think the work is really, really important. The stories are far too important to just not come back. Um, and so, I think part -time would then make it maybe four more years, I think. Um, it depends how it all goes. Um, but when I... So by the time I go on maternity leave I will have done my one year and I will have been, they do this thing where they like confirm you as a candidate. Um, and by then I would have hopefully written, done some writing, written a chapter. Um, and I've kind of done it back, done it backwards where you usually do some writing and then you do like interviews and stuff. I kind of just dove right in with the interviews, which I think is actually a better, better way for me to do it. Um, but I think I'll continue doing the interviews all the way through until I absolutely can't have, like I absolutely don't have time to do them anymore. Um, and then I just have to write and write and write and write. Um, basically a book. I think it's a hundred thousand words. Um, yeah. And then hopefully graduate. So we're eight months in. Has anything in the recordings or in the research that you've done changed you in any way? I think so, um, learning about how, like hearing people's stories about how they You've prepared yourself, um, you've prepared your friends. Everyone's expected this. Rapaera Tawhai, Te Karere. This ending and then it didn't happen. Um, that is still really mind -boggling to me. But also, it's like I could see the hope. Um, it's like, yeah. But also it, it made me really sad in terms of my own story. Like, knowing. For this person, it was around the same time as my dad's story. And knowing that that didn't happen for my dad, um, and highly active antiretrovirals came in not that long after he died, um, was really, like when I realised that and then heard these stories from people who got to use them and it worked for them, um, it's like, So happy for them and for all the people that it was just so transformative, but also just so gutting for my family and for the people that it didn't, it wasn't, there's the timing was really sucky. Um, I think also just being able to talk to. People, and to understand the context and the culture in New Zealand in the 80s and early 90s, um, is just so much more helpful, I think, hearing from real people than just reading it on the page of a book. Um. I think that's what's so important about oral history and I'm like, that's where the Māori people, you know, they, they did that so well for years and years, um, and I just really think that, that the oral history side has, it's kind of ruined me for doing, um, um, I think it's so important and there's just something that when I talk to each person, it's like, it's almost like you become a part of their story and it makes you really care for them as people, even though I'm like, we don't really know each other, but I feel like. I know you really well now, um, and so I think, yeah, just that whole process around oral history and, and the ethics of me having this particular story, listening to people who have kind of similar stories, um, um, And how does that work? That kind of thing. Yeah, I'm still learning and, um, but yeah, I think it has definitely changed me. Yeah. You were saying at the start of this interview about the possibility of making your dad, um, a quilt panel, uh, as part of the AIDS Memorial quilt. Is that something that you're still considering? Is that something you'd still do? Yeah, I think so. Um, though I'm not very good at, that I can niche and that's about it. Um, so I don't know if I'd be very, be very good, um, practically. But I think... I would, I just, even seeing them in person, it just really, like, made me think, oh wow, what would I, what would I do, what would I put on Dad's one, and then I had a thought, I didn't really know him, like, I was four years old, just about five, um, I, I was just telling Stephanie that, um, on one of the panels there was, um, someone had done, like painted a bottle of wine and a cigarette in an ashtray and it reminded me of my dad because he smoked a lot and, um, when, when after he died the, the funeral people said to me and my sister that we could pick the coffin and my sister had really wanted to have it. It would be prettier, I think. So, if we could come together, um, with the Buddhist members, and we could do something This tiny little white coffin that was actually for a baby. And she got really upset because they said, No, you can't fit him in there. Like, he's like, that's, that's for tiny babies. Um, but maybe you could do something special to put in the coffin. Um, even if it's not the coffin that you would have picked. And so we thought, I still so clearly remember going home and picking. All the daisies off the back lawn and putting them in the coffin and sticking them in between his figures, fingers so that they would be, um, cigarettes. So that he would have smokes in heaven or where, you know, like as a child, I think we just got told he was in heaven. So he would have the daisy smokes in heaven. And so as much as I'm like, I don't know him, like I, I don't remember much about him. I'm like. Hau aki te reo. I to a little like, oh, maybe I wouldn't be the right person to make a panel. But then at the same time, like, that shouldn't matter. Like, that's not the point of the panels, the, it's, it's to show your love and memory of someone that you loved. Tēnā koe, tēnā koe. And that's what I saw today, it was like, these families and friends and, um, there were so many little things from mums. Um, yeah, I think, even if I didn't do the best job at it, it would still. I think it would be meaningful if they're, I mean, I don't, I would need to contact the, I think the Brunette Foundation to see if they still even accept, accept them. But, um, yeah, I think seeing them in person is, made me conflicted, but also, more like, seeing the importance of doing it. Yeah. The full transcription of the recording ends. A list of keywords/tags describing the recording follow. These tags contain the correct spellings of names and places which may have been incorrectly spelt earlier in the document. The tags are seperated by a semi-colon: 1990s ; 2000s ; 2020s ; AIDS ; AIDS Memorial Quilt ; Aotearoa New Zealand ; Australia ; Body Positive ; Chloe Coombe ; Coming Up ; Dunedin ; Europe ; HIV / AIDS ; Herne Bay House ; Job ; Museum of New Zealand Te Papa Tongarewa ; Museum of New Zealand Te Papa Tongarewa (Tory Street) ; New Zealand AIDS Memorial Quilt ; Otago ; People ; Singapore ; Space ; Stuff ; University of Otago ; Wellington ; academia ; academics ; archives ; army ; balance ; cancer ; change ; coffin ; connect ; crying ; culture ; death ; death certificate ; desire ; difference ; drugs ; emotional ; epidemic ; failure ; family ; fear ; friends ; funeral ; future ; gloves ; grief ; health ; history ; honours ; hope ; interviewing ; journey ; listening ; loss ; love ; medications ; memorial ; memory ; mental health ; news ; newsletter ; normal ; nursing ; oral history ; organised ; other ; period ; quilt ; reading ; records ; research ; sad ; school ; secret ; sex ; shame ; small town ; stigma ; straight ; support ; time ; touch ; understanding ; university ; wind ; wine ; work ; writing. The original recording can be heard at this website https://www.pridenz.com/chloe_coombe_profile.html. Please note that this document may contain errors or omissions - you should always refer back to the original recording to confirm content.