Our thoughts and prayers are with the family of the mama who was tragically taken while simply walking down the road in our village of Arorangi this week. May God comfort you all in this time of grief and loss, writes Thomas Tarurongo Wynne.

May we all hold our parents a little longer, tell them again we love them, and remind ourselves of the fragility of life as we reckon with this travesty.

But this was not a simple accident. This was a hit-and-run – a tragedy that demands we reflect on who we are and our relationship with time.

Is this moment a mirror held up to our society? A brutal and tragic reflection of what happens when haste and carelessness collide, leaving devastation in their wake. But this isn’t just about one reckless driver. The many complaints of near misses on our roads, the rising toll of deaths and injuries – it forces us to ask: what are we rushing towards, and at what cost? When did we become so heartless and disconnected that we could take a life and simply keep driving?

On an island where the furthest journey is barely 33 kilometres, why do we act as though we are running out of time?

Is it the influence of the world creeping into the reef, the 170,000-plus tourists who visit each year bringing with them a different sense of urgency? Or is it something closer to home and deeper – a shift in how we value time, how we value each other? Is this yet another symptom of how our culture is being changed, even commodified, right before our eyes?

What does it say about us when we move so fast that a mama, simply walking home, is killed in our wake? What does it say about the value we place on human life when the response is not to stop and help – but to flee?

Has the very village we cherish, the community we are part of, become so fast-moving that it is now fatal to walk along the roadside? Are we so consumed by getting somewhere that we’ve forgotten the responsibility of looking out for one another?

Perhaps it is time to slow down – not just on the roads, but in how we live. To reclaim time as something precious, not something to be squeezed and hurried. To remember that arriving faster is never more important than arriving safely. And most of all, to remember that in our rush to be somewhere, we must never forget who we leave behind.

Is it time to slow down – before we lose ourselves in the fast lane?

There was a time when our days were guided by the sun, the tides, and the rhythm of nature. Now, in an economy driven by feeding, housing, and supporting a booming tourism sector, time has become something to be spent, earned, and maximised. And in that shift, patience is lost. Care is lost. And, as we saw in Arorangi, lives are lost.

When children are left vulnerable to harm, and we turn a blind eye, we hit and run our children and most vulnerable. When our pā metua struggle to find the care and resources they need, we hit and run them also. When we allow our identity to be shaped by urgency instead of connection, we hit and run.

But we can choose differently. We can slow down – not just on the roads, but in how we live. We can reclaim time as something precious, not something to be squeezed and hurried. We can remind ourselves that no destination is more important than arriving safely – together. And most of all, we can refuse to leave anyone behind.

The change we seek does not begin with the government, though we need them to stand up and be counted, the police, who desperately need leadership and budget, or the next road safety campaign. It begins with us. So today, let’s choose to be present. Let’s choose to look out for one another. Let’s choose to live as we once did – with time, not against it.

Because if we don’t, we risk losing more than just minutes in the day. We risk losing who we are. Let’s take a stand – for love, for our people, and for our community.