NZ visual diary - entry 18

bakery window | construction workers | east meets west on Queen Street

Immigration is always a complicated story, no less so in New Zealand.

From the time Captain James Cook set foot on its soil in 1796 and stories of his explorations were retold across the salons Great Britain and the European continent, New Zealand was imagined as other-worldly: a narrative of singular beauty and geographic remoteness.

I experience that enduring perception of New Zealand every time I connect with a mate back in the States and explain that New Zealand is removed by 15 to 18 time zones from the continental United States. There is always a long pause in the conversation as my friend attempts to comprehend such distance.

The surprise ("Are there really 18 time zones?") gives rise to a familiar refrain: "I have always wanted to visit [singular beauty] but lack the will to travel that far [geographic remoteness]."

Until the 1950s the composition of New Zealand's immigrant population was by governmental policy almost exclusively British and Irish. Labour shortages and declining birth rates forced government to relax those restrictions. New Zealand opened its borders, albeit with continued covenants on immigration coupled to promises of permanent residency and citizenship.

Two story fragments convey my sense of New Zealand's markedly changed demographics: More Samoans live in Auckland than in all of Samoa and a typical walk through Auckland's storied Cornwall Park greets me with a profusion of spoken languages (my refrain to family: "I only heard a dozen spoken languages on today's stroll through the park.").

The triptych atop the page is a visual allusion to that complicated narrative.