New Kiwis come in all shapes, nationalities and colours.

The granting of New Zealand citizenship to tech billionaire Peter Thiel – who failed to meet several criteria – raised questions about our citizenship system. Nikki Macdonald meets some new Kiwis and looks at the rules.

The united nations of New Zealand wait in line.

There's Jose and George; Ailis and Yulia; Ali, Hussain and Muhammad; Rakesh and Deepshikha, Zakariya and Mustafa, and plain old Marie. There are kilts and dhotis; island shirts and gypsy dresses with tinkling bells. Little girls in tutus and tiaras; cargo pants and shiny shot silk.

Black, brown and white they have only one thing in common – they're about to be united as new citizens of a tiny nation at the bottom of the world.

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* Peter Thiel was in NZ for just 12 days before becoming a citizen

* Case of a well-connected millionaire

* Controversial businessman William Yan sentenced for money laundering



The united nations of New Zealand wait in line to become Kiwi citizens. PHOTO: ROBERT KITCHIN/STUFF

This citizenship ceremony at Te Papa is additional to Wellington's standard monthly affair – such is the queue to become a Kiwi in the city in which one-third of residents were born overseas. And it's not just Wellington: 2016 recorded the second-highest number of new citizens since 1949.

"It's a commitment to your future, not a rejection of your past," says deputy mayor Paul Eagle, flanked by a flaccid New Zealand flag.

But some have renounced their birthplace to be here – countries such as India do not allow dual citizenship. Others keep the best of both worlds.

This ceremony is one of hundreds performed by local councils nationwide. New figures obtained by The Dominion Post show the nationalities of new Kiwis vary significantly between regions.

The majority of new citizens (58 per cent) are in the Auckland region, with India the largest country of origin. Wellington and Canterbury's new ranks are dominated by Brits, particularly the English. Filipinos and South Africans also feature highly.

As they take the stage to claim their certificates, you guess at their stories. The nervous young Ethiopian in the crinkled shirt. The elderly woman in a headscarf. That's Nirmal Kaur – she's been here 14 years, sent her three children to study here from Malaysia. Now they're patent attorneys and IT gurus.

"The law is good here," she says. "It does not sway with different people. In some countries, you have to be somebody to be seen."

An English woman has a Kiwi husband and kids and has been eligible for ages, but post-Brexit she decided to let her British citizenship lapse.

On the screen, bow-tied Internal Affairs Minister Peter Dunne points out that New Zealand residents get many privileges accorded only to citizens in other countries, such as the right to vote. So the decision to become a citizen reflects a lifelong commitment to the country.

There are oaths and affirmations and the national anthem. And a new crop of Kiwis is born.



Former Zimbabwean Nyarie Muza, centre, lives with her sister Ashley Hananda, right, and mother Meddeline Muza, but is the first in her family to become a Kiwi citizen. PHOTO:ROBERT KITCHIN/STUFF

NYARIE MUZA, 21, ZIMBABWE

An empty cornflakes box set Meddeline Muza thinking. "How come you go to work and you have money, but you no longer buy cereal for us?" her younger daughter Nyarie asked.

A surgical nurse at a private hospital in the Zimbabwean capital, Harare, Meddeline earned good money. But with the country spiralling into an economic abyss, there was little to buy.

"That made me feel I was becoming inadequate as a mother," she recalls.

She started driving to Botswana to buy groceries, and looking for work abroad. Wellington Hospital offered her a job.

It was December 2005 and Nyarie was 10, Ashley was 12. She couldn't afford to bring them. So she savoured Christmas with her girls, and left Africa for the first time.

When an immigration official asked if she knew anyone here, she worried she would be deported. The woman was simply worried whether she would find the hospital on her own. That was the first culture shock.

The work was not so different – as a former British colony, Zimbabwe had comparable nursing qualifications. But she tired of the constant interrogation prompted by her dark skin and rich African lilt. Every day the same – where are you from; where did you train; did you have to do a competency test.

Once, a British tourist refused to be treated by a dark-skinned nurse. On that shift, they were all coloured – from Vanuatu, Fiji, India. The anaesthetist was Filipino, the theatre nurse Indian. They pretended it didn't hurt, and nicknamed themselves the All Blacks.

Meddeline stuck it out at the hospital until the girls arrived, before moving to disability nursing, agency nursing and now nursing administration.

Three agonising years it took to earn enough money, and sort visas, to bring her daughters to New Zealand. Every month, she sent 100kg of goodies – canned food, milk powder, DVDs – to assuage the guilty feeling she was better off than they.

As the process dragged, depression set in.

Then finally, in February 2009, Nyarie and Ashley – by then 13 and 15 – boarded their first plane to join their mother. The three now live together in a small rented home in Lyall Bay.

Nyarie, now 21, still sounds African, but there's an Antipodean edge lacking in her mother's velvet tones. She knew nothing about New Zealand but fitted easily into multicultural Wellington East Girls' College. She and other African pupils started a dance group. She befriended a Maori girl and thought she was American.

Now she's studying a bachelor of tourism management at Victoria University and working as a gym receptionist. She'll do an OE, but sees herself here for a long time.

"Life is just better here."

Which is why, in June, after eight years here, Nyarie ditched her Zimbabwean passport to become a certified New Zealander.

Meddeline, now 44, can't yet commit to that leap. She loves the peace and knowing she doesn't need to wait up when Nyarie and Ashley go into town. And Zimbabwe is now "really, really bad", with no electricity or water for days.

But she still has six siblings there and hopes to spend more time there when the girls are independent. Sometimes, she misses her family's rural homestead, or washing in the river in the sun.



Claire, Clifford and 10-year-old Chloe Lasmarias moved from the Philippines in 2011. Caspian was born in New Zealand so was a citizen by birth. PHOTO: ROBERT KITCHIN/STUFF

THE LASMARIAS FAMILY, THE PHILIPPINES

Clifford perches on the "Mr Right" cushion; Claire takes the "Mrs Always Right". As they talk, Chloe, 10 and 4-year-old Caspian munch on mango marshmallows.

The Lasmarias family look like any Kiwi family, at home in their comfortable suburban house.

But it's a world away from Clifford's Philippines upbringing. He was largely a stranger to his parents, as they worked furiously to save for his education. While he went to school in the provinces, his mother worked as an accounts clerk in Manila and his electrician father moved to Saudi Arabia to up his earning potential, later becoming a seaman.

Clifford returned to the world's most densely populated city at age 12. The reunion with his mother was brief – she died of kidney disease two years later. There was no free healthcare and his father exhausted his savings on medication.

"It's really a challenge raising a family back home," Clifford, 38, says. "My parents really made some huge sacrifices."

In spite of everything, the family managed to fund Clifford's university studies in electronics engineering.

Claire's family were more comfortable, but lived a simple life. Her father also worked in Saudi Arabia, as a mechanic, before returning to run a school bus service.

The pair met while at university and married in 2006. They moved in with Claire's parents, pooling resources to pay household costs and employ home help.

They always dreamed of going overseas. Clifford was marketable, with experience in the top Filipino communications companies.

They targeted Singapore, United States, Canada, Australia and New Zealand. A job came up at 2degrees, so Clifford took it.

He arrived in March 2011, knowing no-one, having borrowed to fund the move.

When Claire followed with Chloe in May, she was struck by the low clouds, the cold and wind, and the friendly people. But the biggest culture shock was living on their own for the first time, doing all the chores, making sense of the Kiwi accent.



Candidates only become official Kiwi citizens after they've made an oath or affirmation of allegiance at a public ceremony. PHOTO: ROBERT KITCHIN/STUFF

Clifford was used to change and challenge. Claire less so. It was hard, too, when her mother died when Claire was pregnant with Caspian.

But when they became permanent residents and she needed an ear operation, she came to appreciate the value of free healthcare.

"I was really surprised when we were about to leave the hospital – are we really not paying anything?"

It's a big factor in their decision to become New Zealand citizens, Clifford says. "My mum passed away because we did not have the resources."

That, and the powerful passport and more relaxed, family-friendly lifestyle. And the fact Caspian was a Kiwi because he was born here, and Chloe was jealous.

They still miss food and extended family. They speak Tagalog at home and Chloe considers herself both Filipino and Kiwi. But they bought a house a year ago and value their security.

"The future is much brighter here," Claire says.



Phil and Gill Mark originally planned to stay two years. Nine years and two children later they have become Kiwis. Olivia, 3 and Isabella, 1, were born here so were automatic citizens. PHOTO: ROBERT KITCHIN/STUFF

THE MARK FAMILY, SCOTLAND AND NORTHERN IRELAND

At the ceremony, Phil Mark signposted his heritage with a kilt in the tartan of his mother's maiden name, Montgomery. But at home he'd pass for any Wellington hipster, with his Aro Noir T-shirt from boutique brewery Garage Project.

Phil is Northern Irish, having grown up south of Belfast. He's still British enough to define the distance in miles. Gill is Scottish, from Edinburgh. They're outdoorsy – meeting at the canoe club in Dundee, where they both went to university. Phil was studying architecture; Gill medicine.

Phil worked on building sites and did charity work in Namibia. Gill worked in a Dundee hospital, and as a GP registrar. And then they wondered what next. They didn't leave because UK life was grim, it was just a good time for a change.

The wish list was Canada, New Zealand or Australia. New Zealand won and Phil was accepted to complete architecture school at Victoria University.

GPs are on New Zealand's long term skills shortage list, so Gill had no trouble getting a visa, and locum work in Upper Hutt. They drove down from Auckland and remember the harbour view from State Highway One, staying with the practice manager, and Tuesday night pub quiz. It felt like a holiday.

They came in 2008 and planned to stay two years, but the global financial crisis prompted them to stay.

That was nine years ago. They've since bought a house – cold but serviceable. And gained three cats, a dog, 5 chickens and two kids – Olivia, 3 and Isabella, 1.

Phil works for Athfield Architects. It's a 15-minute commute, but he gets to work on creative projects such as Pukeahu War Memorial Park, the kind of work he'd have to move to London for at home.

Gill now works for student health at Victoria University. It's close and family friendly, but she struggles with the ethnic disparities and knowing how to reach Maori and Pasifika students.

The one thing they miss is family.

"I have the sense we are in the right place just now," Gill says. But sick parents could change that.

Getting citizenship was about being a family together, as the girls are automatic Kiwi citizens. The Marks half-pass the true test of loyalty, having supported the All Blacks in the recent Lions tour. But that's only because there were too many English players. All Blacks vs Scotland or Ireland would be a different story.



Life remains a struggle on a chef's wage for Punit D'Souza, his wife Michelle and daughter Myra. PHOTO: MONIQUE FORD/STUFF

THE D'SOUZA FAMILY, INDIA

All Punit D'Souza knew of New Zealand was the boys with willow bats and black caps.

Growing up in Thane, near Mumbai, he wanted to be a chef and to travel. He now considers his family middle class, but not back then. His parents worked in Kuwait for 30 years – his mother for a ticketing agency, his dad fixing elevators. The price for prosperity and education was never seeing your parents.

"They didn't have high qualifications, but managed to do quite a lot. They were quite an inspiration."

Punit, now 30, is a chef at Wellington's Noble Rot wine bar. He lives in a simple flat with his wife Michelle and 16-month-old daughter Myra, and another Indian chef. A double mattress is propped against the living room wall.

Supporting a family on a chef's wage is not easy, Punit says. Michelle and Myra just returned to New Zealand after 1½ years away. Michelle suffered bleeding problems while pregnant and Punit couldn't juggle work and looking after her, so she returned to India, to family support.



Punit at work at Noble Rot. PHOTO: MONIQUE FORD/STUFF

Negotiating immigration has also been a struggle. Punit came on a student visa, to study cheffing at New Plymouth's Western Institute of Technology. He had studied hotel management and got work experience in India and Kuwait. But he wanted to focus on cooking, and was looking for a country offering a possibility of residence. It was 2009 and the recession was biting in Britain – New Zealand looked a good option.

He was stunned by the beauty of Taranaki, and New Zealand's comparatively laid-back kitchens.

He eventually got a job at Wagamama in Wellington, after applying for at least 50 positions. Most didn't want the bother of the immigration paperwork.

Michelle's visa was initially rejected, because immigration officers thought it was a sham marriage.

Punit has worked for many top Wellington restaurants, moving around to learn new techniques. But his dream is to run his own business, starting with a pop-up.

He had to renounce his Indian citizenship to become a Kiwi, but it wasn't so hard. He loves Wellington and its peace and safety.

"I hope one day our situation gets better – that's why we are here. But I have no regrets."



Sravan Nalakonda came to study, but now feels at home here. PHOTO: MONIQUE FORD/STUFF

SRAVAN NALAKONDA, 32, INDIA

It took Sravan Nalakonda 1½ hours to fold the traditional dhoti he wore to the citizenship ceremony. He'd only done it once before – for his brother's wedding.

After seven years in New Zealand, India seems strange to him. His home city of Hyderabad, in the south, is almost unrecognisable. His chatter is peppered with Kiwisms such as "sweet" and he's been supporting the Black Caps for five years. Yes, even when they play India.

Sravan also came to study cheffing in New Plymouth. He'd studied hotel management and worked as a bartender, but wanted a change. Somewhere welcoming and peaceful and relaxing. He considered Canada, Switzerland and New Zealand.

"I heard it's one of those countries if you're good, legal and do things nice, there is scope for you to settle down and get residency."

He got a job the same day he came to Wellington and now works at Bethel Woods in the CBD.

New Zealand seems like his home; his friends are his family. There's space and he can walk the streets at 2am without fear of being robbed.

And he doesn't expect to return to India to marry – he'd rather keep his rugby mates, his movie mates and his drinking mates than invest all his energies in one girl.

"I feel like I will stay here for a long while."

CITIZENSHIP FOR SALE?

Two high-profile citizenship cases have raised questions about the exceptional circumstances provisions allowing foreigners who fail citizenship criteria to become Kiwis anyway.

▪ PETER THIEL

American tech billionaire Peter Thiel became a New Zealand resident in 2006 and was granted citizenship in 2011, under the "exceptional circumstances" provision. The citizenship only came to light in 2017, after journalist Matt Nippert questioned how he had bought a Lake Wanaka estate without Overseas Investment Office approval.

Thiel failed all the citizenship residency criteria, having never lived in New Zealand long term, having spent just 12 days here over five years (compared with the standard minimum 1350 days) and having no intention to live here in the future.

The then Minister of Internal Affairs, Nathan Guy, granted citizenship in the "public interest", based on his investments in New Zealand ventures and a $1 million donation to the Canterbury rebuild.

▪ BILL LIU/YONG MING YAN/YANG LIU/WILLIAM YAN

A mysterious Chinese millionaire who used four different names and several birth dates came to New Zealand in 2001 and was granted permanent residency in 2002.

Known to his MP mates as Bill Liu, he was a high-rolling gambler and donated $5000 to both the Labour and National parties during the 2005 election.

By May 2005 he had applied for citizenship, but a month later Chinese authorities accused him of embezzlement. He was not convicted of any offence, but his Australian bank accounts were frozen and $4 million was sent to the Chinese government. The allegations spurred New Zealand immigration officials to suggest revoking his permanent residency.

Instead, in 2008 he was granted citizenship, after then Labour Party minister Shane Jones over-ruled Internal Affairs officials, who said he did not meet the good-character test.

In March 2017, he pleaded guilty to money laundering, after forfeiting nearly $43 million to police.

Does this represent New Zealand? Watch the video shown to new citizens.

THE RULES

Citizenship rules were tightened in 2005, when the residency requirement was extended from three to five years. Ordinary mortals who are not Peter Thiel must now meet the following criteria:

▪ RESIDENCY

1) Have been a permanent New Zealand resident for at least five years.

2) Have been in New Zealand for at least 240 days in each of those five years, and at least 1350 days across the 5 years.

3) Intend to live in New Zealand after gaining citizenship.

▪ LANGUAGE

Able to hold a basic conversation in English.

▪ GOOD CHARACTER

You could be turned down for citizenship if you have more than 100 driving demerit points or a criminal history.

▪ PUBLIC DECLARATION

You're not a citizen until you've said the oath or affirmation of allegiance at one of the public citizenship ceremonies held by local councils. Private ceremonies – such as that held for Peter Thiel – must be approved by the minister.

CITIZENSHIP BY BIRTH

Babies born here are now automatic citizens only if at least one parent was a citizen or permanent resident at the time of their birth.

CITIZENSHIP BY MARRIAGE

Since 2005, there have been no special rules for non-citizens married to Kiwis.

DUAL CITIZENSHIP

New Zealand allows dual or multiple citizenship, but some countries do not, so some immigrants must renounce citizenship of their home nation before becoming Kiwis. Dual citizenship has some fish-hooks, as Palmerston North-born Australian Greens senator Scott Ludlam found out. He had to resign, after discovering he was still a Kiwi citizen - excluding him from running for parliament under Australia's constitution.

RESIDENCY VS CITIZENSHIP

Many nations, including Australia, restrict voting to citizens. New Zealand, however, allows permanent residents to have their say in elections, as long as they have lived here continuously for a year or more. In Britain, voting in a general election is restricted to British and Commonwealth citizens.

Only citizens can stand for parliament or local councils, or represent New Zealand in some sporting events, such as the Olympic Games.

REVOKING CITIZENSHIP

Citizenship can be revoked at any time between it being granted and the person taking the oath at a public citizenship ceremony. After that, it's more difficult.

The Internal Affairs Minister can still rescind citizenship, if the person has also become a citizen of another country and acted contrary to the interests of New Zealand; or if citizenship was gained through fraud or a mistake.

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