Angel Apun's first few years in New Zealand were a struggle; these days she uses the lessons she learned the hard way to help fellow migrants get a foothold.

One reason Angel Apun​ moved to New Zealand was the inanity of our news headlines.

"We'd read something like 'Missing cat got found – a whole community celebrated'," the 35-year-old laughs. "In the Philippines our headlines are all rape, murder, assault, corruption."

That was in 2012, when she and her then-husband were on the hunt for a new land in which to raise their young son; reading the news from shortlisted countries seemed a cunning way to gauge a nation's vibe from afar.

New Zealand's preoccupation with cute animal stories won her over. Apun said goodbye to her family, nanny, maids, and driver and flew in on a Silver Fern visa, armed with high-flying marketing roles at multinationals on her CV.

Everyone was optimistic: "They told me I'd get a job in three weeks, easy peasy lemon squeezy," she says.

READ MORE:

* Strangers in a foreign land: African migrants snubbed by Kiwi employers

* Racism and communication major challenges, migrants say

* Here are some of the jobs that Kiwis can't, or won't, do

They were right - within three weeks Apun had a job scrubbing the filthy floors of Auckland's nightclubs.

Coming to New Zealand was "the most humbling experience" of her life, she says. She remembers calling a former nanny on Skype during her first weeks here, begging the woman to tell her how to use an iron. Apun wanted to look presentable for a job interview and had never had to iron her own clothes before.

Her husband and son had stayed in Manila, as the parents didn't want to uproot their six-year-old until a stable life was secured for him in New Zealand.

During the two years she spent here alone, Apun says she maintained an "everything's great!" facade for her family and refused to spend more than what she earned odd-jobbing in Auckland lest red flags be raised.

"I didn't want them to worry, to tell me to come back to the Philippines," she explains. "I missed them so much, but at the end of the day I was there for something bigger than myself. I wanted a better life for my family, so I chucked my ego out the door."

While the Philippines is a developing country, Apun wasn't fleeing poverty. She describes a successful career in Manila and more material comforts than many middle class Kiwis have.

It was the hours Filipinos expected to work – Apun might leave the house at 7am and be home by 10pm – and a niggling sense of foreboding that drove her to leave.

"When you walk into a mall in the Philippines, security guards check your bags," she says.

"They're making sure you don't have any bombs – because someone might! And when I'd take my child to a playground, I am on constant look out. Not because he might fall, but because kidnappings and child trafficking do happen."

For Apun, safety is the number one reason she wants to be here. She also savours having time to take her son to playgrounds, the beach, or out tramping. The now 12-year-old lives with his mum on Auckland's North Shore because Apun's is, on balance, a success story.

After two years of struggle she landed a decent job in sales and summoned her family over. Their long separation, however, meant she and her husband had grown apart and called quits on the marriage.

MIGRANT DEPARTURES ON THE RISE

Joy Carol Que, on the other hand, did not make it. Also from the Philippines, also seeking a better quality life, 26-year-old Que was one of 30,500 non-New Zealand citizens living here, or intending to live here long term, who left the country during the year ending May 2018.

SUPPLIED Joy Que from the Philippines loved her time in New Zealand but had to leave because she could not find a job.

Those departees were 22 per cent more than the year before, and 37 per cent more than in 2016, according to Statistics New Zealand.

Arrivals of non-New Zealand citizens living here or intending to live here, meanwhile, fluctuated by just 4 per cent over those three years. The net inflow of these migrants – many on work and student visas – is falling.

Getting a foot in the door was hard for Apun, but it is even harder for Que and other more recently arrived skilled migrants due to tightening immigration policy, says Massey University's immigration expert Professor Paul Spoonley.

Fewer migrant workers can mean higher incomes for Kiwis, as using migrants as a source of cheap labour pushes wages down.

But our rapidly-aging population means New Zealand's economy will continue to rely on foreign workers for jobs there simply aren't enough suitable locals to do, says Spoonley. These are mainly in the construction, dairy, IT and elderly care industries.

DAVID UNWIN/STUFF Professor Paul Spoonley says migrants were often unprepared for the realities of the New Zealand job market.

Que came to Auckland on a student visa in 2015. She studied for a year-long business diploma at Auckland's EDENZ College, to add to her accounting degree from the Philippines. She was able to get a work visa for her second year – which gave Que 12 months to secure a job in her chosen field.

While searching for an accounting gig, she worked in a west Auckland cafe and handed out flyers on Queen St. Nothing eventuated, so Que shifted to Nelson where she'd earn extra points with Immigration New Zealand if she could find a suitable job. But she couldn't.

Que says she applied and applied to no avail, so started an online crafts-selling business to earn pocket money. As her visa neared its expiry date, she gave up on her New Zealand dream and forlornly bought a ticket back to the Philippines.

Speaking from Manila, Que says she's started two businesses since being back – a laundromat and an internet cafe – that have keep her busy. But she's working the crazy hours Apun had hoped to escape, and misses the fresh air and freedom of her brief Kiwi life.

"Being back makes me realise how un-chaotic New Zealand is," Que says. "I enjoyed walking everywhere because it was safe and beautiful; here I take a jeepney even for a short distance because of the pickpockets on the street, the people trying to grab earrings off your ears."

'HOLD ON TIGHT, GIRL'

﻿

​Spoonley says there's a "real demand" for pre-employment support for migrants to New Zealand; our post-arrival investment in them is less than Australia or Canada's, making for poorly prepared newcomers.

He backs initiatives such as the Migrant Action Trust's mentoring programme in Auckland, where already-integrated migrants act as cheerleaders to overwhelmed newbies from around the world.

CHRIS SKELTON / STUFF Chanda Shah feared she'd have to pack her bags and head back to India, before a workshop with the Migrant Action Trust turned her Kiwi life around.

Angel Apun volunteers as a mentor and her latest mentee was 44-year-old Chanda Shah, from India.

Shah's background is similar to Apun's - she had a relatively comfortable life in a developing country, but craved a safer, cleaner environment for her young son.

Fluent in English, German, and Japanese as well as her native tongue, Shah has a master's degree in commerce and worked as a press officer at the German Embassy in Mumbai before coming to New Zealand.

Like Que, she arrived on a student visa and then had a year to get employed. Like Que, she felt panicked as the deadline loomed.

"I reached a point where I lost hope," she says. "But we gave away everything we had to come here, and my son loved it ... so I felt if I packed our bags and took us back to India I'd be letting him down as a mother."

Steeled by her son's happiness, in January Shah approached the Migrant Action Trust in a last ditch attempt to get a job.

She started weekly workshops with Apun, who did some DiSC behaviour profiling, honed Shah's rambling CV into our preferred short and snappy one-pager, and advised on cultural differences.

"In the Philippines and India there's a whole lot of reference and deference towards authority, that you guys don't like," Apun explains.

"So people from our sort of culture might call the boss 'Sir Chris' or 'mam', which makes them recoil ... like, 'I'm not a knight!' or 'you're making me sounds so old!'"

CHRIS SKELTON / STUFF Angel and Chanda came from similar backgrounds - one from Manila, the other from Mumbai - and have made Auckland their home.

She also gave pep talks - "there was a lot of 'hold on tight girl, you'll make it, woo!'," says Apun.

It worked. Shah is now the marketing and communications manager of an environmental charity, and says she's "got very used to smiling".

"It was all about awareness. I did have the skills, I did have the experience to get jobs I was applying for, but I didn't know the little cultural details that let you get a step further."

'THIS IS MY HOME NOW'

Apun reckons she's "about 70 per cent Kiwi" after six years here. She loves balancing her two cultures – cooking fragrant Filipino stews while embracing the Kiwi can-do attitude by learning to change a car tyre, for instance.

She wishes New Zealand saw migrants as she does: grateful for the chance to live in a clean land where terrorism, murder, and corruption are not at the forefront of normal people's minds.

Apun, who volunteers at her local library and the Red Cross, as well as with new arrivals – on top of working full-time – says that mentality makes for an "incredible urge to work hard contribute".

"This is our home now and while we don't share a cultural past with you guys, our future is the same."

* Comments on this article have been closed.