Conversations with My Immigrant Parents

Immigrant whānau across Aotearoa have frank conversations covering love, ancestry, home, food, expectation, and acceptance.Conversations with My Immigrant Parents is a series that crosses language, generation, and expectation to bring you immigrant whānau having conversations they normally wouldn't.Co-hosts and producers Saraid de Silva and Julie Zhu travelled Aotearoa, meeting families from 11 different countries, sitting in as they spoke to each other about love, disappointment, what home means to them, and where home really is.Go to this episode on rnz.co.nz for more details

In Tūranganui-a-Kiwa, Tongan grandmother Liliani and her daughter Kesaia find that even though they talk every day on the phone (and have for 17 years), they have more in common than they thought.Watch the video version of the episode hereThe views expressed in this episode are personal and do not reflect the opinions of the participants' employers.When Liliani Waigth migrated to Aotearoa from Tonga as a 21-year-old in the 1970s, she had no idea it would be another 15 years before she went back."I hop out of the plane and it was freezing cold. Coming from a country that's so warm, coming over to New Zealand, it was foggy and I thought, 'Oh, my gosh, what am I doing over in this country over here.'"Staying initially in Auckland where she had family, Liliani soon met her Pālagi husband and moved to the East Coast. She was one of the first Tongan migrants to settle in Gisborne, where there were only a handful of other Tongan families she knew of at the time.Liliani had two daughters and two sons; her first daughter, however, passed away as a baby. Her daughter Kesaia now lives in Wellington and works as a principal research analyst of the Waitangi Tribunal for the Ministry of Justice. In her 60s now, and retired, Liliani talks with Kesaia on the phone every day, and has done so for the last 17 years.Kesaia's dad passed away when she was 13, and Liliani largely raised her three kids as a single mother. Despite this, she had strong reservations when Kesaia fell pregnant with her first child while unmarried. Through this conversation, mother and daughter discuss how different expectations in the countries they were raised in have influenced their approaches to marriage and motherhood."My mother, she always talked to me about those kinds of things, you know? If I go with a boy or have a boyfriend, and you go and have... you know, have a baby or something like that, that is really-," starts Liliani.Kesaia finishes her sentence: "Really bad. I don't think anybody here really cares that much. For me - because I left home at 17, there was no culture, there was no community to really disappoint. So I didn't sort of worry about that."This episode covers expectations of Tongan women, grief, and how different generations perceive the notion of sacrifice, all with Kesaia's five-month-old Raita gurgling in the background.Go to this episode on rnz.co.nz for more details

Joseph and Grace Trinidad talk about making their "own little Philippines" in the Hawke's Bay, why Filipinos love competition, and what it means to be both queer and Catholic in 2019.Content warning: This episode also explores themes around mental health.Watch the video version of the episode hereMany New Zealanders may be surprised to learn of the large Filipino community in the Hawke's Bay. It's a well-organised and tightly-run ship, with elected presidents responsible for running events, including games for Easter, Valentine's Day pageants, Halloween festivities, and of course gathering together en masse to celebrate the birthdays of the many children and grandchildren across various families.The Trinidads - made up of son Joseph, his sister Elyx, and their parents Grace and Jose - moved to Hawke's Bay 10 years ago, and are active members of the community. Jose was a farmer in the Philippines before selling his livestock to come and work in the New Zealand dairy industry. He worked as an 'Overseas Filipino Worker' for three years before he was able to bring the rest of his whānau over.His son Joseph recalls the transition as a 13-year-old from the bustling Philippines to rural New Zealand: "It was cool to move to a different country. I can be a different personality and no one knows who I am. But the biggest change was we had such a busy life in the Philippines, where we'd go out every weekend, go to the city, go to the mall - we wouldn't come home until 9pm and here... everything closes at 5pm."Joseph now lives in Wellington with his partner Max, and works in a call centre. He travelled back to Hawke's Bay to record this podcast with his mother. Grace was a professor in the Philippines, but struggled to find adequate teaching work here. She currently works at a pet-food packing factory.In the episode, Grace and Joseph talk about Filipino accents, Joseph's coming-out experience, and sexuality and freedom in the Catholic Church."Remember when you were in the hospital, telling me that you are gay? What was the first thing I told you?" asks Grace."You don't care. And you already knew," replies Joseph."Even the wider Filipino community knows that I'm gay. And I don't know what they say behind closed doors, but they've always been nice to me."Where to get help:Need to Talk? Free call or text 1737 any time to speak to a trained counsellor, for any reason.Lifeline: 0800 543 354 or text HELP to 4357…Go to this episode on rnz.co.nz for more details

Francisco and Vibeke are parents to teenagers who regularly switch between Argentinian and Dutch cultures. They talk about why coming from different countries means navigating more than just language.Watch the video version of the episode hereThe Blaha/Brethouwer whānau live on Waiheke Island and have roots in three different countries: Argentina, Holland, and here in Aotearoa. Dad Francisco migrated here as an adult; Mum Vibeke was born in Aotearoa but grew up in Holland; and their teenage children, Kika (14) and Felix (17), were born in Auckland.Francisco left Argentina because he saw no place for himself in a system he saw as rigged, with a corrupt military government. He hopped on a boat with little clue of what he was going to do, and spent the next few years working on boats in the Pacific, eventually finding Aotearoa through a serendipitous weekend."I was in Tonga and they asked me to bring a boat down to New Zealand to do survey, which is like a warrant of fitness. So I arrived here and I had a very good weekend and I decided to jump off the boat and never ."Vibeke, on the other hand, feels she's left a large part of herself in Holland."I left New Zealand when I was three years old, so I had no real memories... I'll always feel like I'm going to be almost split in half. When I'm in New Zealand, I miss things about Holland, and when I'm in Holland, I really miss things about New Zealand. I've now literally lived half my life here, so I'm completely torn forever."Many threads in this episode explore the cultural differences between Dutch and Argentinian people, the difficulties for kids of immigrants raised in multiple cultures, and the privilege of the family being perceived as being more 'ex-pat' than 'immigrant.'Kika points out how often she doesn't get recognised as being from an immigrant background: "Until I say, 'Oh, my dad's from Argentina,' or until they see a photo of him - because you're tall and big and dark - people don't think about the culture, or the history, or, 'Oh, what if this chick has some super cool... what if she can speak Spanish or speak Dutch.'""I feel like I have to try and present that culture a lot more, and I really want to because it's something I want to have presented and I want to have a part of me."Go to this episode on rnz.co.nz for more details

The Solomons thought leaving South Africa meant leaving entrenched white supremacy. They discuss how much of this they still found in NZ, and what they are learning about gender and queerness.Content warning: This episode also explores themes around mental health.Watch the video version of the episode hereThe Solomons are South African by birth and, in their own words, South African in their hearts. Parents Derrick and Lynette moved their three kids to Aotearoa in 2003 in search of more safety and less entrenched racism. In this episode, they speak with their middle child, 28-year-old Tammy.As with several families in the podcast series, Derrick was the first family member to arrive in New Zealand, spending some time making arrangements before bringing the rest of his family over. He is of Khoisan heritage, an indigenous tribe of South Africa, so he has indigenous whakapapa as well. This led him to spend a year learning Māori when he first arrived in the country.The terrorist attack on March 15th changed the family's view of New Zealand being the safe haven they'd believed.Tammy describes hearing of the attack for the first time online: "When I found out, I felt terrified. I called you guys and everything, and we were so on edge because this was not meant to happen in New Zealand. Like, we escaped that hatefulness towards people being different."Derrick chimes in, "In the back of my mind, we always knew that something was going to happen. I always thought that New Zealand was too complacent in certain ways, you know? They eventually afterward said that they were looking in the wrong area where a threat was probably coming from, but that was a shock for myself."However, racism wasn't a new experience for the Solomons before the Christchurch attacks. It's something they have encountered from both New Zealanders and white South Africans who have immigrated here.Lynette explains, "Just living our normal life day-to-day here, I met a New Zealander, and she said to me, 'Ah, so you are a Coloured.' So I said, 'Excuse me? Where did you get to hear of that term?' and she says, 'This white South African said there's a lot of Coloured people here.'"Derrick adds, "A lot of the Afrikaner people that moved from South Africa to New Zealand... they still carry their racist views over to this country, and that is very sad."…Go to this episode on rnz.co.nz for more details

Sue left Korea with one life in mind, but ended up with something very different. Mum and daughter Bokyong talk divorce, starting over, and why rural towns can be kinder to immigrants than the city.Watch the video version of the episode hereSue Kim immigrated to New Zealand from Korea with her husband 24 years ago, and almost immediately fell pregnant with daughter Bokyong. The family moved first to Auckland (which Sue initially thought was a small town compared to her hometown of Busan) before moving to Dunedin, and then briefly settling in Balclutha, where they were one of three Asian families in the entire community."I started learning English, but a few months later I realised that's too hard, so I gave up. I decided to just mingle with the next-door ladies instead of going to language school. My English at the beginning I learnt from the next-door neighbours in that sort of way," says Sue.Now Sue works as a high school teacher in Ōtepoti, teaching Korean and Japanese. She also wants to learn Chinese so she can communicate with Bokyong's boyfriend and his family. Aside from her day job, Sue also serves as principal of the Dunedin Korean language school, helping local Korean kids stay grounded to their culture and language.Bokyong is currently studying Law and Science at Otago University. She has a younger brother called Jahoon, who is 21. When Bokyong was about 13, her mum and dad got divorced. Bokyong feels part of the marriage breakdown was to do with how differently her parents adapted to living in New Zealand."One of the biggest differences between you and Dad... Obviously, you had basically forced yourself to learn English, then becoming a teacher, and so you're using English every day and you're meeting new people every day. Then I saw Dad... struggled quite a lot, especially with becoming familiar with English, and just finding a community. I don't think he ever felt at home in New Zealand."Sue describes not knowing at the time how to leave her 14-year marriage: "It was just really heartbreaking, and I felt really sorry for him. I learnt later why I was really stressed and sad about my marriage life, but I couldn't do anything, and I didn't know what to do. It was always financially very tight, and life was very, very tough, but I didn't know what to do."In 2018, Sue got remarried to a Pākehā man named Ken, despite believing she would never be in another relationship…Go to this episode on rnz.co.nz for more details

Aliyaan (13) and his mum Masooma are Pakistani Muslims living in East Tāmaki. They discuss being a migrant kid, the March 15 terrorist attack, and how their lives have and haven't changed.Watch the video version of the episode hereMasooma Mehdi arrived in Aotearoa at age 13 (the age her son Aliyaan is now) from Karachi, Pakistan. Aliyaan is in his first year of high school and joins this conversation as the podcast's youngest participant.Both mother and son have experienced attending school as a Muslim kid in a country with very little visibility of Muslim New Zealanders. Though decades apart, their experiences have been similar, with ignorance and a lack of empathy around religious practices combining to ostracise and exclude them."I felt quite lonely, I remember... It used to be really depressing, and that's why I would just wait for school to finish, and just come back home," says Masooma.Aliyaan agrees, "I know a lot of other Muslim kids have been called things like ... Just because I'm Muslim, doesn't mean I'm part of ISIS, because that means if you're Christian, you're part of KKK."The white supremacist attack in Christchurch on March 15th deeply affected their whānau and community. This episode features mother and son delving deep into a reflection of how they first heard of the attack, their concerns for their community, and how they felt going to visit Al Noor Mosque themselves in the aftermath."We didn't know how New Zealand was going to react. Most of us Muslims, as soon as we heard about the attack... the very first thing we were like, we hope it is not a Muslim who has done it."Go to this episode on rnz.co.nz for more details

The Muzondiwa family left Zimbabwe at a time when it was difficult to buy even bread. They talk colonisation in Africa and Aotearoa, and whether finding a "true" cultural identity is possible.Watch the video version of the episode hereThe Muzondiwa family left Zimbabwe about 10 years ago, with mum Nyembezi arriving here first, for two years by herself."It was very difficult, to be honest, to move over here without your family. I got so skinny because I could hardly eat. Every time I sat down to eat, I would think of my kids back home because there was nothing over there, even in the supermarkets."As a registered nurse, Nyembezi was able to work hard to save enough money to bring her husband Amos and their two daughters, Shalom and Takunda, over. Their third child Ben was born here in Aotearoa. Amos is now a pastor; Shalom is at university; and Takunda is in her final year of high school. This episode features a conversation between Nyembezi, Amos, and Takunda. Amongst other topics, they reflect on how it feels to go back to Zimbabwe.Amos reflects, "Unfortunately, now every time you go back, things are worse than they were last year. It's always a huge disappointment each time you go back and so-and-so has died and you have missed being together in times of crisis. And there's always that sense of, people think we don't care."Takunda chips in, "We, like, left them.""Yeah, like, we have abandoned them... and even though nobody is saying that, you kind of feel it," adds Amos.After many years here, the Muzondiwa family have a lot to say about the 'tools' colonisation employs to keep communities operating on a tier below their European counterparts. This episode dissects frankly the effects of colonisation, and the ways that diaspora children try and search for an authentic version of their cultural identity, which, as Amos explains to Takunda, is in many ways an imagined concept."I think it is also important for you kids to know that even when you see me and your mother and probably even my parents, those people that you are seeing are no longer Africans. Essentially, you are looking at a European in a black skin, and we are still negotiating what it means to be really African ourselves."Go to this episode on rnz.co.nz for more details

Ty Meng's parents escaped the Cambodian genocide and went on to raise five children in Lower Hutt. Three generations of the Meng family consider how their family's history lingers in the present.Content warning: This episode discusses war and violence - in some cases, graphically.Watch the video version of the episode hereMom Meng came to Aotearoa in 1979 as a refugee from Cambodia. After spending two years in Thailand in a refugee camp, she arrived in New Zealand with her husband and their son Ty, who was only a toddler at the time. The family was sponsored to come to New Zealand, where they eventually settled in Lower Hutt.This episode of the podcast features three generations of the Meng family, with Mom in conversation with her son Ty and his daughter Emrie. Mom's English is limited, so Ty does some translating for her in the episode."I come to New Zealand, so I will only speak my culture, but my children forgot my culture. That's why I speak all the time, not speak English," explains Mom.Ty adds, "Mum's quite fresh. I don't speak it fully, so I can understand bits and pieces. I jump in from English, and I jump in from Chinese to Thai to Cambodian. I'm quite multilingoed. In one sentence, I will cover four different languages."The three discuss their family's experiences growing up in this country as former refugees, and how the trauma of their family's history in Cambodia during Pol Pot's regime has continued to affect their lives.Mom and her husband worked long hours to provide for their family, and were unable to be present at home for a lot of Ty's childhood. This resulted in Ty neglecting his own schoolwork and family as he strove to find a sense of community elsewhere - "with the cool cats, unfortunately."Ty's lack of stability also impacted Emrie's relationship with him as a child. Ty had Emrie and her twin sister Chyanne when he was only a teenager."Because of the upbringing you had growing up here, with Granddad, who had just fought in the war, it probably wasn't the best kind of transition. Like, he probably should have been given a little bit more support. I think that affected your relationship with him growing up in New Zealand, eh?" Emrie asks her dad.Ty replies, "Yeah. Mum and Dad escaped the Cambodian genocide, so it was a massive thing to get out of - the days of the Killing Fields, and all that."…Go to this episode on rnz.co.nz for more details

In this "bonus" episode of the podcast no one asked for, co-producers and hosts Saraid and Julie talk to their own mums, who hail from Sri Lanka and China, respectively.Note: The second half of this episode has an English dub of Jenny's dialogue, translated by Julie Zhu and read by Jing su-Cornall.In this bonus episode of Conversations with My Immigrant Parents, hosts Saraid de Silva and Julie Zhu turn the mics on themselves and talk with their own immigrant mums.Saraid's mother Karenza migrated to Aotearoa from Sri Lanka (after a brief stint in England) when she was seven years old. Along with her parents and two brothers, the family moved first to Waikouaiti before eventually settling in Invercargill."We were one of very few brown families in Invercargill. Probably, you could count them on one hand," remembers Karenza.Her father Rienzi passed away suddenly when she was 19, and after that Karenza and her siblings dispersed to different parts of the country. She now works as an environmental lawyer based in Auckland.Karenza had Saraid when she was 28, but she and Saraid's father divorced when Saraid was four. Saraid was raised in Hamilton, Auckland, Tauranga, Christchurch, and Wellington before eventually moving back to Auckland when she was 19 to study performing arts at Unitec. Saraid also has a younger sister, Siena, from Karenza's second marriage.Saraid and Karenza compare their different experiences of racism, from growing up as one of the first brown families in Invercargill to Saraid's experience growing up in different parts of New Zealand and having both Sri Lankan and Pākehā heritage."I think when you're half-white, the shit that is said to you is like people backhandedly complimenting you. And they're kinda putting you on this weird box or this weird zone of being better than people who are not half-white in some ways. They're kinda, like, separating you," describes Saraid. "But I just kinda wanna be brown, you know?"The pair also discuss relationships, divorce for Catholics, and what it means to truly feel Sri Lankan.The second half of this episode turns to Julie and her mum Jenny.Julie's parents came to New Zealand when she was two years old, leaving her in China with grandparents as they tested the waters of Aotearoa."We thought we'd just come here for a bit to see. We only brought two suitcases. Like, just going for a holiday," says Jenny…Go to this episode on rnz.co.nz for more details

From Botswana to Nelson to Pōneke, Judah and his sons Tafara and Pako have experienced multiple communities. They talk about fruit picking, single dad life, and dreams in different languages.Watch the video version of the episode hereFrom Botswana to Nelson to Pōneke, Judah and his sons Tafara and Pako have experienced multiple communities. They talk about fruit picking, single dad life, and dreams in different languages.When Judah and his sons Tafara and Pako came to Aotearoa from Botswana, their first home was Mahana, Nelson. To some, this might sound like an especially jarring transition, but the Seomeng whānau believes it had its benefits.As Pako describes it, "Had we come straight from Africa to, say, living here, central Wellington, that would have been a way bigger culture shock, big towers and everything, compared to still the same lifestyle ."However, the family's arrival in the country was not without its struggles. Pako's mother became ill with cancer and passed away just a couple of years after they moved here. To sustain the three of them financially, Judah did a variety of jobs, including fruit-picking and tree-pruning.Judah remembers, "There was times when I was working, starting work before sunrise and finishing at last light picking fruit. That was the time when I used to be late picking you guys up."Tafara chuckles, "Single dad life, eh?"Judah worked as a musician as well as studying, and in 2019, he graduated with a Masters in Cultural Anthropology. Tafara and Pako are both working now, and flat separately in Wellington. Judah has remarried and has a five-year-old daughter Sethunya and a stepdaughter Shiloh.The three men find common ground in this episode when discussing language, and the moments they noticed their mother tongue, and primary language, changing from Setswana to English."All of a sudden, my dreams stopped being in Setswanan and they started being in English. I was, like, 'Wow, what is going on with my life?' Even now, I still wonder why I can't dream in Setswanan even though I can still speak Setswana. I try to force my dreams to be Setswana, but they just don't. They come out all in English," explains Tafara.This episode explores the experience of the black diaspora in Aotearoa, and covers themes of isolation, integration, and grief.Go to this episode on rnz.co.nz for more details

When 11-year-old Anique left Sri Lanka, she thought it'd be temporary. Almost two decades later, she talks with brother Navin and mum Sushani about guilt, obligation, and what freedom really means.Watch the video version of the episode hereWhen 11-year-old Anique left Sri Lanka, she thought it'd be temporary. Almost two decades later, she talks with brother Navin and mum Sushani about guilt, obligation, and what freedom really means.The Jayasinghe whānau originally hail from Sri Lanka but also lived in Malaysia for five years and Singapore for a year, before finally ending up in Tāmaki Makaurau. Sushani and her two kids Navin and Anique settled here with their father (referred to as Thati in the episode), though he and Sushani separated in 2007.The separation was difficult on Sushani and the kids at the time, and Anique remembers that Navin, as the oldest, shouldered a lot of the responsibility of care."Navin was the person who always took the brunt of the responsibility since Thati left. I really always admired that. It showed me the type of person I want to be, and it just showed me a different side, that there can be men who take care of families."There were positive outcomes to the separation also, including Sushani's increased sense of independence. She learnt how to drive and how to do her own taxes, and these are things she describes taking a lot of joy and pride in.Her experience of finding peace and happiness in independence is a key theme that runs through the podcast episode, and is mirrored by her daughter Anique's experience. Anique moved out of home in her mid-20s to undertake her Masters in Te Whanganui-a-Tara, and recently moved to Whanganui to work as a community arts coordinator.Coming from a culture that prioritises the collective over the individual, the dominant narrative of individualised success in Aotearoa has been challenging to adapt to. Anique describes the process of trying to understand this, comparing it to what is considered normal in Sri Lanka."There are intergenerational families living in one household, and that's not a stigma. It's not a thing. I guess I've been thinking about how I sometimes feel guilt that I can't be here for the family."The discussions in this episode delve into the balancing act of upholding cultural expectations around taking care of family, while staying true to expectations for oneself.Go to this episode on rnz.co.nz for more details

After four years studying in Dunedin, Alby has just moved back in with his mum Lina in Naenae. The two of them discuss Lina's career, Alby's grief, and whom our lives are lived for.Content warning: This episode explores themes around mental health.Watch the video version of the episode hereAfter four years studying in Dunedin, Alby has just moved back in with his mum Lina in Naenae. The two of them discuss Lina's career, Alby's grief, and whom our lives are lived for.When Lina Fairbrother came to Aotearoa from Sāmoa in 1986, the move was a chance to improve the lives of loved ones at home, as well as to give her potential children here more of a leg-up in the world than she had."That is the main reason why I came here: to help my family to have a future here."A few years after arriving here, Lina, in her own words, "met my honey" in Albert Fairbrother, Sr. They married, had one son, whom they also named Albert Fairbrother. The three of them lived in Naenae, Lower Hutt. Albert Fairbrother, Sr. was 26 years older than Lina when they married, which caused some trouble at family gatherings."Uncle Maiava said, 'Oh, he's too old for you, look for another one,'" remembers Lina.Alby's dad passed away when he was still in Year 12, something which dramatically changed how he experienced his last year at school. He describes attaining university entrance early, but his grades dropped so low in his final year that he was unable to get into university without sitting extra exams.He moved to Dunedin to study at Otago in 2017, and took some time to adjust to the lifestyle and the community.This episode was recorded the day after Alby left his hall of residence and his life in Dunedin to move back in with Lina. He recently got his first job, a graduate position writing policy for the Ministry of Primary Industries, the same government department that Lina, coincidentally, has worked in as part of the cleaning staff for the last 10 years.Lina's perception of her job is an important counterpoint to the ways immigrant workers in cleaning roles have widely been portrayed."I told people at MPI, 'My team, we are VIP people.' They look at me and I say, 'We are very important people. Without us, who's going to clean your mess?' I'm not ashamed because it pays the bills, buys the food. I do it with passion because I'm a cleaner, and I'm so happy to call myself a cleaner."…Go to this episode on rnz.co.nz for more details

It took Juliana eight long years to gain residency after moving here from Brazil. She and her mum Nadmea discuss New Zealand's immigration system, second chances, and Tinder-ing in your 50s.Content warning: This episode makes references to suicide and mental health.Watch the video version of the episode hereIt took Juliana eight long years to gain residency after moving here from Brazil. She and her mum Nadmea discuss New Zealand's immigration system, second chances, and Tinder-ing in your 50s.Nadmea and her daughter Juliana came to Aotearoa from Brazil. Juliana and her siblings came first in their adulthood, and Nadmea followed in 2014 once she heard how much they enjoyed living here and after she had finalised her divorce from her husband of 30 years.As a 19-year-old in Brazil, Juliana fell ill suddenly and lost the use of her legs. She found the process of learning how to be independent again challenging, and Nadmea found letting her daughter grow on her own difficult in its own way, saying, "My family has a big trouble. They have too much mother. I always knew that."Nadmea and Juliana discuss the real growth and learning that came from Juliana learning to live independently in a wheelchair, and that this was made possible after she spent a month in a rehabilitation centre, and got to know other young people in wheelchairs.Unfortunately, Juliana's challenges did not stop there, and she had a difficult time gaining residency in Aotearoa, "largely because our immigration laws deem people with disabilities to be 'too expensive' for our economy," she says.Describing the toll this took on her, Juliana says, "I think the immigration process was the hardest thing I ever fought. It was harder than becoming paraplegic."In July, 2020, Juliana was finally granted permanent residency. This milestone was important in reflecting her relentless commitment to bringing attention to New Zealand's discriminatory laws pertaining to immigrants with disabilities.Juliana's siblings and her mother Nadmea, especially, went through a lot of these challenges with her. Their views on immigration have been informed and affected by Juliana's experiences, and as Nadmea puts it, someone's outward appearance is often not a reliable assessment of the strength of their contributions to a society."There are lots of people with a visible disability, but you cannot see immediately the internal disabilities when someone is deeply racist, or sexist," argues Nadmea…Go to this episode on rnz.co.nz for more details

Sisters Avi and Eva sit down with their daughters and talk about white men who travel to Indonesia, the fetishisation of Asian women, and leading parallel lives in Whangārei.Watch the video version of the episode hereSisters Avi and Eva sit down with their daughters and talk about white men who travel to Indonesia, the fetishisation of Asian women, and leading parallel lives in Whangārei.Sisters Avi and Eva did not plan to both end up living and raising their whānau in Whangārei. Growing up in Indonesia, as two of five siblings, they were similar in age and had a close relationship.Eva, the eldest of the two sisters, started working at a company owned by her later husband Colin. When Colin's friend Tim travelled to Indonesia, her sister Avi was picked to be a guide for him, with Colin secretly hoping they might take a liking to each other.In the end, Avi and Tim immigrated to Aotearoa in 1995, with Eva and Colin following in 2003. Both sisters have two children; Avi has daughters Cinta and Aimee; and Eva has kids Cindy and Tom. Cinta and Cindy join their mothers in this conversation.Being the daughters of Indonesian women who married Pākehā men is a large part of this episode.Avi talks about observing the ways white men behave in Indonesia: "In Indonesia, when you are an expatriate, some of them like to play with women."Her daughter Cinta explains feeling hyper-visible and conscious about the way her father is treated in Indonesia: "Whenever we go over, walking on the street with Dad, everyone's kinda coming here and crowding around Dad because they're, like, 'Ooh, rich white man.'"Since moving to Aotearoa, Avi and Eva have done a lot to create and involve themselves in a community of immigrants, and of Indonesian immigrants, specifically.Avi spends a lot of time volunteering with WINGs, the Women's International Newcomers Group in Whangārei. Both sisters have made a concentrated effort to bring Indonesians across the North Island together to form a community.Cindy and Cinta live and work in Auckland, and return to their family homes in Whangārei and Tutukākā when they can. They talk about the close relationship their mothers share, and Eva confesses how important it is to have her sister so close."I feel really blessed to have Avi here. If she weren't here, maybe I would have a best friend or something, but it will be different how we talk, how we let go of our feelings, everything different."…Go to this episode on rnz.co.nz for more details

In Kirikiriroa, Donally and her father Alfredo discuss parenting that contradicts society's expectations, how Filipino men are expected to 'get on with it,' and life after tremendous grief.Content warning: This episode refers to mental health, grief, and death.Watch the video version of the episode hereIn Kirikiriroa, Donally and her father Alfredo discuss parenting that contradicts society's expectations, how Filipino men are expected to 'get on with it,' and life after tremendous grief.Alfredo Bernal immigrated to Kirikiriroa from the Philippines and met and married his first wife soon after. They had a daughter, Donally, but divorced when she was 18 months old.Alfredo took custody of Donally after the separation and was her primary caregiver, though the breakdown of his marriage took a toll."I've always thought that marriages are lifetime things. You don't get unmarried. I grew up in an environment where there's no such thing as divorce, so, when I married your mum, I thought that I will be married for life. But, unfortunately, it didn't work. Honestly, I cannot remember why. And in my second marriage, I tried harder. So that lasted longer."Growing up with her father as her primary caregiver meant Donally always felt a bit different to her classmates and friends. The two of them discuss the quizzical looks they would receive from other mothers and parents at playgroups or at the mall."There's a stigma to fathers raising daughters," muses Alfredo.Alfredo grew up Catholic in the Philippines, but didn't raise Donally as strictly in the church. During her high school years in Kirikiriroa, Donally experienced difficult times, and she was aware of how her relatives' opinions about this were influenced by their faith."The normal is to be Catholic in the Philippines, so I remember a comment that someone gave to you about me and they said, 'Well, why didn't you send her to church? You should have sent her to church so that she wouldn't be depressed and suicidal,' or whatever, as if it was your fault and you'd done something wrong by not raising me the way that all the other Filipinos were raised."Fortunately, Donally has reached a point in her life now in her early 20s where she feels truly settled, and currently lives with her husband Austin in Tauranga. She and Alfredo are still close despite living in different cities, and this episode explores the depth of their relationship, Filipino identity outside of religious and cultural norms, grief, and parenthood…Go to this episode on rnz.co.nz for more details

Arriving from Fiji, newlywed Halima Stewart headed straight to Tapu Te Ranga Marae where she raised three kids with husband Bruce. She talks with her two youngest about navigating different cultures.Watch the video version of the episode hereArriving from Fiji, newlywed Halima Stewart headed straight to Tapu Te Ranga Marae where she raised three kids with husband Bruce. She talks with her two youngest about navigating different cultures.Halima Stewart was 22 when she came to Aotearoa to be with her new husband Bruce, who was in his 50s when they met. After growing up in Fiji, and speaking only Hindi, moving countries and heading straight to Tapu Te Ranga Marae to live was a huge culture shock for Halima."When I was first feeling homesick on the marae, Bruce tried his best to take me everywhere he could so that I could speak my own language. Two years, I couldn't speak my own language around here, and I couldn't speak English very well at that time. I never knew what 'homesick' meant at that time."Bruce Stewart was an influential figure in Te Whanganui-a-Tara, and when he passed away in 2017, his death left a hole in the lives of many people around him. He and Halima had three kids: Parehuia, Hirini, and Kirihika. Halima's two youngest kids, Hirini and Kirihika, join her in the discussion on the podcast."Growing up, not being Indian enough in an Indian household and not being Māori enough in a Māori household. You're just in the stereotypes constantly," poses Kirihika.As Kirihika explains, trying to stay true to both sides of her identity was difficult. Halima wanted her children to grow up with a strong sense of their identity as Indians, and with knowledge of Islam, as she did. Bruce wanted their children to grow up with tikanga Māori, which was largely missing from his own childhood and upbringing.Tapu Te Ranga Marae was a beacon for the community in Island Bay, but unfortunately a fire broke out in 2019, a tragedy which is covered extensively in Episode One of RNZ podcast He Kākano Ahau. Losing both Bruce and Tapu Te Ranga was devastating for Halima. Although Halima and Bruce had been separated for many years, she was his primary caregiver in his later years, and was with him when he passed.This episode explores loss, isolation in a new country, biculturalism, and cross-cultural relationships that bypass colonialism and connect straight into te ao Māori.Go to this episode on rnz.co.nz for more details

How do we search for something we've never seen? The last episode of the series sees the Arif whānau reflect on their years in Aotearoa and dream of a better future.How do we search for something we've never seen? The last episode of the series sees the Arif whānau reflect on their years in Aotearoa and dream of a better future.The Arif whānau settled in Kirikiriroa in the 1990s. Dad Mahmud is originally from Iraq, with Turkish heritage, and his wife Mayssaa is Syrian and Egyptian.Their daughter Shayma'a is one of six children, and joins them on the last episode of the series. Shayma'a lives and works in Te Whanganui-a-Tara as a human rights lawyer. Mahmud recently retired and Mayssaa volunteers in many capacities, working with the refugee community and supporting the local Arab community in Waikato.This episode dives into feelings of loss that can be hard to define or give voice to, particularly the loss of home. The family discuss being unable to visit either Iraq or Syria - Iraq because of Mahmud's family's background in politics, and Syria because of the ongoing war and humanitarian crisis.Shayma'a pins down one thing about separation from home which she has found particularly unsettling, saying, "I feel like I really wanted to see Syria, but now it's too late."I see all these white people going there all the time. I always see on YouTube all these Europeans going to Syria and visiting, even during the war, but they're fine and they enjoy it. This is what I get really sad about. How come they get to go back to our homelands and enjoy our countries, but we're not allowed to go and enjoy our own countries?"Mahmud initially came to Aotearoa as a skilled migrant with years of experience as a dermatologist, but according to New Zealand's laws around doctors with foreign licences practising here, was unable to work in the field he specialises in.For the last 12 years, he has been travelling back and forth from Aotearoa to the United Arab Emirates, working as a dermatologist there and returning to be with whānau here when he can. The fractured living and working environment and disruption to his family life has not been easy for Mahmud."I'm not regretting coming here, but I'm disappointed," he says.Mayssa and Mahmud have their two youngest daughters still living with them in Kirikiriroa, and now that Mahmud is retired, they hope he is able to spend more time with his whānau.In this last episode of Conversations with My Immigrant Parents, the discussion explores how differently immigrants and refugees experience Aotearoa, displacement, grief, having children, and kittens…Go to this episode on rnz.co.nz for more details

Immigrant whānau across Aotearoa have frank conversations covering love, ancestry, home, food, expectation, and acceptance.NEW SERIES 3rd APRIL, 2023Immigrant whānau across Aotearoa have frank conversations covering love, ancestry, home, food, expectation, and acceptance. Series 3 | Trailer: Conversations With My Immigrant Parents - Series 3Conversations with My Immigrant Parents is a podcast and video series hosted, produced, and directed by Saraid de Silva and Julie Zhu.Saraid de Silva is a Sri Lankan/Pākehā actor and writer. Her work deals with contemporary feminism and the realities of being a first-generation South Asian New Zealander.Born in China, Julie Zhu is a filmmaker, photographer, and storyteller focused on championing the stories and voices of marginalised identities.Watch here| Twitter: @saraiddesilva & @juliezhuu | Instagram: @convoswithmy | Facebook: whereareyoufromreally |Go to this episode on rnz.co.nz for more details

Adel escaped religious persecution in Iran as a teenager. He talks with his wife Maxine and daughter Carmel about language, whakapapa, plane rides, and the privilege of putting art first.Content warning: This episode contains offensive language, themes of escape, sacrifice, loss of language, and navigating multiple identities.Watch the video version of the episode hereAdel escaped religious persecution in Iran as a teenager. He talks with his wife Maxine and daughter Carmel about language, whakapapa, plane rides, and the privilege of putting art first.Adel, his wife Maxine, and their eldest, Carmel, lead the first episode of this final series of Conversations with My Immigrant Parents. Maxine is Samoan, Chinese, and Māori; Adel is Iranian, and came to Aotearoa with his brother when he was 16, after spending a year and a half in a refugee camp in Pakistan. Maxine and Adel live in Tūranganui-a-Kiwa with Carmel, who is 20, and their youngest, Haami, who was 16 at the time of recording.In the conversation, Carmel talks about preparing to live away from her parents for the first time, leaving Tūranganui-a-Kiwa to head back to Tāmaki Makaurau, where her family lived for many years, to study fine arts and language at the University of Auckland."I feel I've only really discovered the art world in the past year because I've started to work with people and spend time with people who are involved with that, but my idea of being an artist was always you," Carmel tells her dad.Adel made art for many years, alongside his other work and study. He describes having to make a choice in order to provide for his family: "I didn't give up everything, but I did give up art or a life in art for financial security." However, he is mindful that he did this specifically so that his children would not have to be in the same position, and would be able to choose a career in the arts if they wanted.Maxine and Adel met through their shared Baháʼí faith, and wrote one another love letters for a long time before they met and wed. After they married, they lived in West Auckland and raised their family there before making the decision to return to a place that might provide a new kind of home - to Te Tairāwhiti, where Maxine has whakapapa connections…Go to this episode on rnz.co.nz for more details