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lovelylogans · 3 years

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honey, you’re familiar (like my mirror)

see other chapters, notes, and warnings here!

chapter four: symbiosis

symbiosis: interaction between two different organisms living in close physical association, typically to the advantage of both.

VIRGIL

“Uh,” Virgil says, scrambling in the face of his mother—hair wrapped for the night, blinking the sleep out of her eyes, her arms crossed, “My—myself?”

Technically true, he guesses, according to some of the sensate’s personal beliefs about the connections they share with their clusters, according to Logan according to Dot. Like having other selves scattered across the world.

Andisiwe frowns. “At this time of night?”

Virgil shrugs weakly.

She frowns deeper. Then:

“You know,” she says, looking at him very intently, “your grandmother used to talk to herself at all times of day, too.”

Virgil stays silent. His mother crouches to sit with him on the floor, settling with a long sigh.

“About anything at all,” she continues. “She’d talk about the snow when this country hadn’t seen snow for ten years. She’d laugh when no one told a joke, cried when nothing sad had happened. She’d make recipes I’d never heard of before. You remember her pitha?”

Virgil nods, confused. Of course he remembers her pitha. They’d have it at every large family gathering.

“That’s an Indian dessert. She’d never left South Africa in all her life, but she knew how to make pitha and speak Tamil like she was born in Bangalore. Just like you were speaking a language other than Xhosa or English just now.”

Oh, Virgil thinks, then, oh.

“So unless you started taking language lessons while studying for your doctorate,” she says, staring at him.

Virgil chews at the inside of his cheek.

“No,” he says hoarsely. “No, I didn’t.”

She nods, accepting this. “How long…?”

“I don’t know,” Virgil admits. “A week and a half? Two weeks?”

“Not long at all,” she murmurs. “ I suppose it might skip a generation. She told me once it started when she was a child. A horrible headache struck her, and once it let up she had seven new friends all around the world. When they were all ten, maybe.”

Ten, Virgil thinks, mind whirling. God, to deal with all this at the age of ten?

“Sensates,” Virgil croaks. “We’re called sensates.”

His mother offers him a smile.

“I know,” she says. “Tell me about them.”

“One’s here,” Virgil says, and he looks at the big, tall, tattooed man. “I don’t think I got your name last time.”

The man walks from his plush apartment rug to sit on the hardwood floor.

“Patton Taumata,” he says with Virgil’s mouth, offering a bright smile to Virgil’s mother, sitting beside him. “Māori, New Zealander.”

And then Virgil feels what Patton does next—pull seems too strong a word, but it’s the closest he has.

Sitting across from him, looking vaguely disgruntled to find himself on the ground, yet still sitting at his desk in his home office.

“Janus Slange,” he says. “London.”

He slides out of Virgil’s body to find a spot to sit that’s a bit more refined.

Patton turns his head, and Virgil turns his gaze to follow.

“Roman Regio,” the actor says, looking up from his script to gesture beside him. “And my brother, Remus. Who is currently on his way to Mexico City, which he should have done as soon as he got accused.”

“This is such a dumb plan,” Remus groans, resting his head simultaneously against the bus window and Virgil’s bed. “I want all of you batshit hallucinations to know that I don’t come up with plans this stupid. My plans are refined in the way they cause utter chaos.”

Sitting in his bed in the barracks and beside Virgil, so close their thighs almost touch, giving Virgil a thrill that shoots all the way to his fingertips—

“Logan Zieliński,” he says to Virgil’s mother, careful to sound respectful. “I was just here. I’m Polish, but I’m currently studying in Antarctica. Space research.”

They’re here. All of them here. But Virgil sees Patton reach again—

EMILE

—and Emile beams at the sight before him. Patton turns to grin at him.

“Well done!” Emile says, filled to bursting with pride.

Patton! Reliably being able to pull them all in to visit together! That kind of skill—coupled with the fact that Patton, back in his apartment in Auckland, is peaceably planning lessons with a sitcom in the background—can take other sensates months of practice to truly achieve.

“Is this your mother?” He asks Virgil.

Virgil says, “Um, Mom, my—cluster parent?”

Emile makes an eh handwavey gesture followed by a thumbs-up. “Whatever you’re comfortable with, I’m comfortable with!”

“—is here right now. His name’s—”

He speaks at the same time as Emile does.

“Dr. Emile Picani, hi there—!”

“—and he’s American.”

Virgil’s mother’s brow wrinkles in distaste, but she does a good show of trying to hide it.

“That’s fair,” Emile says. “Americans are—well, y’know. You’ve seen the news.”

“This is my mother, Dr. Andisiwe Nkosi. My grandmother was a sensate too, apparently.”

“Oh, that’s lovely!” Emile exclaims. “There are sensates within biological families, of course—” he gestures to Roman and Remus, “—but things are still up in the air about if and how being homo sensorium passes down.”

“Dot said the number of sensates is rising due to epigenetic factors,” Logan says.

“Oh, you’ve met Dot!” Emile says delightedly.

“She answered many of the questions I have,” Logan says, and for a blip, they’re all sitting in the barracks in Antarctica as Logan reaches for a notebook and pen. “But I still have many questions.”

“Entirely understandable,” Emile says.

“Wait, you got your questions answered?” Roman demands, and they’re all sitting on Roman’s apartment’s massive balcony overlooking Mexico City. “I just got this one—” he points accusingly at Janus, “telling me hey, surprise, you’re not actually losing your shit!”

Janus shrugs, and they’re all surrounded by monitors, blinking with so many different points of data it makes Emile a little dizzy. “He just showed up in the mirror while I was shaving.”

“Well,” Emile says, and they’re all in Emile’s apartment at home. Emile puts a kettle on the stove. “I’m here now. So what questions can I help you answer? Or, at least, activate the Archipelago to get some kind of answer for you. If you can think of some kind of subject, there’s probably a sensate that knows something about it, but I suppose we should probably start with the sensate-specific questions.”

Remus puts up a hand and asks, loudly, “Can I use the psychic connection with other sensates to have some kind of insane worldwide orgy?”

ROMAN

Sasha is out for a key art photoshoot, so Roman has the whole apartment to himself. Which is good, because he got a bit busy last night with the whole explanation of what exactly it is that’s been happening to him, and then yelling in disgust when Remus asked gross questions about it.

Roman’s considering if he wants to paint his nails—it’s not like he can keep it, if solely for movie continuity—just to have something to do with his hands when the door cracks open.

And in steps Remus—absolutely filthy, staring at Roman incredulously, a fake mustache plastered above his real mustache that he immediately rips off.

“It worked,” Roman says gleefully. “It worked!”

“First of all, cops ain’t shit, I probably should have expected literally every police officer to sleep on the job when seeing someone suspicious board a bus, but Jesus fuckin’ Christ, your security munches ass,” Remus declares, “They let a murderer get into your apartment.”

Roman bursts out laughing.

“It’s not funny!” Remus says, pulling off the fake beard he’d donned. “It took five pesos of stolen fake beard and mustache to fool everyone, are you fucking kidding me—?!”

Roman slides off the couch, gripping his stomach, he’s laughing so hard.

“What?!” Remus demands, throwing off the overly large trench coat he’d been huddling under.

“You,” Roman wheezes, then, “you said the plan was stupid and it wouldn’t work—!”

“It is stupid! I come up with way better plans than this, you’re telling me that you came up with the stupid kid movie plan and I didn’t?! And it shouldn’t have worked—Roman, stop laughing, your fangirls are fucking batshit crazy, could you imagine what kind of weird Wattpad shit they’d get up to if they knew how easy it was to break in here?!”

Roman is screaming with laughter, because literally all they needed was a fake mustache and beard, and ooh Roman can tell that Remus is pissed that Roman came up with this plan first because it’s such a perfectly Remus plan. He isn’t sure how much of it is a sensate thing versus a twin brother thing, but all the same, Roman knows that Remus is absolutely fuming, which makes it even funnier.

Remus storms off, shouting, “Just for this, I’m going to use up all your fancy shampoo! I’m going to take the biggest, nastiest shit in your bathroom! I’m—I’m going to eat all your soap! I will! I’ll do it! I’m eating all your soap!”

LOGAN

It’s still a little startling to look over at his notebook and suddenly find himself in South Africa, but he’s gotten a little more accustomed to it since the night before. He’s been feeling a pull to South Africa all day, like an ache deep in his chest. He isn’t entirely sure why.

Virgil glances over at him and smiles, just a little. Logan smiles back. Virgil clears his throat and returns his attention to the textbook before him.

“Roman’s plan worked,” he says.

Logan huffs, shaking his head. Honestly. It’s like those American movies when three children stack on top of each other and wear a large trenchcoat and a fake beard to gain access to the movies, but it actually worked.

In retrospect, Logan’s sure that Remus would have foregone his escape into the wilderness if he’d known that donning a disguise and having his rich brother pay away the arrest troubles and their psychically connected lawyer argue before the court would have worked so neatly.

However, considering that nearly every aspect of that plan is absolutely off the rails ridiculous, the escape into the wilderness must have seemed like a prudent measure to take at the time.

“How’s your research?” Logan asks, sitting down on Virgil’s bed.

“Pretty good,” Virgil says, his tone very casual. “I think the fact that abrus precatorius—”

“The scientific name for rosary peas,” Logan assumes. He is rewarded by a nod from Virgil.

“—isn’t native to Mexico and the fact that Remus hasn’t traveled for years on end is a pretty good basis for Janus to go on. Plus, abrin—”

“The toxin?” Logan clarifies and receives a nod.

“—is incredibly toxic, to the point where anyone ordering rosary peas would probably get pinged under some kind of monitoring system. So there wouldn’t really be a way for Remus himself to get them. Miguel Contreras, on the other hand—”

“The murder victim?” Logan says, startled.

“Yes—on the other hand, he went to Florida very recently. He got back three days before his death, in fact.”

“I thought they were native to Asia and Australia?”

“Yeah, they are, but rosary peas are an invasive species, and they’ve been clocked in the pine rocklands there,” Virgil says. “Symptoms usually occur pretty quick, but it can take up to five days to show up, depending on the method of ingestion. And considering the seed of just one pea could be fatal…”

“Then the cause of death could very well be found in Florida!” Logan says. “And the only thing they have on Remus—”

“—Are threats, exactly,” Virgil says enthusiastically. “And considering the way Remus is as a person, Janus could probably get those hand-waved away as being under jest, rather than an actual threat to kill him.”

They smile at each other again, Virgil’s lips twisting wryly.

“I’ve been wanting to visit you all day,” he says abruptly, and Logan feels that flutter in his stomach again, the one he’s been feeling since they first met; he’s willing to admit to himself that it most certainly isn’t unease, now. It is a near antonym of unease.

“I have too,” Logan admits, trying his very best to keep his voice informal.

Virgil’s smile softens, a little. “Yeah?”

“Yes,” Logan affirms, and the flutter in his stomach intensifies.

They stare at each other. Virgil’s eyes, Logan notices abruptly, are objectively beautiful. Framed by long lashes, his eyes are so dark a shade of brown they’re practically black, so easy to stare at, admiring the way a sudden shift in the lighting would illuminate the subtle honeyed depths of them.

For a moment, Logan gets a flicker; he’s looking at his own eyes, blue and framed by his glasses, but the emotion in him doesn’t change, the fleeting thought of look how gorgeous, and suddenly he is back to looking at Virgil, and, as one, they look away.

Virgil coughs awkwardly. “This sensate thing—weird, huh?”

For the first time, Logan wonders if the feeling in his stomach is not entirely his own. If it is something shared.

But, Logan thinks, sneaking a look at Virgil taking notes, twirling his pen idly over the backs of his long fingers, he supposes that neither of them would be able to tell that, anyways.

REMUS

Remus is bouncing his leg so much that the cop near him is giving him a disdainful look.

Or maybe the look is because the cop thinks he’s a murderer. Whatever.

“Are you sure this is gonna work,” Remus mutters out of the corner of his mouth because he hasn’t gotten the hang of visiting someone in his cluster and going about day-to-day life like a normal person, the way more experienced sensates can.

“Positive,” Janus says. He’s sitting crossed-legged beside Remus in his holding cell, where they’re waiting to be transported to the courtroom. Remus is pretty sure most lawyers shouldn’t turn up to court in pajamas, but considering that to the rest of the courtroom Remus is going to play at being his own lawyer, it’s all fine.

“All they have on you is proximity and threats,” Janus continues. “And considering the voice in your novels, along with the parts in your dust jackets’ where you literally threaten your readers, I can get that set aside no problem.”

Remus inhales heavily and exhales just as noisily.

“Right,” he says. “Right.”

Roman flickers into sight just long enough to shoot Remus a thumbs up, and as Janus resumes spitting legal jargon, Remus feels his shoulders relax.

PATTON

“Be careful with our bezzie Buzzy Bee!” Patton says brightly. He’s crouched before Sophie, having helped untangle the string. “Let’s make sure we don’t tangle him up again, eh?”

“I will, Mr. T!” Sophie shouts, already on the run with the toy, and Patton huffs ruefully. It’ll probably be tangled up again by the end of the day.

A brief chill across his skin, and Patton shivers before he refocuses on the sunny afternoon, here, in Auckland.

By the time he’s stood upright, Logan’s beside him, in a white lab coat.

“Do you really need that much air conditioning down there?” Patton says. “Seems a bit overkill, mate.”

Logan shrugs, closing a door, hiding away some kind of equipment that looks very finicky and complex. “I’m not the one in charge of the facility.”

“Fair enough,” Patton says. “I’m pretty sure I’ll be asked to join in on some kind of game, soon. You like rugby?”

“It’s not exactly popular in Poland.”

“Hm. Guess not,” Patton says. “Probably should’ve known that already.”

“The whole sharing knowledge aspect of this does seem to be rather dependent on a variety of factors,” Logan says thoughtfully. “I don’t think I automatically know the minutiae of New Zealand history and culture just because you might; I think we have to be doing something to trigger that sharing of knowledge.”

Patton huhs thoughtfully.

“If you didn’t know how to drive a car, for instance,” Logan theorizes, “and I did, and you sat behind a wheel and needed to drive somewhere, I would probably be able to impart that knowledge to you.”

“I can ask Emile,” Patton says, ready to turn and look in on Florida, but he’s stopped by Logan’s frustrated, “how do you do that?”

“Hm?” Patton says, turning to look at him.

“This seems to come so effortlessly to you,” Logan says. “You drop in and seem totally at ease, you could control if we all came to see Virgil a couple nights ago, and by the reactions of those around you, you don’t seem to be talking to thin air—”

“Well, we’re mostly, surrounded by five-year-olds, they wouldn’t be too phased by the concept of me having an imaginary friend,” Patton points out. Logan doesn’t seem particularly amused by this.

“I don’t know,” Patton admits. “Emile thought I was just very communicative, for a sensate. That might be it; I’ve always been pretty chatty. It also might be because Māori have beliefs about how we are all connected—people, nature, all living things—so maybe I was a little more prepared to accept that I was literally connected to other people because I grew up with that as a sacred ideal.”

They watch children run and play for a few minutes; Manaia, diving to catch a football in the game of rugby that had assembled; Sophie, racing between everyone with her Buzzy Bee clack-clack-clacking behind her; Oliver, shyly joining in on a game of hopscotch.

The grass sways in the light breeze, the sun had peeked out from behind its clouds, leaving the entire playground awash in light and warmth. The laughter of children carries on the wind. Patton’s coworkers occasionally look up from their tiny charges to smile and wish him a good day.

“It’s really rather nice here,” Logan says quietly. “I’ve never been remotely near this continent. Coming to research in Antarctica is the most travel I’ve ever really done.”

“Do you miss home?” Patton asks.

Logan considers this.

“Some things,” he says. “Kluski, makowiec, honey mead. Newspapers written in my native language. The coffee shop I studied in throughout all of university. Proper herbata góralska. My mentors. The ability to go to a grocery store. My mother.”

There’s a beat of silence.

“But I love the research I do here,” Logan says firmly. “It’s a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity to be able to study down here.”

“It sure seems like it,” Patton says, his admiration clear in his voice.

“This whole situation threw a bit of a wrench in the works,” he says.

“I think it did for all of us,” Patton says. “Not all bad, though. Remus would probably still be on the run if he hadn’t connected with Janus.”

“No,” Logan muses, a soft flush touching his cheeks. “Certainly not all bad.”

Unbidden, images flash in his mind; black coffee, an expanse of wide sunny road, the sensation of dirt under his fingernails, purple jacaranda blossoms.

Patton tries his hardest not to grin. But—

“What,” Logan says defensively.

“Nothing,” Patton says, not hiding his smile, and Logan huffs irritably.

“You know,” Patton says, “Emile’s been dating someone in-cluster for, like, nine years? They were the first people that they saw, of the people in-cluster. In-cluster relationships are apparently pretty common, which I guess makes sense. Sharing feelings, knowledge, everything—it sure can bond two people together.”

Logan’s flush deepens.

“Just sayin’,” Patton offers cheerfully, and he goes off to join a game of hopscotch, leaving Logan with his thoughts.

JANUS

The language is different. The procedure is different. The situation is, most definitely, different.

He’s used to English, English law, English crimes. He’s been a barrister for years, jumping from one firm to another because the latter had seen partner potential in him; it paid much better, too, which certainly hadn’t been a negative. Janus had become a well-polished lawyer, a viper in the courtroom, a boomslang to his rivals.

He’s good at it, is his point. He’s always been good at it.

He stands, surveying the judge. A different uniform, but a similar dime-a-dozen judge. He’s seen this type dozens of times. He could debate them in his sleep.

But as he looks to the side—Remus sitting, Roman beside him, the rest of the cluster in a line past them, just peeks of their profiles past the twins—he remembers why he started to study law, too.

Because he wanted to be able to get himself and his brother out of any and every sticky situation they could ever stumble into.

Janus stands when he is bid to. He takes the oath, Remus’s mother language tripping off his tongue like it’s his own. It is now, Janus supposes.

Roman reaches over and grips Remus’s hand. Remus pinches Roman as hard as he possibly can, but Roman doesn’t flinch.

Janus begins smoothly, “Your honor, ladies and gentlemen of the court...”

#my fic #my fanfic

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mel-image-making · 3 years

Photo

Brochure

The brochure is the last thing I worked on since it was going to take a lot longer than the other assets. For the way of folding it, I decided to make a trifold brochure but horizontal, because I wanted the person looking at ti to see the whole thing at once when checking, rather than small individual parts. I first sketched on a piece of paper to figure out what would go where:

After figuring out the structure, I started brainstorming on who would be part of the festival. I wanted to use real names of BIPOC artists that do things related to decolonialisation.

In this sketch I wrote down the names of the bands/collectives/people that I would like to have in the festival, and also assigned time slots that were realistic.

Talks:

- Nina Gualinga: is an Ecuadorian environmental and indigenous rights activist. She is part of the Kichwa-speaking community and has spent most of her life advocating for better environmental protection of the Ecuadorian Amazon and the inhabitant wildlife as well as the people who are dependent on this environment.

- Tori Tsui: is a Bristol-based intersectional climate justice activist and organiser, speaker, writer and mental health advocate from Hong Kong and New Zealand.

- Pania Newton: is a New Zealand lawyer and activist for Māori land rights; she is a member of the Ngāpuhi, Waikato, Ngāti Mahuta and Ngāti Maniapoto tribes.In 2016, Newton alongside her five cousins, and other supporters, formed the group Save Our Unique Landscape (SOUL) to protest the development of land at Ihumātao in south Auckland.

- Lyla June: Lyla June Johnston is an Indigenous public speaker, artist, scholar and community organizer of Diné (Navajo), Tsétsêhéstâhese (Cheyenne) and European lineages from Taos, New Mexico.Her messages focus on Indigenous rights, supporting youth, traditional land stewardship practices and healing inter-generational and inter-cultural trauma.

Music:

- Katchafire: Katchafire are an all Maori New Zealand roots reggae band from Hamilton, New Zealand.

- Sam Manzanza & Afrobeat: Sam Manzanza has performed his infectious brand of authentic African music to audiences all over the globe. His knowledge of traditional rhythms is honed by years spent with the national ballet of Zaire ( DR Congo ) under Ray Lema.Sam is the man who popularised traditional and modern Africa music in New Zealand.

- Hannah Fang: Chinese/Kiwi violinist

Poetry:

- Selina MArsh: Dr Selina Tusitala Marsh is an Auckland-based Pacific poet and scholar of Samoan, Tuvaluan, English, Scottish and French descent.

- Tusiata Avia: is of Samoan and Palagi descent. Born and raised in Christchurch, she has spent the last decade travelling the globe. In 2004 she published her first collection of poetry, Wild Dogs Under My Skirt (Wellington: VUP). She is also a performance poet.

Dance:

- Afriky: an afro dance and drums performance group. Camila and her team have facilitated workshops and performances at multiple festivals and events throughout New Zealand.

- Mudra Dance Company: Mudra Dance Company is the premiere Indian Classical Dance Company of New Zealand. Led by the dance luminary Vivek Kinra, this company uses the dance style of Bharata-Natyam as the mode of expression to create a spectacle of rhythm, colour, music and motion.

Theatre:

- Hawaiki TŪ presents 'TAURITE' a special performance in collaboration with Tāmaki Makaurau Kapa Haka Group, Te Manu Huia.

- The Eternal Queers: A fictional story of four real-life rainbow activists set in an afterlife - in 2079 to be exact - is the idea behind what's believed to be Aotearoa's first all Queer People Of Colour play. It's the second play by Black Afro-Caribbean lesbian playwright Estelle Chout.

Art:

- Ahua Collective: Āhua Collective is a new platform committed to empowering QTBIPOC (Queer, Trans, Black/Indigenous/People of Colour) artists and decolonising our creative future.

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clarencemilligan-blog · 7 years

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vatslyaedu-blog · 7 years

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Why are so many Indian students coming to New Zealand?

The international student market is huge money-maker for our economy. It’s already New Zealand’s fifth largest export category worth close to $3 billion and it's only getting more lucrative. Last year, the money from tuition fees alone topped $1 billion for the first time.

While most of the international students in New Zealand have traditionally been from China, over the last few years, Indian students have rapidly grown in number. There are now more Indian students in the non-university tertiary sector than any other group.

There were more than 29,000 Indian students enrolled to study here in 2015; that’s a 150 percent increase since 2010.

More students mean more money pumped into our economy andTertiary Education Minister, Steven Joyce, says benefits of international education extend well beyond their economic contribution.“Young New Zealanders live and learn alongside people from other countries, increasing their understanding of other cultures and boosting our links with the world. These links are vital for us to prosper in an increasingly Asia-Pacific world,” he says.

The bad news is, it’s not exactly going to plan. Over the last few years, more and more accounts of cheating, immigration fraud, shoddy agents, exploitation of workers and low-quality education providers have emerged. However, much of it happens behind the scenes or even before the students land on New Zealand soil.

Earlier this year, The Wireless travelled to India to find out what’s behind the rapid growth. Here’s what we know:

#1: A very bad decision

The reality is, New Zealand isn’t a first choice study destination for most Indian Students. Countries like the US, UK, Canada and Australia are usually on the top of their wish list. But when the New Zealand Qualification Authority (NZQA) decided to change the rules, the country experienced an unprecedented surge in Indian students wanting to study here - what started as a wave quickly became a tsunami.

It began in 2013 when NZQA, with the approval of Tertiary Education Minister Steven Joyce, drastically altered the English language requirements for Indian students.In a nutshell, some Private Training Establishments (PTEs) could enrol students into their programmes without having to prove they could speak English through the standard channels - they could use their own tests and criteria instead.

PTEs are privately owned tertiary education providers. They are registered by NZQA and must be signatories of a special code to enrol international students.

While in India, The Wireless spoke to Navneet Singh, co-founder of GoGlobal education consultancy, in the North of the country.

Photo: Julian Vares/The Wireless

Navneet sends hundreds of students to New Zealand every year and says while the intent of the policy change wasn’t bad, the results had hugely negative impacts for New Zealand.

“Before anybody could understand what happened, it went haywire.

“The primary responsibility [for English testing] was given to the PTEs…and who made the biggest money? The PTEs.”

The rule change led to a sharp increase in fraudulent activity, both by those in India and PTEs in New Zealand looking to make cash off easy-to-exploit entry requirements.

The number of international students from India surged from about 12,000 to more than 20,000 between 2013 and 2014.

Then the surge became a flood. At the end of October last year, Immigration NZ already received 11 percent more student visa applications than in the whole of 2014, most of which were being declined.

In a high priority report to the Steven Joyce released to under the Official Information Act, NZQA stated that some education agents in India were actively promoting New Zealand as a destination for its ease of entry. It also noted that, in some cases, these agents in India where given the authority to enrol students on the PTEs behalf.

“These [education] providers appear to have no visibility or control over how many offers of place are issues, or to whom. Some of this “outsourcing” is of poor quality.”

Licensed Immigration Adviser Munish Sekhri says he saw, first-hand, what was going on.

“I personally was approached by many PTEs who said ‘hey look, we’ll give you the login details for our English testing portal so you or your staff can sit [the test] on behalf of the students and we’ll offer an admission letter instantly.”

Indian students also suffered. Many with low language skills become susceptible to exploitation in the New Zealand workforce, with some only managing to get jobs paying as little as $4 an hour.

Noticing the damage, NZQA tried to back-track.

They re-introduced rules in late 2015 which meant education providers couldn't use their own English assessments for students coming from India but many say the damage was already done.

#2: Rogue Agents

The majority of students coming from India are from the North – a region most Kiwis will recognise through their taste buds with dishes like tandoori chicken, korma and naan.

Walking along the streets of Chandigarh in North India, the number of signs and banners advertising education abroad is staggering. They line the shop fronts with promises of “easy visas”, “instant approval”, and “residency”, vying for the attention of potential students.

Photo: Julian Vares/The Wireless

Most young Indians organise their trips through education agents. These agents give advice on where to study, help organise visa applications, and facilitate English testing. However, there are few rules and regulations that govern who can be an agent, what they can say, or how much they can get paid.

Late last year, a Facebook group was set up to support students in New Zealand – Agents Trapped International Students – which has 330 members. One member wrote: “I was told that business program has lot of demand and great jobs are available in Auckland. I have done graduation in business hence I thought it will be great decision to go ahead. But when I landed here I saw every third person doing this degree.”

Agents giving misinformation to potential students, as well charging high fees and falsifying documents is a growing problem.

LISTEN: Insight looks into the growing issue of dodgy visa applications from India.

Immigration lawyer Alistair McClymont says agents also tell students it’s easy to get jobs in New Zealand – a big draw card for those wanting to get residency after their study.

“If you look at any of the marketing that the agents do in India, it's not about the quality of the qualification; it's about the benefits that a student will get if they complete a New Zealand qualification. And that's not in terms of the skills they get...it's about what Immigration NZ will offer them after they graduate.”

Agents are paid commission to send students to particular education providers. Universities give a flat rate of about 10 percent commission, while Institutes of Technology and Polytechnics give up to 30. Reports out of India suggest agents are offered up to 50 percent commission to send students to PTEs, making them more appealing to send students to, even if the quality of education is low.

Out of the 29,235 Indian students in New Zealand last year, more than 21,000 of them attended PTEs. Navneet from GoGlobal in India says shoddy agents can say anything to attract students.

“There are ads in newspapers which say ‘go through us, we’ll give you free air ticket, we’ll give you a laptop.’ When such lucrative ads are there, you can understand what is happening.”

Photo: Julian Vares/The Wireless

Recently the NZ Herald reported that out of the 10,863 declined applications Immigration received from Indian in ten months, 85 percent had been lodged by unlicensed education advisers, student agents and lawyers who are exempt from licensing.

Regulating agents in India is no simple task. While there are about 33 licensed immigration advisors in India, according to Munish Shekhri, there are thousands of others working with students and getting commission from New Zealand companies. But he says the blame can’t solely to put on the agents or even the places offering them commission - the students need to take responsibility, too.

“The big onus is on the student...they have to understand they cannot come to New Zealand and corrupt the country.”

#3: Cheap as chips

Te Puke – a quiet town outside of Tauranga with a population of about 8,000 - is best known for its kiwifruit. It backpackers and camping grounds are full of seasonal workers from the Pacific Islands, plus the odd travellers hoping to make some cash picking in the orchards.

Te Puke is also the home of Royal Business College, self-described as one of the “largest and most respected colleges in New Zealand”.

With four campuses across New Zealand, its Te Puke campus was the most intriguing. The Wireless headed there last month and found there wasn’t much to see.

The Royal Business College campus is located in an industrial block, with a train track a couple hundred metres from its front door. The outside is unassuming with a couple broken chairs and narrow door.

Photo: Mava Enoka

At lunch time, a stream of young Indian boys came out of the building. Surprisingly, there are no other ethnicities and very few women. Some get into their cars and drive to the local McDonalds while others hang around the parking lot. One student says he was paying $12,000 for a business course in Wellington but moved to Te Puke when he was offered his second year for just $7,000. He said it was a cheaper place to live and easier to find a job.

All the students we spoke to worked on Kiwifruit orchards.

While the website says the campus “provides the ideal learning environment for our Diploma courses in Horticulture,” staff at Royal Business College say they are currently only offering business courses in Te Puke. They wouldn’t let us inside but encouraged us to call the owner, Jimmy Royal. He did not return our requests to talk.

Photo: Mava Moayyed

The attraction of PTEs is clear: At universities, international students can expect to pay about three times more than domestic students. In India Renjith Narayan, 21, forked out $72,000 for an 18 month masters course at the University of Auckland. It’s no surprise, then, that many hunt for cheaper alternatives.

In New Zealand, PTEs offer courses in almost everything. A course can cost a smidgen of the price of a university degree. There are over 500 PTEs in New Zealand but only about 250 of them are licensed to enrol international students and most of them in central Auckland.

At lunch time, Queen Street starts to resemble the malls in India. Hundreds of young Indians, mostly boys, gather in groups outside their PTEs dressed in distinctly western fashion. Many order fast food and drag on cigarettes. According to information released under the Official Information Act, about 50 education providers have a visa decline rate over 30 percent. This includes popular PTEs like National Technology Institute, Royal Business, and Newton College of Business & Technology.

#education system in newzealand #top colleges of newzealand #newzealand in education

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