The PG version

Before we left Dubai, Andrew talked to Trade New Zealand about my applying for residency. They gave him the distinct impression that all I had to do was sing a bar or two of the National Anthem, slap my elbows, and I would be naturalized in the airport.

 

It was John and Haze who advised us to get police certificates before we left Dubai. We humoured them because they’re good friends, but it came as a complete surprise. Evidently, we ignored the alarm bell orchestra.

 

After arriving in New Zealand, we pretty much forgot about immigration, until I realised my temporary visitor permit was due to expire the following week, when we downloaded the application form for sponsorship and residency.

 

Andrew’s sponsorship application was a six page form which had to be certified by a notary public and supplemented with certified passport copy, two passport photos and his police certificate from Dubai.

 

The residency application was another matter. This form was 32 pages and required: a comprehensive medical including blood tests and chest X-rays; a 16 page doctor’s statement; certified copies of our marriage certificate, my birth certificate, and my passport copy; two signed passport photos; my police certificate from Dubai; a police certificate from Ireland; and evidence of my relationship with Andrew including photos and joint bank accounts, statements, tenancy agreements, investment schemes, property ownership, life insurance, etc.

 

We did not have much fun compiling the documentation and had a minor panic locating my birth cert, which we finally tracked down in one of the 118 boxes delivered by the shippers. Considering that in the Middle East we went out of our way to avoid appearing a couple until we were married, we managed to put together an impressive library of ‘evidence’ of our relationship.

 

The biggest obstacle was not having a police certificate from my country of citizenship. The Immigration New Zealand website did not list this in the requirements, but regrettably the application form was explicit and the scary woman at Immigration even more so.

 

While we waited for the Garda Síochána to issue my certificate, I applied for a work permit/visa. For about two weeks, I was an illegal alien, which didn’t at all appeal to my law-abiding nature (although Andrew found it quite kinky).

 

The work permit/visa was processed fairly quickly although there was a blip when Immigration New Zealand contacted me requesting the blood test lab reports from my medical. My white cell count is 113, falling below the ‘normal’ range of 114-129. For a while it looked like my application would be rejected because I was vegetarian.

 

I applied for residency as soon as the work permit/visa was granted. I was impressed with the Garda Síochána, which issued a police certificate within three weeks free of charge.

 

A fortnight ago, Immigration NZ contacted me requesting a certified copy of Andrew’s birth certificate. No worries: his mum tracked it down and we certified and sent it from Oamaru.

 

But on Wednesday, we went to NZ Post to collect yet another registered letter from our buddies Immigration NZ. Apparently we submitted insufficient evidence of Andrew’s and my passionate, ongoing union. Perhaps our marriage certificate is out of date?

 

We are now required to submit a detailed chronological history/account of our relationship (I’m still not sure exactly how much detail they want: the PG version? Or R18?); letters of support from family and friends verifying that Andrew and I still lick each other’s face in public; and yet more evidence that we are not faking a 10 year marriage for the sole purpose of my gaining New Zealand citizenship.

 

At least I’m not the only one with problems. The head of the Immigration NZ Service resigned on Tuesday amidst allegations that she gave preferential treatment to residence applications from her relatives