Chapter 1

What have I done? Here I am eating breakfast at Auckland airport a little after 7.30 am ready to take up my new role as Professor of Gender Studies at the University of South Auckland. “Don’t make a rash decision,” all my friends had said but rash is what I do. To be fair, I had my reasons.

It is January 20th 2017 and Inka Makkonen’s Air New Zealand Los Angeles to Auckland flight, a killer 13 hours, landed 20 minutes late. In fact it was about 24 hours since she had left Connecticut. The airport was surprisingly busy and customs and immigration were slow. But the officials seemed friendly for that time of the morning. She is now dog tired having only slept intermittently, but she needs to get through the day. She has to report to the main reception at the University. But it is early, so a slow breakfast is called for.

She had never been to New Zealand before except for her interview, and the interview was held in the Air New Zealand Koru lounge at Auckland International Airport. That of course hadn’t been the plan, but she had scheduled the interview on the way to deliver a keynote address at a Women’s Studies Conference in Melbourne and a series of flight delays within the US meant she landed in Auckland only a couple of hours before her onward flight to Melbourne was due. But the committee came to the airport and there was a very unusual interview. The Acting Dean of Arts, Aroha McLean, hugged her, which she found rather strange but reassuring. She was full of adrenalin and sparkled with her talk of building the subject, research funding applications and innovative teaching. She clearly had impressed, but had she done her due diligence about the University? Her sole experience of New Zealand, the Koru Lounge at the airport, was positive. Possibly that was insufficient. She was offered the job three days before the 2016 US election. She was unsure what to do but, after Donald Trump won, that clinched it. No negotiation, she just proceeded to fast track her immigration application.

Time to catch a cab. Inka Makkonen is tall, slim and very blonde, almost translucent. The cab driver, who comes from Rarotonga, is neither tall, nor slim nor blonde.

“Where to Miss?”

“The University of South Auckland.”

“The University of SOUTH Auckland?” the driver queried.

“Yes.”

“Do you have an address?”

“Let me look. Yes, here it is. 286 Puhinui Road.”

“Oh I know, Spanish sort of building, big car park. It’s not far at all.”

This isn’t the first puzzled reaction I received to the name ‘University of South Auckland’. On the long flight to Auckland I had a conversation with a high school principal, who knew of: The University of Auckland, The Auckland University of Technology, and, to the north, The University of Massey, Albany but NOT The University of South Auckland. This is not encouraging. But before too long the cab arrives at the Spanish style building familiar from the landing page of the university’s website. What that image did not reveal was that it is the only permanent building on the site, supported by numerous temporary buildings, and, as the cab driver suggested, plenty of parking, much of it in gravel. It is situated in a largely residential area with some small blocks of downmarket stores and with some light industry in the vicinity.

It is too late to back out now. The cab pulls up in front of the comparatively impressive front entrance and I enter with my suitcase and carry-on bag. A young woman behind the desk is looking at a screen. “I am Professor Makkonen and have just arrived.” “Oh yes, they are expecting you. Vinnie is going to look after you and take you to your motel. Professor McLean will catch up with you later in the day. Please, take a seat and I will see if Vinnie is in yet.”

Ten minutes later, this must be Vinnie. He appears to be a friendly young guy, presumably Māori. “Hello, Professor Makkonen, I am Vinnie , Aroha McLean’s research assistant. You must be tired, eh? Let’s get you to your motel.” After a short drive in Vinnie’s old Toyota we reach the motel, which doesn’t appear particularly smart but they had arranged for me to have early access to my unit which is a good size with a separate bedroom and a surprisingly full kitchen. It already has some food in the refrigerator and a bottle of New Zealand sparkling wine, Le Brun. I am left to sleep. Aroha is going to pick me up for dinner. I am to go through the university formalities the following day.

Dinner at a Thai restaurant, the Thaitanic, is very revealing about the University. Aroha is very frank and seems to treat me as family. It is the only private university in New Zealand. I had realized it was private, but thought nothing of it, coming from the USA. A previous government had opened up the state universities to competition. That door was later closed and the university never grew in the way anticipated, even though it receives subsidies for tuition similar to those received by the state universities. It is financially viable, just, but with little cash for capital expenditure. She tells me about my appointments for the next day. She hopes they have finally sourced a desk for my office, at which point my computer can be installed.

Back in the motel I again ponder what I have done. There were many reasons to leave the US. The most immediate one was the break up with my long time partner, Maria, but as she said, “I asked you to move out of my apartment. I didn’t ask you to move to New Zealand!!” She may have added an intensifier. Of course the split was connected with my difficulties at work, but that was a sore that needed to be avoided in those last days before my departure. On top of my personal and professional upheavals was the sheer madness of the Presidential election. The motel has Sky TV and I watch CNN’s coverage of Trump’s inauguration. What an acceptance speech! I am well out of that, at least.