Donald Digby
“You Can Lock Me up but You Can’t Shut Me Up”
For ex-pat Kiwis, 2020 was an extraordinary year. Not only were we dealing with Covid outbreaks in our countries of residence but we were trapped overseas, denied our God-given right to return to our country of birth. Being forced to miss funerals, births, weddings, birthdays or that last chance to say goodbye was cruel. There was nothing we could do except pray it would be over soon and, as 2020 drew to a close, it looked promising: watching Kiwis enjoy a summer of maskless life and America’s Cup racing gave hope that 2021 would herald a return to normal.
It turned out this was wishful thinking and by mid-2021 with the writing on the wall, my wife and I joined the scrum of Kiwis clicking Refresh on the government website, trying to get a ticket. My clever wife, the brains of the outfit, worked out that after a batch of rooms were released the holder of the lucky ticket had 48 hours to book flights or lose the voucher. We targeted the time exactly 48 hours after the releases hoping to collect a lost spot and, boom, it worked.
Flights were hastily booked and a nervous few months followed, constantly worried that the “rules” would change. It pays not to trust this government. But it happened and we made it to Auckland International on the allocated date, nervous about what was to happen to us as guests of the government. You can call it MIQ if you like but I hate that name as it’s cute and misleading. Internment is a more accurate description.
Immigration was cleared, health checks passed and everything was recorded. There were lots of Nga Mihis and Kia Oras, lots of keep “socially distanced” – one of the most stupid oxymorons I have ever heard.
The whole experience was depressing. There was no quick lap of duty-free and out to the joy of the arrival hall. Instead, it was replaced with being ushered through makeshift corridors in single file like sheep or cattle being herded in for a drenching.
We had been in New Zealand for over 9 hours by the time we were ushered into our 6m by 5m cell, having taken a full 36 hours to complete what would normally be a 12-13 hour trip. The mood among our fellow detainees was muted. You could sense the relief to have made it but we all knew other Kiwis that couldn’t get home, plus no one wanted to rock the boat or break “the rules” and there was still the Internment to deal with.
So how does Internment work? Well, they control everything, and I mean everything. People you do not recognise know your first name and your date of birth and the names and dates of birth of everyone you are with.
The drill is that once you’re in the room, the next morning you have your first test, day zero they call it. Results from that take about 24-36 hours and nothing is allowed out of the room until your first test is negative. You can order stuff from the supermarket but the 3 square meals are provided by the facility. There is no choice of menu but if you’re hungry you will eat it.
For us, that meant about 48 hours sealed off, and yeah the rubbish containing dirty diapers and leftover food was starting to pong. You are given one set of plates and cutlery per person for the duration of your stay but it’s a hotel room and dishes are done in the basin in the toilet.
You are constantly monitored via calls to the room checking on why you haven’t ordered food or this or that. I suspect it’s more a check to make sure you answer the phone and are not swinging yourself in the shower or otherwise pushing up the daisies as much as it is out of genuine concern for your wellbeing.
‘Wellbeing’ is everywhere, they care a lot about your wellbeing. They care so much that there’s no cleaning service of the room or the means to do it yourself. You can order stuff from the supermarket but if you do it’s up to you and you’re paying.
There’s no capacity to cook meals so your wellbeing depends on takeaways or room service. Nothing like a couple of weeks of junk food to help your wellbeing!
Exercise is permitted after your first negative test and you get a band on your wrist like you would at a rock concert. When the staff give you the band they seem happy, almost more excited about it than you are. I guess that’s cause they are happy you are virus-free, at least for now.
The rest of your stay is as boring and pointless as you would expect. According to the brochure in the room, a negative test does not mean that you are virus-free so keep social distancing and practising wellbeing is the theme.
Then finally we were out, free to safely return to a city that is experiencing an outbreak of the virus. The whole experience was deeply unsettling and frankly weird. And at the back of my mind, I can’t help but wonder if MIQ is really a blueprint for how this government would like society to be. Why else would they continue with such a broken system?