Te Tai Tokerau: Job shortage reaches 'crisis point' in northern Māori seat

In the Māori electorate seat of Te Tai Tokerau, unemployment is the defining election issue for many voters after Northland recorded the country’s highest regional unemployment rate earlier this year.

The electorate stretches from Cape Reinga to the towns of Kaitaia, Kaikohe and Whāngārei; down to Auckland's North Shore and the city’s western suburbs. For many voters, finding work is an uphill climb.

Northland’s recorded unemployment rate was at 8.8% last quarter – up from 5.1% in the previous quarter.

'Crisis point’: The job shortage shaping Te Tai Tokerau electorate race - Watch on TVNZ+

Megan Hepi, an employment adviser, said it’s reached a crisis point. She said the ratio of seekers to jobs was one to ten and, of those jobs available, there was a mismatch between the available roles and the seekers’ skills and qualifications.

“Jobs right now you'll see advertised on Seek through MSD [Ministry for Social Development], etcetera, are for nurses. I think there's one at the police station… higher paying jobs, higher skilled jobs, but of course, the people that, right now, are looking for jobs don't have that skill base or don't have the training for it,” she said.

According to Stats NZ, Kaihoke’s population is just under 5000, but in June, nearly 2000 were on a job seekers benefit. This week, there were 22 jobs listed on Seek’s website.

When asked if there were jobs in Kaikohe, local Matiu Tetane said there were “probably” between ten and thirty regularly advertised at the Ministry of Social Development website.

“But if you asked for the statistics of the jobseekers, it's around the 3000, 4000 mark, eh? There you go, there's a bit of maths for you. I'm not a maths person but thirty jobs to 4000 is a bit of an indication.”

He said everyone wants to work, to have purpose, and to be rewarded well, but there was no industry that drives mahi in town, other than housing developments that are given to “big contractors”.

“The dynamics have changed with the labouring. Seasonal, it's a seasonal calendar for work, and so that's what our people have been called in, you know? Is applying for seasonal jobs, and then you gotta go back on the penihana and go through all of that stuff.”

Hepi said wages were “incredibly low” in the town. The average wage for adults in Kaikohe is $28,100, according to Stats NZ.

“I don't know who can live on that. I mean, is it even better than the benefit? So, these are the things whānau weigh up. I mean, our whānau aren't dumb, it's weighing up whether this job that they've got to go to – and they've got to pay for gas, childcare etcetera – is actually going to be more than the benefit. And that's how it is,” said Hepi.

Joe Henare is a community leader and mentor.

He describes the circumstances of a cousin who came off the benefit and worked her way into full-time employment. However, she found she was only making around $50 to $80 more than the benefit, and at the expense of spending time with her children.

“She was getting pulled away from her babies, she couldn't pick up or drop off her babies anymore, couldn't go to their sports, just so she can make an extra $80. So, what are you supposed to do?”

He said faced with the choice of being an “absent mum” or having the extra boost in income, she returned to the benefit.

For Henare, Northland’s unemployment rate is not surprising.

In places like Kaikohe, for many whānau, poverty is all they've ever known, said Henare.

“You have to remember that we're coming from like seven generations of families being below the poverty line. We're coming from seven generations of gangsters, you know? I've got niece and nephews who their fathers are gangsters, and their father's father, and their father's, father's, father were gangsters. So that's all they know.”

Henare works for Ākau, a multi-disciplinary, not-for-profit design studio based in Kaikohe. He also runs Patu Kaikohe, a fitness-focused social enterprise that encourages whānau to make positive lifestyle choices.

He said without support it is hard to change that paradigm.

“If you want to better, and you want to be a doctor or a lawyer, and the rest of your family are not doing very very good things, then you're isolated - so then where's your support system? So, the only support systems that you do have is for these things over here, which obviously aren't the greatest.”

It’s the reality of where they live, he said, and everyone is trying to get ahead.

A jobseeker who spoke to 1News said he had been looking for a job coming up to six months, since being released from prison. He admits his biggest barrier has been his criminal history.

“I got a pretty long, extensive criminal history, and that's due to bad choices that I've made in the past. But I'm trying to rectify that by just staying in the now and doing whatever I can to progress my change into the near future.”

He said there were still a limited amount of jobs to apply for, and if someone wanted a good paying job, it was best to look in Whāngārei or Auckland.

“I'd rather be in the country. It's too fast-paced in Auckland, plus you've got the maunga out here, the moana, if you're hungry just go for a hunt or a bit of a dive.”

He said the last time he had a job was ten years ago, unloading twenty- and forty-foot shipping containers.

His dream now is to “live comfortable and simple”.

“It's not a hard life up here but it is, if you know what I mean? Like, yeah. It's beautiful if you actually know how to, not survive, but live in a small town. Like in a small community.”

But for now, he said he, and others like him, just need the opportunity.

“That's all a person needs is an opportunity to not only show their employer that they can work and be reliable, but to prove to themselves that they can do something worthwhile instead of having to return [or] revert to crime to survive. Cause surviving ain't living and living ain't surviving.”

Te Kotahitanga e Mahi Kaha Trust (TKEMKT) has been providing pathways to qualifications and skills for 40 years.

Board member Edith Tahere was part of the establishment of the trust in 1983. She said there was a sense of meeting the need of the people – “and if no one else is going to look after our people, well, we'd look after [them]”.

She said they rolled out carpentry, interior-exterior decorating, motor mechanics, business and administration courses. They partnered with other local organisations and trusts to expand their reach to other smaller localities such as Waimamaku and Moerewa.

It is work they have been doing for decades, adapting to the needs of their people.

“If you want to train somebody up, and if they want to be trained to do something different and there's nothing, we basically think that we need to create that,” said Tahere.

TKEMKT chairperson Moana Timoko said there has not been enough investment in creating job opportunities in Kaikohe, so they are looking at ways to fill the gap.

“For us, yeah, it's about providing the training, but then thinking about where we're going to put our people when they're ready to go into employment. So it's looking for the pathways… making sure that we're thinking beyond just offering skills training and looking at where we can actually place people to support them into a further career.”

The construction of the town's new library, community hub and café offers some hope. In partnership with People Potential and the café’s owner and operator, the trust will provide training and placement within the café for people looking for a career in hospitality.

Timoko said they were also looking at opportunities in tourism and horticulture.

“So we're not just focusing on upskilling in just single areas, we want to upskill in many areas and then talk about the opportunities that might come from that.”

It’s infrastructure like the community hub that they want more of and they say they need central government to come to the table.

“Come and talk to us instead of expecting us to apply for funds to keep some of these programmes running,” said Timoko.

“We're already living in… a space that is already defined as being deprived, so come and support us if you feel that way. We're actually a very strong, resilient community, we know how to budget because we live on stuff all! You know?”

Tahere agrees: “Governments come and go, we're still here. And I think that's been our drive and philosophy. And we'll never go. Until our people tell us it's time for you to go.”