Coming from a refugee camp in Nepal, truck driver Rose (Bishnu) Pradhan is living proof that, with hard work and determination, it’s possible you can achieve anything you set your mind to. 

During lockdown, supermarket shelves remained stocked and full of food for New Zealanders to eat while they were staying home and saving lives. In Nelson that was thanks, in part, to Rose (Bishnu) Pradhan.

Rose is a truck driver for TNL, a mother of two children, a New Zealander, a former refugee, and an essential worker.

This is her story.

A dream job

Rose doesn’t fit the “normal” mould of a truck driver. And yet, for many years, she’s known exactly she wanted to do. “I knew I wanted to be a truck driver,” explains Rose with a grin. “I enjoy driving, I got my class two truck driver licence in 2014.”

Equipped with determination and having taken the first steps towards her dream job, Rose approached the team at New Zealand Red Cross who she knew could help her find employment. She’d already proven to be an excellent driver, having volunteered with the local Red Cross Open Road programme as a bilingual driving mentor.

Rose is grateful for the support of Geoff Morgan, an open road driving trainer, who supported Rose on her employment journey, including going out of his way to help her achieve her class two truck license.

Through volunteering, she helped many members of her community attain their New Zealand driver’s licence, an important step in the journey to settling in New Zealand. Rose even helped her mum learn how to drive which, she admits, was a bit nerve-wracking. “My mum is driving a car because of Red Cross. But oh my gosh,” laughs Rose, “when we first started to drive my heart was like boom, boom!”

Her mum, Mon Maya Pradhan, laughs along with her as they talk about learning to drive together. Mon Maya is now a confident, independent driver but says that the difference between New Zealand roads and the roads in Nepal and Bhutan – where her family lived before coming to New Zealand– is stark. “Where we are from in Bhutan and Nepal, there are bicycles, not so much driving! Here there are cars everywhere. Practising driving was very hard.”

A “normal life”

When asked about life before New Zealand, Rose says she lived anyone else. But in reality, Rose’s life was, for many years, anything but normal.

Rose was born in Bhutan, where her family lived peacefully for many years as farmers. “I don’t really remember that time,” she says. “My parents grew corn and rice. I remember we had animals, a cow and goat. We had a big, big area to grow things in Bhutan. My parents grew everything for themselves.”

It’s no surprise that Rose struggles to remember her life in Bhutan as she was only around eight years old when she and her family left. The Pradhans are just one family among the approximately 108,000 refugees who have fled Bhutan since 1991. Most fled to the neighbouring countries, Nepal or India, escaping new laws that discriminated against Lhotshampa, people of ethnic Nepali descent.

In Nepal, Rose spent almost 20 years in a refugee camp. Resources were incredibly scarce with the family allocated just five kilograms of rice every 15 days and a few fresh vegetables each week. There were limited opportunities for people living in the camps, but Rose was able to continue her education for a few years until, at just 16, she was married. “They came to ask mum and dad if they were happy with an arranged marriage. After one year of marriage, my son was born, and after three years my daughter was born.”

When Rose talks about her children, it’s clear that she adores them. But living the way that was expected of her didn’t come naturally to Rose. She knew, even then, that she wanted her life and the life of her kids to be more than what they had. “I was like a house mother, I had to look after the children and I had to cook and clean. Then IOM (the International Organisation for Migration) and UNHCR (the United Nations High Commission for Refugees) started the process,” says Rose in reference to the process of resettling people from camps in Nepal to other countries like New Zealand. “I can still remember now, they called us and I wanted to go somewhere.”

It was clear to Rose that she needed to leave Nepal. She says she’d seen the lives of the people around her, and she knew that it wasn’t what she wanted. But her family had other plans. “My mum and my dad said, ‘no, don’t go, we have to return to our country, Bhutan.’ I didn’t listen to them, I filled out the form and made an appointment.”

In the meeting with UNHCR and IOM representatives, Rose recalls being shown the profiles of eight potential resettlement countries. She was told to choose. “I didn’t know anything [about the country] but I chose New Zealand. I don’t know why!” Rose laughs. “A lot of my family are in America, but I chose New Zealand.”

In time, Rose was informed that her application had been accepted. Knowing that she would soon be leaving Nepal, Rose’s parents worried for her, so they too began the application process. And, despite having applied after her, Mon Maya and her husband left for New Zealand six months before Rose.

By October 2010, the Pradhan family reunited in Nelson, Aotearoa.

A newspaper clipping

Just a few years after arriving in Nelson, life had transformed for Rose. Her children were thriving at school and she’d worked all sorts of jobs from sewing aeroplane seat covers to shucking mussels. But through it all, Rose continued to work toward her greater goal of becoming a truck driver.

With her class two licence in hand, Rose got together with Claire Nichols, New Zealand Red Cross pathways to employment manager in Nelson, to hatch a plan. Rose met with the local paper, who published her story of learning to drive and seeking employment.

The article caught the eye of Derek Nees, TNL trainer. “I mulled over it for a few days,” says Derek, “and I thought, ‘You know, the industry is always looking for drivers, perhaps this is something different?’”

Derek and his colleague Martin Tutton, TNL supervisor for the metro area, met Rose for an initial interview. She wasn’t their usual hire, but Martin, known to most as Marty, says he knew immediately that there was something special about this candidate.

“When we first met Rose, what impressed us most was her determination. She knew where she wanted to go. You don’t get that so much,” admits Marty. “There was something about Rose that was so different.” After discussing with their team, the TNL Nelson team offered Rose a six-month contract as a class two driver.

It was a steep learning curve, as Rose discovered very quickly. Every day there were new challenges to overcome, and every night for the first few weeks Rose arrived home exhausted, with aching muscles. But she never gave up, thanks in large part to the support of her colleagues Marty, Derek, branch manager Mark Holland and Peter Harwood, a fellow driver.

Now Rose is on a full-time contract and, according to Marty, is excelling. Most recently, Rose was awarded employee of the month for her work ethic and customer service. “Rose and my metro team are the face of TNL. They see more customers than other drivers. And we don’t get complaints, in fact, Rose gets more compliments than anything else.”

Rose says one of her many favourite things about the job are the reactions she gets from customers and people on the road when they see her in the driver’s seat. “When I drive by people are tooting and waving at me, customers always say they are happy to see a woman driver. It makes me proud.”

With the support of TNL, Rose now has her dangerous goods and forklift licences, and most recently, gained her full class four truck licence. She’s incredibly grateful for the help, advice and kindness shown to her by the team at TNL who she says has looked after her like family. “I still remember the first day we sat inside that interview room. That was my lucky day.”

A time to give back

When it was announced that New Zealand would be going into Covid-19 alert level four lockdown, the drivers at TNL were given a choice: they could stay home or keep working. “I wanted to work,” Rose says. “Because of that situation, I got a chance to help people, to help New Zealand.”

So while most people stayed home, Rose set out on the roads to deliver essential goods to supermarkets and other local Nelson businesses that remained open. She says that there were some plus sides to working during lockdown, namely the clear roads. “All the road was mine!” Rose recalls with a grin. “It’s a really hard time usually, so it was like freedom!”

But some things were more difficult during lockdown. Her customers were cautious, keeping a safe distance without the usual friendly interactiosn. Plus, there was one other issue – something most of us would’ve never anticipated. “All public toilets were closed, so there were times when my tummy was very painful – holding, holding!”

Despite the difficulties working through lockdown posed, Rose says she’s pleased to have played a part in helping New Zealand get through level four. “We are very lucky to be Kiwis. I feel very proud because it was a very crazy time.”

Looking to the future, Rose says she only sees opportunities for herself and her family. “I know we are already successful. All refugees are very hard-working people, not just my family. I am very proud of my family – they are settled here now and they don’t have to think, ‘What do I have to do, where do I have to go?’”

Through her journey to employment and settling in New Zealand, she hopes to be an example of what hard work can accomplish.

“I really want to show people that if you work hard, you can achieve your goals.”

All across Aotearoa, thousands of former refugees are doing amazing things in their communities. Some are essential workers who supported Kiwis during the Covid-19 lockdown. Over the next few days, in the run-up to World Refugee Day on June 20 and in collaboration with the New Zealand Red Cross, we’re sharing some of their stories.

Read more:

Essential Kiwi Legend: The Afghan refugee who became an emergency nurse

Essential Kiwi Legend: The Syrian refugee turned Dunedin grocery store worker

Essential Kiwi Legend: The Myanmar refugees turned bus driver and caregiver

In our RNZ podcast Conversations With My Immigrant Parents, immigrant whānau across New Zealand have frank conversations about ancestry, love, expectation, acceptance – and food. We asked immigrant kids to listen to the podcast and share with us their responses.

Last year, we had the immense privilege of making the first season of our podcast and video series Conversations With My Immigrant Parents, thanks to NZ on Air and RNZ’s Joint Innovation Fund. We travelled the length of the motu spending time with eight immigrant families, recording different generations in conversation with each other, getting ourselves (over)fed, and in all cases, not wanting to leave when our two days with them were up.

We made the podcast out of a motivation to connect more with our own immigrant whānau too, wanting to open up discussions that really hadn’t been given the time, from either generation. For Saraid, this came about from speaking more to her mum about the ways being half Sri Lankan has affected her life and her experience of whiteness in Aotearoa. For Julie, it came out of long held blocks in communication built across language barriers and internalised racism.

A lot of the desire to make the podcast also stemmed from seeing how thinly veiled the expression of white supremacy is in this country, historically and presently, but how reluctant as a nation we are to readily acknowledge and dismantle this. We wanted to offer nuanced stories and experiences of how the systemic marginalisation of migrants in Aotearoa hurts all of us, and how we can actively work against that.

Right now, we’re starting on our second season and looking for families to feature (applications close Jun 24 so please spread the word no matter where in Aotearoa you live!). We’re also thinking a lot about why we’re doing this and how to do it better, in relation always to the changing discourse around the world. Immigrant stories will always be important, and so will people of colour speaking out against a culture that systemically has never cared about us; we hope the series has offered new insights. But the best responses we’ve had to the series are from the people who see themselves or their whānau in the conversations. We made this for our communities because making something for and about people who get you without explanation is the best part of the job.

This is exactly why we asked eight kids of immigrants to respond to episodes featuring families from the same cultural background as theirs.

Luciane Buchanan on episode 1: A Dress and a Cardigan for Mele

As I listen to Tongan immigrant Liliani and her daughter Kesaia talk, I notice the immediate lump in my throat. Familiar vowel sounds when Liliani speaks in broken English, rings in my mind of how my mother Losi, who’s also a Tongan immigrant from the 1960s, speaks. I feel a huge affinity to Kesaia, as her life experiences are almost identical to mine. My deep love for my mother and my Tongan culture is reflected in their conversation. As children of immigrants we share this evolved struggle. And it’s hard. But it’s a beautiful journey, something I wouldn’t change if I could.

One thing to know about Tongan people is that we have a hard ‘get on with life’ exterior, but we have the softest hearts. When we talk about our family, the flood gates open. I really felt this when listening to this intimate exchange between mother and daughter, as tears streamed down my face throughout the episode. I found comfort and I felt heard in this conversation.

Luciane Buchanan is a Tongan actor and writer.

James Roque on episode 2: Really Nice Potato Sacks

Look, I’m going to be upfront with you here: this episode made me cry in a queue at K-Mart. Not because it was sad, but because I felt like I was listening to a conversation my Filipino mother and I were having. I knew it would too, after the first thing Joseph’s mother Grace says is “you underestimate us”.

I’ve underestimated my migrant parents most of my life growing up in NZ. Not in the usual way that all teens think their parents will never understand them, but a much more insidious underestimation that a lot of migrant children do. “They won’t get me cause they’re FOBs,” I used to think. Now that I reflect back it was just another way for me to erase myself in order to assimilate into white New Zealand.

I remember a few years ago my family were playing the game Cranium on holiday. It was a heated game and my girlfriend and I were teamed up with my parents. We were in the last round and in order to win the game my dad had to spell an incredibly long English word backwards. “We’re screwed now,” I thought subconsciously. My sisters had the same doubt. Then, my dad got up, took a breath and without skipping a beat spelt the entire word backwards. My sisters and I were shook. “You didn’t think I could do it, did you?” my dad said, a cheeky grin on his face, my mum clinging on his arm like a hype man. It wasn’t ‘til recently that I realised that that story was symbolic of how much we underestimated them emotionally too.

Nowadays I try not to underestimate my parents anymore. The more I do the more I see how beautifully empathetic, nuanced and kind they are. I’m glad to have them in my life and look back with shame at how I used to see them.

James Roque is a Filipino comedian and one third of comedy group Frickin’ Dangerous Bro.

Brynley Stent on episode 3: Argumentative is an English Concept

Because of the racist, hierarchical society I’ve been brought up in, when I hear the word ‘immigrant’ my mind imagines a person of colour. This has been so ingrained in me that I’ve never really thought of my Oma, and the rest of my Dutch relatives as immigrants. But of course they are.

Listening to the Blaha-Brethouwer family talk so frankly about their cultural identities made me think deeper about how I identify culturally. I’ve always been proud of my Dutch heritage – I used to do Dutch folk dancing as a child (complete with traditional garb and clogs) and therefore have a stronger link to my Dutch side of the family – the other side, culturally, are “just Pākeha”. I think Julie makes a thought-provoking point when she talks about Pākehā pride (not white power just to be very clear), where if we all knew a little bit more about the intricacies of our white culture, i.e where exactly we hail from, we might be able to see beyond white being the default.

Hearing the Blaha-Brethouwer kids talk about speaking multiple languages, and wanting to represent their heritage, it made me feel sad that I never got to learn Dutch. My Oma got pulled into that “it’s easier to speak English” system that I feel many immigrants feel obliged to do when they arrive in New Zealand. I’ve been working on my Dutch on Duolingo and one day I hope to turn up to her house and surprise her by saying, “Goedemorgen, hoe gaat het!” – but only when I’m feeling a little more confident. Last time I tried to say it on the phone to her she went, “What? Speak English!”

Brynley Stent is a performer and writer of Dutch heritage.

Tayyaba Khan on episode 4: It Was Clearly a Joke

If you’re expecting a 13-year-old Pakistani boy talking about the traditional food his mother cooks him or his refusal to wear the shalwar kameez of her choice… this is not that.

Aliyaan is mature, well beyond his age. He and his mum Masooma give the audience a glimpse into the significant impact Islamophobia has had on their lives, and the changing nature of conversations over generations with immigrant parents.

“We hope it’s not a Muslim who has done it” is representative of many Muslims in Aotearoa as the events of March 15th were unfolding. This episode is a window into the excessive expression of being grateful to New Zealand from a self-flagellating faith community who has been made to question their standing since 9/11. The episode challenges whether we have collectively made it harder to speak up about the impact of the Christchurch terror attack.

Moments where Aliyaan reminds us he is of a generation who will hold their footing in this country and speak out make me thankful. Masooma and Aliyaan’s conversation is one of friendship between a mother and her son, even when times aren’t friendly to them.

Tayyaba Khan is a Pakistani social justice activist and founder of the Khadija Leadership Network.

Hye Ji Lee on episode 5: Actually I’m Korean

Navigating motherhood and womanhood in an environment where one is Othered is a narrative we don’t often stop to think about. The conversation between The conversation between 어머님 김수남씨 Sue and 따님 문보경씨 Bokyong reminded me of the immense capacity of migrant mothers.

I grasped glimpses of the challenges my own mother must have faced, and like Sue, how she just got on with it. Got on with it for me, for us, the kids of migrants, so that we could live a life that was better than theirs.

Listening to the conversation I felt the vulnerable and precious space that is the interpersonal relationship between a mother and daughter. My heart ached, and I missed my mum. The giants among us are often the ones that raised us.

Hye Ji Lee (Erica) was born in Korea. She researches and teaches in the sociology department at Te Whare Wānanga o Tāmaki Makaurau.

Ashleigh Williams on episode 6: The Best Street in Birkdale

From Tammy’s dad moving over and working to set things up for them, to hearing Tammy talk about one of their racist experiences, there is something so special about hearing the voices of people from your home and crying because you’ve experienced the exact same things.

My dad left school at the age of 15 to work and support his family growing up, then years later left his home in South Africa to work and support us before we moved over. My first year living in New Zealand, at the age of nine I was told that my school did not allow black people and that I should go home. Listening to this episode I resonated with the stories.

I thought deeply about my family and our own journey here. I thought about how similar our experiences were at the beginning. I thought about my family at home, our time in NZ, and how much work there is to do here still around racism. It hasn’t only made me cry, it’s made me smile and laugh, it’s made me angry, and it has also made me think.

Ashleigh Williams is a South Africa-born actor and creative based in Tāmaki Makaurau

Sarita So responds to episode 7: Sucking on Chicken Feet

Listening to this episode made me think how fortunate I feel to know my culture and speak my language. In a way that might not be as fluent as I would like, but where I have a different way of thought, a distinct sense of humour, an insight into another world. The ability to communicate – I’ve luckily always seen it as my superpower.

It makes me sad for those who haven’t had this opportunity, or people who have lost it or had it beaten out of them. I think of the many experiences within a collective trauma and how different they can be. Even between a generation how much can be lost, what is lost in translation? Will my children and my parents be able to communicate?

I hear through the episode possible misunderstandings between the family members, the wanting to make sense of how their lives have unfolded, and the desire now to connect. This is why I hold on so tight to my relationship with family, history, trauma and the beauty of where I came from.

I’ve never needed convincing, I’ve always loved my culture and have celebrated it but listening to this reminds me that there’s always something to be lost, and that there’s always more to learn, especially from the ones you love.

Sarita So is a Cambodian writer, performer, and co-founder of Wellingtonian company I Ken So Productions.

Batanai Mashingaidze on episode 8: Nothing Other than Beauty and Hope

I know that sacrifices needed to be made in order for me and my siblings’ lives to look the way they do, but hearing the Muzondiwa family made me think back to the first few years of being here in New Zealand.

My family are also from Zimbabwe. My mother raised us as a single parent and I can only imagine how hard that must’ve been for her, being here alone with three kids, knowing there wasn’t anyone coming to help any time soon.

Hearing Nyembezi talk to her experience of being alone and not being able to eat anything reminded me of the memories I have of Mama making these beautiful meals for us out of nothing, meals she often wouldn’t eat with us. She would say she wasn’t hungry and I wonder if like Nyembezi, the worry of what family back home in Zim would be eating was too much for her to stomach.

My generation may not ever know how hard it was for our parents. We all get told the “basic” version of the story but there are things that she doesn’t talk about at all. I want to know all that information, but I’m also not sure which questions to ask… How did you get through all by yourself? What would you say on the phone when back home asked how it was going? What happened when you told Gogo that you were leaving? Do you still desire to go back home? Most importantly, MAMA, WHY ARE YOU SUCH A BOSS!!!!!!!

I appreciate and cherish everything my mother has done for me and my siblings. The first thing I did after listening to the podcast was to message her telling her how much.

Batanai Mashingaidze is a Zimbabwean actor hailing from Pōneke and currently based in Tāmaki.

Register your interest in being featured in season 2 of Conversations With My Immigrant Parents here.