Being a Fruit Picker in New Zealand

Prologue

2020 was truly an extraordinary year. COVID swept the globe, changing everyone’s lives. New Zealand handled it relatively well, earning international praise. For ordinary people, aside from about a month of lockdown, life was mostly unaffected. But since the pandemic is global, borders closed — only citizens and residents could enter. That hit NZ hard.

Unlike China — vast territory, rich resources, thousands of years of “internal circulation” with occasional openness — New Zealand has never been self-sufficient and can’t be. Tourism was devastated first. Agriculture followed close behind. Labor-intensive farming relies heavily on foreign workers. Every day, news reported: “Orchards can’t find workers, fruit is rotting on trees; farms can’t find workers, prisoners have to raise pigs.”

Due to the pandemic, I had extra holidays — all of December off. And these are real holidays. Unlike in China, where the boss can call anytime, NZ colleagues don’t even have my personal contact info. So with my wife working and Qian at school, I was bored at home. I thought about working at a kiwifruit orchard. Kiwifruit is NZ’s pillar industry, but I’d never been to an orchard — didn’t even know how kiwifruit grows. Also, civic spirit: contribute some labor during my free time.

My family supported the idea. I found picknz, a fruit-picking job site. The place most desperate for workers was Bay of Plenty — somewhere I’d never been.

I initially looked for fruit-picking jobs. This season only had blueberries and avocados. Blueberries require constant bending, so I went for avocados. Submitted my regular resume to two companies — didn’t want to write a new one. Both were ignored. Probably overqualified — you don’t need a PhD and dozens of publications to pick fruit.

Getting anxious, I tried kiwifruit orchards. One person replied: Harry. He asked for my tax number and resume, no interview, just said I could start whenever. He recommended some backpacker hostels. I picked one, booked a week. My first time in a backpacker hostel.

Finally, on the last day of November, I bought a box of instant noodles and drove to Tauranga. Only 200 km from Auckland — 2.5 hours, easy drive. Arrived at the hostel around 3 PM. I’d booked a 4-bed room, but due to COVID, the hostel was nearly empty — some rooms had just one person. The owner was Argentinian. I expressed condolences about Maradona. “Not a fan. I only love gaming.” Then he showed me around. Shared showers and kitchen, very clean. The kitchen was fully equipped — I saw someone making pizza from scratch, including homemade sauce.

Figure. Hostel exterior

My roommate was already there: Marc, a Black German guy. He worked for the same company and had been there a week. We spent the next week together and became good friends.

Figure. Hostel room

At 8 PM, I got a text about the next day: start at 5:50 AM. Exciting farm work was about to begin.

First Day

Orchards are in remote areas. My first orchard was 30 km from town — a 30-minute drive. I arrived 10 minutes early. Nobody there. It was overcast. People trickled in. An Indian guy arrived — our supervisor. He handed me a contract: “Go to the car, read carefully, sign.” Hourly wage: $19.50 NZD, slightly above minimum wage. I didn’t read anything else. Bad habit — in a society governed by law, I should read contracts.

After signing, the supervisor gave me a safety briefing: “What to do in an earthquake.” Open farmland — who’s afraid of earthquakes? But they’re thorough. Then I got two tools: a lopper and secateurs — for cutting branches. Start.

I was amazed to discover kiwifruit doesn’t grow on trees — it’s a vine, like grapes. Lived in NZ all these years, this famous fruit, and I had no idea. “Can’t tell wheat from chaff.” The first day’s work: cut long branches short, only the last segment. I had no idea what the “last segment” was. Probably made countless mistakes. Nobody checked — they trusted you. Just work your row.

Normal hours: 7:30 AM start, 10:30 has a 15-minute paid break. 12:30-1:00 is unpaid lunch. 3:30 has another 15-minute paid break. Then off. Quitting time is flexible — plenty of work. Working past 6:30 gets another 15-minute paid break. They’re so short-staffed, you can work 7 days a week.

At 10:30, 15-minute break. Sat with coworkers, chatting. That’s how I met everyone. Unfortunately, it rained by noon, and we had to stop.

The People

Looking back at my week as a fruit picker, the most valuable experience was meeting coworkers from around the world. Everyone had different, fascinating stories. Mostly working holiday makers — some still in university, some recent graduates, some doing it not for money but as a lifestyle. With COVID, all working holiday visas had stopped; they’d all entered before the pandemic. The government kept extending their visas, terrified they’d leave and leave no workforce.

The work was highly repetitive, so we talked a lot. Nobody was a native English speaker, but we got along great.

This is from my last day — a coworker’s birthday celebration at the pub. Clockwise from me: Zongjian He (China), Loustic (France), Louis (France), Jamie (UK), Bruno (Croatia), Khalid (Saudi), Marc (Germany), Geoele (Italy), and his girlfriend (Italy).

Marc

Marc was my roommate, so we talked most. German-Kenyan mix. A year ago, he came from Australia on a working holiday, bought a motorcycle in Auckland, and rode through nearly every city on both islands. Polite, considerate. Traveled to dozens of countries. “Have you been to China?” “Yes, but illegally.” Years ago in Vietnam, a local with a Jeep offered a ride to China — the border was unguarded. They crossed illegally, drove 15 minutes into China, then back. Maybe Trump’s wall isn’t such a bad idea.

He smoked heavily — both tobacco and cannabis. From personal experience, he said cannabis is healthier than tobacco: nicotine is harmful, cannabis is natural, less addictive. “I’ve quit smoking 10 times, always failed. But cannabis? I can stop anytime.” Since the NZ cannabis referendum failed, it’s still illegal, but he said buying it isn’t hard. I sniffed his second-hand “smoke” and realized: my nose is sensitive to tobacco — I’d sneeze and cough. But sometimes on the street, I’d smell something that didn’t bother me. I thought NZ tobacco was higher quality. Nope — it was cannabis.

Being from Marx’s homeland, he excelled at class struggle. Several labor disputes, he was on the front lines, making the boss back down. Unlike me — whatever the boss says, I just say yes.

Louis

“Call me Louis. Louis Vuitton, King Louis.” He had an enviable job in France — mathematician at a naval research institute, top university graduate. But he quit to travel the world. My work partner. A machine. Worked twice as fast without tiring. We pruned together; before I could finish two cuts, he’d say “Leave this to me, go to the next tree.” After a full day of manual labor, he’d hit the gym and do 10 minutes straight of push-ups (600). Next stop: South Island cherry orchards.

Jamie

British, working holiday. Last year Australia, this year NZ. Half-assed at work. When upset, he’d curse the Indian supervisors in Hindi. How could he be so fearless? Early this year, he helped a company design online education materials for 10% revenue share. COVID made his materials blow up — everyone worried about unemployment wanted to upskill. 10 months’ work earned him serious money (amount undisclosed). I’d never heard of overnight wealth in stable, developed New Zealand. He was my first.

With money, he rented a campervan, lived in it, traveled the country. Got bored, so he worked while traveling. Working for a Chinese orchard in Australia, the only Chinese he learned was “快点儿快点” (hurry up). Imperialist worker exploited by socialist capitalist. Sad.

One day I forgot lunch and asked him for help. He barely had food left but gave me half his best stuff. “Going hungry is terrible.” I was deeply moved.

Geoele

Italian, from Genoa. Dreadlocks, very cool. Arrived last year with his girlfriend on working holiday. He was doing a “work-for-accommodation” exchange: feeding rabbits, horses, and chickens. In exchange, free rent. Italy is known as “Europe’s China” — similar in many ways. We talked food and history. I wanted to see Roman ruins. He wanted to see the Great Wall — was it really that long? He’d walk it across China. He’d be disappointed. Only the fenced, ticketed sections are well-preserved. At 22, he desperately wanted to go home, but COVID made flights expensive and hard to earn.

Being from pizza’s homeland, he said NZ pizza is all garbage. He recommended “real Italian pizza” — it was called Greek pizza. Maybe Greek and Roman are connected. The only downside: he’s vegetarian, so the pizza was all vegetables.

Khalid

From Saudi Arabia. Studied in NZ for 5 years — aviation management, just graduated. Planning Christmas in Saudi. With a month to kill, he worked at the orchard. “Is your ticket expensive?” “My dear papa pays. I don’t care.” Clearly rich. He admired China enormously — better political system than Saudi, no death penalty for homosexuality. He bought a cheap Chinese dashcam from Taobao and bragged about it to the Europeans. “NZ is a developed country, but poor. The real rich countries are in G20. China and Saudi are both G20 members. We have money.”

Kiwis

The government always says Kiwis won’t work on orchards, so labor must be imported. Not entirely accurate. About a third to half my coworkers were Kiwis (I might count as half).

There was Zack, a reliever teacher from a Wellington high school. Drove from Wellington, lived in a tent. Next to his tent was an avocado orchard. The commercial avocados had been picked; only small ones remained. The owner let him take as many as he wanted. He filled his car and ate avocado on crackers for lunch every day. Clearly sick of it.

A 62-year-old who loved gardening and wanted to keep working. An 18-year-old student on holiday, learning the ropes. A Canadian who’d been in NZ 15 years, married a Kiwi, had a Kiwi baby, now dual citizen — drove up from Wellington.

Other Workers

The orchard was huge. We often ran into other crews. One memorable group: Filipino workers who lived and ate on-site, worked 7 days a week. Like indentured servants from the old society. They arrived on last year’s work visas, now extended repeatedly — couldn’t go home anyway. “Are you happy working nonstop without going home?” “Very happy! Thank the NZ government. No heat, no cold, no COVID, free food and accommodation, earning money. Much better than the Philippines.” This is what they call “exploiting immigrants” — as long as it’s slightly better than home, people will work tirelessly.

The Work

Orchard Work

It was December — no kiwifruit picking. The fruit had just appeared on vines, still hard and inedible. Harvest is March when it cools down.

But there was still work. My week involved:

Male Pruning

Cut the male kiwifruit vines bare. Kiwifruit is dioecious — male and female plants. Orchards typically plant a 1:5 male-to-female ratio, varies by orchard. The females had already fruited, so males were unnecessary, competing for nutrients and sunlight. We cut all male branches short, letting them regrow next year. My favorite job — incredibly stress-relieving. Just snip snip snip with big loppers, turning unruly plants bald. If Auckland had an orchard nearby, I’d prune every week. This only applies to green kiwifruit; gold doesn’t have male plants.

Female Cutting

Both gold and green have this. My least favorite. Cut branches without fruit, or the last branch segment after fruit, so nutrients go to the fruit, not new branches.

Why I hated it: following each long branch to find the last segment is tedious. Being tall, I had to constantly bend and look up, giving me neck pain. Also purely technical, no exercise benefit. Pruning at least requires some brute force.

Stringing

Gold kiwifruit only. Each branch has a fruiting lifespan; old branches get replaced with new ones. This job cultivates new branches. They insert tall poles, hang strings from trellises, and we help new gold vines climb. Carry a ladder, find gaps in dense vines, climb up, and wrap long branches around the string. Just start them; they’ll climb on their own.

Direction matters. Plants grow toward the sun: Northern hemisphere has east-south-west sun, Southern has north-east-west. So vine-wrapping direction differs. NZ: clockwise. China: counter-clockwise. Wrong direction, and the vine unwinds and falls. Experts can wrap in seconds — just twirl the vine clockwise a few times. Beginners like me had to re-wrap constantly.

Fruit Thinning

I didn’t do this, just heard about it. Gold kiwifruit produces excessively — dozens of fruit per branch, densely packed. Too many compete for nutrients and can break the vine. Workers manually remove excess, especially blemished or oddly shaped ones. Export-grade gold might leave only 1-2 per branch for extra-large fruit that commands premium prices.

The Company

My employer was a contractor. They owned no orchards but took contracts from nearby orchards and hired labor. This shows NZ’s kiwifruit industry’s advanced marketization and specialization. Orchard owners might not operate the orchard themselves — they own the land, rent it out, profit from appreciation. Operators subcontract work to companies like mine. All technical work and sales go through Zespri, the dominant kiwifruit monopoly. Contractors like mine take the surplus value of our labor. Since they owned no orchards, my work locations varied wildly.

The boss was an Indian guy named Harry (probably not his real name). He employed a bunch of Indian supervisors — likely relatives — forming a family company. They spoke Hindi with each other, which made the Europeans uncomfortable: “Unprofessional. They could be scheming behind our backs.” He also ran an Indian restaurant in Tauranga, selling Westernized Indian food like butter chicken. I thought he was decent — his appearance at the orchard meant free time. He’d bring free drinks, or sharpen our secateurs: “Dull blades mean more effort.”

Figure: Harry in blue.

Labor Disputes

Despite my positive impression, two disputes broke out in one week. I learned that workers in imperialist countries excel at struggle. We, raised under the red flag, have zero practical experience in class struggle. We’re used to taking it lying down. No wonder 996 goes unprotested.

First dispute: the orchard was huge. Walking from work site to parking took 5 minutes. After the 10:30 break, we returned at 10:50. The supervisors were unhappy — too long a break, they’d deduct wages. Unless we worked until 6:30 PM, they’d let it slide. They told me first. “OK, got it. We’ll come back earlier.” But when I told my coworkers, Marc (German) and Jamie (British) exploded. They confronted the supervisors. “I’ll cut down your kiwifruit trees!” I suddenly remembered junior high political class: forms of working-class struggle — destroying the means of production. Management backed down. Working class wins.

Second dispute: Saturday night, we all went drinking. Everyone got wasted. Sunday, nobody showed up for work. Working 7 days a week was exhausting; people routinely took 1-2 days off. But coincidentally, everyone chose Sunday. When Sunday came, only supervisors — no workers. The boss was furious. He texted everyone: wages would be deducted. I’d already quit and was traveling. “Deduct it. I already got what I wanted.” But Marc called the boss directly, argued for 30 minutes: “If you deduct a single cent, we’ll see you in court.” The capitalist caved. Working class wins again.

Gold vs. Green Kiwifruit

Kiwifruit originated in China. NZ introduced and improved it. Now there are two varieties. Green is the older version — too sour. I never buy it. Gold is NZ’s exclusive cultivar: golden flesh, no acidity, hints of pear and other fruits. It’s more expensive and monopolized by Zespri. This trip taught me how.

One day, working in a gold orchard, I noticed no male plants. “How do they pollinate?” Green is naturally pollinated by bees. Gold is artificially pollinated — workers spray each female flower with a spray. The spray isn’t something anyone can make. Suddenly I understood: gold produces so abundantly because artificial pollination is more reliable than bees. Also, spray monopoly — even if you steal female vines to another country, you can’t get the spray. Green pollination would revert the variety in a few generations.

Summary

One week flew by. I worked 6 days, 7 AM to 7 PM. “776.” Guess I’m not old yet — can handle it. Maybe 996 in China would be fine too. Pre-tax income: $960 NZD. The company got my tax code wrong, so I’ll need to file extra next year — after tax, about $643.

All my expenses for the week.

After expenses: $182 net profit. About half a month’s groceries for our family of three. My main job puts me in a high tax bracket. Normal working holiday makers pay 10% — they’d net about $400-500 per week, ~2000 RMB. Not a way to get rich.

On my last day, the news was still reporting orchard labor shortages, warning of reduced production next year. Now I understand: with no one to string the vines, future crops suffer. I can’t fix COVID, but I’ve done what I can to ease the labor shortage. Hope the pandemic is controlled soon, borders reopen, and NZ’s orchards return to normal. Hope more travel-loving young people get to experience this beautiful country and its people.

If borders stay closed next year, I might try sheep shearing or dairy farming. Experience NZ’s other pillar industry.