Seasonal workers and their Australian dollars are changing the Pacific. But at what cost?

Like many Pacific Island workers, couple Douglas and Celine Tasaruru, originally from the small island province of Nguni in Vanuatu, feel extremely lucky to be working in Australia. 

Educated as a maintenance mechanic, Mr Tasaruru worked for the Pacific Petroleum fuel company as an aircraft refueller before arriving in Gippsland, in Victoria’s east, to work for Newry salad leaf producer Hussey and Co.

“I saw people coming here while I was refuelling the planes and I thought, some time I must go to work in Australia. I resigned and I came over,” he said.

The couple is part of the wave of Pacific Islanders who have moved to Australia to take up opportunities in agriculture, such as seasonal work on farms — often for months at a time and sometimes years.  

The money they are able to earn in Australia is transformational, allowing the workers and their families back home to build and repair houses and buy cars.

But it comes with some significant trade-offs.

Many of the workers in Australia say they feel isolated and miss their families.

And on the Pacific Islands the social fabric is changing, with children being raised by relatives and fewer young men available to work locally. 

Climbing the ladder

Mr Tasaruru has returned to Australia for a second nine-month season where he is a team leader and operates tractors, planting and harvesting machinery.

This time, his wife has joined him and is also working at the farm.

“Hussey is a good farm. They give us more hours depending on the orders. If there is a big order, we do big hours,” he said.

“Sometimes we work 10, 11 or 12 hours a day, so we come back home, we feel tired. We cook, then sleep. If we are not working on a Sunday, we go to church.”

They have left their 11-year-old and four-year-old sons in the care of relatives back in Vanuatu, and are living in a private motel room.

Having a room to themselves is a rare privilege among islander workers.

“Life here in Australia is totally different. It’s much nicer here for families. It’s very strict here,” he said.

But they have much grander hopes for their next season’s lodgings.

They want to trade in the communal kitchen and laundry facilities they share with dozens of other workers — who share crowded bunk bedrooms below — for a house to themselves.

The Tasarurus’ dream is typical of the record number of 38,145 Pacific Islander and Timor-Leste workers currently living and working in Australia, through the expanded Pacific Australia Labour Mobility (PALM) Scheme.  

Fragmented families

Valencia Creek-based, Ni-Vanuatu supporter and adviser Don MacRaild said the program and support were constantly improving.

“One of the current things that are going to be trialled is bringing people and their families out for a three-year contract,” Mr MacRaild said.

Often working in physically demanding roles for up to 12 hours a day, six or seven days a week, Mr MacRaild said workers were prone to fatigue, loneliness, boredom and homesickness.

He said Pacific Island workers often lived with strangers in sharehouse accommodation and had to navigate expense deductions as well as their obligations to send money to their families back home.

But due to the housing crisis and the need still to negotiate with the states about funding the education of the workers’ children, he believes settling worker families in Australia has logistical challenges.

“They are not going to be able to place a family in a motel room like they do with workers now, that’s not going to be good for family living,” he said.

A decade of rapid expansion 

The Australian government started flying Pacific Islander workers to Australia to supplement worker shortages to pick and pack produce in 2012.

In the early stages of the program, farmers hired workers directly, but as demand grew the scheme rapidly expanded into a permanent fixture of the agricultural workforce.

Labour hire companies then established links to agents to recruit workers en masse from Kiribati, Nauru, Papua New Guinea, Samoa, Solomon Islands, Tonga, Tuvalu, Vanuatu, Fiji and Timor-Leste.

Mr MacRaild said understanding fair work conditions and expense deductions for airfares, rent and transport, taxation and superannuation, had left many workers vulnerable to exploitation over the past decade.

But things are improving, with slight wage increases, skills development and advancement into skilled roles for motivated workers on some farms and workers permitted to take leave to see their families.

Government-funded community connections officers organised by the Salvation Army and the Uniting Church have also been appointed to assist workers with medical, financial, family, accommodation and workplace issues.

Group-organised recreational activities, barbecues, church-initiated gatherings and community musical events also provide some morale-boosting connections and break the monotony for workers, many of whom are not fluent in English.   

Chained to the Aussie dollar

Mr MacRaild said a disciplined worker working overtime could generate a life-changing $20,000 a season, which could pay for school fees, vehicles, and home renovations and repairs to cyclone-damaged homes.

He said living standards were improving beyond anything foreign aid had been able to achieve.

But Mr MacRaild said the the movement of workers to Australia had led to an exodus of young people that was creating social upheaval in participating island nations.

“Many of these people have come leaving their children at home with extended family for months, even years on end,” he said.

Finding the right balance

Over in Manjimup, Western Australia, Fijian farm worker Nico Komaiyasa said the Australian dollar had created big changes in Fiji, with many Fijians now building houses, buying cars and starting businesses.

Leaving his wife and two adult daughters behind in the village of Namatakula to return for another season picking avocados, apples and plums for Bamess Farms, Mr Komaiyasa said he had been able to extend his house and pay for his daughter’s higher education.

“When you go to Australia, you should have the wisdom with you. What’s your future? What’s your goal? If you just go there and drink and spend all your money, you come home with nothing.”

For his co-worker and brother-in-law Alipate Nadiligo, who skippers cruise boats in Fiji, the dilemma of leaving his partner behind to care for his three infant sons alone, is reconciled with his goal to get a shipping captain’s licence. 

Mr Komaiyasa said seven to nine months was a good amount of time to earn money to pay for a goal, have a break at home and set another goal for the next year.

Mr MacRaild said he saw the benefits of allowing trained workers to return on a cyclical six-to-nine-month roster after spending some time at home.

He said it saved employers time repeatedly training new staff and allowed workers to develop their skills, connect with the broader community, set goals and plan for the future.

“It would be good for the farmers, but it would be even better for the workers because they would have this three months at home and then come back again,” Mr MacRaild said.

“They wouldn’t lose the links that they’ve got at home.”