Recently I attended a citizenship ceremony, and sat amidst a group of people that could best be described as the diaspora of humanity. The event, as is the norm, was presided over by Wellington City Deputy Mayor Justin Lester.

He did an excellent job, striking a balance between gravitas and geniality. His only minor flub was to suggest that since New Zealand gives full rights to permanent residents, the only reason to take the next step to citizenship must be because we love this country very much.

In this he is almost entirely right. New Zealand is a fantastic place and has a culture that is easy to fall in love with. That was a big part of why I wanted to become a Kiwi. The other part is that I hated being a South African. Bureaucratically speaking of course.

Take getting a passport. Recently my wife had to renew her South African passport. The process took nine months. By contrast, having become a citizen on a Monday evening, she submitted her application the next day and by the end of the week her Kiwi travel documentation was ready.

Similarly, about 10 years ago the inability to extract our marriage certificate out of the South African authorities almost got me deported from Hong Kong. I was saved by a master of administration, who fashioned a workaround involving a Justice of the Peace, several blood oaths, and four years’ worth of family photographs.

Looking at the citizenship ceremony and the nationalities represented, many of the people there appeared to come from countries where these kinds of administrative issues would have been considered a mere trifle. Places where clean air, sound government, credible institutions and the rule of law are considered fantasies.

That these things are so abundant in a country that I consider one of the best places to live in the world, made it easy to say the words “I will faithfully observe the laws of New Zealand and fulfil my duties as a New Zealand citizen”.

But then I would say that. As a Kiwi I am clearly biased.