Unfathomable freedom.
Restrictionless to the point of ridiculousness, upon a quiet moment of reflection.
I’m sitting on a bus while Ahmed, Ali and Wahid are not moving. Have not been moving and will not be moving any time soon.
Only one day moving forwards or backwards, until then waiting. Waiting.
To arrive ‘home’ with stifling ease, to enter the currents of daily politics and ping-pong election debates empty of the human faces they are discussing… I don’t want to listen.
Take me back to the island where newspapers are shipped in weeks after the news is news, where broadband is too slow to keep up with mainland antics and instead, I can register the issue from my own eyes, void of the middleman journalist.
To now see a potential leader brandish sweeping hollow statements about his political future… is it worse that he exists or that the population agrees?
Feeling sick to the stomach to fathom the implications of an inhumane approach.
Please Allah. Do not let this be another Kampuchea. Do not let this become history my grandchildren turn to me and ask… How did they let this happen? Why didn’t they do anything about it?
Ali is being targeted for teaching girls, Sahid was tortured by the Taliban and Krishna has been a refugee all his life. Arash was a human rights lawyer, fighting for his people until his rights too, were taken away.
What would Mr Jones from Wilson Street do, if ACT were waging a war against NSW? If New Zealand closed their doors and Tasmania were full.
Would he sell all his flat screens, mortgage his home and risk everything for the future of his children? Would he assume protection from those who value freedom democracy and human rights?
Australia this is war. Think of your grandfathers think of the Anzac stories if you cannot relate to the conflicts of the 21st century.
War is war.
Death is death.
Bombs are bombs.
Torture is torture.
Violence is violence no matter what time, territory or ethnicity, the darkest capabilities of human capacity exist today.
Rejected visas.
Mainland transfers.
At this stage, the chances of liberty are slimmer than an SVU rolled over red crab.
The candle is weak, very feeble and barely alight. Simply waiting for the last slow centimeter of wick to relinquish it’s remaining breath and finally fuse. Only so long the motivation soars when the days in and days out deliver a backwards progress.
My country I am ashamed. My homeland I am not impressed by the gales you blow on these flames of hope.
How to believe in democracy when the voice of my sister, my brother, my mother, my father, my school friends, my neighbours …they are not represented.
I did not vote for ‘tighter security’ and I did not give you permission to abuse the reputation of my nationality.
Today I am not proud of my passport and I dream to know of a time that I can boast about coming from a land down under, girt by sea. A land for those who’ve come across the seas. A land with boundless plains to share.
Under the tropical storms, the farce continues as the asylum seekers excitingly cheer the Socceroos. They cheer and listen with interest, diligently hand write the lyrics as the players sing before the match.
Inquire about vocabulary, proudly look at the song and smile with relief to comprehend what I know to be lost meanings of our national song.
Today, my country is not something I want to claim and belong to, not something I feel pleased by. Not something I can look in the eyes of those seeking refuge and say ‘My government welcomes you’.
Australia; show me your compassion. Australia; show me your dignity. Show me your unrestrained bravery and open doors and show the world your humanity.
Inside the pomegranate I open each segment. I admire the deep colours, I admire the sweet taste.
In my city of mixed ethnicity, there is a door wide open for you.
While you run laps of the fence I am waiting in the park to fly kites with you and your family. No fences, no waves, no guns, no terror.
I am not my government.
Peace be with you, Christmas Island refugees.
{ 1 comment… read it below or add one }
Well done, Laura. I really enjoyed reading this one.