Dark Dreams Read online

  Wakefield Press

  Heather Millar is a freelance writer and editor who has worked on a range of magazines and books in Australia and England.

  Sonja Dechian is a writer and researcher with ABC TV in Adelaide. She has a Masters in Creative Writing as well as a graduate diploma in science communication. She has been published in a range of magazines and journals. Sonja’s unpublished manuscript was highly commended in the 2002 Adelaide Festival Awards for literature.

  Eva Sallis is a writer best known for her literary fiction. Her novels include Hiam, The City of Sealions and Mahjar. She has co-edited a number of anthologies. She is current President of Australians Against Racism.

  Edited by Sonja Dechian, Heather Millar and Eva Sallis

  Wakefield Press

  1 The Parade West

  Kent Town

  South Australia 5067

  www.wakefieldpress.com.au

  First published 2004

  Reprinted 2004, 2005, 2011

  This edition published 2012

  Copyright in this collection © Australians Against Racism Inc., 2004

  Copyright in each story remains with its author

  All rights reserved. This book is copyright. Apart from any fair dealing for the purposes of private study, research, criticism or review, as permitted under the Copyright Act, no part may be reproduced without written permission. Enquiries should be addressed to the publisher.

  Cover illustration by Fontaine Anderson (originally created for West Domestic Violence Centre)

  Cover designed by Liz Nicholson, designBITE

  National Library of Australia Cataloguing-in-Publication entry

  Dark dreams [electronic resource]: Australian refugee stories.

  ISBN 978 1 74305 155 9 (ebook: epub).

  1. Short stories, Australian. 2. Refugees—Australia. 3. Refugees—Social aspects—Australia. I. Millar, Heather, 1963– . II. Sallis, Eva. III. Dechian, Sonja.

  A820.8

  Contents

  Foreword by Eva Sallis

  A Dark Dream Left a Mark in My Heart

  Lucy McBride What Does Australia Want

  Mohammad Riyadh Ali Experience as Refugee

  Gabriel M Courtney Lucie’s Story: Love and Danger

  Ariel Smith Broken Hearts

  Tita Tran Far From Home: Thinh’s Journey to Safety

  Katie Petrie Five Months

  The Waves to Freedom

  Yasmin Aleem Waleed Alkhazrajy: Perseverence Personified

  Gracia Diep The Waves to Freedom: The Story of Nga-Huynh Diep

  Bojana Bokan To Be Someone …

  Sarah-Jane Bryson An Interview with Ali

  Tshala Jenkins Blackbirding: The Loss of an Idyllic Lifestyle

  Zac Darab From a Small Detention Centre, I am Now in a Bigger Detention Centre: The Story of an Afghan Refugee

  And a Tear Might Come to My Eye

  Nooria Wazefadost Untitled

  Melanie Poole The Place Where God Died

  Mohammad Zia A Refugee

  Nitya Devi Dambiec A Story of a Life

  Adam Bennett Taha’s Story: Adam’s Version

  Chelsea June Taha’s Story: Chelsea’s Version

  Alexandra Drakulic The Scar

  Zara Al-Hosany Al-Shara The Blue Eyes that Grieve

  Spirit Remained

  Helen Huynh Kim’s Story

  Mina Hami Life. You Never Know What’s Ahead of You. Never

  Rosie Clare Giudici Out of Italy

  Simon Pitt Uhuru

  Ghulam-e-Ali Life

  Karen Motta Ken Arkwright … His Story

  The Swirl of Memories

  Jane Woodward A Truly Great Australian

  Rosa Brown Denada’s Story

  Chloe Costas The Story of Jenny K

  Khazmira Florentyna Bashah For the Love of a Child: Mai’s Story

  Jack Lander The Life of Sadie Wagner

  I Watch the World Around Me Change

  Pharan Akhtarkhavari The Refugee Story

  Aidan Fawkes To Hell and Back

  Zina Romanov Zina’s Story

  Hannah Moore 1112: Anhar—Iran To Woomera

  Zana Mujezinovic Hope to Survive

  Hai-Van Nguyen Journey to Freedom

  Acknowledgements

  Foreword

  by Eva Sallis

  Dark Dreams: Australian Refugee Stories is both an extraordinary record of young people’s literary talent and a collection of important and controversial Australian stories that need to be heard and read now. It also represents a far-reaching, quirky and unique view of Australia’s social history. It is a collection of stories in which young writers remind their elders what Australia has been to displaced people in the past, and remind us graphically what it means, in many different variations, to be a refugee. It is a bleak collection, yes, but rich in idealism, energy and optimism. Throughout this book there is the recurrent theme of friendship—friendships lost, broken, remembered and found, now in Australia.

  The stories in this book were collected in 2002 through an unprecedented nationwide schools competition, Australia IS Refugees!. The young writers were asked to find someone who came to Australia as a refugee and listen to their story. Then they had to imagine it and in a sense make it their own by writing it. Many children had one of these stories living in the memory of a relative and many found strangers who, through storytelling, became friends. Many others told their own or their parents’ stories.

  Here there are wry and quirky observations, skilled and well-researched essays, passionate defenses, moving and shocking stories, adventures, romances and successes; and stories of death and failure. Many works are also fine pieces of journalism. Many are highly creative, imaginative reinventions of a tale a writer has heard, focusing on what struck the author most. Some, ‘the real treasures,’ as Helen Garner put it, are stories of the author’s own experience—young writers narrating and analysing for us what they have lived through in the recent past, or what happened in their immediate families not so long ago. Many others have an author put him or herself in the place of the subject and write as if experiencing directly what was in fact someone else’s experience. Twelve-year-old Khazmira Bashah’s beautiful and empathetic exploration of Mai Nguyen’s story is an example which won the junior category of the competition. Such a leap of the creative imagination makes individual people visible and imaginable. Such a leap is all it takes for us to have a right compassion, not compassion that lumps people together as victims, but one that sees each human life as unique and irreplaceable.

  In some cases, the interview encounter was the first time the writer had met someone they identified as a refugee, and several comment that this encounter changed their views completely. Some writers interpreted the idea of an interview very broadly, and, with an important tale to tell, told the stories of long dead relatives, even ancestors. In other cases, teachers invited people to come and speak to the class and the whole class responded, each writer in his or her way. The different, even contradictory stories that came out of this are deeply charming, especially among the younger age group. Taha’s Story, told in two differing versions by two twelve-year-olds, shows clearly this transforming process, in which the final story reflects the author as much as the subject.

  Some stories are so grim and sad that the fresh voice of the narrator is the only brightness. Jack Lander’s telling of the life of Sadie Wagner shocks all the more for the fact that this twelve-year-old writer is able to communicate that Sadie’s life could never be fully repaired after such experiences as he narrates.

  Hai-Van Nguyen, the senior category winner, flew to Geneva to the United Nations with Margaret Reynolds in April 2003 as the major part of her prize. Her stunning, sad and inspiring essay closes this book. Her st
ory about her parents’ experiences is likely to become a classic of contemporary essay writing.

  Most stories suggest an Australia to be proud of. But not all. Australia has also been a place of injustice and cruelty. Tshala Jenkins’ story about blackbirding, the practice of enslaving Islanders to work on Australian plantations that brought her great grandparents here many generations ago, reminds us that Australia has not always been a safe or happy place, and is not just a land of migrants. Contemporary stories of refugees in detention often show young Australian writers’ outrage along with the injustices of a system that imprisons men, women and children indefinitely and for no crime.

  It is a measure of Australia in 2003 that these young voices are also contentious and controversial. We printed the winning stories in a commemorative booklet which we sent to MPs. Then Minister for the Department of Migration and Indigenous Affairs Phillip Ruddock MP wrote to me to congratulate Hai-Van Nguyen and to praise the project overall, but Melanie Poole’s striking essay exploring the experiences in detention of Gyzele Osmani and her family provoked sixteen paragraphs in which he dismisses Melanie’s essay and the experiences Gyzele Osmani lived through on the basis of the policies he has in place in detention centres. His words reveal the tragic fault-line in contemporary political thinking in Australia about refugees’ experiences. Simply put, no ‘procedures in place’ defended from an office in Canberra can disprove or deny what an individual experiences first hand in a remote detention centre. Detainees are eye-witnesses of the failure of everything from basic medical services to ‘culturally appropriate meals’ to the ‘closely monitored’ conduct and performance of Australasian Correctional Management (ACM), the company that managed Australia’s detention centres.

  The stories may be diverse in the extreme but they share a striking unapologetic compassion and a natural sense of justice and the importance of human rights. These voices may provoke controversy, but that is because they are important and relevant.

  These stories have been lightly edited, preserving the voice and rhythm of the author. We corrected spelling, punctuation or expression only where it interfered with sense. In some stories sections have been cut that contained background, or information more or less duplicated in other stories. Some have been tightened. Authors who use English as a second language offer something unique, a language put under pressure to express their ideas and experiences. This is preserved as much as possible. We have edited only where the errors are simply of spelling or the sense is obscured. These voices have vigour and spirit. The broken or unusual use of language releases a surprising energy.

  Errors of fact are often left in place—most of these stories are young writers’ reinventions of the world they encounter in their own experience or that of others. So if a young writer speaks of the white Australia policy in the 1860s, that is fine by us. There are many organic truths outside facts, and these stories are works of fiction, imagination and history all in one.

  Australia IS Refugees! Competition began in February 2002 as no more than an ambitious idea. I drafted the project quickly, with a strong sense of its pull. Albert Shelling gave his generous permission to use his harrowing and uplifting story as an example, and Australia IS Refugees! was launched as the second major endeavour of Australians Against Racism. As soon as the project was launched, sponsors and teams of skilled volunteers joined me in implementing it. For sponsors and supporters, the project became a vehicle for expression of dissent and for attempting an inspiring and positive path forward. Sponsors for prizes and the high profile judges gave the project credibility and generated the enthusiasm with which it was taken up, because between them they told children that a refugee’s story is an intrinsically valuable thing, and an experience to be proud of and to share. Professor Margaret Reynolds of United Nations Association Australia sponsored the major prize, a trip to Geneva for the UN sitting in 2003 for the winner of the high schools category; the Independent Education Union, Australian Education Union, Australian Education Union—South Australia, and the New South Wales Teachers Federation made substantial donations of prize moneys and promoted the project energetically; Allen & Unwin sponsored the senior second prize, with the National Committee for Human Rights Education. Private individuals also made extraordinary donations. Such a person, Selina, sponsored all the prize money of the junior category, $2600. Author Geraldine Brooks co-sponsored, with $1500, the money for First Prize in the senior category; also sponsored by John Kinsella and Raimond Gaita. Judges Tom Shapcott, Phillip Adams, Helen Garner, Libby Gleeson and Meme McDonald generously volunteered their time and expertise. Malcolm Fraser’s early and ongoing endorsement of the project also gave it considerable momentum. Neil Monteith created and maintained the extraordinary website that is AAR’s public face and a distribution point for stories and project news. Many other people put their time and money into the project, and in essential ways the project and this book could not have happened without them. The full list of sponsors is included in the acknowledgments.

  These stories will remind you that these unbearable events did not happen far away, to people we pity from a distance—a view the nightly news, especially now, too easily encourages. These events and histories are carried in the heart and mind of the person next to you, these experiences are with us, beside us, in the hearts of our brothers and sisters. These stories give something important of Australia’s collective living experience, along with the recognition that Australia can and should also bring healing, safety, equality, freedom and peace.

  In the midst of what has become a human rights crisis for Australia, this book is refreshing, important, inspiring. These harrowing stories are no less harrowing for being told through the words and imaginative recreation of the young authors, but they are also somehow incarnated, made visible. These stories generate a special kind of belonging for their subjects that is illuminated by the delight and seriousness with which each author responded to his or her task.

  Such creativity is profoundly transforming. This project gave its participants enough freedom to discover for themselves what it means to be a refugee or to value and express their own history as refugee. It is the hope of all involved that this will have a slow but direct impact on Australia’s evolving community.

  Eva Sallis, President of Australians Against Racism Inc, 2003

  A DARK DREAM LEFT A MARK IN MY HEART

  ‘I do feel a little better now that I have told everyone my story ... Many of us have hidden secrets and pains from our journeys or sadness because of the loss of loved ones.’

  What Does Australia Want?

  by Lucy McBride, aged 18

  I realise how ignorant I am—these boys speak of places I have never even heard of.

  Sitting opposite me, they all look so ‘normal’—like me or any other Australian teenager—yet I know that I cannot even begin to comprehend the atrocities they would have experienced during their short lives.

  I ask them if they want to return to their home countries, and later realise, as I play back the tape, what a stupid question this is. They have fled violence, persecution and who knows what else. Why would anyone want to return? The decision is unanimous—they all want to stay.

  I ask if it was hard to leave their respective countries, and as I listen to the question being posed, the naivety of it strikes me. I cringe. Of course it was hard. ‘Hard’ does not even begin to describe adequately what would perhaps be one of the most difficult things they will ever do.

  For them it must seem as if Australia is a Utopia, and when I ask if there are any bad things about Australia, ‘not really, not really,’ comes one reply—to him Australia is a refuge, a dream because of its social, religious and political freedom. However, our nation does hold problems for these young people—social prejudices and isolation taint their existences here. They all miss their friends and family, agreeing that Australia’s worst aspect is its lack of community, which is such a fundamental aspect of the cultures they have left behind. When t
hey go outside, ‘there is no one there.’

  While contemplating these answers, I recall my arrival to the interview. Apprehensive at the prospect of interviewing these boys, students at a high school for people who have recently immigrated to Australia, my purpose was to gain an understanding of what it is like to be a refugee here. I arrived early, about ten minutes, just before lunchtime. I was shown to the room in which the interview would be conducted. The heater was turned on and I was told that there would be a number of boys arriving shortly, a fact I was surprised by, as I had thought I was interviewing girls. I considered my questions and concluded that they were very general and not gender based, so it would not matter. I considered the implications gender would have on our interaction, but the thought left my mind quickly. I’d figure it out. A teenage boy of African descent entered the room and we were left alone while others were collected from their respective classrooms. We sat down, eyeing each other apprehensively across the table. The heater coughed and spluttered loudly and we both laughed nervously, trying to ease the tension. The other boys entered, and the interview began.

  I discover …

  Civil war threw one boy’s home country, Liberia, in western Africa, into turmoil. He said, ‘People were fighting. Have war in the country.’ Forced to leave when he was three years old, he has little or no recollection of this period in his life. To flee the violence he crossed the border to Guinea where he lived in a refugee camp. ‘It was hard,’ he said. This simple statement does little to describe the lifestyle he would have endured under such circumstances, and his response matches his understated, uncomplaining attitude. He remained in that camp for nine years. From there he flew to France, to Singapore, to Sydney and then finally arrived in Adelaide three months ago, accompanied only by an older brother. Now fifteen, he cannot recall a single good memory from this period, and when I tentatively inquired about his parents, he could only reveal to me that they had been killed. He does not know how.