The spirit of Christmas ...By PRUE CAMERON
Dear Friends, We would like to thank you for your continuing support, interest and generosity and wish you all a very happy Christmas and New Year.
Best wishes,
1. PETITION TO HELP STEPHEN KHAN This petition calls on the Minister to exercise her discretionary powers to grant a humanitarian visa to Stephen Khan. We implore her to consider his connections in the Australian community, his marriage, his full cooperation at all times with the Department, his own efforts to find his own solution to his situation, and the continuing and unsafe situation in Kashmir.
We have until 24 January 2005 to help with the campaign to help Stephen.
The petition can be downloaded at
2. CALL FOR ASSISTANCE WITH PARCELS AND PHONE CARDS FOR NAURU
If anyone can help with a donation please contact me. I have set
up an email address just for this If you want to send a parcel to someone you will also need to contact me. It will need to be small and light, unless it is a laptop which I know many of them on Nauru would like. If you are able to donate a laptop that would be wonderful. There is only a short space of time for this to happen so please contact me as soon as possible if you can help. I hope this small gesture will help to lift our friends' spirits at a difficult time for them. Many thanks, The detainees on Nauru still need phone cards. Contact Susan Metcalfe on susanmmm@bigpond.com for details.
3. TFR CHRISTMAS CARDS
4. BAXTER – MY THIRD VISIT IN OCTOBER 2004 Temporary visas. Temporary protection. Refuse blows in the wind and rattles around the Visitor’s Centre. Forlorn music in the chilly morning air. I wait for my friends to arrive. Always waiting in the detention centre. Some have arrived. Couples, lovers, stroll around. Deep in conversation or immersed in silent companionship. Stealing embraces. Creating a bubble of privacy under the relentless surveillance of the cameras. I feel my presence intrusive. My friends are here! Warm greetings. Familiar faces. Smiling faces, worn and sad in repose. New people to meet. Great interest in Tasmania. That’s the place to go! Much discussion of the "jungles" of Tasmania and what do I think of their destruction? A cool breeze stirs the heat of the day. Having explained the meaning of the word "breeze" I labour on in didactic mode to explain a "zephyr". "A word not used much anymore." He interrupts me with some impatience. "An old-fashioned word", he says. Hang on! I am the one educated in the English language! Interesting discussion. We criss-cross the boundaries of polite conversation. Glimpses of each other as individuals and of our cultures. Glimpses of pain, brutality, exploitation and loss of dignity. Glimpses of hopes and dreams and the hunger for freedom and a normal life. The agony of uncertainty. Interminable waiting to see which way the dice will fall. A visa or deportation. Liberation or return to persecution and again flight. There is a feast tonight. Visitors arrive toting bags brimming with tantalising aromas. Recipes swapped. A mother and daughter arrive from the residential housing project escorted under guard in their own limousine. The young girl, about twelve years old, is the perfect hostess. Glitter on her eyelids, maths and science her favourite subjects at school. "Your daughter is very beautiful." Her mother smiles with shy pride. "Try an oyster!" Fresh, fat oysters just plucked from the bay are offered as a special treat. "See? They just slip down!" This invitation is greeted by suspicion by people unfamiliar with the sea and the pile of succulent seafood is left untouched. We sit in a circle in the evening. Replete with food. "Find me a wife, Mum," he says, "Find me a wife with a kind heart!" Embarrassed laughter. His friend joins the conversation. "It does not matter if she only has one arm, or one leg, just as long as she has a kind heart." Anguished laughter. The yearning of youth in captivity. A little boy has stuffed himself with biscuits. "What is your name?" asks my friend. "Tommy." "Try on my sunglasses, Tommy! See how they fit on your nose." No interest. "Wow! You are so good on the slippery slide. Come and I will catch you!" Instant enthusiasm. Tenderness. Never a touch. A tender, loving communication. The yearning of youth in captivity. "It is so kind of you to come. We appreciate you coming very much." Spoken by my gracious hosts. "It is my pleasure. It is so good to be here!" I respond, wanting to be equally gracious. Roars of laughter. And more roars of laughter as my response spreads like wild fire around the Visitor’s Centre. I have no option but to join in the mirth. Today there is anguish and outrage among friends of asylum seekers. "Have you heard? He has been deported! Our friend full of mischievous fun." Their pain erupts with the news of his deportation. Mindless, senseless cruelty that sears the spirits of people of conscience of this country. "Congratulations! I hear that you are getting married!" Full of good will I bound up to my friends sitting on the grass, quietly talking, fingers intertwined. She does a somersault, emerges laughing and insists that it is all a rumour. He is silent. Tense. With apologies I retreat into laughter and small talk to mask the pain. They know the implications of marriage in their circumstances. Visiting is over. It is late. I wait alone in the biting wind in the blackness of the desert night. Behind me is a grotesque, brilliantly lit cage of steel. Steel clangs on steel. Electronic bells pierce the night. Disembodied voices bark orders. I sense fear rising within me and sink into the taxi to flee this monstrous place. How much more can these people take? Fleeing persecution to meet persecution. Why?
Tasmanians for Refugees Sunday, December 5, 2004 |