Refuse Refuge? Part 1
This is the worst image I saw this year. As you can imagine it was on
Television. A vision from Afghanistan. A small girl child, of about five, was
lying in bed in a makeshift hospital. She had picked up an un-exploded cluster
bomb, a bright yellow plaything compliments of the U.S. While exploring this
newfound toy it exploded, removing in one swift and horrible moment her
beautiful little hand. The image which is staying with me and which is burned
into my brain is that of her mother entering the ward and the confused crying
child placing her good arm around her mother’s neck. I am seeing this image
from behind. The back of the mother and the small vulnerable arm. This gesture
of trust, this hug which places heart to heart, so unnerved me I wept and had
to turn off the TV. I felt like turning it off for good. I had seen too much
misery for one year. But turning off the TV didn’t mean the image went
away.
What was it about this which grieved me so.
Maybe this. I have a small girl child friend of about five. When I visit I
always pick her up and experience the unquestioned trust in that small gesture
of her placing an arm around my neck. I also often watch her being picked up by
her parents and delight in observing the same gesture. The placing of the small
arm around the adults neck in Total Trust of the adult world. Or maybe I was
upset by the following. Going back for a moment to the image of that useless
little dead hand lying somewhere in a small rural Afghanistan village where the
people have no history with those who bomb them. Imagine the aftermath of this
relevantly small event of which there are so many. (All of these brutalities,
for the moment, concentrated in this destroyed small child’s hand). What did
this carelessly dropped raw cluster bomb take away. Many possibilities. Many
possibilities to make, to draw, to paint, to prepare food, to garden, to sew,
many possibilities to touch, many possibilities to caress, many possibilities
to wave, many possibilities to gesture. All possibilities to create the most
simple experiences of a life. There are thousands of these people for which
this constant terror is, and has been, a daily experience for a long time now.
Some of these people can’t take anymore and have decided to leave the land of
their birth (imagine that) and find a somewhat safer place elsewhere. And in so
doing risk everything. We have recently seen some of these displaced people
appear on our TV screens. Crammed onto boats. We label these people illegal
immigrants. These people whom some politicians label ‘Possible Terrorists’.
When you repeat a lie often enough most
people will start to accept it as the truth, especially when the lie is based
on common fear. The fear of not knowing. The fear of not understanding. Blind
fear.
If
what we are now doing with the refugees is right what is there left to be done
that is wrong? What can we, sitting here safely, well fed, well clothed, oon fully
Christmassed, possibly do about this terrible state of affairs. Turn off the TV
when it becomes too much? Why are we, as a nation so afraid of a relative few
people who have only misery to carry with them? Why are we as a nation so
accepting of those continuous lies, cleverly based on our fears? Do we actually
question this, or is it all too difficult.
I
heard an interview with a New Zealand commentator who explained that in New
Zealand the government gives refugees work visas. It has turned out that most
of these people make excellent immigrants. Why? Most probably because they are
resourceful and because they share. Abilities we, in the main, seem to have
lost in the comfort zone of our wellbeing.
Refuse Refuge? Part 2
I
was a refugee once. All non-indigenous people in this country are, or have
been, in their histories. We all looked for ‘refuge’ in a new land, for
whatever reason. I am a boat person and, like many people, arrived in the late fifties
to a land of promise. This land filled with promises was actually pretty empty.
The promises only those which we could create for ourselves. Empty, with many
possibilities to colour in. To fill with ideas, to fill with creativity, to
fill with culture.
But,
you’ll say, there was a culture, a rich Aboriginal culture. However, this was
almost wiped out by the Anglo culture which preceded us newcomers by a mere
couple of centuries. I do not know exactly what this Anglo culture brought to
this land but I remember that it felt empty in the fifties when we arrived from
many other parts of Europe. Since I arrived with a knowledge of the Patisserie
I can only comment on the food aspect of
the culture. I most vividly remember the food consciousness at the time. Little
pastry boxes filled with questionable meat stuffs. Pasty Pasties. Poor quality white
bread. The culinary delight of the Adelaide floater. The refined taste of the
vanilla slices. And the endless stream of mono tasting beer. Wine? Wine, I was
told at the time, was for poofters.
As a
result of the arrival of the post W.W. 2 refugees, then called New Australians,
Ities, Wogs and the like, the culture has changed a great deal. Not only the
food culture but the culture in general has been enriched as a result of what
these refugees brought with them and, additionally, were able to do with their
skills in this country. A big large open space ready for a creative approach,
some resourcefulness, some daring. Some different ideas. Wine? Our wine is now
among the best in the world. This is the result of change. Not the result of
the stagnation of a culture in a fortified place.
Has
anyone, voting for ‘the fear view of the world of refugee acceptance’, considered
for a few moments the possible positive side of the refugee crisis aspect?
Considered this as a possible gift?
Considered the newness which these people would bring with them?
Considered the energy which they would offer us? Consider the gratefulness they
would carry in their hearts? Has anyone maybe tried to think where they came
from. Tried to think what it took them to get here. They must be incredible
human beings. And maybe that’s what makes us so uneasy? Their strength and resourcefulnes.
The
government told us there was a crisis. I have always believed that a crisis
offers many gifts for learning on a
plate. Are we taking note? Or are we allowing this wonderful opportunity to
pass us by? The gift for the possibility of endless compassion. The gift for an
understanding that to take in a few more people who seek refuge would create
the possibility for change, for movement and for a different view. The more
points of view we can bring to our world, the larger it becomes. It involves
taking a risk. Every step taken outside your comfort zone does. Consider the
prize. Ask the many young Australian travellers exploring new lands who, as a
result, are learning and enriching themselves. However, on the other hand not
taking steps outside your comfort zone would result in an even more scary situation,
down the track.
This
brings me to the second worst thing I saw ever. Again on Television. People
jumping from the ‘perceived’ comfort zone of the World Trade Towers. Everything
is connected. That little hand blown off was the indirect result of that event.
But what brought that event about in the first place? Where did this event have
its roots? People who have dared to speculate have been labelled un-American
and most probably un-Australian as well. Think about it. In the end the
ultimate result was a child’s little hand dead to many of the possibilities a
life offers. The least we could do is offer a little more generous point of
view. Happy christmas!
Petrus
art@petrusspronk.com
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