One particularly warm sunny day in May 1958, a stunning, blonde, blue eyed Dutch teenager jumped gleefully off the immigrant boat ‘The Johan van Oldenbarneveldt’ into the indigo blue waters of the Suez Canal. Because she was bored. And she thought that a dip into the cool water would ease the itch of frustration she felt as she waited impatiently on that Australia-bound ship to start her exhilarating new life. That crazy lady later became my mum. Bless her.
The voyage, while slow, was comfortable and they were very well cared for. On arrival at Fremantle she was loaded onto a train to Brisbane via Melbourne. They went the loooooong way. But at least she didn’t jump this time. She was too captivated by the strange looking trees and strived to understand the Australian obsession with sunshine. She missed the rain in Holland. Not many people know that about her.
Wacol was her next port of call where she remembers being well cared for in an immigrants camp with her family… until a couple of loutish blokes went into a brutish brawl over her… prompting a recently settled family from New Zealand to take her into their home and under their wing. Her new life was all very, very different – the food, the language and the culture – but the compassion, care and unconditional support of the people who rallied around her made up for what was otherwise lost in translation. They helped compensate for the deep sense of loss she felt for the family and friends she had left behind. The New Zealand family she was living with found her a job as a live in nanny with another kind family, who helped her acclimatize further. And this family in turn encouraged and supported her as she pursued tertiary education. They continued to hold her hand until she was finally ready to be fully independent in the new land she had embraced. I wanted you t o know the details of her journey because I found them interesting, but she tells me particulars are not important. It’s not what she needs you to know.
As her daughter, I want you to know that she has repaid her debt to Australia for accepting her into this country … and then some. In fact, her achievements both alone and within the family that she has lovingly created are worthy of a book in their own right. But this is not the place for all of that because, again, that’s not the message that she wants me to impart by telling her story.
Now before you rush off to make popcorn in anticipation of a fiery showdown about current immigration policies and the handling of illegal refugees, you need to know that I hardly ever read the newspapers nowadays. I spend far too much time on Facebook to have time for such patter. And frankly, I think it’s a far more effective use of my time and resources to work within my sphere of influence. My family, my friends… and the internet. Lets face it; these are the forces that influence our behaviour the most. If we hang around people (in person or online) who are relentlessly positive, respectful and compassionate, then some of that rubs off and we start to feel and act the same way to others around us. Anyone who has experienced one of those toxic workplaces where powerfully persuasive people perpetually permeate poison will – despite being alarmed by my sudden overuse of alliteration – appreciate the influence of values on any decision-making process. There is a difference between saying “I don’t want you in my house because mine is better than yours and I don’t want you to ruin it” and “I need space to sort out my household so that later, we can work together to make our street a better place for everyone”. You’d better have a “plan b” if you ever need to run to the neighbour’s house to borrow a cup of sugar if you take “option a”.
When my mum immigrated to Australia, the over-riding political and social culture at the time was one of acceptance, compassion and the desire to support and emergence of a global village mindset. Without that all encompassing support, I wonder if she would have survived the initial culture shock and thrived to the point where she could give back to Australia every ounce of goodwill, support and grit that she could muster. How differently would the Australian community regard her application for immigration today, I wonder? I appreciate that the political landscape has changed beyond recognition over the last 40 years and that expecting unlimited access for the majority of applicant immigrants today as was enjoyed in the post war period is unrealistic. But then, that’s not what my mum is trying to suggest either.
I know that I am not the only one that feels a deep sense of unease about many events that have transpired over the last few years pertaining to refugees and immigration. I also know that there are people who feel the only way to effect political change is to lobby government sources directly…. and I agree that this is an integral key to inciting political change in Australia. We are lucky to have the opportunity to have our say and there are people suited to that political advocacy role perfectly. But for those of us who aren’t, there are less overt, but still effective ways to influence political culture. And you can start today within your own sphere of influence. When you are out with friends, family or chatting online, make a stand about speaking respectfully about all people from all walks of life. Try to expand your lunchtime/forum discussions to embrace the context of a global community rather than just looking out for our own backyard. And always, always err on the side of compassion. Those around you will be influenced by your stance and in time, many will feel the same. The ripple effect will gain momentum … your friends will start to make a stand for humanity within their sphere of influence. And maybe the ripple will travel all the way across our sunburnt country to Canberra. Who knows? Anything is possible. And while I don’t have the answer to the current myriad refugee or immigration dilemmas that face Australia today, I think that if these issues are considered and discussed within a framework of compassion, mutual respect and the context of a global village, then maybe better decisions will be made than have been in the past. And if things go pear shaped in the future and we ever need a cup of sugar from our neighbours, then they’re more likely to hand it over.
Neither Julia Gillard, Kevin Rudd nor Chris Bowen have accepted my friend requests on Facebook (yet!!) so this is all I have. But I still think it is a good plan and I’m sticking to it. So before you think that all of this stuff about immigration policy and refugees is “secret Canberra business” and that you’re just one, inconsequential drop in the ocean when it comes to politics, remember this: one small drop in the Suez Canal in 1958 is still making waves on Australian Shores today. And that’s what my mum wants you to know.
Did you come to Australia from somewhere else? Did your parents or grandparents?






Comments
33 Comments so far
This is just a ridiculously fanciful story because we know back then that females were oppressed by men and weren’t allowed to get an ejamacation or anything else. Females were nothing more than sex slaves who were dominated and subjugated by men. Why would you tell lies about your mother or is this just a fictional story that is meant to be a comedy?
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Thanks for a great post. Just today I shared a diagram on facebook that showed in stick figures the totals of which country takes how many asylum seekers and refugees. Australia of course has the tiniest intake. A miniature speck. And yet the media and the politicians go on and on and on about “stopping the boats”. Who cares!? We are talking about offering compassion and support to a small amount of desperate people. Let them come. And while we are at it why not look around us and celebrate all that the hundreds of different of cultures have brought to our country. Or alternatively send every redneck racist on a trip to the USA or the UK or Europe so they can see how multicultural the world out there actually is. Or better still send them to a middle eastern war zone or a developing world slum and see how millions live.
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“And always, always err on the side of compassion.” I aim for this, but love to hear it reinforced.
Misha, thank you for a wonderful post.
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I came to Australia from South Africa, where I was born & grew up. My father had come to Africa from Scotland, & my mother was born in South Africa, but her parents came from Germany before WW2. Immigration is something my family does a lot. We don’t feel entirely comfortable until we’ve got an ocean & a continent between us & our nearest & dearest – and then we realise how much we miss them.
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I came to Aussieland from Israel. I was married to an Aussie block and when I visited Aus for the first time I fell in love. The people, beaches, space and opportunities. I left my family and all my friends to come here and I miss them dreadfully. I have been here 18 years now and am proud to raise my little cubs here. We are very lucky to live in this country but I would love to see more tollerance and appreciation for differences as that is what makes us.
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As an aside maybe the heading of this post could be changed as it I believe it doesn’t reflect the content of the article? Perhaps you’ll receive more comments?
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Thanks Misha I loved your story. My mum moved to Australia from Indonesia in the 1970′s to study at 18. She met Dad at high school in Adelaide and had me a few years later. We moved to country SA and sometimes it was hard and we all felt a little different as the only people with Asian blood who didnt own a Chinese restaurant but overwhelmingly we fitted in. Mum is a full blown Aussie and has completely assimilated. Just yesterday i took her into a cafe and the owner who was from Laos and knew me was so surprised she was my Mum because she thought I looked white.
As we left the cafe I laughed to mum and said she musnt have realised I am half asian. Mum said ” Oh that’s why! I forget I am Asian and was wondering why she couldnt believe you were my daughter!”
Mum fondly calls herself a banana. It’s a little crude but we giggle that she’s yellow on the outside but white in the middle!
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Gorgeous post.
Thank you, and thanks to your Mum.
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Thanks Misha for sharing this story. I can’t imagine any immigrant to this country having an easy or “rosy” journey, but the compassion of the two families your mum met along the way clearly made things easier and is a good reminder to us all how we can do our bit locally to improve the lives of those new to our shores. With todays newspapers full of political dribble regarding what is Australian, un-Australian and non-Australian, perhaps this is the simplest message of all: compassion and understanding.
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As the daughter of a migrant from Italy, who travelled here by boat at age 17. I was shocked when I found out how my Aussie grandfather refused to accept my parents marriage, including not giving Mum away.
But I agree with this post, we all need to influence those around us. I guess that’s why I’m surprised anyone even noticed my nephews are half Chinese
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I love how my mother’s family migrated to Australia:
My grandfather was an Italian prisoner of WW2, captured by Australian forces at Tobruk. The prisoners were taken to Australia and set to work on Australian farms – my grandfather having experience in farming from home, worked on farms in Queensland.
When the war was over and the government was organising to send the prisoners back to their original homeland, the owners of the farm by grandfather worked for, asked my grandfather to come back becuase they had become friends and respected his work ethic.
My grandfather returned to Calabria, where he and my grandmother conceived my mother, then he organised to migrate to Australia with some cousins whose passage on the boat was paid for by the Queensland farmers. The owners had never met these extended family members, but took a chance soley based on the recommendation of my grandfather and the respect they had for him. It took my grandfather 5 years to save enough money in Australia to send for my grandmother and mother, all of which was possible because he had the good fortune to be a prisoner of war in Australia. The farmers helped him learn how to read and write and pass the naturalisation test – which is how we came to be part of this country.
xoxo
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“When my mum immigrated to Australia, the over-riding political and social culture at the time was one of acceptance, compassion and the desire to support and emergence of a global village mindset.”
White Australia Policy? This is naive, from a political aspect we took in European immigrants to shore up against Asia, and to work on major projects like the hydro scheme. We also were expected to take in immigrants if we wanted to be a part of the first world. This is documented in released government papers. Communities were accepting – of European immigrants. Even then it is well acknowledged that the less white you were (i.e. a ‘wog’) the more difficult your road.
There is a prevailing anti-refugee sense in our political climate currently that appeals to the lowest common voter. But that aside, our current immigrant policy is far more open than it was in the 1950′s. And people are far more welcoming of people of all colours.
Your mother’s story is her own and I am glad she was welcomed, however I feel this article presents an inaccurately rosy picture of post-war immigration.
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Yes, this. Very easy for a white person to feel the warmth and love.
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I was just thinking the same re: different treatment of immigrants… My grandparents came from former Yugoslavia, post WW2, via a POW camp and while he never complained, to me highlighting how well the west europeans were treated just makes me crankier that he and the other ‘wogs’ were separated from wives/children and sent to work way out west on farms… That being said they were allowed in and lived the great Aussie dream, appreciated every minute of it, so it was worth it
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I am the grandson of a Yougoslav refugee. He and a friend escaped a Nazi prison camp for civilians and fled the war torn Europe to finally find his way to Australia. Grandpop made it, his friend did not. He could not speak any English but got a job building some of the highways and train lines on the east coast of Australia. Through working with other laver ours he eventually learned the language. He continued to operate earth moving machinery until his retirement. Before his death one of his greatest joys were the educational opportunities given to his children and grand children simply by being Australian.
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Beautiful story! Really well written
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My hubby’s family came from Malta in the late 1950′s by boat. It was along and hard journey. Anyone who comes to another country to live is brave. I have alot of compassion and respect for all immigrants. Our country was built from immigration.
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My parents immigrated from South Arica in 1974. They left behind family and friends. They also left behind a country who categorized people on the color of their skin. At birth I was categorized as “Coloured”. This is on my birth certificate and will be so for eternity. My 13 year old son was beyond shocked when I showed it to him. I don’t look coloured but it is who I am. Everything was strange and just a little bit scary for my mum and dad. It took a long time to realize that they could go everywhere. There were no signs saying ” no blacks”. They were not stopped and asked to present their ID cards. Australia welcomed us and many of neighbors went out of their way to make us feel very welcomed and accepted. This was a continuing theme from the time of our interviews at the Australian Embassy to the man in Fremantle who gave us a hearty “g’day”.
The offical at the Embassy asked me why I wanted to go to Australia, was it to see kangaroos? No I replied, I want to go to Australia so that at lunchtime I would be able to eat in a cafe with my daddy. Because you see during the lunch break of the interviewing process there was not one single place for us as a family to eat together because my dad was darker than mum. So as he always did he chose to shield me from the indignities of the apartheid system and said he wasn’t hungry and would wait outside for us. But I saw him. Alone eating a sandwich on the kerbside.
So thank you Australia for accepting us and most importantly for giving my parents security .
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Great post, we are all humans and we are all beautiful and what a great country we live in that accepts us for who we are.
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Beautiful story! I can totally relate as a fellow coloured I emigrated in 1976 from Rustenburg!
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My dad left Italy in 1949 to escape an abusive father he had little more than the clothes on his back. He was young and couldn’t speak the language as soon as was released from immigration he set out to build a life in Australia. He never chose to go back home even when his parents were dying. He’d left that life behind and didn’t want to go back. Sadly my dad is now deceased but I’m so grateful to him for making the choices he did.
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If my in laws hadn’t made the journey to Australia I wouldn’t have met my husband or had our three gorgeous half Italian half Aussie children. What strong men and women to move countries without the benifits we have now when we move abroad.
I don’t understant the mind set that would keep people locked up like criminals, and I think each of us can make a little difference as you say! Wonderful post. ciao lisa
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My folks are both immigrants from Holland and have a similar story to your mum. They came by boat after the war and at the time it was either Australia or Canada but they said the line was shorter at the Australian Embassy. My brother and I were both born here and raised here but my folks are technically boat people! I am appalled by the governments attitude to asylum seekers – it is not illegal to seek asylum!
I remember my gf in high school meeting my mum for the first time – she didn’t understand a word my mum said which was a surprise for me as I didn’t know any different and while I realised Mum and Dad had accents I never realised how strong they were.
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I remember coming here as an immigrant in 1980 from South Africa. You’d think speaking English would be enough but everything was strange and to my school friends my accent was “weird”. But the people were wonderful and welcoming and in no-time we felt right about making the journey. Sadly this changed when we moved to a “better suburb” 6 months later. Here we experienced racism and bullying and it was awful. But, those first 6 months carried my Mum and Dad and my brother and I through. We knew that all Australians weren’t like our new neighbors and over time it got better.
Whenever I meet a new Australian I remember what it was like for me, no matter what their story a little kindness, generosity and openness makes all the difference to whether you feel like you’ve landed on an alien planet or not.
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I arrived from England when I was 15 months old. I flew here … and I grew here! My sister and I were the only migrant kids in our primary school and my best friend was born in australia to chinese parents – and got treated more like the outsider than me. It always upsets me when people go on about migrants etc, and then when i point out that i am one – they say “oh but your different”… I think we need to embrace those people with the spirit and attitude to do whatever they can to make it to Australia.
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I’m Australian of English and Scottish descent and my partner is of Scottish and French heritage. My mother’s father was born in England and came to Australia via New Zealand as a child. His daughter-in-law my aunt was born in the Philippines and met my uncle in England. My cousin is married to a half-Italian man and has a beautiful black-eyed Aussie kid.
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My parents moved here from Iran in September 1987. I was 5 turning 6 and my older sister was 7, our younger sister was born the following year in Perth. It was either Australia or America for us as my dad had lived in the states before but my parents had no one there. Both of my dad’s sisters had moved to Australia years earlier so that’s why my parents decided to move to Australia and for that I’m so very glad!
I remember the first and only time my mum’s mum came for a visit from Iran. She fell in love with our beautiful country and made friends with our Australian neighbours with her broken English. Sadly she passed away the following year
I remember as a young kid in Iran watching a cartoon based in Australia and being excited to see kangaroos and koalas (of course!) – I still remember Perth back then!
This is my first Aussie day outside of Australia…missing home even more today!
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If your a Perth Aussie, be glad to miss this one – it’s over 40 here today and still climbing!!
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I’m Australian, but I have a good lot of Irish blood in me. Mum was born in Dublin, came out in 1988, already married to my Australian father. His father came out from Ireland in 1956, met my grandmother in 1958 and they were married in 1959.
Mum’s parents (both now deceased unfortunately) lived their lives in Ireland, as do her siblings.
Happy Australia Day!
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My grandmother and her family fled the Soviet Union during the second world war, sneaking across Europe and living in caves. They arrived in Germany where my great grandfather got a job in a munitions factory and my grandmother got to go to school for a few years. Then Germany lost the war and the whole family was put into a squalid refugee camp.
2 years later they arrived in Australia, and I’m so glad they did.
Australia Day is also Granny’s Birthday. Her 80th, in fact.
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Great article,if you follow K Rudd and J Gillard on Twitter,they will follow you
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This is true.
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Born and bred Australian – with a strong sense of respect for those who have battled to make this beautiful land their home.
Our refugee situation is shameful. And the general attitude towards helping asylum seekers even more so.
PS – JG, KR and CB are better on twitter
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