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My hands plunge into the mucky dish water as tears start to stream down my face. I stare out the window at the Greek Sparti Town Hall which is covered in several feet of snow. It barely keeps itself up after being nearly obliterated after the WW2 bombing. I shuffle to my bedroom, where I move my Year 11 textbooks out the way and then proceed to plop myself on my bed and let the sadness conceal me. To make sure I have read the letter probably, I read it again, which is when I confirm the death of my mother and father. I sit in my room, thinking about what I need to do next. I can’t be left alone, the restaurant that I worked in got obliterated years ago. I would have a home and will have money but I don’t know how to look after myself probably. I realised that I needed to leave  the country, have a fresh start. I am more than old enough to start my own business. All my seventeen year old friends have started a business, so why can’t I? Packing my bag quickly, I realise there is only one real shop I can open … and that is a cooking shop. I am not good at anything else, I am smart, but I am pretty sure the curriculum is different there. Also, I am not good at any sports apart from soccer and they play AFL. I also realise that accommodation will be expensive, in most countries but one. Which is  Australia, the land down under. Luckily, my Aunt moved to Australia before WW2, so I bought a trip on The New Hellas to Australia…

“Pass your tickets here, line up, single file,” shouted out the ticket master. I hand my ticket to him and board the ship, it lightly rocks back and forth as more passengers board. I quickly slip past the massive crowd saying goodbye to their family and friends and go to my cabin. The cabin is quite small, having a bed, table and cabinet. I unzip my backpack and chow down some Spanakopita then go to sleep. My eyes immediately open when I feel a sharp pinch in my stomach and a boiling head. I run out the cabinet with the gooey liquid about to combust out of my mouth and quickly hurl it over the side of the ship. I then lay down and try to get some sleep but the same pattern continues. I finally give up and just lean against the rails and stare into the new country of Australia. The ship comes to a slow stop at Princess pier,  thrusting everybody on board forward, I stumble towards the exit, hop off and go to the street. Luckily, we had been taught English at school, so I ordered a taxi to my Aunts house which is near Albert Park. Finally, my eyes started close until sleep wrapped around me like a warm, heavy blanket.

I wake up as the taxi comes to the halt, I pay him 1 pound and walk to the front door. I knock on the door, and my aunt greets me with open arms, she pulls me into her open arms. She understands that I am still grieving over the devastating loss. I walk inside, the dimly lit house is a labyrinth to get around. I eventually found my room after searching for 10 minutes and lay down on my bed. I take out some food, gladly munching on it and not having to worry about vomiting again. I stare outside of my window, looking at the street below, seeing several stores. There are a large variety of them, from fish and chips to toy stores. I see one shop for lease in the middle of the street. It is a closed down fish and chips store. When I see it, an idea instantly pops into my head, I could make my own restaurant to make money. I already have a variety of Greek recipes from my Mother and Father. Yet I realised that most people are British in this country, and wouldn’t understand what they were eating. Finally, I realised I may as well open a Fish and Chips shop. I exit the house and walk to the shop. In fine print on the poster, it says the phone number of the landowner. I quickly walk to a nearby telephone booth to call the number. The phone picks up and we talk for a while. I negotiated the price of rent to 2 pounds a week. He then replied that he would drive to the location of the store. He shows up a couple minutes later and hands me the keys. I thanked him politely and then opened the store. It was dusty, yet  the ovens and machines still worked. I quickly got to work on cleaning it, scrubbing stains, wiping tables, cleaning equipment, reinstalling lights and rebuilding and creating signs and menus. I bought some paint with leftover money from my Mum and Dad, painting the store. Exhausted from effort I fall on the floor staring at my masterpiece. I go to the pier, fishing for Snapper and other fish. Luckily, it doesn’t seem like the British are bothered to be patient and wait for the fish. I sit there, looking into the horizon, I start catching snapper and other fish rapidly.  I think I have caught enough fish, but then I see a fluorescent red in the bottom of the sea. I know from experience that that is a beautiful lobster. I dive in, with hook in one hand and determination in the other. I slowly swim up to the lobster, it retreats into a small cave. I peek into the cave, spotting several other lobsters.
I quickly put them to sleep permanently. Satisfied, I start to swim up to the surface, yet  I feel a yank on my foot. I look down, seeing a humongous calm has latched onto my foot. I  Desperately thrash around, trying to free my foot, yet the clam won’t let go, its iron grip gets tighter, tighter and tighter…

I slowly start to relax. The clam may think I am some sort of rock or plant, it starts destroying the bones on my foot. Blurry Bubbles blow away from me as I start to lose vision. I focus on preserving my oxygen, knowing I am more buoyant than the water. I start losing consciousness, although I am determined to get back up. The clams grip every so slowly and start to relax. I quickly make my move when it releases me. Desperately swimming up to the surface. I gasp for air, sucking in as much as I could. Finally, I swim to the shore and lie on the banks. I attempt to stand up but my foot has been demolished by the clam and I instantly fall over. I started crawling to the shop, which was luckily close by. I put the lobster and fish in the fridge next to the potatoes and calamari.  Then, I call the ambulance, and they show up in 5 minutes.  After examination they said they would need to put it in a cast and get me on crutches. I agree, and proceed to go and get a cast and crutches from the hospital. Finally, I go back home and have some rest.

I eject myself off the bed and quickly get changed. I get my crutches and hobble down to the shop. Finally, I think to myself, it is open. Turning on the shop with glee, I wait behind the cash register waiting to serve. The aesthetics of the shop draw people in like a tornado. I expected to make about 1 pound, but people wanted to buy lobster and all sorts and I made 5 pounds! I suppose people like Fish and Chips. I finally close the shop at 8;30 and go to bed, satisfied with my super successful shop. My Aunt wakes me up at 9.  She questions me about how I broke my leg, I told her I fell off a ladder. I didn’t want her to get worried so I made a white lie. I finally let my head hit the bed and let darkness wrap around me.

I woke up and decided if I make enough money, I should expand. Also, there were so many orders yesterday that there was a 30 minute delay. I lost 6 customers, 6! That could have been an extra 7 pounds. Then I remembered that it is a Saturday and I have to go to Greek school. I also need a vehicle, because walking eleven kilometres wasn’t convenient.  I met a boy who was an immigrant as well and he said he knew about my shop because his father went there yesterday. He said he needed a job and was a chef back in Greece and he would be happy to work for me for 11 pounds a week. I agreed and said he has to work Sunday to Thursday. Greek school was easy due to the fact that I am Greek and that I know the language. It also helps that I have my Aunt to help me with Homework. I invited my friend over ( his name is Jason) to discuss business. He told me that I should expand my business. After that, my business thrived and that was how my life continued. When I was 27 I got married to a Greek girl named Demeter. I bought more business and opened up more stores. There is one main lesson to learn,  work hard and focus pays you back. That  was until a man came along, one man that changed my life forever, and that man was my coworker. I now sit here at the age of 70 and regret hiring him. I sit, staring into the fluro  orange and neon red horizon dawning upon me.

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TYPHOON

It was August 3rd 2016. Kian (or Huang Li in Hong Kong) felt his energy slowly slipping away as he listened to the mind-numbing mathematical terms his teacher was conveying. Finally, the end-of-day bell chimed, and Kian watched as his class frantically gathered up all their Maths belongings to  stuff in their locker. When the commotion died down, Kian assembled his workbooks and jogged out of the classroom. Opening his locker, he threw the Maths utensils inside and grabbed his bag. He knew he had to walk home, because his Mum was picking up his sisters (Poppy and Naomi (which are the anglicised names), and his Dad was busy running his restaurant. Kian didn’t mind walking home, just that the Hong Kong Kowloon City streets were crowded all day long. Outside, he saw the rain begin to fall. Kian sighed. Now he minded about walking. Not, wanting to get his uniform wet and sloppy, he sprinted down the stairs and out the gates before the worst of the rain began. As he was about halfway home (still running), a blinding bolt of lightning flashed for a second, followed by a boom of thunder. It was Monsoon aZSDFVGN JMK,.Season. The rain intensified and large puddles were beginning to generate. Even scarier things were to come….

Above: Hong Kong flag

Kian collapsed onto the front porch, exhausted and drenched. The downpour was severe now, bucketing down huge, hard raindrops all over the city, forming large puddles and chaotic situations everywhere. Kian went inside the house, and was gobsmacked. The roof tiles had broken apart to the pressure of the rain and there were cracks heavily leaking in the roof. Desperately, Kian ran to the laundry and grabbed a bucket to catch the water, but by then the floor was covered in water up to ankle height. Just then, the door clicked open as Kian's mum and two sisters walked in. Clearly surprised, they all splashed through the water to    assist Kian. Slowly, more of the roof broke apart spewing in a flow of water, knee height. In the bathroom, pipes overflowed and burst. The water was waist high. Water seeped through the bottom of the door. Neck high.

“Grab your most valuable things!!” Kian’s mum yelled over the rushing water. Kian swam to his room, he snatched a few clothes that were strewn on his loft bed (where the  water hadn’t reached), He grabbed his wallet, a small thermos full of water, his basketball, the ancient watch his great-great grandma had passed down generations and his laptop.  Photo of Kian’s family ->

He stuffed them all into a small bag and waded through the water, carrying the bag over his head. By now the house was falling apart to the sheer pressure of the rain. Disaster had struck. Typhoon Nida was on its way……..

A high-pitched scream echoed throughout the house. Instinctively, Kian rushed through the water to find Poppy trapped underneath the table, surrounded by the falling debris. Kian rushed to help, along with his mother, and now his father who had immediately come home when the floods began. They began scooping up debris as the water went higher, Poppy struggling to stay afloat beneath the table. Kian tore away plaster piece after roof tile, until there was a small gap. Poppy took one deep breath, and dived under, barely managing to squeeze out. She had been saved. (1 hour later) After Mum had announced they were leaving Hong Kong to their Uncle and Aunt in Australia, everyone agreed and loaded the rest of the untouched belongings into the car and abandoned the wrecked house. No one talked on the drive. The pounding rain continued, hammering on the windscreen, as the car struggled to push through the torrential rivers that were forming. Around 24km later, the car spluttered to a stop as the engine had inevitably corrupted due to the water. No one was in the mood to walk, as it was around 6:30pm, so after a small dinner of corn chips and bread (all the food they could salvage) everyone fell asleep in the car.

The next morning, the wind had finally hit. It was strong. Newspapers, leaves, even empty bins were being carried by the slipstream, smashing into buildings and cars. Housing tiles collapsed off roofs, and to top it all up, the rain came down heavy. Meanwhile, the car maintained its position as being stationery and refusing to move. The Hong Kong international airport was still about 1.5km away, and the wind and rain provided a hazard, but they didn’t have a choice. If the wind got any stronger, it would obliterate the car in a matter of minutes.

‘Climb into the boot and get your bags!’ Kian’s Mum yelled over the windy rain commotion. Once everyone had their bags, they all huddled together and ran in the direction of the airport. Fortunately, no one was harmed and they all managed to get undercover safely. Mum and Dad went to fill out a test on the Government Immigration website to see if they were eligible for Skilled Independent Visas (because Mum is an Engineer and Dad is a Doctor), and to everyone’s surprise, both parents got a visa to stay for a maximum of 6 months until they got an Australian Residency or Citizenship. That was their ticket to Australia…

After the tiring 9 hour flight, Kian landed in Melbourne, VIC, Australia. After stepping out of the plane, they were immediately hit by the cold, winter climate of Melbourne. The chilly gust made Kian miss the warm temperature of Hong Kong. After journeying through the terminal, the family sat down and Kian’s parents applied for an Australian Citizenship and an Australian Residency online to get it over and done with (They had to pay over $4420 to the government to try and get a Residency). A little more walking later, they met up with their Uncle Darren and Aunt Leung who expressed their sympathy by driving the family to their medium sized house, fit with a patio, deck, outside pool and garden. They slept there for the night, then the next, then the next…..

6 ½ months later……

‘KIAN! Come here quickly! Kian’s mother’s excited yell could be heard in Alaska. The only other time she yelled like that was when they all officially got Australian Citizenship just a week before. Kian lumbered out of bed and washed his face. Then slowly walked to the study where his mum was calling.

‘We’ve managed to get a school for you! It took a while, and we had to pay extra international fees, but we got you a spot in Doncaster Secondary College down the road, your uniform will come in a week so you need to be ready’ Mum blurted out.

Kian was speechless. He hadn’t gone to school for over ½ a year. Kian nodded, thanked his Mum and Dad, and went back to bed.

The next week, Kian got into his crisp, new uniform, had breakfast and walked down the road and turned at the corner, arriving at Doncaster Secondary College. He easily acclimatised to his new school, breezing through lessons and break sessions, and even making a couple of friends. School wasn’t as hard as he thought, and soon, he was ready for Year 12 graduation and VCE. Since he missed ½ a year of Year 10, he only got 97.95, but nevertheless, he still continued on to University and studied to become a doctor. During that, he needed some money, so he applied part-time in a Sushi Restaurant and earnt $19 per hour. The years passed, and slowly, Kian began to love Australia even more. It turned out to be great. He unfortunately didn’t pass his Doctor test, but instead took the path of an Engineer and was successful. The downside was, as he spoke more and more English, he was forgetting his traditional language,

Cantonese. To prevent this, he travelled to the newly refurbished Hong Kong to see his Grandparents and to stay a month. It turned out alright…

THE END

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Нескінченна дорога (An Endless Road)

мене звати Іван, я емігрант з України. Це моя історія

(My name is Ivan, I am an immigrant from Ukraine. This is my story)

“Alek! Just leave it behind, we need to leave!” I was screaming at the top of my voice and even cracking with tears every now and then, but it couldn’t be heard over the continuous bombs being dropped over Lviv. Me, Ivan Dovznhenko and my brother, Aleksander Dovznhenko came from a place in Ukraine called Lviv; we have grown up there all of our lives and never left. But, that was soon to change as they will have to flee. I was 16 and his brother was only 12. We are too young to be left on our own with no parents, no family, no one to look after them. The continuous gunfire echoed the empty streets of Lviv, the crunch of rubble under their feet was loud but not loud enough to block out the noise. Me and Alek were the only ones in the street. It brought tears to my eyes, seeing all the destroyed houses, cars that were alight and the bones of my friends and neighbours. We needed to get out. Luckily, we were on the border of Ukraine and it was only around a 325 km walk to Krakow, where we will take a train to Gdansk and then take a ship to Australia. If we can even stay alive for that long.

“200 km down, 125 to go” those were the words replaying over and over in my head. I just needed to get to the border, to get to Krakow. For me, and Alek. But it surprised me though, I saw a fence in the distance, a green one that looked like it could have stretched out across the world. But it brought joy to me, because that was the Polish border. I nearly screamed at the sight, so did Alek. We were here! We were only a couple hundred metres away from Krakow, a couple hundred metres away from safety, warmth and happiness.

“Next please”

The loud noises for the trains and continuous movement of people surrounded us, as we walked up to buy a ticket.

“Hello, young man. Are you here to buy a train ticket?” said the ticket master

“Yes we are. Two please”

“Ok, where to?

“Krakow”

“Ok, mmmm”

The slight hesitation scared me.

“That'll be €50”

Giving the money I felt quite relieved, being able to keep me and my brother safe.

The train stopped with a screeching sound.

“Alek! Alek! Wake up! We’re here!” Alek woke up. “Really” he said sleepily, we got off the train into the morning smell of Gdansk. The plane was already booked for us.

As we were entering the airport, for the first time I felt I could finally be free. Until, “Excuse me?” said a voice from behind. “Do you have any right to be here”

“Yes” I said turning around “We have a Refugee visa to Australia”

“I’m sorry but anyone under the age of 13 must stay in Poland”

“What?!?” said Alek, scared. They grabbed him straight away, and pulled him to a place I couldn't follow.

It's been  years since I last saw Alek, and I can’t stop thinking about him. I spent some time at an immigration Hostel in Geelong in Malop St.  It was hard at the start, not knowing any English. I couldn’t understand the volunteers at the hostel and they couldn’t understand me. But over time I was getting used to it and even started making conversations. It has been much safer from me here in Australia, and I’m just praying that Alek is alive and well.

The people of Australia have been very supportive, I learnt English and they assisted me in getting a job. I have been very successful, managing to get a job as a Sales Manager. Making enough money, I have also met my wife, Sofie. She is very supportive of the Ukrainian Crisis and together we are assisting others in need from Lviv to make the move to this safe country of Australia. We work hard and volunteer our services for the UNCIEF.  And then the day came.

Іван,

I am alive and well in Great Britain, and I just got your letters. I am so happy you made it to Australia alive. I am going to write a lot to you now that I am safe. After you left me on that bridge in Poland, I was put in a refugee camp for the next year, until someone bailed me out. I never knew who though. Then I moved to Romania, to work in a car factory. That took another 6 months until I saved up enough to get out and go to England. Your letters never got to me because I was in that camp.

Anyways, I am so happy I am able to talk to you again and hope to see you soon.

From,

Александр Довженко

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A Long Journey

As Dara excitedly stepped into the sweltering hot sun, she was prepared for her first day at High School. Inside her wooden stilted house, her father said goodbye to her with a wave. Dara began to make her way to school through the narrow streets of Siem Reap. Walking up to the school gate, Dara saw her friends encouragingly invite her over.

After school, Dara began to slowly walk home with a hefty bag on her back. Going to both morning and afternoon sessions of school, she utterly felt exhausted. When she got back home, Dara dropped her bags and launched herself onto the many palm mats that lay on the ground. Slowly Dara sat back up, and searched for her father, mother along with her other two siblings. She looked all around the house but couldn’t find them anywhere, except for one place. Behind the house. Dara quickly dashed outside, to find her mother crying over the bodies of her siblings and father.

Dara’s mothers tears were rolling non stop, drenching her krama wrapped around her neck. As shocked as her mother was, Dara began to weep and hug her mother. For a while the two sat, grieving over a tragedy. Dara’s mother explained to her that the Khmer Rouge led by Pol Pot was killing and torturing people who educate others, and those who have been educated.

They had to get out of the country in order to survive.

Later that day, the two girls quietly got out of the house and started their long journey to the Cambodian and Thai border. Before Dara left, she took a look around her house. Nothing there was happy anymore. Nothing cheered her up other than her special krama that her dad and her mother made for her. She quickly ran up and grabbed it. It took them three and a half days to walk, it was an exhausting journey but they knew they would get a better life.

Before long the two found themselves at the border, where they were met with a big line of refugees trying to get into Thailand. The Thai Government had offered to take Dara and her Mother into the country with refugee status. Dara and her Mother were lucky enough to stay in Khao-I-Dang refugee camp. The place was able to provide them with work. Fortunately, Dara and her mother had been taught Thai in Cambodia so it was effortless to communicate with people. After a few years Dara and her Mother were allowed out of the refugee camp, where for a couple of years Dara restarted high school, and her mother found work as a maid.

As years and years passed, Dara’s Mother collected enough money to move into a better environment. They decided to move to Australia, with the help of an agent, they were able to find a relative who moved to Australia years ago, and applied for a permanent visa. Their relative was able to help them buy tickets in order to get to Australia.

Months later, the visas arrived and the two flew to Melbourne where they stayed in the eastern suburb of Springvale. The plane trip was nerve racking, both of them had never been on any type of transport, but they touched down safely.

It took a while for their relative, Amara, to collect them from the airport. Amara greeted them with a warm welcome. Soon, all three of them got into the car and drove off to Amara’s apartment in Springvale. As they got to the apartment, Amara started talking and talking about her small clothing business and asked Dara and her mother if they would like to join. They both said yes, but Amara said they needed to learn English first. Learning English was complicated but soon enough they had the basics.

Life was better in Australia. They obtained work visas on humanitarian grounds, and gained a reasonable job and were living in better conditions. Now they could forget their losses and finally move on with life.  Their worries of the terrible things the Communist  regime had done to the Khmer people and their family will never be forgotten.

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Alan Ross’ move to Australia

I left my home country because I didn't like the Italian Government, because they were not doing anything to rebuild the country after World War 2. When I arrived in Australia in 1950 I introduced myself, but people didn't understand me. I could not speak English and they couldn't speak Italian. To help me fit into my new way of life I changed my name. My Italian name was Angelo Rossini. Many people could not spell my name, hardly even say it. So I changed my name to Alan Ross.  I came upon the Breaverbrea, a ship from Italy. 35,000 other Italians came to Australia during the 1950’s and 60’s.  And they arrived at Station Peir.  I had a couple dollars in my pocket, I had to find a place to live. I was used to the cold weather in Italy, not the warm weather in Australia.

I was advised to head to The Salvation Army where I could get accommodation, they helped with setting up a bank account, and helped with the paperwork so I was able to stay in Australia ………….. It's hard being 22 years old and moving countries. I don't  know the language and I couldn’t read any menus or signs and in the trams or buses it's so hard knowing when to get off for my stop. I went to an English learning centre to learn how to speak English but as I was not enjoying my life. I had applied to the Australian Goverment for an immigrants visa, and stayed at the Fisherman’s Bend Migrant Hostel.

I got a letter from my beloved mother that said

“ To my dearest Angelo I am pleased your trip to Australia went well. Have you found yourself Permanent Accommodation? We are alright here. Looking towards hearing from you soon All my love From Mother and Father” .

I eventually got a job in a bread factory in Carlton, there were many Italian immigrants in that area. I worked with Roberto Banini and Georgio Selini. They had arrived as immigrants as well. We regulary went to Maria’s Pasta House in North Fitzroy, if we were not working long hours at the factory. Many Australians often called us Dagos. But we did nothing, we wanted to fit in. The two men and I lived with several families in a small house in Lygon st Carlton.

Life improved and I was saving money to eventually purchase a house and be worthy of marrying a young Italian girl. Mumma and Pappa would be proud. But I miss them, and the village of Castel di Tora overlooking the  Lake Turano.

Written and Researched by Jett Cannon

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A Journey from Sudan to Australia

Written Jasmine Kent

It was hard for Abdo and his family after their Mama had died because she was really sick. They lived in Port Sudan next to the Red Sea, in the country of Sudan. There  were years of drought within the country. It was a lot harder to make money without their Mama. The goats had died and they could grow nothing due to no water.  They were thinking of leaving Sudan, but they didn’t have enough money to buy the boat ticket. They did side to walk to Egypt. They made Tune Dab, in Eastern Sudan , a refugee camp.

Years Abdo and his younger brother Abu were going to Australia with their Baba, they were really existent. Abdo was 14 and Abu was 4. They got their bags and got really and went to the boat. The government offered them a refugee visa. They went by boat. There were a lot of people in the boat. It took 6 weeks to get to Australia. Abdo hated the smell of the sea because it made him feel sick. He also hated the dark cooler of the sea.

They arrived in Australia in Melbourne 2001. When they got out of the boat a Government official took them to the Red Cross Hostel. The Government arranged a house for them to live in Worrigee. The house has three bedrooms, two small bathrooms, a small kitchen and a small living room. They had to stay in the same house with three other families from Sudan, because it was cheaper. Abdo’s Baba got a job as a farmer. Every morning Abdo’s dad has to wake up early to go farming. He gets twenty five dollars per hour every day, he works for sixteen hours. Abdo had to stay home and look after his younger brother. Eventually Abdo’s Baba had made enough money to buy a house and a car of their own.

They missed their family from Sudan and they made some friends. They  also never lost their culture, as there were many other Sudanese people in their suburb that could support them.

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1950. A bright summer morning with the sun out and the sky was blue. Eighteen-year-old Stella Bellini and her younger sisters Amealia and Giovanna walked to Genova from their home. The three of them then made their way to Naples. Eventually they boarded a ship called the Romolo that was to take three sisters to Melbourne. Stella’s house was destroyed when the French entered Italy during the War of 1939 - 1945 horrible World War II. Her homeland and country of Italy was obliterated.

Stella’s parents were killed so she and her sisters were determined to start a new life in a safe country. The Australian government allowed Stella and her sisters to come into Australia because Australia is lacking workers in certain industries like doctors and teachers. They collected the few belongings they had such as water bottles, scarves, Stella’s favourite soft toy, a tote bag for their belongings and just enough food for them to survive until they reached Melbourne. Also a few coins and notes and they then started their journey to the French coastline.

One month later, they reached the French coastline. Stella and her sisters departed the French Riviera on the Auxiliary Steamer which took the ship approximately 6 weeks to reach Princess Pier in Melbourne. On the way to Melbourne Stella met her friend she used to play with when she was young back in Italy, in her home village her name was Isabella. Stella talked to Isabella about what life would be like in Melbourne and their home village. As soon as Stella arrived in Melbourne, she could feel the fresh air rush down her body and all of a sudden Stella knew she had a good life ahead of her.

When the three sisters had arrived, they were sent to a migrant hostel named Benalla Migrant camp, in Northeast Victoria. There were many other migrants from Greece, Italy and other countries of Europe. The girls shared a room with three other sisters whose parents were killed in World War II, and they immigrated to Melbourne.

War is a terrible thing. The girls learnt English, sorted their immigration papers with the Government and Stella worked hard in a local orchard, getting paid 25 pounds for the year. After several years together they had enough money to settle in Carlton. There were many Italian families in this area.

Stella was a fully trained doctor in Italy but was willing to work for however much she could receive.

After seeing Rinaldo Massoni open the first Italian cafe which was named Café Florentino with the first ever coffee machine brought to Melbourne from Italy. She thought Wow! Life is different here. Stella and her sisters moved into an apartment in Carlton only two streets away from Café Florentino. After a whole year of working as a school cleaner Stella decided she wanted to take Australian citizenship, it was a long process, showing all the paperwork.

After 10 or so years Stella finally was issued an Australian citizenship. Her sisters finally got enough money to registered as a professional doctor at Lying-in Hospital which is on the corner of Grattan and Swanston Street in Carlton.

To this day, Stella has strong memories of Italy, eating her favourite pizza from Pizzeria, back in Italy. Life was simple; family orientated. Here in Australia immigrant families had to prove themselves and work hard to survive.

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Phoebe's Journey

A combonation of sweat and tears dripped off my face. “It will be ok” I say to my little brother Alexander. My voice was trembeling and screaching with fear. Alexander was all I had. I quickly wiped my tears. I tried to calm myself down with the memories I had of Mama and Baba which were quickly inturupted with the sound of gunshots. The air was warm and smokey. I   was drousy and struggling to stay awake. For a moment I thought to myself, I relised that I really was alone, no Mama no Baba, no one. Greece held so many memories of my now dead family. I knew it would be hard to leave. More importantly I had to figure out how I would get two people on a boat to Australia with no money at all this would be difficult for a 19 year old. With my home ablitarated, my parents dead, I relised I had no choice but to work until I had enough money for me and Alexander to get on that boat.

Leaving Alexander on the dangerous streets of Greece wasn’t one of my smartest moves, but I walked up to my local laundrette and succesfuly got my first job. I felt instant releif that I had got a job. My name is Phoebe Gallanis and I have to leave Greece with my younger brother due to the civil war going on. Now it's only me and Alexander.

After weeks of working I finally saved up enough for two tickets on board the Patris which left from Piraeus. For a moment I saw my whole life ahead of me. I felt a spark of hope. Soon enough, Alexander and I were boarding the Patris. It's aboout a six to seven week sail to Australia but it's worth it. I felt proud of myself. I had got my brother and I on a boat to Australia all by myself. We were 3 days into the trip. The room on the boat was dark and claustaphobic, mould was growing in the bathroom and the whole boat stunk of fish and mould. Alexander was terribly sea sick and was constantly throwing up. There were moments where I wouldve loved to have parents with me. Thinking about that made me tear up. I tried to stay strong for Alexander but it was so hard. At breakfast, I spoke to a lady, her name was Athena. Her home had been destroyed by war, just like me. She was around 50 and reminded me of my mother. As the boat trip went on, Athena and I grew closer and closer. The day we arrived in Australia was one of the best days of my life. We arrived on the 2nd of January. The air was warm and fresh. Alexander took my hand and we hopped in the car that was taking us to our immigration hostel in Carlton, Athena joined us on the journey. When we arrived at the hostel I squeezed Alexander’s hand tight. The hostel wasn’t what I expected. It was old and rusting and made out of tin. I didnt care though. Everyday I woke up I felt a sence of releif, that Alexander and I were safe. I applied for a visa and citizenship. I was able to work as after the war Australia was in need of unskilled labour.  I started working at a local fish and chip shop. I hated it. I didnt want to say anything in case I sounded ungrateful. I was paid minimum wage and I was poorly treated. Waking up was deppressing. It was difficult as I could speak little English. Alexander was going to school finally, with other Greek children from the hostel.  He also was struggling with school, he didnt know much Engilish and he was bullied because of his skin colour. My dream was to own my own restaurant. I would name it “Alexandros Grill” after my father Alexandro.  He saved his money just so me and Alexander could enjoy food just as much as he did. Years passed and I had finally started a restaurant. It wasn’t what I thought it would be. I was working long hard hours and still I wasn’t paid much. The restaurant was rarely busy and I was usually bored of waiting for customers. Alexander was blooming at school. All the money I earned went into his school. Alexander was older now, so he started to help out at the restaurant. He hated it, but I needed it. Having someone helping me was amazing. Everyday the restaurant got buisier and busier and I was estatic. I took a low wage, but I loved my job. We moved out of the small  apartment we were crammed into. We were living with several families, including Athena  and I bought my first house. Life was going smoothly and most importantly me and Alexander were happy. I missed my parents dearly and missed them more and more every day. I know they would be proud of all the challenges I have overcome, and all that I have acheived in Australia. Living in Carlton was so different to living in Greece., for Alexander and Phoebe Galanis.

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The boat had been rocking back and forth and back and forth for what feels like an eternity. After stopping at Port Said in Yemen, I thought that we were practically there. It's been rough. Not just the rocking of the boat but Luca has been crying every night about Mami and Pappa. I’m trying to stay strong for him but it’s hard. I can’t blame him though, after finding out that your parents have been blown up, you would expect that an eight year old would cry a lot. I try to cheer him up by talking to him about the fun times we had with Mami and Pappa, like when we buried Pappa in the sand one summer. But now it is a dreary old winter in 1947. The salt from the endless ocean water stings my eyes and I look around at all of the other 170 people here on this boat, some crying, some praying and some just lying on the ground and not moving. We’re lucky that we have each other.

“Just ‘n’ hour to go folks' ' says the co-captain of the Misr, our boat. “We are about to dock at Fremantle Harbour.” Everybody took a sigh of relief and started talking excitedly amongst themselves. I woke Luca up who was asleep at the time. “Luca, LUCA, we’re arriving in an hour”. “really…?” Luca groaned as sat up from his deep sleep. “Yes! Quickly, pack your stuff in this paper bag so we can get off the boat as quickly as possible.” I looked around for any of my belongings and pulled my inflatable bed off the floor and looked at what was there. The only two things I had from Mami and Pappa. The last present Mami and Pappa gave to me before they passed, a notebook and 2 pencils. I loved drawing and when I opened this I was ecstatic. And the stack of letters Pappa sent to us while he was away at war. Mami treasured this more than any other thing that she owns. She used to say that it was the only thing that kept her going during the war, and that she would start thinking that Pappa was dead but once she got that special letter, she was as happy as anything. I remember that she danced around the table at night, and we would get a very special dinner.

“Ten pounds”. I didn’t get a word of what the officer at Fremantle Harbour said. “ Uh…  Kaitlyn we need a Maltese translator.” I didn't get a word of that either. Soon a nice looking lady with silky long dark brown hair who looked like she was in her mid 20’s rounded the corner into our booth. “These kids are Maltese and need to pay ten pounds to get in ”. The man said to the nice lady. “Hello lovelies” The nice lady said in a language that we could actually understand. Her voice sounded like she drank a pot of honey each day. “This man was just saying that unfortunately you will need 10 pounds to be able to come into Australia.” I looked in the little paper bag that I found on the boat. 28 pounds and 42 shillings, my notebook and pencils, and Pappa’s letters. “Here you go”. I said to the kind lady. “My name is Kaitlyn by the way.” She said. “Thank you so much Kaitlyn.” And off we went to start our new lives….

“Maria… I’m cold.” This was not what  I expected our new lives to look like. Here we were, lying in the middle of a sidewalk, somewhere in Perth. “Let's play a game, how about we….. Try to pronounce the roads around here.” “Ok, I guess. You can do… That one.” He pointed at a big sign where lots of cars were coming out of. “Mmaannduuraahh rroaadd.” I said I was trying my best to make my voice sound English. “You were way off, it is, mmanuuraaddhh. See that sounded way better.” “Yeah yeah. But seriously can you do me a favour and get some rest, please. I’m going to try and find us a place to stay tomorrow, which will take a lot of energy, so get some sleep.” I say. I hope that we can survive here.

“OH MY GOODNESS CHILDREN.” I woke at the sound of this, and turned to see Kaitlyn hurriedly running towards us. “Are you alright?” I looked at her oblivious to what she had said to us. “Oh sorry my bad.” She said now in Maltese. “Yeah.” I say groggily, after abruptly waking up to Kaitlyn's  screaming. “Have you been sleeping here for the whole night?” She says very concerned. “Yes and why might you be here?” Luca says waking up now himself. “This is on the way to the harbour that I work at, but children you can't stay here, it's not a very safe place.” “Well where else do you expect us to go?” I say. “Well I’m not in the best situation to have you kids stay at my house, but if I remember correctly there is a place that you can stay called New Norcia, i’m pretty sure. I can try to get you there, and it's only 200 kms out of Perth. Does that sound good?” I looked at Luca, and he looked back at me and I think that we were both thinking, this is the start of our new lives.

“Wow.” Luca exclaims as we walk towards the massive brass doors of New Norcia. “Welcome children.” A strange lady wearing an odd black and white headdress walks towards us speaking English. “Hello? Can you please respond to me.” The odd lady said. “We only speak Maltese.” I say, and the lady thinks I'm speaking gibberish. “Well I don't know what you're saying but if you don’t speak English this is going to be hard.” She says. She gestures to follow her, and we do. She leads us to a small, dark and damp room. It didn’t look horrible, but it was cold. I wasn’t sure what she said next but I am pretty sure that she said,“This is your room now”, so I walked in and Luca followed. “Is this where we’ll be staying, Maria?” Luca said with a slight bit of worry in his voice. It reminded me of when we were at the Grand Harbour in Valletta back at home. “I guess so.” I replied with hesitation.

A few hours later there is a slight knock at the door. I go to open it. Another strange lady with a weird headdress is at the door.  “Are you the children who can’t speak English?” I don’t answer. “I guess so.” The lady says. “Well, I don’t know why I’m bothering talking to you, but Mother Claire said that I must give you dinner.” She handed me two plates filled with what looked like a very disgusting oatmeal or some kind of meaty stew. “Thank you.” I say, but she screws up her face and walks away. “From the time of day, I’m guessing that this is dinner.” I say to Luca while handing him the plate. “It’s about time,” Luca says with hunger in his eyes. “I’m starving.” He starts  digging into his meal. “Excuse me for a second.” He says and walks over to the bin with a mouthful of the stew kind of thing… and vomits. “Oh Luca, that bad?” I say with a laugh. Once he’s done he looks up and says, “Ya think…”

Months have flown past and it’s almost my 17th birthday. Throughout this time, I have almost filled my entire notebook, and I have learnt a bit of English, so I can speak a whole sentence fluently, and I can understand what people say in English, but I can’t respond. We made a few friends, like Sky and Jedda, who are Aboriginal kids whose parents passed away a few months ago, but they got adopted last week and now we are alone. We have bullies as well, who call us mean names, but usually I punch them in the face. “Hi guys.” It startles me and I turn around to see Mother Claire and Sister Edith, who is the one who gave us our dinner on the first night that we were here. “Hello.” I say and Luca waves, he doesn't know much English yet. “There is someone here who has requested to see the two of you.” Mother Claire says, and before either of us have a chance to reply, a nice looking lady, with long silky dark brown hair turns the corner. “Hello children.” She says in Maltese. “KAITLYN!” I yell as soon as she says that. It takes Luca a second to realise but then he joins in. “Why are you here?” Luca asks. “Well remember when I told you about this place, and I said that I wasn't in the best financial situation, well now I have a house, able to fit at least 10 people in, and I also have a Maltese lady there now.” “We're probably not related to them, because the only family member that we left in Malta was our Nanna.” Luca says with a bit of disappointment in his voice. “Well either way,” Kaitlyn says. “Would you two like to come home and stay for a while?” Luca and I look at each other with the same expression. This is the real start.

THE END

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It was the year 2013. The hot humid air drains the energy of Jason, who is a sixteen year old high school student and is walking back to his flat. He passed the nearby MRT station in Punggol, Singapore. He clambered up the stairs to his apartment. Opening the door, he found his younger brother crying in the corner.

“ What happened?” asked Jason, dropping his bag on the floor and walking over to Aiden

“Dad died at work ”, sobbed Aiden. “His colleague said that he fainted while he was working, they tried to wake him up and even sent him to a hospital, but the doctor concluded that he had died of a heart attack, due to overwork."

Jason felt his blood turn cold and stood still in shock, when his brain processed the information that Aiden had given him, he started feeling tears well up in his eyes. Realising that their only relatives, who were their Aunt and Uncle, were living in Australia, he knew that they would have to leave their homeland and migrate to Australia, and start a new life there…

After explaining the situation to Aiden, the two brothers decided that they would              write a letter to to their Aunt and Uncle,

This is what it said:

Dear Aunty Cherylin and Uncle Darren,

Our Father has passed away from overwork, and as you are our only relatives left, you have to take care of us. Would it be possible to move into the home of our only family members?

Kind regards,

Jason Wang and Aiden Wang

A reply came quickly via email, saying that they would love to take care of Jason and Aiden.

Tickets had been purchased, after the two boys applied for family visas, they spent the  next few weeks packing their belongings and getting ready to depart to Australia.

After the 7 hour flight, they landed in Melbourne. Stepping out of the plane, they were greeted by the cold winter wind. They met up with their Aunt and Uncle and had a small family reunion, their Aunt and Uncle drove them to a suburb called Mount Waverley. During the drive, Aunt Cherylin told them that she had enrolled them into Mount Waverley Secondary College and Mount Waverley Primary School, she also complained that she had to pay the extra $20,000 for student international fees.

Over the next few years, their Aunt and Uncle applied for Australian citizenship for Jason and Aiden, and as they were below 18, Jason and Aiden didn’t have to take all the tests and interviews to get their Australian citizenship. Uncle Darren had also filled out the child adoption form, so that Jason and Aiden could legally live together with their Aunt and Uncle.

Jason studied hard throughout his high school years and realised that he wanted to get a job as a doctor.

He went to Monash University, which was one of the best Universities in Australia that taught medicine.

After studying for many years in Monash, he graduated and became a doctor. Jason made it his life long goal to save as many people as he could, because he didn’t want to see any more people die like his Dad.

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On the foggy morning of 10 July 1940 a British passenger ship arrived into The port of Liverpool. The Durena, the boat that had just docked, held just over 2500 passengers. The ship had come rescuing German, Jewish refugees  all trying to escape  the mainland of Europe before they got killed . Among the crowd there was a 15 year old boy Heidel Glikes travelling with his older brother who was 18 their parents had sent them away for safety in the Uk , as the Second World War had just broke out and as Hitler wanted to capture all Jewish people.

They knew they were going to have a hard time in the Uk as no one trusted them as they were still  Germans that started the war and were called Enemy Aliens as a way of separating them apart from others. As they came off the boat they were guided to the customs office where they were told to wait there until further notice. The small two story building filled up slowly and slowly until all 2500 people were crammed in, leaving hardly any place to breathe. Everyone was clueless of what was going on. When would they get out and live the dream life? They stayed in that building near the port for three days with barely any food and water to survive. The officers finally came back at 7.00 am on the 4th day with five  tattooed  men that looked like they had not seen the sun in days. They walked in with officers surrounding them.  Without any explanation the passengers were guided back to the boat they came on. The ship which had been docked for 4 days.  Everyone was confused, more officers came with wooden cargo crates that looked to be filled with oatmeal packets, the crates came in hundreds looking to feed 2500 people for months on end giving a hint that they would be on a long voyage.

After all the passengers had boarded and all cargo crates had been loaded the officers came on deck with a megaphone, and saying

“You are not wanted here by the British Government, for the past 3 days we have been looking for the crew to captain the ship , the only people ready to do that were these prisoners granted freedom if they get you to Sydney, Australia. Even though the officer had explained what had been going on only a few people understood as barely any of them spoke or understood English. Before the word got around and were able to translate what the hell was going on,  the boat started to drift off into the Irish sea, when they could barely see the British coast, the prisoners pulled out their guns the officers had given them and guided  everyone under deck with all their luggage on deck they were locked in, Tortured. No food for days.

The two boys Heidel  and Ezra  had a tough time assimilating as  they were younger and picked on more and as no one could pronounce Heidel name and was made fun of for having a different name. The boys always got dirty jobs like cleaning the toilet, washing dishes and  washing clothes. The boys were fine as they had been doing these jobs back in Germany but The boys Heidel Glikes and his brother Ezra Glikes  had nothing underdeck; the boys had no clue how they would contact their parents. Both boys had hardly heard of Australia, As they had never had any sort of education. All they learned was  from cleaning dishes and  working at their parents bakery Switzer’s since 6 years old  for both boys. On deck the crew dug through all suitcases and bags  looking for valuable things like cash, jewellery and  and other valuable items no one knew  what had been going on.

Sixty days later of brutal torture they landed in Sydney. They were loaded into buses  then taken to the local train station having no clue what had been going on. There were two trains everyone told to get on either one of them both going to internment camps, one train  going to Hay and the other going to Orange. The two boys chose the one going to Hay. The train ride there was 8 hours long, a tough ride with no food and water on a scorching hot day.

They were  always bored and had no friends but each other. The boys favourite time of day was where they met their only friend, the old Irish man who taught them English. Who they met at the camp after doing the chores for the day,  he was the only person who respected and accepted them. He was kind and treated them like sons. After an eternity of time, They got to leave, but sadly we had to leave our friend behind.

They  took a train to Melbourne, they  were forced to work several jobs to pay for rent and finally had enough money to live in a small apartment. They  were 23 and 26. When they  still worked several jobs until we were able to start renting a bakery to carry our parents legacy they named the bakery Glikes. They  used our parents' famous bagel and challah recipe and only made those breads to start off with. Their bakery became more and more popular as time went on. They bought their own shop when they gained citizenship in 1956 when the Olympics were taking place  in Melbourne.They bought more and more shops until they became the most  popular bakery in Malvern , Glen Iris and St Kilda. Success!! But one thing always was missing in their life: their Parents…

“Several years later” On the foggy morning of  August 30th  a British passenger ship docked on Princess Pier with an old couple staring right into Ezra and Heidels Heart, it was their parents.

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Steam blows in my face, for a split second I forgot what was happening around me. My Mother insisted on teaching me how to make Fufu before I leave. Fufu is a starchy ball of dough, although it sounds plain it is usually served with a variety of soups and stews. It is the easiest and cheapest thing to make. Suddenly my eyes started to water and a teardrop ran down my face. It was then I realised it was the last day I had with my Mother. Me as well as about six other families had scheduled a walk to a refugee camp on  the border of Ethiopia. Australia was giving away a couple thousand humanitarian visas to people from the DR Congo. Luckily, I had sent out my application about a year before and had finally got a reply and been accepted.

My name is Gloria Banza, I'm 19 and I have to leave my country. The civil war in Congo has been going on for a year. It's taken my whole life away. After my Father was shot to death whilst fighting in the war my Mother insisted on me to leave, she couldn't handle the thought of any more family members being killed.

The walk to Ethiopia takes around 2 days to make it to the border. When I heard this, I was a bit surprised, it didn't sound like that much walking.

I had been walking for a day now, it was much harder than I had expected. Other families have things to keep them entertained, like singing or dancing. I was the only one walking alone, it made me sad. I started to imagine how much happier I'd be if I was with all of my family.

In the distance I could see what looked like thousands of small white tents. The group shouts and screams, we were there, we had made it.. As the day gets darker and darker the harder it gets for me to fall asleep, whilst the wind picks up and hits the white fabric material of the small tents makes it almost impossible to sleep.

The government had planned out a plane to take us to the Sydney airport, and then a bus to the Villawood immigration detention centre. After spending two weeks in the camp the plane had reached dirt ground in Ethiopia. Having to show a boarding pass I board the plane and claim my spot.

There were no windows in the plane, there was no easy to tell when the plane would land or where you were. The plane rocks sideways signifying that the plane had finally landed after thirteen hours. The crowd pushes and shoves to see the airport and the huge building just landed next to. There was a guy in a soldier-looking  uniform that was on the plane when we got on there. He led us to a road next to the airport with a bus waiting patiently for us to all get on there. There were seats on the bus which had mostly been taken up by old women and families. The bus’ engine rumbles and grumbles and starts to move.

Finally, I had reached the villawood immigration detention centre in Sydney. Beep Beep the sound of the security scanners signify that i'm not dangerous, I have no weapons. The reception lady took me on a tour of the detention centre starting at my room. It was nothing special; there was a bed, a toilet and a sink. Next we walked over to the dining area, there were three long tables with cheap stools. The chefs were scraping the food into a heated container being blocked by a thin sheet of glass. Slop, Slop, Slop, the food looked and sounded disgusting. Finally I had time to myself to relax, walking into  my room and jumping on my bed. I hear a crack, that's not good.

2 Years later

I have gotten a job at my local school as a cleaner and lifes finally feeling good again, I been studying english everyday with the help of a translator that the detention centre gave me. Since I have been here for quite a while they are pushing me to buy an apartment and to live on my own. I have been looking a bit, and I found one in the local town near me which was pretty cheap. I met a man my age named Taye who came from Ethiopia, living in the room next to mine. We talk everyday and show each other the activities we do at one another's home country. I showed him how to thread a wooden necklace and he showed me how to fish at the pond near the detention centre. Everyday I get more and more excited to see him. We made plans to move into an apartment together (to save money). I'm in contact with my Mother and get letters from her every so often. I like hearing from her and hearing what's going on with my sisters and brothers. I hope that one day we will connect in person.

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Looking outside, the sky was pitch black. All Lina could see was the stars glimmering behind a thick layer of dust. It had currently been a year since Saddam Hussain invaded Iran, and later on started havoc between the two countries.

Lina knew the risks of travelling at night by herself. Yes, she was 19, but many common misfortunes happen at night. - Kidnapping, burglary, gunfire. Especially in times of war…

Stuffing as much as she could  in her plastic bag, she navigated her way outside. In her plastic bag, she had clothes, food, bottled water, a stash of coins plus notes, Lina’s papers, and many pictures of her family that she miserably lost in the war. Lina heaved her plastic bag beside her, making a dense mark on the gravel. Then, she slowed down, ending up staring woefully at her clear bag, gracefully dampening her tears with her handkerchief as she went.

It would be a whole 10 days to walk from Al Anbar (Iraq) to Al Mafraq (Jordan). Then 16 hours from Al Mafraq to Australia. But walking across the Syrian Desert would be the hardest part. With the Syrian desert, it is unconquered which makes it very difficult and dangerous to cross.

Day and night was walking, eating and sleeping. It continued that way for 8 more days until Lina reached the border of Iraq. With bruises and scratches all over her, she got out her papers to show the guards.

First, one man, very tall and slim, looked at the papers scanning it back and forth with his eyes. He nodded his head and took Lina’s bag to inspect it. Then, he opened the zip from the suitcase, and scoured through Lina’s stuff. “Very well,” the man said, satisfied. “Thank you,” she stopped for a moment, catching her breath. “But,” the man interrupted, “the government will allow you to enter, only as a visitor. You will not be able to apply for a job.”

He stepped backwards, and led Lina to the gate. The gate was around 3 metres tall. It was very old, and rustic.

Lina secured her bag and carried it alongside her as always. She had felt proud crossing the border of Iraq to Jordan. But the journey hasn’t stopped there. After walking a couple of hundred metres, it was like a new world crawled upon Lina. She had spotted a few archaeological sites.

When she arrived in Al Mafraq, Lina was confused. All she could see was what looked like the headquarters of the Jordanian Army, and little of a village. Grabbing her map, she made her way to the airport which was not too far away.

After the security, Lina boarded the plane. It would be her first time on a plane.

It was an agitating ride, but she made it.

“Alright, everyone off the plane. We are in Melbourne, Australia,” called out a flight attendant.

As Lina exited the Airport, she was astonished with the nature surrounding her. No more desert. No more sand storms. Lina felt sick. Australia was so different from Iraq that it was like a whole new world.

And she wasn’t alone. There were different people in the suburb she was in. A suburb named Dandenong.  As she explored, she was given a cold stare by a few citizens around her.  But that didn’t bother her. All that mattered was that she was safe. Finally safe.

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Marhaba Balj mi, my name is Marlou Deng, I am a twenty-five-year-old from Sudan. I came from a big town in Sudan called Malakal, I grew up there with my brothers. It was a big place. Even though everyone loved each other, we were very poor and never had much food. I always used to dream about being in the US or somewhere nicer than where I lived at the time. My town is at the top right

I also had dreams of being a professional basketball player. So every night when I was young I stayed up  very late to create my own equipment.  I also made things such as cones and etc. I wanted to move myself and my family away from Sudan but we just didn't have the money. If we did, I would go to the NBL draft   tryouts.

When I was thinking about going to the tryouts, I was always thinking I would one hundred percent make it, because I was 6’2 at the time and I wasn't too bad at basketball. I was desperate, so I started working for  money. Any time there was something needed to be done, I would do it, but only sometimes I would be paid. After such a long time and so many jobs done, I had enough. Something happened though.

I had just found out that people from a place that I had never heard of were sponsoring me and my family. They came from a place called Blacktown? I didn't know what that was at the time, until I found out they had heard about our lives and how we had no money or food, so they decided to bring us over to Blacktown, Australia for a better life for us. We were so excited when we found out that we were moving away from our town, but there was a couple problems for me. I was a young, black teenager that was 16, that's the Australian age that most Sudanese boys commit crime and police offences, that isn't the only reason. The second reason was I didn’t speak the language. That was definitely the hardest part of moving. So it was three weeks until we were moving to Australia, I was starting to pack my things into a basket.

I didn’t have very much at the time, all I had was a basket, fava beans, cow fur to keep me warm, a compass, a map, and my great great great grandfather's ring he handed down from generation to generation. After a couple weeks of using up as much of the town as I could, it was finally time to leave. The time we left was 3 in the afternoon. We arrived in Blacktown, Australia 17 and a half hours later. The time we arrived was 7;30 in the morning. We didn't know what to expect, we had never seen anything like this before.

When we arrived, it was beautiful. Along with that, we finally met the people who sponsored us, they were  such wholesome people. They gave us so many things like money, flowers, things for our health, Australian food and many more things to help us assimilate. After being in Sydney for just a few months I thought it was time for me to start training basketball, but I remember my mum telling me the tryouts were NEXT WEEK. I wanted this bad, we found out that in Australia, you don’t need to pay to try out unlike in the US where you do. It was a miracle, and even better, they were in Sydney!

I used up the money I saved to buy some athletic clothes. After weeks of waiting, I was in the tryouts! They were so tiring but there was only one which was quite good. The tryout was 6 hours long. Doing drills, showing off skills they announced who was going to play in the league just by the end of the training? I thought it was weird but now I'm glad they did it like that because… I was picked! They talked to me at the end of all of it and said I was nothing like the others. That was definitely my favourite part of my journey.

I went home around 6:30 and my Mum and family were so excited for me and for them. They knew this would be a fresh start to live in a safer, better environment. My first game is the first game of the NBL season! I’m playing with people such as Jerome Randall! I  was so  excited that I could finally try paying back my mother and family back for all of their support when I was growing up.  Finally I was living the life my family and I wanted, Finally.

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Why We Left

War.

The only reason why most people living in the South left. A civil war in Vietnam had just ended, and people were fleeing after the South surrendered. Poverty spread while hope became scarce. I was scared. I was eight at the time and had no idea what was going on. My father and many other males in our large family had been requested to assist in the war. But we were too afraid to fight. Why did we have to fight when we had nothing to do with it? My family has not caused any conflict, so why do we need to risk the lives of our family members? We were not selfish! Many from the south were already fleeing in 1976. I’m still saddened that My siblings and I were born in a mess we had not created. No one in my family did. That’s why we left.

This is how we left.

I can barely remember when looking back. There was fighting and poverty all around us yet suddenly, we were on our way to freedom.

On our way from Ho Chi Minh city to Ca Mau.

My hope came back.

We were to set out on a small and defected boat in Ca Mau. I called it The-not-so-good-boat, because of its defects. Barnacles all over the bottom of the boat, ropes and support logs scattered everywhere, and many, many other families. Our boat left in 1980, what I know now as the last year boats ever left the docks of South Vietnam. Meaning that the last families hurried onto the last boats to make their escape.

This caused our boat to be extremely crowded. Kind of like it was at home with all my relatives. But not the comforting type of crowded. It was more of an alarmed and desperate sort of crowded. ‘Tuyet, go with Cuc and keep an eye on Duyen.” My mother whispered to me in Vietnamese. My youngest brother, Sang in her arms. He was only 2 years old. Cuc is my older sister, whilst Duyen is my younger one. Cuc, the eldest sister, weaved around the tall crowds with me trailing behind her. I noticed my older sister in the back of the small boat with a small map of the world. Circles drawn around the countries, Malaysia and Indonesia.

Soon, in one of those countries, my family would live in…as refugees…in a refugee camp.

I don’t remember much, since I was only little, but my older sister, Cuc told me all the details when I was old enough to know what happened on our journey.

Food, as well as space, lacked. The sea was rough and I felt terribly sea sick. Seven days of rocking back and forth, clinging onto my father, wishing the sick feeling in my stomach would just disappear.

Luckily, almost two days later, I could see land. It was Malaysia.

I never saw what happened. My father and many others on the boat went to ask for permission to stay in Malaysia as refugees, but I do remember being at the back of the boat. Watching as my sister, Cuc took out one of what I called Cuc’s-special-jewels. Duyen was watching too. It was a pretty green colour. What I now know as jade. I saw her lift the necklace towards her neck, but hesitated. Then decide to put it back in a red piece of cloth and tie it tightly at the ends. Jade is commonly known as a lucky stone, and as Cuc put it aside, the luck washed away. The hopeful smiles that left our boat, came back as sad and dejected ones.

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It made my hope disappear once again. “Off to Indonesia!” My father cheered. Though I could hear the uncertainty in his voice. “I just know that we’re going to be luckier this time!” My Mother yelled, trying to help out my father. Except this time, my Mother sounded sure. She said that she knew, and judging by the way she said it, with hope in her voice, I believed her.

That made my hope come back.

I sat near Cuc once again, I yanked her red pouch and reached in for the Jade necklace. “Wear it,” I stated loudly, “we need good luck! You know that.” The last bit sounded a bit harsh. I could tell from her face that it stung her slightly. But at least it was persuasive. She nodded and…hesitated again. Why? Is she ashamed? Ashamed of what though? “What if I lose it? It’s very precious to mum!” Cuc whispered angrily in a thick Vietnamese accent. I simply grinned and held out my pinky towards her chest. “I promise that I’ll make sure that you don’t lose it,” I said to her, and I knew that I would not break my promise. I could feel it in my gut. She wrapped her pinky around mine and we pressed our thumbs together.

When Cuc put on the necklace, it seemed like it radiated luck. It shone under the bright sun.

I just knew that we were going to be lucky this time.

And…we were! As our boat shook nervously at the dock as hopeful people jumped excitedly off it, I shook nervously too. We waited for about 20 minutes. Cuc was clenching hard on her lucky Jade whilst I was holding Duyen in my lap. As she struggled to be free from my grasp. That’s when we got the news.

Refugees were allowed in! We were allowed in! I was overjoyed. I jumped about, making the boat shake and wobble. I hugged my little sister tight. While yelling at Cuc, “It worked! I knew it! I knew it!”

My hope was flooding! Flooding with excitement and relief. We would be safe. Safe from violence.

For about two years we stayed in a refugee camp. Dirty and modest. Whilst here, I hoped it wasn’t for long and my hopes were proven to be right. There was a Committee Of Foreign Affairs And Defence. That allowed us to be sponsored to Australia.

We got sponsored by one family on my mum’s side from Adelaide. I went from sleeping in an old camp to flying on a plane for the first time. It was the first time for most people in our family. I have to admit, it was exciting, but not as comfortable as I thought it would be. But I was still glad that we were on our way to freedom. My hope was pounding inside of me. My promise to Cuc will not be broken. I watched the shiny Jade like a hawk. (It was also a way for me to pass the time on the plane)

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Then we made it. Adelaide. It was warm and welcoming in our relative’s home, I sort of felt…at home. Though I was slightly skittish towards (what I call) the relative-that-lived-so-far-away, I got used to them. They had helped us after all. I made a promise to myself that I would behave for them. So that I could return the favour towards them. It’s not equivalent to how they helped us, but it’s what I could do. I kept that promise for very long.

I always keep my promises. It makes me just the slightest bit more…whole.

My father was switching between jobs quite often. As a refugee who recently immigrated, you try to get any job you can. My father had no skills in Australia. Because what skills he had in Vietnam, he didn’t qualify for in this new country.

I remember hearing that my grandfather had a few ice cream shops in Ho Chi Minh City. My father helped in that business, but it was shut down because the South was being invaded, and more specifically, Ho Chi Minh City. But that was all in the past. He worked in a few factories like most new immigrants did.

As for me, I go to school now, and I’m making new friends. School to me felt quite easy. I was like all the other kids. I worked hard and made sure to try my best. I socialised like all the other kids, there was no problem. I remember hearing my mother telling me to watch out for weird and rude people. So I did. I kept it like a promise.

The next thing I knew, we were on our way to Melbourne. In a suburb called Richmond. To stay with my grandfather and the family that sponsored him. (Our family was divided in small chunks when moving to Australia)

As a stop, we stayed with a family relative in Yarraville. They were very bubbly. Like they didn’t have a care in the world! It felt comforting and safe. Like I was one of them. A week later we moved again. This time to our original destination. Richmond. Or as my mother put it, home.

The garden was flooded with plants. Flowers were seeping out of the fence, trying to be free and have a bit more space to grow. I didn’t get why I noticed that at the time, but it felt slightly familiar. They didn’t want to escape, but they needed to. To grow.

After working in a pie factory, my father, his sister and his brother in law decided to use their business skills to start a Grocery shop. It was just an asian grocery store, but it was our family business. I felt quite proud to be part of it. I helped bring produce in and stack them on the shelves. It was a small business, but it was enough to bring money in for our big family.

My littlest brother was born here in Australia. The safe country to live in.

The Grocery shop didn’t last long because my parents were getting tired. All the carrying and moving around was exhausting for them. Especially when working six days a week. So they made a deal with another one of my father’s brother-in-laws. He was a chef. One thing led to another and soon, our family was working in a restaurant. As foggy as my memory is, (since I was only a teenager at the time) I can barely remember the name of the restaurant, but I’m pretty sure that it was called Tan Tan. It went on until our chef got very sick. And Tan Tan closed down.

But oh well. Life happens.

There were many losses. But I can’t give up. And one thing about this family that I will never forget, no matter how much time passes, is that we never break our promises.

And I promise to never lose hope.

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My name is Ali.We live in the capital of Somalia Mogadishu. I'm 12 years old and my family is on the verge of losing our lives. I'm  from Somalia and with the current state that my country is in, if we don't flee we could be killed. There is  internal fighting between rebel clans of natives. There are also  many more  reasons apart from War:  Famin, and Drought are causing many to leave.

This is my story

Whoooosh, The humid and sticky wind howls as we sit in our hut made from nothing but a few sheets of wool and a few, dusty, old sticks.. It's a 45 degree day. None of us have eaten or drank anything for the past week, We are starving. In the distance we can hear gunfire, explosions. My family fears the worst for us.

We sit down as a family in our hut which is the only thing we have to protect us from the blistering heat surrounding us. We discussed whether we should stay in our home country or flee. We think about the risks of fleeing, Possibly running into warzones, dehydration or even being killed. My parents decide if we stay any longer those things we had discussed, Could very well happen even if we stay.

We come to the agreement that we will flee. It's an incredibly hard decision for my parents as they have grown up here and have generations of family members here, But it's our only shot at  freedom, More importantly, Safety. We came up with a plan to leave early in the morning, More like 2-3 AM. We fell asleep that night with my mothers bag packed with only a few simple things. My bear that my Great Grandfather had sown out of wool many years ago, A small bottle of water from the water hole, And a picture of a family photo. I fall asleep on the floor. It's incredibly uncomfortable but it will have to do for a few hours.

The next morning I was awoken by my Father. I put my clothes on, Which are just a pair of sandals made from straw , and a pair of shorts. My mother gets her bag and we begin our journey. We are headed to the border of Somalia where Ethiopia awaits us. In the distance we see flames lighting up the night sky and what seems to be the outline of buildings which have been almost demolished. Its pitch black. The visibility is incredibly low because of the smoke, As we hope for the best,  while walking in complete darkness. A few hours later, The sun came up. With another 45 degree day bound to happen we need to pack our supplies. We found a water hole. So we get our  bottles and fill them up. That's all we have alongside a sheet of wool my father packed to prevent us from blistering sunburn.

After hours and hours of non stop walking we finally reach the Ethiopian border. My family and I are starving and so thirsty my throat feels like the ground I'm standing on, Dry, Bone dry. There are approximately 3000 fellow citizens making the journey toward the border. This is a humanitarian disaster,We get picked up by an SUV. Inside are the Ethiopian Border Police. We thank them. They give us an apple and a bottle of water each. As soon as the icy cold water touched the back of my throat. I knew we were safe, Finally some peace, No more war, and…….... Finally, Some water.

After the car ride we found ourselves in the capital of Ethiopia, Addis Ababa. We had never seen anything like it. Cars, Buildings, People, Lots of them. And food! We had been specially assigned to our own room for the week in a block of flats for immigrants like us. When we got there, we found a bed! not just one of 2 of them I jumped on it and sank into the soft mattress. I felt safe. And so did my parents for the first time in what felt like forever.

We spent the night there. Safe and sound away from all the war and violence.  Finally we had some peace. The next morning I woke up. My Mum and Dad were talking to a man who was from a place called the Ethiopian immigrant patrol. As I was just waking up I heard something about Australia. I didn't think much of it until a few hours later at breakfast my parents brought me the news. We had gotten plane tickets to australia. I couldn't believe it. As sad as it was having to move from the country I had grown up in and created so many memories in.  I was happy for my parents who had sacrificed everything to keep me safe and create the best possible life for me. I was so grateful and very excited to start a new life in such a great country. A few hours later my parents told me that once we arrived in Australia we would be living in a migrant hostel, actually called Broadmedows transition Immigration Centre , for a little while until the Government process and gave us our Australian Visa  as well as our citizenship eventually.

After some time,  we arrived at the Ethiopian international airport. Many other refugees from other countries such as Eritrea, Sudan, Ethiopia, and many more were also catching flights. We were catching a flight with Ethiopian airlines. A few hours after arriving at the airport our flight was ready to leave. We arrived at the gate and gave our tickets to the flight attendant and hopped onto the plane. Inside was AMAZING! I had never seen anything like it. I was incredibly excited to arrive australia. A while later our plane took off as it said goodbye to Africa. I had a tear in my eye. I'm a bit upset but also happy. I fell asleep as I was exhausted from all the walking around etc…

13 hours later my Dad  woke me up. He whispered in my ear “Ali look we are here” As I looked out of the window I saw the Australian Coast line. I could barely hold in my excitement. Our plane landed. As we were walking out of the plane I noticed it was very cold. Well compared to Somalia at least. We arrived in the airport terminal and collected our bags. We then were picked up by a bus that took us and all the refugees to a transition immigration center in the Northern suburbs of Melbourne.

After driving there we arrived. It had big tall fences with barbed wire. It almost looked like a prison, but at least we had somewhere to sleep. When we were escorted by the guards we arrived in our cabin. It was smaller than I thought. It had 2 single beds, a small couch and a chair, and  a small, old fashioned TV in the corner of the room. It also contained a small kitchen and a fridge and microwave. I couldn't believe it. It was so modern, so clean and had fancy technology that I didn't even know existed! I was so happy. We fell asleep satisfied and grateful that night in our new beds. I was so comfortable, I felt like I was in heaven. The next morning they gave us the option to learn english. We took the opportunity and were very pleased as we all adapted to the language very fast. My parents even got help looking for jobs and easy ways to earn money. And we even managed to set up our own bank account to keep our money when we worked. We were very pleased.

Those days kept on repeating and repeating week after week, Month after month, Year after year. Until 3 whole years later, I had just turned 15 years old. We got a knock on our door, it was the guards. They told us to pack our things and meet them at the front gate of the camp in 2 hours. So we packed and did as they asked. They brought us the news that we had finally gotten our Australian visa and our citizenship. We were free, We could finally live our own lifes. After years of waiting it had happened.

A Few months later after under skilled labour, we bought our first flat/Apartment in Werribee, Victoria. I had my own bed and we had a nice view. It was everything we needed.

That week I applied for my first job, just at the local McDonalds. After 2 days of applying and several interviews, I was accepted. My first ever day of work was a Monday, I caught the bus and began my shift. I earnt around $20 an hour.  Later that day I returned home. I found my parents out on the balcony enjoying the sunset, so I sat down with them. We were all happy, safe and most importantly together.

We watched the sun go down. As the warm humid wind blew on our skin. We were home.

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Kiry Li was working to get the same water and Kiry met his friend. They take for a will and he shows his home being bomnd and his perens were in the house. Kiry starts to run to Tiuland and Kiry gets there and Kiry comes with nuthing and Kiry gets a job. Kiry made money and he went to Australia and Kiry made it in 1976 at 2:00 on 10/5/1976. Kiry met his gramperants in Australia and Kiry lived with them for two years and I changed my name to Parker Li. I got money to get a house in Dandenong and Parker movied into his new house. He pulled the photo of his perants and him. Parker had done unpacking and he was setiling vore well in his new house Parker went to his job and his boss gave him a ras to asistent maniger and Parker was so happy and he runs back to his gramperants house and he told them that he got a raise at work. My grandperants went on a crosship and the cros that they were on was blon up and I got the note two days after it happend and I went up to my house.

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Democratic Republic of the Congo- Luke W

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Democratic Republic of the Congo- Luke W

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It was 1998. Slowly the coal was loaded onto the ship that will take me to a new life, the Yasa Jupiter. My name is Joseph Ntumba. I am a refugee from the DRC (Democratic Republic of Congo), there are many reasons why I left , such as my family's home being taken by the Government , our money being stolen on demand by the army using brute force, and so many more horrifying experiences which I never want to live through again.   But here is my story...

The Yasa Jupiter, a migrant ship came from Turkey, it was loading coal from the Port of Banana, located in Matadi, on the way to Port Melbourne. It’s 3 in the afternoon, I walk past the loader instructor, I see him go to  shade under a tree. He takes off his hi-vis-vest, with his badge on it and then walks up to the port's local food store. I take this as an opportunity to get on the ship, and walk over to the tree and quickly grab his vest and put it on, straight away I rush to

This is Joseph

the entrance of the ship and board. not looking suspicious I feel sweat coming down my cheek. My life was flashing by my eyes. This could finally be the chance to escape my wretched Government. If I got caught I would be sent to prison, or thrown off the ship. Walking towards the Captain I nodded at him, he didn't suspect anything. I walk off to the cabins, and find the one that fits my badge. Then I thought to myself, that this trip will take 6 weeks, and I will have to not be suspicious or I would have to go back to my homeland.  The ship passed through the Indian ocean, and through southeast Asia to Victoria, and docked in Port Melbourne. I rushed off as soon as the first door opened, I ran off to hide as fast as I could and I had no idea where I was going.

I had arrived only with a small pouch with a few possessions and a birth certificate. For the first few nights I slept on the streets and sort accommodation with the Salvation Army, and then gained a space at The Melbourne Immigration Transit Accommodation. Not speaking the language was hard so communicating with the volunteers was a challenge.  Through the authorities, they could see that I was an individual seeking asylum and I had a need of staying in the country for my own safety, so they decided to help me get a refugee visa. I was put in touch with a man who owned a mechanic shop in North Melbourne. Brain was always willing to help people in need of a new start. While I was there he also taught me how to speak English.  I was offered a job at a local mechanic shop, however I had to prove myself.  I had no idea what I was doing but I quickly learned and it became my passion. Eventually, after being in an immigrant centre I moved in with a family for a few months. The family had one daughter called Emily who became a best friend towards me. I soon found myself  enough money to rent a small apartment and soon had to say goodbye to my family. Soon enough I was opening my own garage in town and it got some attention. Soon I was earning a lot of money and after 9 years, I got my family to come over to Melbourne with me. Brian, and the local church sponsored their arrival.

My Mama was crying when she arrived at the airport, and so was I. I told her about opening up a garage and she was so proud of me. Finally I decided to open up a garage in the city, which cost a lot and was huge. It was a risky choice but I decided to go with it. The first few days, I just realised how hard it was to run a business in the city. It took a long time for me to finish building the garage and buying all the materials I needed, and it was expensive. Me and my family were staying in Richmond in a small apartment together. I told M how the business was going, and I started to think to myself if this was really a good idea. After that a few people came and went, and I managed to hire a few people. Slowly the business grew, but then went down again. People mostly came to change their batteries, and tires. Soon enough the business was crumbling down again, and there was nothing I could do. I couldn't advertise it, I couldn't do anything at all. Soon I found it hard to start paying the rent on the apartment and then found ourselves getting evicted. We could hardly afford food, and I was starting to think it was a mistake coming to Melbourne, but I never gave up. We were sleeping with another family in an apartment, since we couldn’t afford one for ourselves. My life was flashing in my eyes back in the Congo and how terrible it was, and even though these tough times are getting us, I am so grateful I am not back there. I gained some financial help from members of the church and food was sort from the Salvation Army. The government was also helpful with rent assistance and Centalink was also helpful.

But I kept telling myself not to give up. The garage was doing better again and people were spreading the word of my talent, and soon more people and fancier cars were coming in to get washed,serviced and much more. We then moved back into the apartment, and I renovated the garage. After 2 months of renovation, The garage looked amazing and I found myself opening another one just 2km away. During the nights, I thought about how lucky I was to be here, and not back in the Congo , with the Government stealing our land and money, crops and food. And his army killed the people around us who rejected what the Government thought was right.

Now I was  an Australian resident , and very successful and was raising money to get people out of the Congo and into a safer country, to live in peace and harmony.