How did you get here?

[freakiness]

Are you an Aussie Mongrel too?   😄

see video at top of story

http://www.smh.com.au/comment/this-day-marks-great-loss-and-great-gift-20140125-31fc1.html

Belinda Lopez

My grandparents were boat people. Not asylum seekers, specifically, but they did arrive by boat, and they'd left a dictatorship in Spain that prevented the expression of culture and political beliefs. They were lucky in that they wanted to be in Australia at the same time that Australia wanted them.

This was the 1960s, and the Australian government's thirst for migrants was insatiable.

When I read the headlines today about asylum seekers/illegal arrivals/insert label here, I'm struck by the sheer luck of my family having made it to Australia at the right time, and from the right country.

There's a lack of self-reflection among Australians when we focus on the ''mode of arrival'' of those trying to come to this country, as a means of determining whether they are people who legitimately deserve be here. It's as if we've forgotten something pretty crucial: We all got here somehow.

The thought struck me on the train. Our rail network is a rich ecosystem of ethnicities and languages. Cultures morph and intermingle across stations. Everyone in my carriage had a story of arriving here somehow. And so, inspired by the Coalition government's focus on ''mode of arrival'', I started approaching strangers on trains, with a microphone.

Certain rules of non-interaction on public transport are maintained, silently. People jump when you approach them. They eye you suspiciously over their smartphones. But I persevered. I walked up to people, and I asked them: How did you get here?

Of course, I was looking for an answer to a deeper question: How had they arrived in Australia?

The initial reactions fell into three clear categories.

Many of the passengers of Anglo-Saxon heritage answered casually, telling me what station they'd hopped on at.

Foreigners living here told me how they'd arrived in Australia - through love and heartbreak, poverty, secrecy, forced opportunity and unexpected chance.

And people like me - the first-generation and second-generation Australians whose parents and grandparents had arrived here by boat or plane - sometimes answered guardedly and a little defensively. "I was born here. I consider myself Australian. I am Australian," they'd say. I got the feeling they'd been asked that question more than once.

In one memorable train ride, there were stories of dictatorial governments, of dreams about Australia drawn from soap operas, of civil war, orphans - and of course convicts. And always - mostly always - a smile when they reflected on their luck of having ended up here, whether it was two months or 200 years ago.

The people of indigenous heritage I spoke to gave the same answer in one form or another: "Well, 65,000 years ago my ancestors arrived here, and we've been here ever since."

I left the train exhausted with the weight of the stories I was carrying with me. It was strange to think I would never have known them if I hadn't asked.

There's a lot more to think about on Australia Day than the shopping list for booze and which songs might make Triple J's Hottest 100. For indigenous Australians, it's the story of survival. The public holiday marks the beginning of great loss: of separation from land, from culture, from children. For families whose ancestors were migrants, my family - and most likely yours included - the day marks the gifting of a second chance, and a second home.

What I'll also be thinking about this Australia Day is the endless potential for a great conversation with someone in this country. So go on. Try it. Ask the person next to you. And remember to ask yourself: "How did you get here?"

[i-need-a-martini]

My story is a little like the authors.

Both my parents arrived (by boat) from Italy. My father to escape being enlisted in the army at a time when fascists soldiers were rounding innocent people up, lining them against a wall, and shooting them. He couldn't go back until the late 70's when an amnesty was announced. He would have been imprisoned otherwise.

My mother was sent out here with her older sister because her family was still suffering form the after effects of the war. Basically there wasn't enough food to feed the two sisters and no prospects of marriage because all them men of marriagable age were either dead of in America or Australia. So enough money was gathered by family members to send them to Australia (who was offering cheap one way tickets at the time as they needed unskilled labour). She was 14 at the time and had no idea where Australia was.

[twinkles**stars]

Arrived by boat from the UK Feb 19th 1964

[freakiness]

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@i-need-a-martini wrote:

My story is a little like the authors.

Both my parents arrived (by boat) from Italy. My father to escape being enlisted in the army at a time when fascists soldiers were rounding innocent people up, lining them against a wall, and shooting them. He couldn't go back until the late 70's when an amnesty was announced. He would have been imprisoned otherwise.

My mother was sent out here with her older sister because her family was still suffering form the after effects of the war. Basically there wasn't enough food to feed the two sisters and no prospects of marriage because all them men of marriagable age were either dead of in America or Australia. So enough money was gathered by family members to send them to Australia (who was offering cheap one way tickets at the time as they needed unskilled labour). She was 14 at the time and had no idea where Australia was.

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I have hardly any knowledge of how I got here.

One ancestor was a ship's captain bringing supplies, not sure if he also brought convicts. His wife stayed in the UK and he had kids out here.  No idea who the mothers were.  

Another was from Europe. They turned their back on the Catholic Church until eventually the area got reclaimed and the people got the boot.  I haven't heard much about their stories and it's very hard to find information.

[carls*world]

Invited to immigrate by the Australian Government in the latter half of the 60s, as my father was a skilled and qualified tradesman, in an industry that had a genuine shortage of. Still wasn't a given instantly, as many others with similar backgrounds also accepted the invitation to the abundant, yet still limited positions. Upon successful acceptance of his application, we then boarded a ship at Southampton, and arrived some 4½ weeks later. Home was a cramped ¼ of a Nissen hut at the local migrant hostel, until, on a single wage, and raising 4 kids, he bought the family home a month later. To also help combat that shortage of tradesmen, in about 3 months after arriving, he had 2 locally born and bred apprentices under him.

A good friend I once had, in the latter days of high school, has a different story. Her family fled a place called Vietnam, surely most have heard of it, was big in the news in the late 60s and early 70s. At a cost of 3 gold ingots, her family was moved through Laos, to the eatern side of Thailand, not the ideal place to settle. However, it was a lot safer than what they left, and at that point, living in a refugee camp, considered their options for a new start in life. After making application to the Australian Govt, their position as genuine refugees was then assessed, and given not only permission, but assistance in relocating here. Very lovely people too, nothing they wanted more than to "fit in".

[the*scarlet*pimpernel]

I found this book enlightening

And it has really cool pictures

[freakiness]

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@carls*world wrote:

Invited to immigrate by the Australian Government in the latter half of the 60s, as my father was a skilled and qualified tradesman, in an industry that had a genuine shortage of. Still wasn't a given instantly, as many others with similar backgrounds also accepted the invitation to the abundant, yet still limited positions. Upon successful acceptance of his application, we then boarded a ship at Southampton, and arrived some 4½ weeks later. Home was a cramped ¼ of a Nissen hut at the local migrant hostel, until, on a single wage, and raising 4 kids, he bought the family home a month later. To also help combat that shortage of tradesmen, in about 3 months after arriving, he had 2 locally born and bred apprentices under him.

A good friend I once had, in the latter days of high school, has a different story. Her family fled a place called Vietnam, surely most have heard of it, was big in the news in the late 60s and early 70s. At a cost of 3 gold ingots, her family was moved through Laos, to the eatern side of Thailand, not the ideal place to settle. However, it was a lot safer than what they left, and at that point, living in a refugee camp, considered their options for a new start in life. After making application to the Australian Govt, their position as genuine refugees was then assessed, and given not only permission, but assistance in relocating here. Very lovely people too, nothing they wanted more than to "fit in".

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Did they have to wait for many years?

[carls*world]

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@freakiness wrote:

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Did they have to wait for many years?

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About 2 years

[donnashuggy]

My grandfather was in the navy, jumped ship, he was from Poplar in England, it must have been easier to get residency in those days I guess 🙂 oh dear, does that make him a criminal? Maybe he made up for it by serving in WW2.

[polksaladallie]

I asked, and was told to run away and play.