The Journey of Migration
By Catherine Cini — Co-ordinator of GriefLine and The Children's Loss & Grief Program
Increasingly I have more and more referrals from doctors whose patients in their twilight years present with vague medical symptoms. This low grade depression becomes a vehicle to express a deeper sorrow with no name. They tell me Australia is such a rich country, they have a nice house, their children are settled; why do they feel this way? They certainly do not want to return to their homeland……
Please accompany me on their journey, the journey of Migration.
Life in Australia has become intolerable; high taxes, working poor, unemployment, the disintegrating health system and constant terrorist attacks have left you no option, you must emigrate.
You have been unemployed for six years, you are your present age, your emotional and physical resources are low and you cannot return for 15 years once you have left – that’s the law.
You leave Australia, your home, family, children, you leave friends, extended family, community, church, clubs, sports, AFL, traditions and language.
You leave your suburb, school, city, the place, the church in which you were christened and married. Your mother is too old to travel and you know you will never see her again. You wave goodbye at the airport; she follows you and hugs you again. You cry, she cries; you turn and you leave.
You arrive in 48 degree heat and you have $50 in your pocket (all you were able to bring). You are on your own and you must find work. Everyone is speaking so fast that you cannot understand. You feel a pounding in your head and your heart is heavy with nostalgia. Eventually you are met and taken into a sweltering room with an outside toilet. You think longingly of your air conditioner at home. You look for signs, but you cannot read them. You buy a newspaper, but it is impossible! You search in vain for anyone who looks Australian – no one does.
Your anxiety level is high and self esteem faltering; your qualifications are not recognised here and your education is of no value. You must learn the language. You panic as your money dwindles and your family in Australia is counting on you. You are hot and hungry but the food smells different; you long for normal food and a good cold drink.
Eventually you realise your only employment opportunity will be manual work; housework, cleaning or manufacturing. You become anguished and resentful, however, you are told you should be grateful for being here; your neighbours view you with suspicion that you may take their jobs. They laugh at you, your clothes, speech, dreams and hopes.
With anger and determination you put one foot in front of the other and affect a general acceptance.
Eventually your wife/husband and children arrive. They are aghast at what they find – your spouse is horrified at what lies ahead. Your children are quite bright, happy and full of life, but here they are different. They must go to school even though they cannot speak the language; the teacher is stern and does not smile – a different system, different customs and fewer breaks.
Other children laugh at them, their food and their clothes – your son is punched outside the school yard, he cries!!!!
You cry too because you cannot make it better; you feel helpless; you are a parent but have few rights here, you cannot make it better for them.
You continue to work, pinching every penny while thinking lovingly of Australia.
Soon the children begin to learn the language and play the different games; you depend on them as they learn so much faster. They make friends but arrange to meet them elsewhere as they are embarrassed by you – you are different to other parents.
Your children grew up with birthday parties at MacDonalds, Christmas and football; here you can barely provide enough food. You become silent and crass with your partner; she cries and you are too tired, resulting in indifference. Slowly you realise you have no identity here. Your children are familiar with the language and the new technology and they interpret for you; you need them to apply for another job. Your self respect wanes, you become angry and your partner cries with homesickness – you cry silently too!!!!
Eventually you meet other Australians in your area, you have a barbecue, have a beer and talk of home. You live in dread that your child will marry a native which means you have to stay.
Gradually you accept that you must stay in this different world; you long for everything of your childhood. You shed your dreams, you accept and live as best you can and make sure your children will never be as vulnerable as you. You just wish!!!
Eventually you buy a little house and make a home. This home is vitally important to you because it represents security and stability; a future for your family. You try to establish an ‘Australian’ house.
Gradually you begin to experiment with strange food. You exchange recipes. At home you were a grief counsellor; here you manufacture bottle tops. You do this for 30 years.
Health is a concern; you know that Australians often have poor health in Arabia. You wonder about the doctors, cleanliness and drugs. Everything is so different.
Doctors become impatient with your lack of language. You bring in your 12-year-old daughter to interpret. You both find this embarrassing and you both lose a little dignity; she has become the parentified child.
Your wife is lonely for the values and customs of the other women but cannot as yet become part of a women’s circle. Her mental anguish is manifested in illness, this provides respite for a little time. She is now the recipient of kindness, care and attention; people visit and her spirit is nurtured. Arabia is a safe place for a little while.
You sigh and understand that it’s difficult to treat medical problems without understanding the frame of reference of the patient. If you must remain here you are determined your children will be well educated in this country. They will not manufacture bottle tops.
Your son however has different ideas and becomes aggressive, resentful, and uncommunicative. He wants to be part of the peer group ashamed of being Australian.
As a grief counsellor you search for a therapist for him. You despair as you note the marked discrepancy between the socio-cultural levels.
Some 15 years later you have saved enough money to return to Australia. You are SO excited, you constantly remind your children of the coastline, the MCG and wide open spaces. So excited are you, that you sell everything and arrive in Tullamarine.
Only 15 years have gone by, yet there are many areas you cannot recognise. Everything seems different—life has moved on. You are overjoyed to see your friends and family but the shared experiences are no longer there. You feel alienated somewhat. You are now merely a visitor and are asking curious questions like a tourist in your own land.
As a family you begin to understand you no longer belong – again the heartache! You have lost ‘home’ for the second time. You realise you had vague expectations that the clock in Australia had stopped for you.
Sadly but strangely excited you return to Arabia and smile as the now familiar landscape comes into view. You now know this strange land is your home.
Thanks to your hard work including many hours of overtime, your children have attended good schools and will have promising careers. As soon as your children marry you help them settle. You are now more integrated into the community; you no longer talk about going home; you have learnt to live with this vague feeling called displacement.
Time passes. You now have aged and you have grandchildren who are very secure. Again and again you regale them with tales of Australia. They listen very politely because they love you and they know you come from Australia.
You are now ageing rapidly. You have much time for reflection; you are proud of your achievements but at heart remain nostalgic for Australia. You know you will become more vulnerable and fragile, your health will deteriorate. At night you long for what was familiar in your youth.
However you know about grief; you know that caregivers need a deep empathy, an openness to listen to and above all, respect the silent loss.
As you look back over the migration experience you know a multi-cultural wisdom is necessary to manoeuvre through the many foreign lands from which clients come. You know that if grief counsellors are really aware, really listening, they can hear the pain, the loss and the grief that often has no voice.
This is the journey of many!!!
GriefLine is 03 9596 7799.
