By David Nyuol Vincent

 

 MELBOURNE - After 22 years of struggling for freedom, equality, dignity and respect, I have finally found a place to call home. My brand name, ‘refugee’, is slowly starting to fade. I had grown used to being called that but I guess I had no option.

 

Since my arrival in Melbourne nearly five years ago from the Kakuma refugee camp in Kenya, I am now proud to say I have managed to integrate into mainstream society.

 

It is the hope of the Australian Government and society that people like me should eventually become part of the community but, I must admit, I don’t much like the words  ‘integration’ and ‘assimilation.’

I left Sudan, the country where I was born, when I was only three-years-old. Throughout the years of agony I had a dream that one day I would be able to become a better person after I found a place to call home and then return to help those in need.

How far off is my dream? To be honest, I don’t know. I have mixed feelings and I have started to question the sincerity of my intention to resettle in this country. Let me explain why…

What happens after you arrive at the international airport is a nightmare. You become like a drop of an ink in the ocean – except that’s not quite right for people like me because of the colour of our skin. Ink dilutes and dissolves so well into the ocean that you might not even see it any more. For me, however, you become the opposite of a spotlight.

On the street, people smile at you. Perhaps they are being polite, or even welcoming. Others might smile because they saw some horrible news on TV last night and are just being sympathetic. Fair enough; thanks for the concern. But the flipside of the same coin is that other people on the same street will trot away from you just because they have been told how violent these coloured people have become.

How would you feel if someone vacated their seat on a train, bus or a tram after you sat down next to them? It cuts through the heart like a knife.

The first three months after arriving in this country is a honeymoon period. People, in general, were hospitable. After that, however, you start to search for answers to many questions. Was I really welcome?

Others would ask me: how are you finding your new life here in Australia? My answer would be ‘fantastic’ – because I could sleep soundly, there was food in my fridge, I could get medicine when I was sick, drink clean water and not hear the sound of guns. That’s the answer people want to hear. But it’s not quite the honest answer. Why am I faking?

A few months ago, I borrowed my cousin’s car. On my way home, early in the evening, I stopped at a petrol station. I went to fill up the car. But before I had even started I heard a voice through a loudspeaker asking me to prepay. With no hesitation, I replaced the pump and went inside to pay. Then I returned and filled the tank.
 Just as I was about to pull off, another car pulled in. I sat in the car, waiting to see what would happen. A man got out of his car and took the pump. I waited for the same voice over the loudspeaker. But it stayed silent. I felt so bitter I went back inside the store.

I felt as if I wanted to crush the attendant, but – thank God – I restrained myself and simply asked:  “Mate, what’s the difference between me and that guy? Why was I asked to prepay, but not him?” The attendant mumbled something, but I didn’t catch it. Having made my point I turned and left. You can just imagine how I took off from that petrol station.

I was quite emotional when I got home and barely slept. A year ago, when I received my citizenship, I was so proud of myself.  I decided to let go of the past and start a new life here in Australia. But incidents like this one at the petrol station make me wonder whether I will ever be fully Australian.

In every society there are both good and bad citizens. But people should not be subjected to different treatment just because someone who looks like them was caught doing something wrong the previous day. We all deserve to be treated fairly.

Refugees have contributed much to this nation and we will continue to do that. But it takes time to settle in a new country and adapt to new ways. Some patience is necessary – all around.  Eventually, the ink dissolves.