Different hues, different views

There seems to be a bittuva kerfuffle about Mr. K. Andrews, the incumbent Minister supposedly "responsible" for Immigration.

Now, have to say that I don't have a great deal of experience with people from other nations who arrive on Australia's doorstep - Adelaide is very much a WASP town, founded by free settlers and oh yes, there are streets and suburbs where I wander and wonder what country am in, but by and large we tend to be peaceable and integrated.

I do have contact with people from other national origins though, some who are obviously of African ancestry that I see in the local shops - some more are my customers - and have to say that they are always neatly dressed, and always polite.

Have never had experience with, nor seen "gangs" of any sort. (and oh yes, we have them, mostly bored, disaffected unemployed youths in the bleak, ticky tacky Southern housing tracts - but don't see much point in mentioning the "colour", since it's only the same pale, wishy-washed out white of Kevin Andrews, John Howard and his group of intellectually pallid politicians.)

The mother of one of my customers is a delightful elderly lady. Whenever she sees me she comes out to the front porch of the flat; dark eyes twinkling, huge smile lighting her face. Where did she come from? At a guess, probably India, don't know - bit difficult to hold a conversation. Why, you ask? Non speaka da englis??

No - in a brief conversation that I had with her daughter, who holds an executive position somewhere - was told that there were troubles in her home village some time ago, and the mother had had her tongue cut out, her eardrums pierced.

We do, however, have a great deal of fun "conversing" by waving our hands about and prancing around the lawn practicing charades.

Could she pass the "citizenship" test, Mr. Andrews? Guess not.


Another personal incident some months ago sticks in my mind, so will try to recount it in as much detail as I can muster.

Was chatting with a regular customer near his front fence when a slim, strikingly handsome young man came along the pavement. We both looked at him, and after the hello's, found that he was selling tickets to a Cancer Council Lottery. We both bought a $2.00 ticket and the customer went inside. I stayed and chatted with the young man as he seemed interested in what I was doing, and, in accented but perfect English, asked if I knew anyone who could offer him a job. I scratched my head for a while, sizing him up - but am barely pulling in enough to pay for basic expenses, let alone trying to cope with an employee, even though I could probably wangle a "private deal" .. at least, that was what went though my mind at first.

He told me that he had been in Australia for 7 months, was applying for jobs daily, but couldn't get an interview - was willing to do anything that could feed his family. I gave him the phone number of the Franchise, explained that there may be someone looking for labour, how it all worked, and told him that it would probably cost him $25,000 if he wanted to set up something similar of his own.

Found out that there were few Government assistance programs, that his savings were almost gone, and he was also trying to find another place to live as the rents in the city were so expensive. I offered him the spare room in my house. He thanked me, gave a sad sort of smile, and told me that he also had a wife and two small children.

What I have left out of this story so far, is that this man came to Australia on a "Skilled Migrant" visa, has a Law degree, as well as a Diploma in Social work; had also held good paying positions in middle to upper level clerical and management positions in his home country. As part of his visa conditions, was also required to deposit a large amount of money in an Australian bank. His wife was a medical doctor, but was busy studying for her Australian accreditation.

So, you ask, in an economy supposedly short of "workers" - why is this man walking the streets selling lottery tickets?

Can't think of any other way to write this .. but his skin colour was as black as soot, and he came from Bangladesh.

If we treat "skilled" migrants in this way - bring them in with promises and high hopes then bleed their savings dry - I wonder what else this country, run by a caring, compassionate incumbent government has in store for anyone else.

(These anecdotes were also prompted by a recent story in The Adelaide Independent.)

(Postscript - I rang the young man the other day, he tells me he is now studying to become an "aged care" helper. It has taken me several days to write this story. I would so love to have the time to get more of the details; write more about this, as he was one of the nicest people that have met.)

Addendum, Friday Oct 12: To be fair - Another view of the "Andrews affair" by Samuel Makinda.
Call Andrews mean, not racist.