Villawood

A friend texted me two days ago, asking if I wanted to visit Villawood detention centre with him.  Almost without a second thought, I said yes...  I was quite cavalier about it. In that moment, it was just an adventure out West, something to make me think about how much Australian politics sucks *facepalm* and then I'd come skipping merrily home.

I'm still coming to terms with the experience. Tonight is the second night in a row that I haven't been able to sleep properly because my mind's just been whirring and whirring. In the silence of the night it whirs harder and louder. It's been exacerbated tonight by the fact that I went on a picnic today to Mrs. Macqurie's Chair with my nephews and their babysitter/my friend. The bewildering contrast, between the harsh reality faced by living, breathing people in that cage and the mirthful frolicking of toddlers under the sunshine in what is arguably the most beautiful place in Sydney, is a bit much for my system to process at the moment.

Keeping in mind my limited understanding as a relative bystander, here are a few salient points that strike me:

1. Everything I've understood thus far of the situation has been filtered through the mass media. Regardless of whether their political predilections conjure images of evil "boat people" or victims withering behind bars, what they present us is essentially an abstract caricature. Given the limitations of, say, a newspaper article, this is obviously understandable... but they also get locked into our imagination as such. This might sound a bit silly, but for the first time, the realness of the situation has struck me with full force. Aylum seekers are actually real people, people who giggle at bad jokes and need to brush their teeth in the morning. One of the men I spoke to reminded me so much, in his mannerisms and speech, of one of my closest friends from school. This line from A Little Princess, one of my favourite childhood books came to mind: "it's just a coincidence that I'm not you and you're not me". My conversation with him left me feeling so bewildered and it was a strange, out-of-body experience. Thankfully not treating them as tragic victims of destiny but obviously not negating their horrific experiences, the banter was as natural and flowing as with anyone and yet, despite their genuine smiles and ours, a dark cloud perceptibly overhung us. To me, it made the whole situation even more heartbreaking, the reminder that this isn't just a grand, sweeping, Shakespearean tragedy. Regarding it as such makes it so much easier to "other" them to us and say "oh yeh, terrible situation, garn" and then just move on with our petty lives.
2. Extending on the first point, putting a real, human face to the misery humans inflict on each other has completely changed my perspective. I live in such a cottonwool world! The biggest tragedy that happens in my life, quite literally, is my mother nagging me to clean my room or having to get home before my parents become too grumbly. My greatest stress and uncertainty is what my marks are going to look like, and that's something that's almost completely in my own hands. I'm definitely not someone who wants that much but I barely have to wish for something and it's in the palm of my hand. From this standpoint, reading about things, much as it might even move me to tears, is nowhere near enough to let me properly understand any situation that is so far removed from my own. Book-learning can only ever get you so far... it's two-dimensional and such an incomplete, reductionist version of reality. Not that I'm saying that I have a perfectly clear picture of the situation with my 8 hours that I spent in there, as a guest. What I'm trying to get at is that it is so easy to forget the importance of being in touch with people, who are at the crux of the issue but I feel, are somewhat marginalised in academia and politics. Ivory towers and all.
3. My third point is going to sound incredibly cliche but that doesn't make it any less true. The entire situation is just bewilderingly ridiculous. Our behaviour as a society, towards people who ask so little, and after everything they have been through, is beyond despicable. In an industrial area that sells timber furniture we cage people who have suffered the very worst of circumstances, like livestock! These cages are ringed with barbed wire, surrounded by dust and machinery. For years, intelligent, capable men (and women, but we only met men) are made to languish in the uncertainty that they may be sent back to hell for no reason other  our pettiness. The worst of it all is what they have to do there. From what I could see, nothing! They have no purpose but to wait and that emptiness of purpose, particularly in such bleak surroundings is the most dehumanising thing I can think of in the whole world. They may have a square meal, their lives may not perpetually be in danger but I can understand people being able to maintain their sanity under tyranny and violence more easily than in a detention center. Imagine sitting in the same room you're in now for years and years, waiting, pining for basic conditions of normalcy,but a) not knowing when that will come, or b) with the very real possibility of being tossed to the lions instead. Any resolution is possible at any moment. Four years is a really freaking long time to spend like that!
   
    Asylum seekers are victims, not criminals! Need I mention the UNHCR convention? Ok, say that you do achieve that freedom, you've already lost all those years in the cage and probably several more before that while fleeing... so the best years of your life are gone. Lots of asylum seekers have PTSD. With BOTH major parties treating you like a political football (to quote dude on QandA), being villainsed and stigmatised in this way must make it nigh on impossible to try attain normalcy. If politicians are so concerned about jumping the "queue", why don't they try and make sure it actually EXISTS. Make it accessible! I could rave on and on about this, but I shall stop now.

My mind is boggled anew that I really live in a society that lets this happen, that I know so many people who encourage it. If you've mentioned this to me before, please know that in that moment I wanted to scratch your eyes out... even if I love you otherwise. I really, really don't understand this side of the story, the lack of empathy or the miserliness. Are people actually evil? Why do you think they are any less productive members of society than anyone else? Why does this xenophobia flare up so strongly against people who are already destitute? Why did my parents have any more right coming here because they could pay for the airfare? The points above are just the things that have struck me as some of the concrete truths that frame the issue, but there are a million other confusions that continue to swill around my skull, that I struggle to even thread in words.

I am definitely, definitely going back.

PS: Just noticed the number of times I used the word "bewildered" in this! Not going to edit it out, because really I am just very, very bewildered.

If you're interested: http://www.therefugeeartproject.com/