Asylum Seekers
Posted: Thu Feb 20, 2014 9:32 am
This Poem was based on an actual meeting held when Officials were endeavouring to set up a detention centre outback.
This was the time when Australians had a more empathetic sense on the way refugees were being treated and were appalled at conditions in Nauru and as a result voted the then responsible PM John Howard out of office . It's amazing, isn't it, how circumstances and opinions change?
I often wonder how this establishment worked out.
REFUGEES ©
Now excitement was scarce in this small town outback,
but the Bush Telegraph buzzed the hint,
that the desolate, army camp just down the track,
had been earmarked - some refugees’ stint.
This was not welcome news in this region you see,
so a meeting was quickly arranged -
Where the Businessmen, Stockmen and Farmers agree,
that these migrants - most likely deranged,
would be surely a drain on the services there.
(They were already stretched to the hilt).
It was then Mr.Smithers who made them aware -
of the needed, new school - not yet built.
When the Male Public Servant prepared to explain
at the old, wooden hall on the hill.
It was clearly a signal that folk would remain
in dispute with this Refugees’ Bill.
“This is lacking consensus.” The call from Ms. Blonde.
“Dictatorship - That is for sure!”
Then a bloke in a singlet - “Yeah, we’ve all been conned.”
“We won’t stand for this crap anymore!
When you made the decision to lumber our mob
with these people from over the seas.
Did you ever give thought that they’ll all need a job
and they’ll probably spread much disease?
You can take your proposal and sniveling pacts.
This you’d know if you’d asked us before.”
‘Well, you may change your mind when you’ve heard all the facts”.
The Official was struggling, for sure.
Then this Bureaucrat called for some order and calm
but these salt of the earth, country folk,
were now out of control in a state of alarm,
when a bloke in a turban then spoke.
“PLEEZE, PLEEZE, learn our story. I beg you vwould hear,
vwhy my brothers are vwishing to stay.”
Then, in quite broken English, he made it quite clear,
why Afghanis had stolen away.
“Vhy vwouldn’t vwe vwish to see cloudless skies blue,
wid the air such a beaudiful clear,
vwhere our children could play – vwhere, vwe also too
could be livink a life widout fear?!
I tink if you be in the same way as they,
You yourself vwould be trying to flee.
Avway from the horror and death every day,
To this country vwhere spirits fly free.
You perhaps are forgettink that now for Ten years
they are livink vwidout any hope.
Vwhere our young men are dyink - vwe are cryink our tears.
Widout food, vwe are trying to cope.
Vhere the bombs they are fallink, destroyink our homes,
vhere our women are fleeink from rape.
Vhere the danger and fear in the night and day roams,
From these horrors, back dere – No escape!
Vwhere the smell of the death and the faces vwith pain
It is makink our minds very sick.
Vwith the children no chance to be happy again.
Vwould you blame us to leave that place, quvick?”
He flopped in his chair with his head in his hands.
The silence was deafening to hear.
Then the Bloke in the singlet with all his demands,
on the sly, brushed an unwelcome tear.
“Err, well. Maybe we’ve been a bit hasty,” he sighed.
“Old Kosha has made it most clear.
What we Aussies forget and perhaps if we tried,
they could give it a go, livin’ here.”
“Yeah! We could have weekly stalls, raise some much needed cash.
Buy some blankets, some cutlery too.
Is there anyone here, who would give it a bash?
I will make out a roster for you.”
Then slowly but surely the mood turned around.
Goodwill raised its head with such style.
The true Aussie Spirit was back on the ground,
with bigotry lost for the while.
“We could put on a Barbie, a snag and a Beer”
“I’ll bring the rolls” said the Baker
At the back of the hall with a grin ear to ear,
Old Kosha gave praise to his Maker.
“There is no doubt about ya, ya wily, old bugger,
you’ve tugged at our heartstrings once more.
Why next I’ll be comin’ a flamin’ tree hugger.”
The Singlet Man smiling , then walked out the door.
This was the time when Australians had a more empathetic sense on the way refugees were being treated and were appalled at conditions in Nauru and as a result voted the then responsible PM John Howard out of office . It's amazing, isn't it, how circumstances and opinions change?
I often wonder how this establishment worked out.
REFUGEES ©
Now excitement was scarce in this small town outback,
but the Bush Telegraph buzzed the hint,
that the desolate, army camp just down the track,
had been earmarked - some refugees’ stint.
This was not welcome news in this region you see,
so a meeting was quickly arranged -
Where the Businessmen, Stockmen and Farmers agree,
that these migrants - most likely deranged,
would be surely a drain on the services there.
(They were already stretched to the hilt).
It was then Mr.Smithers who made them aware -
of the needed, new school - not yet built.
When the Male Public Servant prepared to explain
at the old, wooden hall on the hill.
It was clearly a signal that folk would remain
in dispute with this Refugees’ Bill.
“This is lacking consensus.” The call from Ms. Blonde.
“Dictatorship - That is for sure!”
Then a bloke in a singlet - “Yeah, we’ve all been conned.”
“We won’t stand for this crap anymore!
When you made the decision to lumber our mob
with these people from over the seas.
Did you ever give thought that they’ll all need a job
and they’ll probably spread much disease?
You can take your proposal and sniveling pacts.
This you’d know if you’d asked us before.”
‘Well, you may change your mind when you’ve heard all the facts”.
The Official was struggling, for sure.
Then this Bureaucrat called for some order and calm
but these salt of the earth, country folk,
were now out of control in a state of alarm,
when a bloke in a turban then spoke.
“PLEEZE, PLEEZE, learn our story. I beg you vwould hear,
vwhy my brothers are vwishing to stay.”
Then, in quite broken English, he made it quite clear,
why Afghanis had stolen away.
“Vhy vwouldn’t vwe vwish to see cloudless skies blue,
wid the air such a beaudiful clear,
vwhere our children could play – vwhere, vwe also too
could be livink a life widout fear?!
I tink if you be in the same way as they,
You yourself vwould be trying to flee.
Avway from the horror and death every day,
To this country vwhere spirits fly free.
You perhaps are forgettink that now for Ten years
they are livink vwidout any hope.
Vwhere our young men are dyink - vwe are cryink our tears.
Widout food, vwe are trying to cope.
Vhere the bombs they are fallink, destroyink our homes,
vhere our women are fleeink from rape.
Vhere the danger and fear in the night and day roams,
From these horrors, back dere – No escape!
Vwhere the smell of the death and the faces vwith pain
It is makink our minds very sick.
Vwith the children no chance to be happy again.
Vwould you blame us to leave that place, quvick?”
He flopped in his chair with his head in his hands.
The silence was deafening to hear.
Then the Bloke in the singlet with all his demands,
on the sly, brushed an unwelcome tear.
“Err, well. Maybe we’ve been a bit hasty,” he sighed.
“Old Kosha has made it most clear.
What we Aussies forget and perhaps if we tried,
they could give it a go, livin’ here.”
“Yeah! We could have weekly stalls, raise some much needed cash.
Buy some blankets, some cutlery too.
Is there anyone here, who would give it a bash?
I will make out a roster for you.”
Then slowly but surely the mood turned around.
Goodwill raised its head with such style.
The true Aussie Spirit was back on the ground,
with bigotry lost for the while.
“We could put on a Barbie, a snag and a Beer”
“I’ll bring the rolls” said the Baker
At the back of the hall with a grin ear to ear,
Old Kosha gave praise to his Maker.
“There is no doubt about ya, ya wily, old bugger,
you’ve tugged at our heartstrings once more.
Why next I’ll be comin’ a flamin’ tree hugger.”
The Singlet Man smiling , then walked out the door.
