Australia: a story of migration http://www.oherald.com -------------------------------
Migration holds more than just a certain charm to the average Goan, who has been crossing the seas for generations. A poignant tale from Down Under, and the issues there... By Dr Belinda Viegas-Mueller "Is this all there is?" The discontented little voice inside kept growing louder and more insistent. Everything seemed so routine. "I need to break out of this monotony," I said to my hubby. "And I need a break too," he replied as the electricity flickered. On, off. On, off, on... off. "Perhaps I could work in a town somewhere exotic," I said wistfully. "Why not?" "But where?" Australia. A land of adventure and excitement. A few e-mails to old classmates and friends and a position clinched. In Cairns, the tourist capital of Australia. Boredom vanished as we packed a household into four bags, and with two children, flew Down Under. Brisbane impressed us. A lovely city, modern and spunk. Clean and efficient. Walking through the park with flocks of large black ibises, glorious rainbow parakeets and, of course, raucous kookaburras. The trees, vaguely familiar and yet so different. Friendly people. We're going to like it here, we all thought happily. Then on to Cairns -- and work. After being in private practice for so many years, I looked forward to working in a big, multi- disciplined hospital again. We got ourselves a beautiful apartment, fully self-contained, complete with swimming pool. The children slipped into their new school like fish into water. "We love school here," they enthused. "Less writing and memorising, but a lot more thinking." They went on a three-day camp to Green Island and the Mila-Mila falls, building up self-reliance and self-confidence. "We don't want to go back to Goa!" They were emphatic. "School's lot more fun here." The hubby was having a whale of a time, or should I say shark? "Fishing gear's so cheap!" He couldn't believe the prices. And when he pulled out a six-foot shovel-nosed shark at the pier and had other monsters fighting on his lines, he was hooked. Bush walking through lush world heritage rain-forests, swimming in crystal clear streams and crater lakes, diving on the Great Barrier Reef, cuddling koala bears, wombats and wallabies -- Australia has a special way of making one appreciate Nature like few other places in the world. The light is ethereal and the space opens one up to its glorious magnificence. Wide roads sans traffic chaos, the ease with which things get done, the cleanliness, the superb public parks with free barbeque facilities. "I think I could live here long-term," the hubby ventured carefully. "We've only come for a year," I warned the family. "Don't get your hopes up." But I too found myself looking with interest at houses for sale up at Palm Cove and Clifton Beach. Everything was so wonderful, we seemed to have landed in a paradise on Earth. And so, I couldn't understand the wall of hopelessness I was daily confronted with in the hospital. The average Goan back home, I knew, struggling with poverty, ignorance, corruption, bureaucracy and appalling infrastructure had far less than the average citizen here. And yet, what struck me so powerfully was the sense of emptiness. "Ours is a welfare state," I was told, "and the Government looks after us." Their basic needs were all assured -- shelter, food, clothing, medical care, schooling, and yet, or perhaps because of this, I could see how desperately they were trying to find meaning in their lives. The quest for an easy life and the crumbling down of values, family and religion seemed to have set many adrift in a sea of vacuum, searching for new Gods. The number of New Age believers hovering perilously on the edges of reality shocked me. I met people who were conversing with spirits everyday and even two who told me they had actually seen Satan. And I thought I had left superstitious beliefs behind me in Goa! I often came across hard desperation mingled with hopelessness, made very volatile and combustible with drug and alcohol abuse. It was a new experience to be sure to carry an alarm around. The hospital seemed like a revolving door with patients going in, out, in out, in, out... "You'll get used to it," my helpful colleagues assured me. "I don't want to get used to this," I told my husband. My dissatisfaction grew. Then came the inevitable culture clashes. "Mama, we're having a night in town," my ten-year-old daughter brightly announced one afternoon. "A night in town? What do you mean?" "Oh, we're meeting at six this evening and then going about town till ten or so." "Who?" "Arielle, Catherine and myself." All ten-year-olds. I explained to her why I couldn't allow her to go, because I knew it was just too dangerous. She shot back the all-time argument flattener. "If their mothers are allowing them to go, why can't you? You're being over-protective." For three days after that she wouldn't talk agreeably to me. A fortnight later, we had a repeat performance, this time involving a sleep-over at a classmate's house. "I don't know the family," I argued, the horrific local statistics for child-abuse whirling about in my head. We listened to the children talking and it disturbed us. "I think we should get back to Goa soon," I told my husband, "where children are still children." Innocence is so fragile and lost all too soon. The rosy glasses were slipping off hubby's eyes too. "As temporary residents we're being exploited," he said, "different taxation, more fees and we're not even medically insured." When the children's appetite for Hungry Jacks and Pizza Hut started decreasing and they admitted they were missing their cousins and friends, and the freedom back home, it became suddenly clear to all of us. "Let's go home!" But a final test still awaited us. To complicate matters, just then, I got a call from Perth offering me a post with a tempting, almost doubled salary. For a few days, we toyed with the idea of driving west across the continent, but the call of home, sweet susegaad home was stronger. So back we all flew, delighted to have experienced life in an exotic continent, wiser and more experienced; but happy to be home again. ########################################################################## # Send submissions for Goanet to [EMAIL PROTECTED] # # PLEASE remember to stay on-topic (related to Goa), and avoid top-posts # # More details on Goanet at http://joingoanet.shorturl.com/ # # Please keep your discussion/tone polite, to reflect respect to others # ##########################################################################