This week has been a pretty intense one. I will give a few highlights because I’m pretty wrecked but do want to get this on the page eventually.
For starters, I completed my first week at work as an articled clerk at Dibbs Abbott Stillman. It has been pretty overwhelming, but good overall.
Then, on Wednesday evening, a Hazara man being held at Maribyrnong DC was released! Joy of joys. So exciting. Thursday saw me having dinner with a couple of Hazara families - there were 10 of us in the room, and I was the only Aussie! Great food, great fun, and I’m definitely getting better at eating on the floor without dribbling Korma down the front of whatever I’m wearing. That evening again highlighted to me the breadth of the definition of “Australian” - these little kids, who speak perfect hazaragi, and then break into these little Aussie accents - this is the next generation of Australians! Watching a 6 year old act as an interpreter for her parents is a bizarre thing, but I suppose it’s not unusual in this country of increasing diversity and variety. I love it.
On Saturday I spoke at three different public events about refugee / asylum seeker policy reform. Phew. Tired. Then on Saturday night, I had a lovely experience. At 6.30pm, I turned up to a big hall in Moorabbin, to see a performance by Hazara musical sensation Daud Sarkhosh. Sarkhosh is an icon among Hazaras - he sings songs of exile, longing for home, and rage against the forces that have devastated his country and his people. His songs are at once plaintive and proud. They are bold political statements crafted into poetry.
Anyway, I arrived at 6.30, ready to have to queue for my ticket along with the rest of the madding crowd. But still, at 6.45 there was NOBODY there, and the doors were still locked! At about 7, there were a few people gathered out the front, and it started raining. At about 7.10, a security guard inside gestured that we should go and queue out the back. So we did. This concert was clearly scheduled on Afghan time, because at 8.30 there were still people rocking up, having a chat and a ciggy outside, meandering casually into the hall when they felt like it! Finally it began at about 8.45.
During the course of the evening, I bumped into friends I hadn’t seen in a long time. People who spent years languishing on Nauru and in Woomera have now got cars, jobs, homes, and trendy haircuts! It was wonderful to see them.
Finally, the concert began. “Daud-jan” came out on to the stage, and the crowd went absolutely wild. There must have been 600 people in that hall, and they all (well, the men, anyway!) whooped and clapped and whistled like crazy. He began to sing, and his voice was both foreign and familiar - I have one of his albums (that I listen to a bit, actually!) but of course I could only understand tiny fractions of what he was singing, and I certainly have never known the experiences that he was singing about. Sitting beside me was the guy who had got out of detention three days earlier. I was so glad that he was able to come to this concert, to see the size and strength of the Hazara community in Melbourne. He’s a quiet type, probably mainly because of the language barrier, but a number of times throughout the evening he beamed at me and said “yes, yes! happy! happy!”. So that was nice 
During the course of the evening, while catching up with old friends and meeting new people, I had the pleasure of speaking to a couple of young men who are in Australia studying political science, human rights, civil engineering etc, so that they can return to Afghanistan and assist in the rebuilding efforts. One of them, Mustafa, I’ve known for a few years. He has just completed an internship at the Afghan Independent Human Rights Commission - an brave and pioneering organisation. Another, Jawood, is studying to rebuild his homeland physically through civil engineering. I was so inspired by these two young men who have escaped terrible situations there, but cannot rest until their country is remade.
This morning - Sunday - I got up and went to the Estates church in Carlton, which I really enjoyed. Then went to detention, which was pretty miserable today. Not because it was worse than any other day, but because it was just the same as every other day, and these guys are getting toward the end of their ability to sit there waiting for something they fear will never happen.
I drove home, filled with sadness that seemed beyond explanation.
When I got home, Naomi told me that Tom Lloyd passed away yesterday, very suddenly. Tom was the former verger at St Hil’s - an extraordinarily generous and servant-hearted man. He leaves behind his wife, Barb, and his three kids Russ, Dave and Jane. He will always be remembered as a gentleman and a helper. Rest in Peace.
