When I was at
University, I met a Sri Lankan named Angeline W. Together with an Aussie with
Dutch heritage; we would go to classes together and eat lunch together.
Angeline W came to Australia at the age of 10/11 as a refugee. By the time when
we met, she was already sounding very Aussie while I was still talking like I
was fresh off the boat. LOL. One day, Angeline was asked by one of the
lecturers to share with the group a very sad experience in her life. It was
then that I learned that Angeline was a refugee. She shared that she and her
brother were kept in the dark about the plans to leave. They were only told
that they were leaving in the last minute. She didn’t realize that she wouldn’t
be seeing some of her relatives again and this included a set of grandparents.
As Angeline was telling the story, tears began to flow. I sat there with a
puzzled look on my face. I was wondering why the woman was crying. I was asking
myself, “Isn’t leaving Sri Lanka the best thing your parents have given you?
Isn’t Australia the best place on Earth to be? Quit crying, woman!” It took me
years to experience this type of pain personally.
When I came home in
the middle of 2011 to see my dying Dad, not one cell in me believed that all
that I have in Australia would be gone in a flash. I was even ‘planning’ for a
wedding when I was supposed to be grieving! Then that dreadful phone call came
on a public holiday a few months after I came home. I was unceremoniously dumped
and I was not returning to my beloved Melbourne. Other couples work on saving
their relationships but mine was just gone in a matter of minutes! It didn’t
matter that we were together for 16 years but it was gone. In the 15 months or
so since, I did my best soldiering on bravely. As I learn to live in Sabah again, I
sometimes encounter difficulties that probably only expats experience. I miss
all the things that I used to have in my life. Making things make me happy but
how could I if the sewing machine and the overlocker are not here? I don’t
really like cooking but when I desperately pine for a bowl of Chicken
Minestrone or a bit of Spaghetti Bolognaise, I wish that I have my familiar
pots and pans, my oven and in fact, my entire kitchen. OK, these are just
things but they were everyday tools in a life that I was familiar with. They
were all gone in a flash.
Today, two extra
helpers were hired to help our helper to clean part of the house. This is in
preparation for Chinese New Year in February. Without consulting me first, my
Mum’s helper moved a smallish cupboard containing some of my childhood toys,
into my bedroom. They also removed all the contents. I hit the roof when I saw
the empty cupboard sitting in one corner of my very tiny room. I hit the roof
again when I saw that it was empty! I knew my Mum. The contents would be shared
between the 3 helpers. OK, I don’t need those toys at my age but PLEEEASE; at
least have the courtesy to ask me before fleecing me of my imported loot. I
stormed downstairs and told my Mum that I literally have nothing left of the
life that I knew for more than 20 years and now people are going to clean me
out of what I was given as a child? I am poor as a beggar and beggars are not
choosers. With that I left the house for my daily walk. That small collection
of imported toys does not mean much to me these days. I was surprised that they
kept them for me for so long. When I came home from my walk, I noticed that part
of the cupboard has been refilled quick and smart. Like I say, I am no longer
super attached to this stuff. I just miss my stuff over in Melbourne. I just
hate to see anything belonging to me disappearing in a flash.
Angeline W and I
drifted apart after 1995. I wonder if she still misses Sri Lanka. I wonder if
she went back for a visit. I wonder who lives in her old family home now. She
left Sri Lanka quite suddenly when she was 10/11. She left behind the life that
she knew since she was born. Life was good for her too in Australia. She got
married in 1995 and started work at a Child Care Centre attached to a TAFE.
Note: I think that
the small cupboard is here to stay in my room. To make room for it, the three
stooges had to push my bed closer to my desk. So to type this post, I literally
have to turn into a Harry Houdini to get into my chair and sit at the desk.
