Chapter 7 -:

The Black Australian

Unhappy migrants

by Sunil GOVINNAGE

Siri liked very much that the organisers of the Perth computer conference had decided to hold their annual meeting in Mandurah. The coastal city was only 74 kilometres south of Perth. Siri was also pleased that an abstract he presented had been accepted. Siri's paper was about his company's case study on developing a low-cost project management system.

Siri left work on Thursday around eleven o'clock and drove directly to Mandurah through Fremantle. He had already packed his overnight bag to stay over at the conference venue. Siri wanted to avoid the fast drive through Kwinana Freeway to Mandurah as he preferred the road through Fremantle. Siri wanted to have a break and lunch at a restaurant in South Terrace. He had discovered this Italian restaurant recently on his strolls in Fremantle and enjoyed Italian cuisines and friendly services. Though it was crowded in the evenings, Siri preferred the tranquillity during day time and friendly services there. Last time, when he visited the restaurant on a weekend, he had met a charming young waitress; a Norwegian who had come all the way to study Marine Biology in Australia. Siri liked to meet people who had travelled exploring new places giving different interpretation to life. He wanted to meet only happy people. Happy explorers of the world!

The conference organisers had also arranged a wine appreciation session for those who had booked for the conference dinner on Thursday evening. As the wine tasting was held at six o'clock, Siri was eager to leave the workshop early as he wanted to go for a swim.

Soon after the workshop, Siri went for a swim, got dressed and came to the hall where wine tasting had been scheduled. He noticed a few people who had just arrived. Although Siri had attended a few wine tasting sessions in the picturesque Swan Valley, he never had time to attend a formal wine appreciation course.

As soon after Siri finished the second white wine sample, Clive Hodgeson, one of the organisers approached Siri. He said, "A person who just arrived wanted to meet you urgently. I told him that he could meet you later. He said that it's private and urgent. He also asked me whether you are from Sri Lanka. I told him that I didn't have a clue where you come from! I'm not sure whether he wanted to contact you on an urgent matter but he said something about a newsletter but I couldn't understand him. He introduced himself with a name starting with J and said he knew you from a Sri Lankan Society or something like that! I told him that you would be here."

"Well, who is chasing me in Mandurah? How did he know that I'm here?"

"Oh, as soon as he saw the program schedule with your name, he enquired about you."

"Very strange!" replied Siri.

"He's the guy standing near the door with a red wine glass in his hand."

"I can't see him."

"He's the person talking to that Chinese man!"

Clive looked around and pointed to a medium height man with a bald patch. He was dark brown in complexion. He had a trimmed beard with grey patches.

"Upon my word, Clive I've never seen that fellow! He looked Indian to me!" and Siri served himself with another sample of Shiraz this time.

When Siri approached the person later, he saw the sad eyes of the man whom he knew only as Mister J as referred by Clive.

"Hello, I'm Siri, I gather you have been looking for me!"

"Oh, you are Siri Wickramasinghe no? Ayubowan," the man greeted in Sinhala and introduced himself. "I'm Jayadeva. Jayadeva Gamage. I missed your paper, no!" Jayadeva said and continued, "I'm sorry I couldn't attend the workshop as I had to pick up my daughter from the school before I came here. Teenagers! Family responsibilities!" Jayadeva tried to smile to hide the sad look on his face.

"Are you talking about my paper at the pre-conference workshop this afternoon? It's only a case study of using 'Prince' project management software in a private sector agency. It's really nothing. So, you didn't miss anything at all!" responded Siri.

"I'd like to have a copy of your paper. Can you please give me a copy of your paper? I'm working on a similar project for my department."

"Okay, but not the one I presented. It got only slides. I'll send you a copy. Give me your e-mail address."

"Okay, this is my card," said Jayadeva and asked for Siri's business card and the telephone number.

"Oh, so you are in the Minor Roads Department. How long you have been working there?" Siri questioned.

"About three years. It's not a good place! I used to work in the private sector before." Jayadeva stretched his neck and changed tack.

"You are a very talented person, Siri. I've read all your poems and other contributions in Sandeshaya, the Sri Lankan Society Newsletter. You were the founder editor of Sandeshaya, no?"

"How do you know about me?" Siri was worried, as it occurred to him that Jayadeva could be another Sri Lankan who was trying to discuss a marriage proposal for him."

"Oh, I know about you. I'm the current editor! I find it very difficult to maintain your standards!"

"Oh, that was donkeys' years ago. All that's rubbish!" laughed Siri.

"I know you very well through your poems and translations. I've heard a lot of good things about you."

"I really liked your translation of a poem: 'Amongst the White' 'People'. Jayadeva recited the Sinhala version of the poem in memory and then the English translation Siri published, a long time ago:

'Vociferous chatters'

Are roaring thunders

Sarcasms electrifies

With every blink.

Stormy whispers

Up-root the world

I, a mere infant

Snatched from mother's lap.

"Oh you remember that poem! Well it's not mine. It's a translation of a poem by Professor Wimal Dissanayake. I think the original appeals to anyone who lives away from home. I think I translated that poem in 1989 and the original was published in the mid 60s in Sri Lanka. A very good poem."

"All this time, I've been trying to contact you, but your name is not listed in the phone book, no? I got your work number and left several messages but you never returned any of my calls!"

"Oh, a lot of people with Sri Lankan names leave messages for me. I screen my calls. I've instructed our secretary to find out whether they are private or business calls. I don't return private calls from Sri Lankan people! I'm now scared of the Sri Lankans, the Sinhalese in Perth! Most of them approach me for marriage proposals!" laughed Siri.

Jayadeva, laughed showing his yellow stained teeth.

"So when did you come to Australia?" asked Siri.

"In 1988. But I'm not happy here!"

"Why's that?"

"This is not my country! As in the poem, I live among white people whom I don't like!"

"Then why did you come to Australia? We've got to make this as our country!" emphasised Siri.

"I've only one country and that's Sri Lanka! Australia is not my country!" replied Jayadeva with an angry voice. Siri looked at Jayadeva's sad face.

"Why are you not happy here?"

"My two teenage children are not Sri Lankans any longer! I told you about my work at the Minor Roads Department. I'm not happy there either. There are a lot of racists, white fellows. They never let us go beyond level six which is the top level that a black or brown fellow could reach in this damn public service in Perth!" Jayadeva complained.

"That's not done! I know that there could be a few nasty fellows who may not like you as an individual. But in the public service there is better protection from discrimination.

I think there's legislation against discrimination in the public service, don't they have laws?" asked Siri.

"What bull dust? Asked my colleague Damien Wong about the problems at work!" Jayadeva pointed to a person who was sipping wine and chatting with another dark brown coloured person.

"Oh, there's an old friend of mine too! Bari. Bari Mohamed. I knew him for ages since my time at AIT."

"Oh did you study at the Asian Institute of Technology in Bangkok? A very good university, no? I also wanted to go there, but I couldn't get a scholarship."

"Yes, I did my Master's degree in Computer Science at AIT. That was a long time ago. I was very young then! laughed Siri and touched his bald patch. I came to Australia directly from Thailand," said Siri, revealing his life and time in Thailand to the stranger.

"I thought once you go there on a scholarship that you had to go back and serve your country," enquired Jayadeva.

"That's what the book says, but if you asked Bari, he would tell you the reality. Look what happened to me. I came to Australia, got my visa, went back and worked for about two years in Sri Lanka and returned to Australia.

When I came to Australia from Bangkok I'd have stayed, but I had some responsibilities at home. There was a joke circulating among the Sri Lankans about people like myself. Sri Lankans at AIT used to interpret 'AIT' as the Australian Immigration Training," laughed Siri. He waved and invited his friend, Bari who was talking to Jayadeva's colleague.

"Meet my friend Bari. Bari Mohamed. He studied water research at AIT. He now works for the Water and Rivers Commission in Perth," Siri introduced his old friend to Jayadeva.

"Bari, this is Jayadeva. A countryman from Sri Lanka!"

"Hello, I'm Bari."

"This is Damien. He works with me at the Minor Roads Department. He runs a complex computer model for white fellows!" laughed Jayadeva as he introduced his colleague to Siri.

"Hello, I'm Damien Wong. In fact, Damien is not my real first name! My Chinese name was Dong Han but changed mine as white fellows started calling me dog hand!" confessed Damien.

"So you are like Bari. When I telephone and ask for Bari at his work, the receptionist always asks, 'do ya want to speak to Barry Mohamet?'" laughed Siri and continued, "Australians, always try to shorten names. I had to face the same when I started work here. But I was adamant that they get at least my name right!" Siri told the story of his boss Daryl Cook's suggestions to change his name to Sing for customers' convenience.

Jayadeva listened to them quietly.

"Oh your name must be easy for them," suggested Siri.

Jayadeva smiled innocently showing his stained teeth again, and said: "I wish the problems for Asian migrants were only limited to names!" He took a deep breath and coughed.

"Why do you say that?" asked Siri, and Damien responded for Jayadeva.

"I used to work for a company which sub-contracted for government agencies including the Minor Roads. When they came to know my work, the people at the Minor Roads indirectly suggested that I apply for a job and I got it. A level six job. That was five years ago but I can't go beyond level six and I'm stuck there. I think they gave me the job because they were paying me three times more to my company. I saved three times the salary of a levels six position for the tax payers!" laughed Damien.

"Why can't you get a promotion?" Siri was inquisitive about Damien's plight in the public service.

"They talk about my experience when I go for job interviews. I did similar work in Beijing. Computer models are computer models and only the titles and locations change," laughed Damien.

"I can't be a manager because of my language. They pick on my communication skills, but I speak at least two languages," he emphasised.

"I'm not a manager either, but if I want, I can be one in my company," said Siri.

"After they didn't give me promotions, I wanted to go back to Beijing for one year but they didn't approve my leave! I'll get my long service leave in two years. But then it's too late for me. The opportunity will go!" Damien said.

"Why do you want to go to China for one year?"

"I can get a job as the Head of the Computer Modelling in a university and it is a great experience. My current salary is not enough for our family. Australia is an expensive place to live," said Damien with a sad face and continued, "We have bought a house. 300,000 dollars! We pay the mortgage through our noses. If we go back, our daughter can also pick up our language."

"Fortunately, money was not the problem for us," joined Jayadeva, and continued: "My wife is a GP, but I don't think she's happy either. I think all of us lose not only our identity but also our status in another country.

If you are a doctor from Sri Lanka, you are always a doctor. Engineers are the same. You go to the market and you always get the best stuff. But here, there's nothing! No respect for migrants unless you are from the mother country; England or Ireland! We can't raise children according to our culture! See my two teenagers. They grew up here just like white kids! I can't give them advice. My daughter gets angry when I advise her to study medicine. My son wants to be a cook!" confessed Jayadeva without hiding his sad face this time.

"Our daughter of course listens to us!" Damien responded.

"How old is she?" asked Jayadeva.

"Twelve years old. She's in the State Gymnastic Team. We want her to go for the Olympics. My wife wants her to learn the piano, but that's very expensive. My wife can't find a proper job though she is a qualified accountant. So she does bookkeeping in a couple of places. Just casual work!"

"Oh, I just got married! Now you people are telling me scary stories!" Bari said and continued, "when I hear all these stories, I'm worried about our future too!"

"That's why I'm not getting married," laughed Siri and continued, "I suppose there are pluses and minuses in life. Migration is the same. I can't say that I regret coming to Australia. Had I stayed in Sri Lanka, I'd have done something else or moved somewhere else. You never know about your future. The only sure thing is the present!"

"Present is not always pleasant, Siri. Look at this country. Look at the past and present. Look at the plight of Aborigines, the native Australians.

Their present status is no good!" Jayadeva responded with an angry tone.

The four of them compared notes about their predicament of living in Australia. Siri noticed that time was almost seven o'clock. The conference dinner had been scheduled at seven thirty.

"I think we must get ready for dinner," said Jayadeva. "I need to call home to find out how my son did at his cricket game today. We'll continue this conversation over dinner, okay?" Jayadeva gulped the remaining wine in his glass.

Siri was sad to learn the predicament of Jayadeva and his colleague Damien, but he did not want to get involved in an ethnic conversation over the dinner. He also didn't want to whinge about the past or present as these are useless things like old clothes.

They are not happy people!

Although Siri did not express his grief and concerns about the lives of Jayadeva and Damien during the conversation, he felt very sad about the plight of professional migrants in Australia. He felt nauseous. He was unsure whether it was due to drinking too much wine or the effects of the stories he had heard just now.

"I think I must go for a stroll before dinner. I need some fresh air. I may see or not see you at dinner!" he warned the three men. Siri went back to his room, changed into casual dress, put his jogging shoes on and started walking along the Ormsby Terrace without knowing his directions.

The dusk had begun to settle. The effects of the street lights had taken over the darkness. Siri saw a few Aboriginals drunk and sitting on a bench.

One of them approached him.

"How are ya, mate? Hey, can ya spare me a dollar? I need to catch a bus home!" Sir could not help as he did not bring his wallet with him. He nodded his head.

He thought of the plight of the Aborigines and the two professional migrants who had encountered hard times in their own country. Siri took a deep breath and thought of Jayadeva and wondered whether he would end up like his countryman with a sad face, one day in future.

The darkness was encroaching fast. But Siri felt the cold breeze reaching and soothing his body but not his mind. Siri was unsure whether he wanted to go back and join the rest of the group for a warm and western dinner.

Acknowledgment

The poem referred to in this chapter is an English translation of a Sinhala poem by Professor Wimal Dissanayake. It first appeared in the anthology Nara Rakusa under the title "Sudu Minisun Mada" (Amongst the White People), published in Sri Lanka in 1966. The author gratefully acknowledge the permission granted by Professor Dissanayake to use an English translation of this poem.