Dear Fred, I was interested in reading the musings of Belinda. Sadly, Belinda did not contact me in Perth. However, I understand her predicament. I would appreciate it if you could send Belinda my ONLINE MULTICULTURAL NEWSLETTER which gives a different story of what we are about. I am sending you the Online Newsletter separately. Best wishes Albert. ----- Original Message ----- From: "Frederick Noronha (FN)" <[EMAIL PROTECTED]> To: <[EMAIL PROTECTED]> Sent: Tuesday, March 02, 2004 7:43 AM Subject: [Goanet-news]COMMENT: Australia... a story of migration (By Belinda Viegas-Mueller)
> 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 # > ########################################################################## > ########################################################################## # 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 # ##########################################################################
