On a rainy August Thursday

 

JG’s phone cheeped, and although he missed the call, the alert proved to be a Facetime from the YD, presently on a hiatus from her clamber among the mountains of northern Pakistan, a hiatus that provided her with internet. We caught up and I got a look at the view out of her hotel window. Absolutely amazing, and if I can, I am going to steal it and post it here. Added - nope. The photo I want is on JG's phone. So I will add my favourite - a typical trek shot. 

I chatted, and JG was off to town to have coffee with his Thursday morning group and do the grocery shopping. And somehow, between the call and an interview I found on Facebook, the morning is just about shot. Eight minutes to Thursday afternoon and the laundry is still where I left it yesterday. For all of me, it can stay there. Much more important is my need to report on the the interview, which was with Wendy Quarry of the Merrickville Bridges group and Khatera Saeedi, a daughter and sister of the Afghani families sponsored by Bridges and CARR2 to come here.

 Here is the link to the radio interview, as it tells the start of this saga in detail. But, in summary, a group in Merrickville has managed to support the arrival of part of a family that had to get out of Afghanistan when the Taliban swept in. The matriarch of this family was a judge, and the grown sons and daughters were variously involved in human rights and women’s empowerment, through a radio station and, I believe, legal issues. This made them a prime target of Taliban reprisal. She, a daughter and the daughter’s two children, made it out of the country, sat in limbo while immigration was worked through, and have just arrived here. They had to leave the rest of the extended family behind.

 In the interview I heard, Khatera spoke, beautifully and at length, about the terror her family felt when the Taliban swept into their province. The family members at risk ran for Kabul, hid out there, the matriarch and one daughter with her children managed to get a plane out and ended up, weirdly enough, in Greece. It has taken this long to get them here. She is, she says, amazed at the generosity and friendly gestures of the Bridge group. She repeated the words ‘safe’ and ‘peace’ many times.

 The group, CARR, with which I previously volunteered, put a subgroup (CARR2) back together a few months ago and we are bringing in two more couples, with small children, from this family. From Kabul, they managed the nightmare trek to Pakistan and were admitted there short term. At present, I believe their paperwork is in order and we are waiting for the travel arrangements, which could be provided soon. I seem to have put myself into the mix as an English coach and have volunteered as a driver, because the housing that can be supplied to them is close to where I live. I am also involved, as we all always have to be, in fundraising to support these people until they can find their feet here.

 It is impossible for us, in our gentle life here, our safe and peaceful life, to really feel what these people have had to endure. How can we even imagine being holed up in a stuffy apartment in 40+ degree Celsius heat, in a fairly hostile country, waiting on word from strangers, doing paperwork in a barely understood language, hoping without real understanding of the process, in limbo, totally. No home, no livelihood. I think that the phone is the lifeline, the window on the future, and the suspense must be hellish.

 I worked with several of the Syrian refugees that the first incarnation of CARR brought to Perth. And I learned a lot from those contacts. The acquisition of enough English so that they can manage is so desperately important to them. The stress of trying to learn a new country, work in a strange language, find their feet, is huge. The work ethic of the young men I coached was incredible. Their courage under those stresses was amazing and humbling to see.

 I spent a happy half hour on the Amazon website last evening ordering some beginning materials to take to my fist meeting with this new group. One of the things I learned from the last round is not to waste time.

 And, speaking of time wasting, the laundry is still there.