Spirits Are Waiting for Us to Return

By SHAH PAUNG

MELBOURNE — As soon as the plane landed in Australia, the cold wind hit my face and everything looked new. It was spring, and the trees and flowers were fresh and beautiful.

The question in my mind kept repeating itself, “Am I really here?”

This is a new country, a new environment and a new community for our group of Burmese refugees resettling from the camps in Thailand. We are embarking on a new course: Building a new life and a new home in Australia.

Shortly after our arrival, I went to the Centerlink, Medicare office and a bank to get welfare assistance, like other refugees newly arrived in Australia.

At first, my family and I stayed in a temporary house provided by the government. After two weeks, we found a house we liked and moved in. The government provided all new furnishing for the home.

All refugees have to take a free English language course for 510 hours, called the Adult Migrant English Program (AMEP).

One of the things that’s more clear now is the passing away of fear in our lives. We don’t have to worry about living under the Burmese military government.

It’s been five months now, and almost every morning my family talks about our dreams from the night before.

So far, we haven’t had dreams about life in Australia. Our dreams are always about life in the refugee camp or about running to the jungle to escape from Burmese soldiers.

My father said, “I think our spirit hasn’t caught up with us. It’s still on the border and around our native village.”

I thought this was something shared only in my family, but I asked some friends who have lived here almost 10 years, and they said their dreams were still about Burma and their village.

It was then that I realized life in a new country can not change our hearts and memories. Complete, full happiness eludes us, at least for now.

My friend, Payu Say, a mother with two children, said, “We don’t need to worry about anything now. We have a good house. We are free from the Burmese government. But we are not totally happy like when we lived in our bamboo house in a village with our relatives and friends.”

She recalled living for almost 20 years in refugee camps with her mother and friends. “There was no electricity and life was very poor, but we felt warmth and were happy, because we always had a lot of friends to visit and talk with. I miss my friends in the refugee camp and feel very lonely here.”

Another friend had similar feelings. Taw Doh, a refugee of Noh Poe camp, recalled a feeling shared by most refugees who lived lives without meaning: no meaningful work, no real opportunity, everything controlled either by the Burmese military government or the Thai authorities.

He said now he feels inconsequential living in a different country and culture, and he sometimes asks himself, “Was coming here a mistake?”

I also ask, “Are we really happy in this new country?”

The answer is always “yes,” but it is always followed with more words that start with “but…,” such as, “but, if I have a chance….,” or “but, I will……,” or “but, I want to go home.”

Our dreams and our thoughts always draw us back to Burma, to our home country.

I have to say, like my father, we live in a new, safer country where life is easier, but our spirit is still in Burma, waiting for us to come back one day.

Shah Paung, a former reporter with The Irrawaddy, now lives in Melbourne with her family after resettlement.