Refugee

The waiting was crushing me, as though my life was slipping away. It had been months since the last time I heard from my family. They sent me a letter saying that they were just about to leave for Indonesia. All those months ago I was the one in Indonesia. Now I am finally on Manus Island. The time spent in Indonesia was bad, but here, it’s insufferable.

We wait for hours in the burning sun, sweating from the humidity, just to get a minuscule amount of food and water. Even an ant could not survive with this. The friends I have gained from staying here have all gotten some disease or another. I wonder how they have not killed themselves. As some may say, it is hell.

Every night the cries of children prevent any sleep from enveloping my body. When I do sleep, I am haunted by nightmares. I tell myself that I need to stay strong. I need to stay strong for my family, for myself. I need to keep my sanity. These thoughts are forgotten when I am greeted by the guard, who makes it his job to make me suffer, in the morning. He grins at me maliciously before spitting in my direction, muttering racial slurs with a disgusted look on his face.

One morning, the guard turned up the radio when a news report came on.

‘This morning, the navy found the debris from a refugee boat in the Indian ocean. Reports say that there were about 100 people on board. So far, no survivors have been found.’

My heart sunk. I felt the tears slowly trickle down my cheeks. Anger soon took over. Anger towards the guard. He knew my family were coming. He knew I was worried. I felt my whole body shake in hatred, my hands curling into a fist. I knew, however, that violence wouldn’t get me anywhere. So instead I punched a wall to relieve the abhorrent feeling that had crept into my soul. Even though it wasn’t what I was hoping for, and it hurt a lot more than expected, it still helped me get through the rest of the day.

A week passed with still no letter to end my suffering. The pain of waiting was agonising and my heart felt like it was going to shut down at any second.

“Mail time!” the evil guard shouted.

He began calling out all of the names of people who had received mail. He had gotten down to the last couple of letters. I was ready for disappointment. The despair engulfing me, I slowly walked away from the crowd of anxious people, wanting the same thing as me; to hear from their family. Suddenly a hand grabbed my shoulder and spun me around. It was the guard. He looked especially disgruntled at that moment.

“This is for you,” he muttered.

I replied with a thank you and rushed to my reading corner, scared of what words I would see. I ripped it open and pulled out the letter inside.

‘To my darling husband. We are now in Indonesia, safe and sound. We found out about you being on Manus Island as soon as we arrived. I hope you are okay now and that they are treating you well. The children are asking for you and are so very hungry. I hope that you can go to Australia soon so that we can finally be free. Love from, your dearest wife. P.S be safe.’

I let out a slow breath. The tears of happiness and relief were flowing down my face, staining the paper in my hands.

Thank you Allah.