Boobies soaring, crabs scuttling, waves
cliff gnashing, rain threatening, wind howling and I'm cruising down the street on a motor scooter with JS Bach in my ears.
The grotto, my favourite swimming place.
My first week on Christmas Island has elapsed. It is like a Daliesque dream. Will I awaken to find this newly found lifestyle paradise vanished? No I wont! It is really the most incredible thing ever Christmas Island. I am so happy and so fortunate to have landed this job working for Serco at the North West Point Immigration Detention Centre teaching English as a second language. It is so interesting and so bizarre, culturally and linguistically it’s like a 5 part fugue. Afghans, Tamils, Persians, Iraqis and Burmese men, hundreds of them, all locked up in the middle of this tropical island. As the rumour of changes in Australian Immigration policy run rife throughout, so do the increased numbers of arriving boats. Twenty boats are said to be waiting out at sea to be intercepted by the Australian Navy in order to be granted the most desirable status for processing. This week the storms have been so furious I can’t not worry about the welfare of those on board those waiting boats. I do not want to be one of the next, fishing bodies out of the sea in the case of a mishap. It was only a few days before my arrival on island that half a boatload of asylum seekers drowned as their boat was smashed on the sharp volcanic rock coast.
SIEV 221 |
SEIV (suspected irregular entry vessel) 221 |
Lily beach is closed as it is littered with
body bags of the unfortunate freedom seekers. The official morgue at the
hospital was designed without such a disaster in mind, it houses only two, the
other forty odd lie one the beach. I was awoken some weeks after in the dead of
night by the sound of a Hercules taking off. Odd I thought, until I remembered
the funeral was to take place the following days in Sydney. Eerie.
Work is terrific. It is really a very light
workload. No assessments, no paperwork and only 15 teaching hours in my 38-hour
week. This is the lightest load I’ve ever worked. The rest of the time I can
spend preparing classes, writing a curriculum and developing a library of
teaching materials. I am the
teacher for the North West compound and the numbers in my classes are growing
rapidly. The ‘clients’ love the classes and I appear to have already gained
rock star status, as they mob me after classes to thank me for the lesson and
to compliment me on my work. It may be a little later that I discover the
crafty, scheming motivation behind the flattery, but for now I’ll just enjoy
it.
Greta Beach |
CIIDC |
On Tuesday, I commence Arabic lessons with Ahmed, an Iraqi client. I hope to learn some Arabic as well as to understand
exactly how difficult it is to learn a language from a different language group
and script whilst getting a grasp of Arabic grammar systems. My knowledge of
Arabic is extremely limited and I look forward to filling that void.
The detention centre staff lives at the
decommissioned casino. It is a rather odd place as little like Miss Havisham’s
dinning room from Great Expectations. One
night, I snuck through a backdoor and up a staircase to find the old casino
room with adjacent areas. All the tables were set up with drop sheets over them
as though like naughty children everyone dropped everything and ran as soon as
they had been caught doing illicit acts. My room is on the front left behind the coconut grove.
CIIDC - my work |
The decommissioned Christmas Island Casino - my home |
Christmas Island is an amazing place and I
am so so so happy I decided to come here. But alas this is not the end of the
story……
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