Dignity, Pride & Home

String Of...

8 years of age…
The time was 1996 January the 16^th.

Why am I here?
What is this place?
Why do the people look different?
What is this language they speak?
Where are all my friends?

Countless number of questions, dwelling inside my head on the day of arriving at a place called Sydney, Australia.
Packing everything and saying goodbye to all the family and friends happened so fast, almost as if I was teleported from one place to another in an instant.
Few weeks prior to this day, I was told that our family was starting a new life at a new place. A place called Australia. I had only heard of this place on television, featured on discovery channels where a kangaroo or a koala was introduced. It was all so unreal and a bit of a shock to me.
First year or two of adjusting was the hardest time my family had to go through.
For my parents, there was finding the right job to cope living in Australia without breakdown. And for me there was primary school. God I hated the first year of it so much…
What the hell is that old ugly looking lady with a big arse talking about? Why are we learning kindergarten mathematics? Why am I being treated differently to the others? And what’s with the ugly grey uniform?
Although I got off to a rough miserable beginning, once I started to pick up a few words and get the hang of ‘aussie primary school’ sense of humor, it was a matter of seconds until I made some great friends and began adjusting. The next few years of primary were a breeze.
It’s High school time. I thought to myself, “pfft, common Kenny, admit it… you finished up primary in a pretty popular group amongst your grade… you EVEN had a cute date for your year 6 farewell party! …You’re definitely pretty cool…
This should be a piece of cake!”
But then I ran into an unforeseen obstacle called discrimination.
Let’s face it. This country or any other country in this matter hates to admit that discrimination exists within their environment. But it’s reality. It exists on a daily basis, and to be sincere, there will never be an end to it.
Overcoming or beating this obstacle is an extremely difficult process. However, as long as you do not forget who you really are and not give in, there will always be an answer.

Here I am, having jumped all the hurdles, whether low or high, I think I live a pretty good life in a place where I now call home.
I reflect back through the last 13 years or so of living in Australia and a handful of words describe it all. Pain, confusion, humiliation, freedom, hope and happiness. At least I didn’t start with happiness and finish with painful, right?

I write this story as a reminder to my self of who I really am and of the place where I once called home.