Hans Geissler

Story

A ‘rondo’ composition in my symphony of life: I reflect. Tones converted into images, scenes, emotions, passing by in different tempo.

The Dutch east Indies (Indonesia), WW II: at the age of ten I was forcefully taken away from my mother and only brother, and interned in a Japanese boys’ camp. Father imprisoned somewhere else. But we all came through these traumatic times. Only a favourite uncle didn’t make it. Repatriated to Holland. After high school a tertiary a tertiary education in Tropical Agriculture in Deventer. As agronomist/extension officer to the former Belgian Congo where I married my Deventer fiance, Sophie (Fietje). Then Dutch New Guinea. The end of the colonial era. In 1962 I assisted the U.N. Temporary Executive Authority with the Dutch-Indonesian handover. Australia on my way home to Holland. An interview with the Department of Territories about work on cocoa plantations in Australian PNG. Yes, they needed me but I had to immigrate first. Back in Holland I persuaded Sophie to emigrate. We were looking for political stability. The employment opportunities in Holland were not good, the housing situation worse. Holland was considered ‘full’ and the Government was actively promoting emigration. Robert Menzies, a pillar of stability in charge of a prosperous Australia. In PNG we would have Australia as security to fall back on if that country also would gain independence.

We didn’t feel like migrants. I felt a freelancer, confident about my qualifications, experience, my goal. So I defied the Immigration Officer at Scyville, Sydney. DPI in Queensland was not for me. What did I know about grazing and draughts? To Canberra, Ainslie Hostel, a major improvement on Scyville.

Then my actions seemed to backfire. Territories told me I had to wait five years before becoming eligible for naturalization, an employment prerequisite. The only job I could get was with Parks & Gardens. One frosty, foggy morning I found myself riding in the back of a truck, huddled together with a bunch of fellow workers, protecting ourselves against the rushing cold. Reduced to an unskilled labourer. I stared into the fog, this cannot be true. The rise from desperation was slow. I had to prove myself all over again. Reluctant to join a Union, a kangaroo court was convened in one of the glasshouses. Pay-up or face a black ban by the fraternity. Struggling with two mortgages I had little choice. They ‘knighted’ me with a ‘good on ye, mate’. Much later, working for CSIRO-Forestry, our professional team leader said to me: “Hans, we only want healthy animals as migrants, your children we’re really interested in”. He was a friend, introduced me to the Australian bush, but this I could not accept. It was another turning point in my life. I matriculated at the Australian National University to embark on an Arts/Oriental Studies Degree course. I felt I had to break away from agriculture, horticulture and forestry. I wanted to become a link between Australia and Asia. Motivated with my sights on Foreign Affairs, I battled on, studying part-time, driving a taxi nights and weekends to support my family. My English also needed honing. I didn’t know the other meaning of ‘naughty’ and drove a randy fare to the public toilets at Garema Place. What a “f….’n wog” I was! But my efforts paid off. In recognition of my academic results the Government granted me a Free Place on full salary to finish my course. I also won an essay competition in Indonesian sponsored by the Indonesian Embassy. Foreign Affairs accepted me before graduation. A break-through, eight years after entering Australia. I was in my element, managing people and dealing with foreign countries. Knowledge, skills and determination are, however, not enough to reach one’s goals. You have to be given the opportunities to be able to prove yourself. I am sincerely grateful to those born Australians who believed in me and gave me a fair go in working with me. In the mean time, Sophie had been raising three children and was delighted with the breaks of overseas postings.

The sounds of the ‘rondo’ movement are fading. I’m entering the finale. Where will it take me? Our Australian roots have remained shallow. Culturally we feel most at home in northwestern Europe. I’m longing for the subdued light, dreaming of autumn colours, the serene purple of the blooming heather under the streaky grey skies, the life giving rain on my face.-

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