Anka Makovec

Story

I was born into a working class family in the river valley under the mighty peaks of Julian Alps, just before the WWII started. I have vivid memories of those times, all coloured with depravation and above all – fear. End of war brought American Occupying Forces and hopes for the future. The solders spoke strange language all kids wanted to learn: English!

I spent most of my young days on crutches due to bone disease, never giving up hope that one day I will overcome all setbacks and go exploring the world.

Entering my teens, I saw a wonderful Australian film,\’The Overlanders\’. I was stunned! Such vast and captivating land. That day I made myself a promise: I will visit that country one day, no matter what!

I figured that first I must learn English and find out how to get there. I had a Slovenian pen friend who worked on The Snowy Hydro Scheme near Cooma. He advised me that as a nurse, I would be able to work there and explore the country. He even offered me a loan for the ship\’s voyage with a promise to help me to find work. I calculated that in about 2 to 3 years I\’ll be able to pay back the loan, save a bit, see the country and even meet with Aboriginal people.

I was one happy girl of 24, when I boarded a big liner in port of Genoa. It was a migrant ship OCEANIA, bound for Sydney! It took more than six weeks, passing through Suez Canal, Aden, Colombo and Java, before the ship turned towards Australia. We felt on the top of the world and the excitement was huge when we passed the entrance into that beautiful Sydney harbour. It was a brilliant sunny day and there, on shore, was my friend with a welcoming smile on his face.

I stepped on the land I thought I came to explore just for a few years. In truth, it was the land where I eventually met and married my Aussie man and became a Naturalised Australian, gave birth to two beautiful girls, settled in Sydney, well and trully.

I joined the lively multicultural mob of Sydney\’s bohemia: \’Saturday Centre of Prose and Poetry\'(SCOPP). There we met and worked together with Aboriginal artists, forging deep and lasting friendships. With poet Judith Wright, we fought to secure a living space for dear poet friend Oodgeroo, (Kath Walker), of Stradbroke Island. There, on her tribal land, she established a school \’Moongalba\’ for one and all. Together we marched down Sydney streets and lobbied politicians. It was a happy, sisterly association. I was also blessed with friendship of Margaret Tucker who spread tolerance wherever she went, even though, she and her sister were torn from their Mother\’s arms, when the kids with lighter skin were taken away.

I remain for ever indebted to my earliest Aboriginal friend, Lester Bostock. Writer, broadcaster on Radio and TV, University lecturer and respected elder. He lit many lights for me!

I did fulfil my dream of exploration too, joining three ‘Earthwatch Expeditions\’ to wild Cape York, with two leading artists and explorers, Percy Trezise and his black friend – Dick Roughsey. How much my little daughter and I learned, just listening at camp fire, exploring and recording!

Fortune was with me again in 1981, when we moved to Tasmania, to join the great ‘Battle for the Franklin\’. We moved to the West coast town of Strahan, opened the Wilderness Soc. Centre and stayed full time to the end and great victory, under the guidance of Dr Bob Brown. There we shared our home with Tasmanian Aboriginal activists who stood up against desecration of their ancestral lands. Their role contributed that those lands were nominated and accepted on World Heritage Listing – for all future generations to enjoy and admire.

It is hard to explain to your family back in the old country about the heart strings that tie you so strongly to your new country. Now we all know, home is where your heart belongs.

Just the other day my brother called me from Slovenia and remarked that I should think of my old age, my husband passed away, daughters living abroad; he urged it must be time now to return home…

I thanked him for his caring and replied: ‘Brother, don\’t worry, I AM home!’

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