Gema Gonzalez

Story

The Story of Gema Gonzalez, Part 2 – AUSTRALIA JANUARY 1974

Some women were crying; others were very happy; some others were desperate because their children refused to eat the different food. Those mothers could not communicate to anyone for help as they did not speak or understand any English. Most of the 160 migrants that I arrived with hardly spoke any English, only just a few words. But we couldn\’t understand a single word. The Qantas plane flew us from Madrid to Brisbane, and from there we went in a bus to a hostel for migrants at Wacoal. The accommodation at Wacoal, was humble, little wooden huts, with everything in it to be able to live humbly.

This hostel used to be a camp for soldiers in the Second World War. It was situated outside the City of Brisbane, in the middle of the bush. That was why some women were crying, they come to Australia, dreaming that Australia had a more sophisticated way of life than the one that they come from. To live in the bush was humiliating for them.

Sebastian and I were in the happy people group and we loved the hostel life. Towels and linen were supplied by the government, the food was also supplied and cooked for us since we put our feet in Australian soil, and we were in paid unemployment. English classes and the office to look for work were in the same hostel for free. Of course the huts were not luxurious, but were livable. Toilets and showers were in another building for common use with all the other migrants from around the world; the same with the dining room, we didn\’t have to cook or wash the dishes as there were people employed to do these jobs. For me, it was like a holiday. We learned new things everyday from this big and different country. Things were very different from Spain. In Australia we live in the southem hemisphere, so the year seasons and the time of the day were the opposite of the Europe we were used to. Food was different, but the same, potatoes and pasta, cooked differently. The people were different, with different customs and values. One thing that I found hard to get used to was the way some people used to lick their fingers, during or after they were eating -making a noise as they were sucking. The worst part was this action was accepted as good manners. It was especially hard to accept the idea of cooking with animal fat, which all Australians used to cook with, and some still do. It was a custom of the English. For a people who came from the Mediterranean areas this was a totally unacceptable, but it was very hard to find good oil or olive oil to put in our salads and vegetables. Even now after 35 years, I find hard to accept this as normal. To live happily we had to accept all these customs, and to try to adopt them as ours – it made no sense to fight against it.

Sebastian and I took this adventure with optimism. We met all sorts of people, as well some other Spanish people that they were in Australia longer than us and they helped us with some problems especially related to the language, as Sebastian and I were as if deaf and dumb.

Now after 35 years, I can laugh about it. I love Australia, it is my home, but my heart is full of compassion for the new Australians especially refugees, they trust us – like I did.

GEMA GONZALEZ. December 2008

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