No Trace of My Father's Hands Across Your Trees

OVERVIEW

Journalism, at its best, reveals the truth. But can we depend on journalism alone to reveal the truth?

This question becomes more complex when we talk about Afghan asylum seekers and refugees, whose identities and stories have been a part of politically-charged discussions and debates in Australia and around the world. These debates have also been distorted by vested political interests - including within the media industry itself (we have references at the end of the story if you'd like to find out more!).

It is no wonder that many Afghan refugees in Australia we spoke to for this story have never shared their stories with other journalists. They are afraid that their stories could be distorted by 'the media'.

More than most other people, these Afghans know the power of stories; their precarious journeys as refugees have told them that a distorted truth, a carelessly-told story or outright lies could end their lives or diminish hopes of a better future.

And some of them, like Afghan women we spoke to, don't even believe that their stories are worth telling.

But we believe otherwise. We believe that their stories matter and that journalism can do better in gaining their trust and portraying the lives of refugees and asylum seekers. Not just as victims, but as human beings.

In this project, we have tried to find a solution by working collaboratively with Afghan refugees in using a form of storytelling they are comfortable with: poetry.

One of us, Shamsiya, is herself a refugee from Afghanistan. This is why the rest of the story will be told through Shamsiya's voice.

But you will not only hear from Shamsiya. You will also hear the voices and stories from Afghan refugees. Instead of doing a traditional journalism interview, however, we wanted to start a conversation with them with one simple question: what is your favourite poem and why is that poem important to you?

We don't pretend to have found the answer to help journalists do a better job in telling stories about Afghan refugees. But through this project, we are now able to share the stories of these refugees for the first time with you. Through this project, we have learnt that what we do as journalists can, and should, be enriched by other storytelling traditions; that the truth of an individual or a group of people is always necessarily complex and our journalism should also be necessarily complex and, sometimes, beauty and fiction can be a way to get to the facts.

To hear the poems, keep scrolling and click on the play button when the Soundcloud player appears. You can then keep scrolling to read the English translation while the audio of the poem is still playing. For some of the poems, we have also included the voice of the person explaining why the poem is meaningful for them as a refugee now living in Australia.

During the Soviet War in Afghanistan, Ellina's parents fled to Iran, where Ellina was born and faced discrimination since her childhood.

“My classmates and friends were always calling me ‘Afghan’,” she says, “as if being an Afghan was a crime, a sin.”

"They always made sure that we knew our place in Iran and that was ‘being an Afghan was a crime'," she says.

As a refugee with limited job opportunities, Ellina's father had to work hard and long hours. But his income was so low that Ellina remembered they were merely surviving from one day to another.

But the thing that hurt the most was the humiliation.

One day, she and her father were on their way back from the bakery when they came across a neighbour who was scolding her kid. When Ellina and her father was close enough, this neighbour pointed at Ellina's father and said to her kid: "if you continue to be naughty, I'll tell the Afghan man to come and eat you alive."

"I could not even look at my father's face", Ellina says.

In 2020, according to the latest data from UNESCO, more than 10 million youths and adults in Afghanistan are illiterate.

Afghanistan, a war-torn country, faces many challenges that are made more complicated with a low literacy rate of only 43 per cent (a bit higher for 15-24 year olds at 65 per cent).

This rate is even worse for women: only 29 per cent of Afghan women can read and write.

This low literacy rate means that many Afghans are not as familiar with 'modern' forms of media. However, oral poetry forms have been an important part for Afghan men and women in expressing their stories and connecting them to one another.

Afghans are very social people; they love gathering together to exchange stories while sipping a nice cup of green tea together. 

Growing up in an Afghan family, I remember my mother and her friends often gathered in small groups where they embroidered, socialised and poured their hearts out through poems they created among each other. You will hear my mother reading one of these poems later.

Usually, their poems were not read but rather sang in pairs as a duet. This helped them create the right rhythm. 

It creates social cohesion; it gives a voice to those who cannot read or write in ways most people do 

But there is a darker side to this. Many Afghans who grew up under war conditions have difficult relationships with their country, the world and their own people. Their emotional needs are thus complex and traditional forms of journalism are not always able to capture the needs of their hearts.

These poems, however, allow them to express and share at least a fragment of their emotions. They speak on behalf of the Afghan people with an intimacy that other forms of media cannot achieve and give their listeners an insight of people's perceptions of the world.

This is not exclusive to Afghans, of course.

The celebrated Australian writer Arnold Zable is the son of Polish refugees who fled Europe following the Holocaust. He has written about his parents’ journeys and given workshops to help others find ways to express their emotions through the art of storytelling.

Arnold says that poetry is so powerful as a medium because it is universal.

“It is the universal language, and a subtle way to communicate,” he says. “There are some cultures where poetry is the most loved form of communicating.”

For refugees like his father, Arnold says poetry was a way to put his story into words.  

“In a way, poetry was his personal diary and it was the language that enabled him to explore things which perhaps he wouldn’t have explored in other ways”

So it is with many Afghans, who find it difficult to express themselves in their own words. Instead, like Arnold’s father, they often use poetry to express the ineffable. This gives poetry a special and crucial place in the way Afghans communicate and tell their stories.

Someone who has found a special poem to help her communicate her story is Zakia Noori, a 28-year old journalism student who became a refugee in Australia when she was 22. Not a great age to settle in a new country, she says.

"When you're 22, you've already completed your school, your university...[so] you have all the things you've left behind but also you have to start from scratch."

Finding a place for herself in her new home in Australia and to explore her new identity was challenging.

Luckily for Zakia, she found the poetry of Elyas Alavi, an Afghan poet who also became a refugee in Australia at around the same age as her.

For Zakia, finding Elyas Alavi's poetry was a relief because it reminds her that she’s not alone.

"The one that I've read to you is my favourite. I could relate to it, and that I found that I'm not the only one who suffered for a period of time. There's a lot of people who are like me."

In times of COVID-19, some Afghan refugees have also found respite through poetry.

Ali Yousefi, who came to Australia after being granted a humanitarian visa, shares his favourite poem about the universality of the human experience.

All human beings are members of one frame
Since all, at first, from the same essence came.

When time afflicts a limb with pain
The other limbs at rest cannot remain.

If thou feel not for others misery
 A human being is no name for thee

Ali likes this poem because its humanitarian message is an important one, especially, he says, in times of hardship.

“Dealing with COVID-19, for example, if someone’s going through hardship, we can just offer a helping hand, you know?”

"We, as humans, gotta look after each other."

“We don’t deserve the name of human being if we don’t actually act like it.”

Politicians in Australia from both sides of the political spectrum have made it clear that the path to residency in Australia for refugees and asylum seekers who come by boat is narrow at best.

In 2013, the then-Prime Minister Kevin Rudd said in a statement “be in no doubt. If people are paying thousands and thousands of dollars to a people smuggler, they are buying a ticket to a country other than Australia”.

The entire process of getting a visa in Australia can be a long one when compared to other nations. The average wait time between when applications were submitted and refugees receiving their visas in Australia from 2014-2015 was “approximately 14 and a half months”, according to the Parliament of Australia’s website.

Compare that to Canada where, according to their government’s website, “it can take up to 8 weeks for refugees to get their visas”.

Australia’s is a policy that results long, drawn out process that has been condemned internationally.  

These practices and policies are not popular with some Australians, like Mary Bremner, the convener of the group Aireys Inlet Rural Australians for Refugees.

Members of the group participate in pro refugee and asylum seeker rights activism, including protests outside the local federal MP's office in the Geelong suburb of Waurn Ponds to letter writing.

“We think that we’re not going to get change until we got a critical mass of people within Australia who believe that we need change”, Mary Bremner said.  

According to a poll by the Interpreter, 36% of Australians who participated in the poll in 2018 still view “large numbers of immigrants and refugees coming into Australia” as a “critical threat”.

Levels of fear and concern about “boat arrivals” have remained the same throughout the last decade or so in Australia. If this poll is anything to go by, it’s going to take a lot of work to change public opinion about refugees and asylum seekers.

Australians from every corner of the country are taking that challenge onboard, including the Australian Greens' leader Adam Bandt.

And there's Mary and Keith Bremner, whose work they do with the Aireys Inlet Rural Australians for Refugee groups are just a few examples of Australians standing up for refugee rights.

Recently, the proposed legislation that would have given authorities the power to ban mobile phones from Australian immigration detention centres resulted in a wave of criticism against the Federal Government.

Part of this wave included a petition, signed and shared by public figures such as refugee advocate Julian Burnside. The bill failed when, in early October, Senator Jacqui Lambie revealed she opposes the bill.

These fights and small victories allow refugees, including these refugees we have heard from so far, to not only think about their life in relations to wars and conflicts, but also about love in a more peaceful time.

For Naveed (not his real name), for example, it's about a few seconds that might have changed the whole course of his love life if things had turned out different.

“I believe that in everyone’s life there is someone who is missing,” he says.

For him, this someone is a woman he was supposed to meet at the train station just before he left to seek refuge in Australia. But, despite some careful planning, his train left too soon.

“In fact, we were just a few seconds away,” he says.

“I came to Australia and never heard back from her,” he says.

“I always remember her and I wonder what could have happened if we had met in real life.”

This is why a poem by Nima Yushij, who wrote about his brother he never heard back from after he fled from Iran, became a poem he cherished in his present life in Australia.

In this project, we asked thirteen Afghans to share their favourite poem and what it meant for them.

It is a small number of people, but it is hard to deny that when we compare the poems shared by the men and those that are shared by the women, a larger number of Afghan women shared stories that are more harrowing to hear.

We have heard from Ellina in the beginning of this story, with her experience of racism. But she's just one of the Afghan women who shared with us the pain of living that others like her have experienced.

Zaina (not her real name), a 32-year-old Afghan woman who now lives in Melbourne, shares a poem that describes the pain she has experienced throughout her life as an Afghan woman.

“I have a lot of pain in my heart," she says, "even if I share my sorrows with others, they won’t be able to help me."

Zaina has endured a lot in her life and feels that no one understands her pain.

"If I express my pain to others, they will hear me, but they will not be able to comprehend me the exact way I stumble in my sorrows," she says.

“The pain I have suffered from, I feel like only I can understand, this understanding comes from me being a woman,” she says.

“If I were a man, maybe my sorrows wouldn’t be as severe."

“Maybe I would’ve ached less and cared less for the journey I’ve walked. I feel like this sorrow is a common journey for many Afghan women.”

Her painful journey has killed her trust for others around her.

"I just want to be left alone and spend the rest of my life alone...this way I won’t have to see anyone or hear anyone. This way I won’t be used and betrayed again."

This is the poem that she decides to share:

I have a heart that has no infidels
No one knows (the condition of) our hearts

If someone comes to know our heart
It will be an example of burning one’s bones.

“I often listen to and read these kinds of poems because it’s the only way I can express exactly how I feel. The poems help me put the pain into words.”

Despite her suffering, poetry helps Zaina makes sense of her feelings.

"The taste of life has disappeared from my life...But with these poems, I can go on.”

Hearing stories about Afghan women and their sufferings has both been difficult and inspiring, especially since this story is personal to me. I've mentioned my mother in the beginning of this story; how she used to sing and recite poetry with her friends before she made the journey to be a refugee.

So I asked her to share her favourite poem with me, especially one that was written and recited by her and her friends during one of their gatherings in Afghanistan.

When this specific poem was written, she was a young bride coping with the separation with her parents and adjusting life living with her new in-laws. And now, she is using this poem to help her make sense of living in her new land of Australia.

Having left her parents to come to Australia and not being there when they passed away, my mother says this poem is especially meaningful for her and her journey - one that has had many hardships and difficulties.

“This poem is the words of those who have walked on a journey of pain and suffering”, she says.

“I wasn't there when they passed away, I wasn’t there when they were old and dependent and needed me the most."

"I didn’t fulfil my duty as their daughter to look after them and this is a very heavy regret to live with. One that will stay with me forever.”

For my mother, the poem is meaningful because it reflects the journeys of many Afghan women.

"When a parent gives the hand of their daughter to someone (for marriage), they are unaware of their future and what will happen to their daughter, whether the groom will turn out good or bad. They merely wish and hope he treats their daughter right."

"A mother and a father send their daughter away, hoping she’ll flourish and have a good life with her new family."

Shokria Hakimi, 45, however, thinks a lot of young Afghan women around the world are not given the opportunity to live a good life - even those who have made their way to a peaceful country like Australia.

“A lot of Afghan girls, they want to sing, but they’re not allowed to,” Shokria says.

“They want to be someone, they want to be a singer, a poet, a movie star, but they can’t do it. I chose this poem because it represents the situation of the majority of girls in Afghanistan and even in Australia.”

Shokria has chosen a poem written by Nadia Anjuman, who was born in the third-largest city in Afghanistan, Herat, in 1980. When the Taliban captured the city and banned women from attending schools, she joined an underground education circle where she started writing her ghazal poems.

After the Taliban rule ended in 2001, she was one of the first women to enrol in Herat University to study literature. She published her first book of poetry, Dark Flower, in 2001 and was gaining her reputation as a rising star.

In 2005, however, a year before the publication of her planned second book and just short of her twenty-fifth birthday, she died after a beating by her husband.

Shokria says this poem not only speaks about the oppression faced by women but also serves as a reminder to speak up and be heard.

“The woman who wrote this poem was killed, but her voice is still here,” she says.

“I want all the Afghan girls to read this and to encourage them.”

Afghanistan’s story, and the stories of its people, is a story worth telling if we want to understand how to move forward in this world.

There have been wars within Afghanistan’s borders since 1978. Revolutions, invasions, and civil wars have made a once prosperous country unrecognisable.

In the 1960s and 70s, Afghanistan was thriving as its economy grew, democratic reforms were introduced, and women’s rights advanced greatly.

For women like Ellina, Zakia, Shokria, Zaina and my mother, these poems have helped them shine a light on their lives, and now, through their involvement in this project, they have also shine some lights on our lives.

We all live complex lives and have complex identities. But for a refugee like Ellina Nazari, her identity as an Afghan in Iran, and now as an Afghan in Australia, often leaves her confused and isolated.

"Am I Afghan? Isn’t watan (country of origin) where you are born and grew up in?"

Ellina has finally found her safe haven and is hopeful for her future.

"Fortunately, I arrived in Australia 10 years ago. Australia is a country that is full of harmony, acceptance and friendship."

More than anything to do with her own life, she's very happy to give her daughter a peaceful life she never had.

"I'm so happy that my daughter was born here, and she will never experience such racism and discrimination like her mother and she can proudly say that she's an Australian."

"At least she will not suffer from the ambiguity of her identity, like I did," she says.

Some references we used to help write this story:

"Journalism's role in mediating public conversation on asylum seekers and refugees in Australia." Romano, Angela (2004)

"Caught between sympathy and suspicion: journalistic perceptions and practices of telling asylum seekers’ personal stories." Pantti, Mervi; Ojala, Markus (2018)

"Words don’t come easy: Al Jazeera’s migrant–refugee distinction and the European culture of (mis)trust." Kyriakides, Christopher (2016)

"Now I'm Part of Australia and I Need to Know What Is Happening Here': Case of Hazara Male Former Refugees in Brisbane Strategically Selecting Media to Aid Acculturation." Tudsri, Pthai; Hebbani, Aparna (2015)