Reconciliation begins with everyone in our society AKRAM AZIRI THE AUSTRALIAN JANUARY 27, 2014 12:00AM BEING the 2013 Young Australian of the Year was more than just receiving an award; it was a generous invitation into the lives of so many Australians. Although the travel schedule was physically gruelling, it was a small sacrifice for the opportunity to converse intimately with more than 300,000 of my fellow Australians. I had the rare privilege of speaking with Australians of all ages, political persuasions and walks of life. These dialogues deeply shaped my understanding of who we are as Australians and who we could be if we if we told different stories about ourselves. In particular, there were three emotionally charged moments that offered me glimpses into alternative and nascent national narratives. The first surfaced early in my year as Young Australian when an audience member posed a question pregnant with suspicion: Why do you care about what happens to indigenous Australia? As I paused to consider the question, I noticed that there was a strong inflection on you; that is, why does someone of your non-indigenous background care about what happens to indigenous Australians? Delving deeper into my motivations led me to share a story with my audience about the degrading experience of being bashed up at school when I was 14 for the colour of my skin. I told them what had hurt more than the punches and taunts were the omissions of the silent majority; none of my classmates had spoken out, let alone come and stood by my side. In telling this story, my motivations became clear to me. I advocate shoulder-to-shoulder with indigenous Australians because I believe that my liberties and dignities as an Australian, and more broadly as a human being, are inherently tied into the liberties and dignities of indigenous Australians. Any injustice that affects them directly, affects me (and indeed all of us) indirectly. Clearly, we all have an interest in creating a fully reconciled Australia. Before my time as Young Australian of the Year, and more specifically this moment, I had not noticed the virtual absence of the word justice from the non-indigenous vocabulary on reconciliation. This moment of realisation helped me see a new path for reconciliation, one paved anew for my generation by notions of justice that focus on healing rather than retribution. This path is dictated not by governments but by people who let go of hope for a better past and acknowledge that reconciliation begins with me. The second of these moments occurred at an unexpected place. I was giving a presentation at a very low socioeconomic status school in regional Western Australia. Despite a shaky start, I soon had them transfixed by the story of my mothers lioness courage. I told them how she had carried my brother and me on her back out of war-ravaged Kabul. I shared with them how my mother had stood in a long line when we were living as refugees in Peshawar, Pakistan, to ensure that I received a polio vaccine. I asked them: who paid for that vaccine? No response, just wide eyes hungry for more of the story. This is where, I told them, our stories intertwine. It was the international community - including Australia - that purchased the 13c polio vaccine in an act of indiscriminate kindness. In Peshawar, where kids my age were struck down by polio all around me, a mere 13c had made a profound difference in my life. When I finished my story, I asked the students to ponder on how they could be a source for good in their community, nation and world. I said my farewells and was about to walk out of the room. One of the students stopped me and placed $5.20 into my hands. For polio vaccines, he said. As the kids filed out for lunch, I realised that this was their collective lunch money. I choked up with pride. Even in the face of their own personal hardships, these young Australians were profoundly generous and empathetic to kids they had never met and probably would never meet. This small gesture still sustains the light of my optimism against rising dark tides of parochialism and fear - that it is the Australian culture and character rather than our material affluence that makes us generous. The third of these moments came as a government announcement halfway through my year as the Young Australian. It was a pledge by the (now previous) government of Australia to contribute $80 million in support of polio eradication efforts from 2014 to 2018. What made this news remarkable was the fact that I heard it while in Kenya - which was struggling with a fresh outbreak of polio, and I was meeting polio survivors. In that moment, I saw Australia through Kenyan eyes and saw an international champion for the worlds vulnerable. These three intense moments, as well as many others, were signposts for an Australia where we love our indigenous heritage as we love our non-indigenous heritages, embrace our neighbours as we embrace ourselves and care for those least among us with all the gusto of our national creed: a fair go for all. This Australia is out there - just around the corner of our next collective choice. Lets meet there. Akram Azimi was the 2013 Young Australian of the Year.
Posted on: Sun, 26 Jan 2014 23:13:46 +0000
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