‘I presented all my documentation. Everything was in order, but it didn’t matter. Foreign qualifications for professions like medicine, law and engineering – professions like mine – aren’t recognised in Australia. I can’t work in my field unless I go to university here and retrain.’
Erich knew everything about planes and how they worked. He had been unable to find work in his field in Germany after the war and had struggled to find continuous work to sustain our family. But the Australian Consulate in Frankfurt had promised him engineering work in Australia and that information had helped us make the decision to migrate.
‘How can this be?’
‘They lied to us to get us to come here. We’ve been lured here under false pretences.’ Erich’s voice was hard and flat.
‘That is ridiculous! How can they get away with it? It’s not right . . .’ I raked a trembling hand through my hair. ‘What are we going to do?’
‘We have no choice. I was reminded of the fact quite clearly today.’ He looked me in the eyes. ‘We’re committed to staying here for two years. I have to take any job I’m given, regardless of what I was promised. Besides, even if we wanted to go back now, we could never repay our passage to the Australian government.’
I stared at Erich. His words were like a slap in the face. All the planning, the heartache and the difficult decisions . . . We’d been through so much. But he was right – false hope and indignation weren’t going to get us anywhere. We had no choice.
‘I’m so sorry, my schatz,’ he said. ‘You don’t deserve this.’
I wrapped my arms around him but I wanted nothing more than to scream and shout – to throw something at any Australian official who crossed my path. But none of that would do us any good. Bureaucracy could not be swayed by the act of a single person, righteous or not. I sat back, steeling myself against what was coming.
‘So what happens now?’ My voice sounded small, although I was trying to put on a brave face.
‘The best they can offer is to find me work in some related field, probably as a mechanic.’ He shrugged. ‘We’re no better off than we were at home.’
‘It’s not your fault.’ I squeezed Erich’s hand, summoning my strength. ‘We’ve done it before, we can do it again.’
He straightened in his chair, pulling himself together. ‘Maybe it’s a start. I can save some money and get us settled and then perhaps I can study to get my qualification.’
The vein at his temple was throbbing and I could see the supreme effort it took him to remain calm and logical. As much as this blow devastated him, he had his family to provide for. We had to come first.
I kissed him and held him tight but a little voice inside me wondered how long it would take for us to find our feet.
2
I wasn’t sure what woke me, but the faint glimmer of early morning light peeked between the curtains and fell onto my pillow. I glanced across to Erich’s bed. It was empty, and I remembered that he had been sent to Sydney on the train the day before, to work as a mechanic at a factory for trucks and agricultural machinery. It was early January and companies were employing again after their Christmas closures. If all went well, we would join him once we were allocated somewhere to live.
Gooseflesh rippled along my arms. It was still quite cool in the mornings, though I knew we would be scorching by midday. Pulling the blanket higher around my shoulders, I tried to remember the last time we were apart. It was about six years earlier. Erich’s first wife and their children were still living with us after he’d managed to get them out of the Russian zone. Inga had made it clear that she wanted Erich back and I was at breaking point. But our love had endured and we’d remarried after his divorce from Inga was finalised. I’d vowed never to be parted from him again.
Erich was the love of my life. Of course life was busier with the girls but even after nearly twelve years of marriage, a tender word, a feather-light touch could still stoke the fire between us like in the days of our young love. If anything, the years had brought us even closer, the intimate knowledge of each other forging a bond deeper than I’d ever imagined possible. I fervently hoped we’d be reunited soon.
When it arrived, his first letter to me from Sydney had left me dismayed, my head reeling. There was no work for him there either. It was only after talking to other migrants in the camp at Villawood that Erich learnt the truth: Bonegilla was the main reception centre for migrants and it only sent people to Sydney to make room for new arrivals. The employment office in Sydney tried to accommodate those sent up from Bonegilla but it was often weeks before they found work for them.
I cried after that letter. I wanted to be by Erich’s side, to comfort and support him. I wanted him to see the girls and how happy they were, to be reminded why we’d come to Australia. I remembered our first joyous day at sea. Despite leaving our homeland and everything we knew, I truly believed that Australia was our new beginning. What mattered was that we were together.
The girls and I settled into our routine without Erich, who had decided to stay in Sydney to look for work. Being busy was the only way I could keep my worries at bay and stop myself feeling the absence of him too acutely. I had English classes in the morning, then lunch, a swim at the lake with friends, dinner, a walk and then coffee with the neighbours once the girls were in bed. We could occupy our time easily enough and we were beginning to make friends here but I couldn’t keep thoughts of Erich out of my head.
So I made plans to join him in Sydney, and after speaking to the camp officials I was able to secure our transfer to Villawood migrant camp. We were to travel by train to Sydney and Erich would meet us at Central Station and escort us back to the hostel. I was nervous about travelling on my own with the girls. I knew that my English was passable but we’d been cocooned in Bonegilla for the last couple of months, sheltered from the outside world, and part of me was afraid to step beyond our bubble. However, there was no point staying – Sydney was the most likely place for us to find work. It was the almost overwhelming fear of being apart in this strange new country that spurred me forward – and the thought of being together again enabled me to get on that bus and leave the camp behind as we made our way to the train station one morning in late January.
‘Good luck to you and your family, missus,’ called the bus driver as we set our suitcases down on the dusty kerb. I nodded my thanks and waved as the bus pulled away and we were left alone. Swallowing the lump in my throat, I clasped a suitcase handle in each hand to stop the shaking that had overcome me.
‘Come on, girls, let’s find our train,’ I said brightly as I could. Thankfully our tickets had been booked and paid for and all we had to do now was find the right train and get on.
‘Have you got the tickets, Mutti?’ asked Greta.
A shot of panic coursed through me. ‘I’m sure I put them in my handbag. Let me double check.’ I put the suitcases down and rifled through my bag.
‘We’ll miss the train,’ said Johanna, pulling on my sleeve.
‘No, we won’t. We have plenty of time,’ Greta replied superiorly.
‘Here they are.’ I pulled out the tickets, sighing with relief.
Once inside the station, I looked around anxiously for directions to the platform where the Sydney train would arrive.
‘Stay close now. I don’t want to lose either of you before we get on.’ The girls dutifully stayed by my side as I tried to decipher the board in front of me.
More people arrived, jostling past us impatiently as I stared in confusion at the information.
‘What’re you standing there for? Can’t you see you’re in the road?’ said one of the men crossly as he tried to squeeze past and bumped into me. I drew back in shock at his tone and the look of anger on his face, dropped the suitcases and put my arms around the girls.
‘Train to Sydney,’ I began. ‘What place?’ I stammered in fright.
‘What did you say?’ The man glared at me. ‘You can’t even speak English, can you? Why
don’t you go back to where you came from? We don’t want the likes of you here.’ The girls cowered next to me, hugging me tight.
A large woman in a skirt and blouse wedged herself between the man and me. ‘Is there a problem here?’ The man stared at her belligerently. ‘Are you all right?’ she asked me. I nodded, unable to speak.
‘She can’t even speak fucking English,’ the man proclaimed to the crowd indignantly. I could see the flashes of sympathy across many faces but also the hard stares of others who no doubt agreed.
‘That’s enough,’ said the woman, ‘or I’ll have you escorted from the station.’
‘And who do you think you are?’ jeered the man.
She stood a little taller. ‘I’m the stationmaster’s wife.’
The man turned away, scowling at me one more time. ‘We fought against these bastard Europeans and now we invite them here,’ he said loudly. ‘What’s this bloody country coming to?’
‘Don’t pay any attention to him,’ said the stationmaster’s wife. ‘Some men have never been the same since they came back from the war. They left their decency and manners on the battlefield and all they have left is their resentment. I’m sorry you had to see that. Most Australians are friendly and accommodating.’
‘Thank you,’ I said, the shock beginning to subside and understanding most of what she’d said. I glanced at the girls, their faces pale, and loosened my grip on them.
‘I could see that you were staring at the board before you were rudely interrupted. Where are you going?’
‘Sydney . . .’ I looked at the board again and frowned. ‘Platform Two, but the time is different. Is it the right train?’ I pulled out our tickets from my bag and showed the woman.
‘Oh, of course.’ The woman smiled, checking the tickets before handing them back. ‘It’s the right train but it’s running late today and won’t arrive for another hour.’ The woman didn’t seem very worried about the train not running to schedule.
‘Okay,’ I said, trying to smile. ‘I thought that maybe because my English isn’t very good that I’d made a mistake.’
‘You’re fine.’ She patted my hand reassuringly. ‘How about you all come with me and have a cup of tea before the train arrives. Then I’ll put you on the train myself.’ Still in shock and worried about the girls, I nodded and allowed the woman to usher us to a small room off the stationmaster’s office, where we were given sweet milky tea and biscuits.
The monotonous clattering of the wheels of the train soothed my jarred nerves. The tea and biscuits had done their work on the girls, who were back to their usual selves, restless and annoying each other, but for once I didn’t worry. After the morning we’d had, I was happy to let them be, grateful to see them behaving normally. Besides, the carriage was nearly empty. Thankfully the man at the station hadn’t boarded the train but I was too rattled to want to leave the security of our carriage. I felt for the packet of sandwiches in my bag, the white bread I couldn’t get used to but that the girls loved, still soft and fresh. The kitchen had prepared them for our trip and now I felt very glad for them and that I didn’t have to converse in English or deal with Australian money to buy our lunch.
Slowly my frozen mind began to work again and I tuned out the girls who were playing a guessing game. Now I could take in our surroundings as we hurtled through the countryside. There was barely a blade of green grass in sight. As far as the eye could see, it was bone dry, dusty and brown, that was except for the eucalypts – gum trees they were called – and the continuous blue sky. I couldn’t imagine an environment more alien and different from anything we had known in Germany. The heat was almost suffocating and my last thought, as I was finally lulled into an exhausted doze, was that soon we’d be with Erich.
*
We alighted at Central Station and were thrust forward amid the sea of passengers, me hanging on to suitcases and the girls in front of me gripping hands. I tried to keep one eye on them and the other looking out for Erich. My heart was thumping madly, wondering what I’d do if I lost the girls or if I couldn’t find Erich. How would I get us to Villawood? Then I saw him, standing away from the surge of people, towards the end of the platform. I guided the girls towards him, jostling my way through the crowd.
‘We made it.’ I fell into Erich’s arms and willed myself not to cry. Instead I trembled violently – from relief and joy.
‘My liebchen,’ he murmured, holding me as if he’d never let go. We had been apart for nearly a month and the strain on him was evident.
‘I missed you so much,’ I whispered, squeezing him to make sure he was real.
‘You’re here now,’ he said, smiling down at me.
That night, lying with Erich in one of the camp beds, I prised the details of the last weeks out of him. We had two rooms like in Bonegilla, separated from the three other families in the dome-shaped Nissen hut by thin partition walls that didn’t even reach the roof. There was no privacy at all and we had to whisper to make sure we weren’t overheard and so we didn’t disturb the children. Erich had finally found a job working as a mechanic servicing Volkswagen cars at Lanock Motors in the city. It wasn’t much money but it was a job and that was a start.
‘It was difficult,’ he began. ‘I was supposed to go to the employment office once a week to see if there was a job, but hundreds of people sit there every day, often from early in the morning until the evening, desolate and desperate.’
‘I can’t believe they let things get so bad.’ It sounded like the queues in post-war Germany, standing for hours in the freezing conditions, desperate not to miss out on the limited rations available when the shop opened its doors, determined to stay as long as necessary to bring some kind of food home – anything – to the family.
‘I’ve been told that once you leave Bonegilla, they stop caring about what happens to you, and I’ve certainly heard many terrible stories about people trying to find work and losing all hope of the life they came to find.’
‘Thank God in heaven you found a job, then. How did you manage it?’
He paused and sighed. ‘I went to the city and sold our camera.’
‘You what?’ I turned rigid in his arms. Erich had taken the camera with him to Sydney to send us photos of where he worked and of areas we might live with the last of the film before having it developed. He knew how much that camera meant to me; it was my only link to my passion and my dream of my own photography studio.
He cupped my cheek, trying to soothe me. ‘I know, but what other choice did I have? None of our belongings have arrived yet. It was the only thing of value I had. I promise I’ll buy you a new one as soon as I can.’ He drew back to look into my face in the dim light. ‘Can you forgive me?’
We had bought that camera together and he had used it on the boat and on our stopover in Colombo almost as much as I had. It was our only extravagance and held such sentimental feelings. Tears slid down my face against my will, not just at the loss of something so meaningful but at Erich’s desperation.
‘Of course I forgive you,’ I whispered, my body softening once more. ‘Why didn’t you tell me how bad it’s been for you?’
He gently wiped my tears away with his thumb. ‘I didn’t want to upset you any more than I needed to. You’ve had enough to deal with on your own with the children and I always hoped that a job would come along.’
‘You can always tell me anything.’
‘I know.’
‘So what did you do with the money?’
‘I spent it on fares into the city every day to look for work. I went from factory to factory, but everywhere there were people lined up, sometimes a hundred or more, looking for work, just like me. It was a depressing sight, but the thought of you and the children kept me going.
‘One of the other German immigrants gave me the address of the Australian–German Welfare Society. They help Germans who might be having difficulty financially or in finding employment. They used their contacts to help me find work.’
/> ‘There are some kind people out there,’ I murmured, thinking of the stationmaster’s wife.
‘I don’t know where we would be without them. They gave me the address for the Volkswagen plant here in Sydney. Apparently, Volkswagens are gaining popularity after winning a big cross-country car race recently. They need more mechanics, especially those who understand German cars. I went immediately. After they checked my paperwork and credentials, I was hired as an auto mechanic within the hour. The problem was that all my work clothes and tools are still in our crates and I needed my own tools to start work.’
‘I tried to find out where they are before we left Bonegilla but all I got was that they’re still in customs,’ I said.
‘It’s okay,’ he said, kissing my shoulder. ‘Lucky for me the manager has provided me with new tools, which I have to pay off at one pound a week. But they couldn’t provide work clothes until I’ve been there a month. The society helped me again by buying work clothes for me. I have a month to repay them.’ He paused. ‘I would have lost the job if not for them. I can’t believe the kindness they showed me.’
‘We’re very fortunate.’ After the war in Germany, it was every man for himself. Living conditions were far worse than what we were experiencing now and there was no safety net to ensure an ordinary person’s survival, let alone that of a family. But I couldn’t imagine what this experience had done to Erich’s pride.
‘It will be all right now.’
I hoped I was right.
*
Erich settled quickly into his job. Although he was no stranger to manual work, most of the mechanics were in their twenties or thirties and Erich worked as hard as the younger men to justify his employment. It was rough on him: he got up at five in the morning and didn’t return until six at night when he collapsed, bone-tired, on the lounge. The only time we really got to talk was on a Sunday, after a sleep-in and late breakfast.
‘My English is getting quite good,’ he said one Sunday. We were reading the newspaper, enjoying a little peace while the girls were outside playing. ‘I’m interpreting for the other German workers who don’t understand English so well yet and translating their official documents, so they understand the work routines.’
Suitcase of Dreams Page 2