Tomorrow Today

Two women – both ardently committed to bringing hope to those forcibly made hopeless – have returned time and time again to Bogor, a city 60km south of Jakarta in Indonesia, to hear the real stories. Not the stories which trickle through our mainstream media channels with filters and agendas, but the actual on-the-ground stories of the people living a life in limbo.

Bogor is a hub for some 3,000 refugees and asylum seekers who have fled danger in Afghanistan, Iran, Iraq, Pakistan and Sri Lanka. Approximately 500 are children and youth.

While families wait to hear of their application status - which can often take up to several years - life is put on pause. Everything comes to a complete stop. With no rights to work or access education, families live in very basic conditions with no certainty regarding their future on a day-to-day basis.

Meet Laura O’Neill and Julia Frei from Australia who have worked extensively with displaced people over the last decade all around the world. Connected not only by their passion, but their deep compassion for refugees and asylum seekers in Indonesia, Laura and Julia are raising essential funds to establish a learning centre in the area of Cisarua for the displaced children and youth of Bogor.

I speak with Laura who shares why her and Julia are devoted to their project.

But before we begin, take a moment to watch this video Tomorrow Today. Meet the people of Bogor.

Laura, can you explain to me the situation for refugees and asylum seekers who find themselves in Indonesia? What rights – or more accurately, lack of rights - do they have access to? What is life like on-the-ground?

“Many asylum seekers have traditionally come to Indonesia with the intention to find a people smuggler to aid their journey to Australia by boat. Since the introduction of the current government's deterrence policy, many individuals and families are no longer choosing to take this journey. Therefore, thousands of asylum seekers are waiting in Indonesia for their refugee status determination outcomes. During this waiting period, adults are unable to work which means that it is incredibly difficult for people to support themselves and their families. Children do not attend local school and spend their days without purpose in small rented rooms.”

I know you have both have recently visited Bogor to meet families who have been displaced from their homelands. Tell me, what took you to Bogor?

“I first went to the Bogor area because I knew this area is a migration hub where many asylum seekers lived. After arriving to Jakarta, I met a young Hazara man who invited me into his community. I was a total stranger to these people yet I was hosted in absolute warmth and hospitality, sharing food, shelter, stories and tears with individuals, families and children. Their situation and stories moved me deeply and since then, Julia and I have both returned a number of times to develop our project – a learning centre for children in the area known as Cisarua - so we can find ways to give back to these people who deserve so much more.”

During your conversations with the community, what stories were shared? What were you shocked to learn?

“I learnt a lot about people who have been displaced from their homelands. People, who like you and me, have tapestries of history and dreams for their futures. I heard stories that force people to flee from war, terror, kidnappings, bomb blasts, persecutions, missing family members and the heartache of often leaving alone and carrying a burden of worry for the wellbeing and safety of remaining relatives.”

Why I Write

This big question has been at the forefront of my brain the past week, bouncing around, finding its footing. Finding its grip.

I was nestled in the back corner of one of my many favourite cafes, head phones in and encircled by post-it notes with words and messages when, while tapping away at my laptop I was stopped mid-sentence. I thought: Why do I do this? Why do I write?

The big why.

And you would think the answer would be quite obvious. That it would roll off the tongue without a moment’s hesitation. With full clarity and certainty.

But this wasn’t the case.

I was stumped. Silenced even.

I left the question unanswered. I let it linger, and this is what evolved.

I write because…

* It is integral to my personal happiness and wellbeing

If I don’t write, I don’t feel whole. I feel off-centre and a little wobbly to tell you the truth. When life has gotten too busy, and finding time to write has been a stretch so I’ve ignored the pull, it hasn’t worked in my favour. Lesson here: There is always time to write.

Something sensational happens when ideas and thoughts move from my head and through my body to my fingers, and make their way to the blank canvas before me in the way of words.

Spaciousness is created. Queries and ambiguities become clear(er) when articulated into verses, and everything just makes a little more sense. Who I am, and my place in the world is more evident.

Why do we do many of the things we love? Because frankly, it feels good.

* Creativity is sacred

When I find my groove, each word flows and graciously supports the next word - effortlessly. There is no push. No pressure. Each word has a unique home on the page, and has been chosen because of its exclusive relevance to the message and the quality it expels. The sentences begin to sing. The punctuation emphasizes each. and. every. word.

It is my doorway to the creative realm. Where colours morph and shapes transform. Where smells are portrayed and places are reinvented. Where life is full of possibility.

When this happens, I feel a beat to my walk, and a hop to my skip. This kind of self-expression brings me happiness and reminds me to keep doing what lights me up from the inside out.

There is a yearning; a fire in my belly, and experience has taught me that those feelings cannot be ignored.