Vignettes — #9
Imran
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“So, remind me, Mr Afghadi, what work you were doing before you left your country.”
“Please, call me Imran. I like people use first name in this country.” Imran is sitting a bit uncomfortably on a metal chair in a soulless office run by an NGO charged with helping refugees. Facing him across a stained desk is a young woman with dark curly hair and rimless glasses. Looking at her, he acutely misses his wife. “Can I call you with first name? How you pronounce?”
“Yes, certainly. It’s Im-o-jin.”
“Imogen, I was doctor in hospital in small city when Taliban come. I very frightened, because last time they come they shoot my brother. We are Shi’a and my brother he study engineer in France. When Taliban come again, I take my family away. I had money and we get to Malaysia. I get on boat and get to Australia.”
She leafs through a file on the desk. “Did you only ever work as a doctor?”
“No. When I am at university, I need money, because my parents are poor. I work on building. I learn carp… How you call building with wood?”
“Carpentry. Did you do any sort of apprenticeship?”
“What is that?”
“Did you … um… did you learn officially to become a carpenter. Like learn all about wood and making joins and go to classes?”
“Ah, yes. I go to class at night one time each week. It mean it take eight years for medicine degree. But I have full license for carpenter builder.”
Imogen flips through the folder on her desk again. “It makes no mention of any building qualifications here.”
“No. I not tell when I come to Australia. I live in camp in north …”
“Yes, Port Hedland.”
“Yes, they ask me my work in Afghanistan and I say doctor, because I think it better to work here as doctor — more money. I did not say builder.”
“That’s a shame, because to practise medicine here you would have to jump through hoops to re-qualify.”
“Jump through hoops? I not understand.”
“It means you have to do many difficult things. Firstly, you’ll have to do English classes and pass a test to show your grasp of the language is up to…
