Lucky to have Boochani here to tell us his story

When I told Behrouz Boochani Mum was planning to cook him ‘Baghali-polo’ for dinner, his eyes lit up with delight. ‘Baghali-polo’ is an aromatic Iranian rice dish cooked with broad beans, dill, and saffron, traditionally served with slow-cooked succulent lamb.

As we sat down for dinner, Boochani said it was a refreshing change for him to eat for enjoyment. When he lived in exile, food was a means to keep hunger pains away and his body functioning.

It is hard to imagine that six years of a young man’s life (Boochani is 36) was spent in exile, four of them in Manus prison, for no crime other than needing refuge from persecution in his homeland of Iran.

As I write this, it is nearly two weeks since he was received so warmly in our city. He is here at the invitation of Word Christchurch to speak at a sold-out event about his award-winning book No Friend but the Mountains.

Observing Christchurch’s response and its impact on Boochani has been truly heart-warming. He says no matter where he ends up in the world, he will always have a special connection with Christchurch.

The link that first connected Boochani with Christchurch was forged on March 15 when our city lost 51 of its worshipping Muslims in a brutal act motivated by the same xenophobic fear and hate that led to the imprisonment of Boochani and his fellow asylum-seekers in Australian-run offshore detention centres.

As fate would have it, Boochani arrived in Christchurch on November 15 – eight months to the day after the Christchurch mosque attacks, which somehow felt preordained in order to highlight the inextricable link between the city and the man who has become the face and the voice of Australia’s unwanted refugees.

In his short time in Christchurch, Boochani has visibly flourished. The love he has received here has been overwhelming.

From quick welcomes and handshakes on the street, to free private and hotel accommodation, to extensive media attention and numerous invitations to talk and meet with individuals and community groups, it is clear that, in New Zealand,

Boochani is regarded with reverence.

‘‘No refugee is just a refugee’’, he told me. His greatest struggle has been to free himself from all the negative assumptions and prejudices packed into the word ‘refugee’. His work, he said, was to challenge people’s reductive notion of refugees as just needy victims devoid of the many rich layers that made up their identity.

Listening to Boochani, I was amazed to learn that prejudicial views of refugees in Australia were not limited to white Australians but were also prevalent among migrant communities themselves.

For instance, many in the Iranian community in Australia regard those arriving by boat as automatically inferior in education and social standing.

Of course, the Australian government’s hostility and negative propaganda against the boat people have had a lot to do with creating this perception. Many migrant Iranians fear being painted with the same broad brush of bigotry and so are happy to see the boats turned away.

This only goes to show how politics (let’s face it, the creation of offshore detention centres was entirely politically motivated) can divide a society and tear its communities apart. Here in New Zealand, the Fars and Kurdish Iranian community received Boochani as a hero, immensely proud that one of their own had become internationally renowned for his journalism and authorship.

It was great to hear Boochani’s Australian friends, Green Senator Nick McKim and writer Janet Galbraith, to whom Boochani dedicated his book, praise New Zealand for its values as an inclusive and tolerant country.

Yes, we have our own problems which we must not ignore, but we should also be grateful that our politics have not degenerated to the levels seen in Australia and elsewhere in the world.

It is truly wonderful that Boochani is able to experience his first taste of true freedom in New Zealand with his close friends and supporters around him.

I remember that first day when we sat outside C1 Cafe´ for lunch, still exhausted from his long journey and the back-to-back interviews that followed, Boochani asked me what season it was. When I told him it was spring, he was visibly pleased. He had often imagined his release from exile would come on a spring day, he said.

Talking to him over several days, it’s become clear to me that there are numerous fascinating stories that remain yet untold – among them are the challenges of living with freedom and the legacy of Australia’s offshore detention camps.

We are truly lucky that Boochani is here and we have a chance to hear these important stories from a man who suffered and chronicled the human impact of Australia’s cruel asylum policies.

When I told him it was spring, he was visibly pleased. He had often imagined his release from exile would come on a spring day, he said.