With a little English, Hazara people are helping their fellow refugees over the language hurdle in Australia, writes OLIVIA SHYING
impossible by one simple thing — Shirin could speak rudimentary English while her husband had little to no English at all.
Desperate to fit into her newfound homeland — and using the strength that helped her flee war — Shirin spends five nights a week with more than 60 other persecuted Hazara people learning English in Geelong.
Afghan refugee Aman Yousufi knows what its like to feel isolated. He fled his homeland to move to nearby Pakistan and live “a good life” — until terrorist attacks started becoming more and more common.
Fearing deeply for his safety, Aman tried to come to Australia in a refugee boat when it started to sink. He was rescued and diverted to Indonesia before finally finding asylum in Australia.
On arrival, Aman was one of the lucky ones. He had a basic grasp of English and going to approved classes helped him develop his language skills further.
Unfortunately, Aman soon saw other refugees flounder.
Many Hazara people arrived in places like Geelong without a word of English. The classes they had access to left them feeling isolated, Aman said. They would attend classes day after day and learn nothing.
Desperate to help his fellow people, Aman sought to solve this problem. Using his own money he sourced simple picture books. In a small Northern Bay College classroom, Aman starting running English classes to help his friends learn simple words like apple.
Word of the classes spread. Their English improved and the students kept coming.
To most Hazara people, education is the key to solving life’s problems. It is so precious, a privilege that the Taliban — with their power and terror — stole from the Hazara.
“If you are educated then you can solve part of the problem. Education will solve issues,” Afghan refugee Ahmad Ali Wafaq said.
One of three teachers, Aman volunteers his time to help fellow refugees. He has no laptop, no technology and paid for the simple English language book out of his pocket. If he needs to access online materials for class, he has to go to local libraries and uses his own money to pay for neccesseties.
Aman and other teachers, who are all volunteers, are desperate for funding so they can continue to meet the growing demand for peer-led English language classes.
In a recently submitted City of Greater Geelong application for funding for resources and more teachers, the group stated 75 per cent of class attendees were women who were largely the sole parent to their children.
A key argument for funding the group is its role in improving community connectedness and ensuring parents are not locked out of discussions with the children’s teachers or other educators.
“The children of our refugee communities are becoming strong in English at school and the Hazara community are totally committed to education — especially of girls since so many of their mother are unable to have schooling,” the submission states.
“The parent (being) reliant on the child to non-Hazarghi speakers is not acceptable and sometimes distressing.
“For adults, the peer support and shared understanding of translation and examples is extremely important.”
If the group obtains funding, Aman would purchase laptops and more books. He may even be able to employ teachers. Most importantly, he says funding would help secure the future of the class.
Ahmad just wants to help fellow Australians. He wants to work, he wants to contribute to make society better for all.
“Without English, it is very hard. A lot of people come here with a lot of problems, it is very hard for them,” Ahmad said.
In Aman’s high school classroom sit rows and rows of keen students. Some of them are barely out of their teenage years — some are grandparents.
The community believes its peerled classes are having a profound impact on how its community members engage with wider society.
“(It is creating) a reduction in awkward situations and a lack of understanding . . . there are tiny, large, then enormous steps in a person’s ability to relate to others in shops, at appointments in hospital and at other events,” Aman said.
Every night members of the growing class paiVVnstakingly form letters of an alphabet they had never seen before arriving in Australia. They write the word apple 100 times. They are currently trying to learn tenses from a picture book that Aman has shipped from overseas.
The Lions Club is planning to support the group by donating a refurbished computer this month. The Hazara community hopes to hold a ceremony soon where its graduates will receive a dictionary.
“It’s very simple,” says Samad Rasully, an Afghan refugee and Geelong marketing expert with a sound command of English.
“We are from a different culture, a different background and we need to learn this culture.
“We have to do this — we have to try and learn the language.”