Saturday, 26th
October, 2013
I
always thought I was a proud Australian.
Throughout twenty years of living in the United Kingdom, I often met with
those well-tested and worn out clichés of “convict pasts” and Skippy the bush kangaroos,
and mostly laughed them all off, except in the early years when the stereotypes
all became a bit much, and I would bite back with a sarcastic remark when my
sensitivities were wounded.
I
woke up this morning with a rude start at 4:15
this morning to the stark realisation that I am, at this precise moment, not
proud to be Australian at all.
When
I met my husband, I said outright to him that I didn’t want to get involved
romantically with anyone, as I would want to return to Australia
to live and grow old. Well, it took a
lot longer than desired, but true enough to his word, Paul first flew to Australia
with a valid permanent spousal visa in November 2011 in order to activate
it.
The
process of emigration was long, painful and expensive. As the main driving force behind the progress
of his visa, I stuck the process out and doggedly persevered, even whilst
undergoing IVF and maintaining a full time job.
It was a closure of one link in the chain that finally saw us managing
to sell our house in Hertfordshire and a lot of our possessions by the end of August and saw us
touch-down on Australian soil at Brisbane Airport the evening of 12th
September, 2013, with four suitcases and two over-tired toddlers in tow.
Paul
has attacked the job search with enthusiasm and determination, and I can say
that I am very proud of him for that. These
qualities have diminished and faded as the weeks have gone by, and I have often
said to him “keep going – don’t give up” or much stronger words to the same
effect.
He
is a highly qualified railway engineer with twenty years experience of one of
the most sophisticated locomotive systems in the world. Eurostar International was regarded as an
elite institution within the rail industry and Paul mostly took a lot of pride
in his work.
During
the latter years, Paul has undertaken a lot of extra-curricular study in order
to gain new European standard “F gas” qualifications in air-conditioning and
refrigeration. He has garnered enough
certificates over the years to be able to plaster half the rooms in this
house. But for Australia,
this is not good enough.
When
Paul has become dejected or disheartened thus far in his job search, he would
say to me “this country is de-skilling me”.
I never believed this was true, until this morning.
I
have accepted that Australia
(or more importantly and objectively, a section of its employers) won’t
recognise his prior qualifications in electro-mechanical engineering. Most of the jobs Paul has applied so far for
have been considerably beneath his skill and competence level. So after a bit of research, we both have
started the process of getting the above recognised through the “Recognition of
Prior Learning” route which Paul has discovered through conversations with
trades people. This is conducted by
“Skills Tech”, an organisation allied with the TAFE (Technical and Further
Education) colleges which teach most of the qualifications for “tradies” here,
if not throughout Australia,
then certainly in Queensland.
I
originally thought that this particular piece of work was going to cost $400,
but discovered by email late yesterday afternoon that we would, in fact, get a
bill for $2,400. I thought “ok, another
financial hit” – but kept that information to myself for the time being.
After
thinking a bit further about options, Paul has yesterday come to the agreement
to seek temporary work while this process would be completed, as we have now
realised that it would be futile and soul-destroying to continue to apply for
jobs until he has obtained that first raft of recognised Australian
qualifications.
He
is not even sure whether he will pursue the recognition of his air-conditioning
and refrigeration qualifications at this stage – our money and equity for a
potential future home are disappearing faster than a lottery winner’s intent to
spend it.
When
I made an appointment for him with a temporary recruitment agency yesterday
afternoon, and mentioned that Paul had a forklift driver’s licence, the agent
on the other end of the phone said “nope – not even that is recognised”. And that was the end of the line for me. Amongst the myriad of higher and tertiary
qualifications in Paul’s arsenal, for not even a forklift licence to be
recognised – that is truly a de-skilling process indeed and an absolute
disgrace.
And
it is totally not fair. When Paul has
said to me “if I knew then what I know now I would never have come” – the first
time, it made me really angry. The
second time, I cried and was so upset at the thought that we would potentially
turn around and return to the UK. Now I realise that I totally agree with
him.
It
is an appalling arrogance and at worse, a total con for Australia to have
recruitment fairs in London and one year to say “we need you – your skills are
in short supply – please come over”, and in the next year turn your back on
someone who has spent a lot of money and sacrificed a great many things to get
here.
We
have spent too much money to go back. We
will have spent a great deal more money on getting Paul trained and re-skilled,
armed with the appropriate Australian equivalent qualifications. Our dreams of having a decent standard of
living in our own home by the ocean somewhere are rapidly disappearing.
I
believe in dogged persistence and determination to achieve your goals. I have often raised a harrying war-cry and
had angry outbursts at Paul or other close friends who didn’t want to see
things through to a particular end. I will
grit my teeth and stand by Paul to see this painful and expensive process
through – but with the realisation and the awareness that this system is not
right. Australia
– I wonder how many other skilled tradespeople you have conned like this. My family now believe that these
organisations are set up to make money.
I am not talking about the appropriate training and experience for
apprentices, but about recognising the skills and qualifications of immigrants
who make it through Australia’s
stringent process. (I do agree with a
very stringent immigration process – you have to absolutely want to come, and
have researched it through to the end – no argument with that, whatsoever.) What
I am talking about is opening one door in invitation to come to that country,
and then closing that door before an appropriate job can be obtained. By the way, the door marked “exit” to the
country is closed, too – because we would have lost too much to go back.
So
the only way is forward. I am (mostly) very
happy to be home. I am delirious to be able to spend a lot of quality time
(maybe too much!) with close family. I
hope to spend more time with friends of very long standing, in the foreseeable
future. And I am also very happy for my
twin sons to be able to grow up as Aussies, and be granted the chances to
travel the world; for whatever path they take or whichever global location in
which they choose to live, to have their professional skills and
experience to be recognised and valued internationally in order to be able to live and
work in different lands and to experience different cultures.
Because
I would hate for them to have to go through what we are living through
now. When Paul quipped about how living
in a shack on the beach would be all we could afford to do in Australia,
I laughed and thought he was joking.
Now, we am faced with that possible reality.
Australia
– at the moment, you are not our lucky country.
If I didn’t know any better and believed everything I heard on the news,
it would seem that your only qualities are a thriving criminal culture full of
violent, organised bikies and lying, corrupt politicians. I hope that within a relatively short space
of time, our perceptions can be changed.
I ordered an abundance of good luck the other day. I am waiting patiently for it to arrive!
