Chapter 27: Letters

Monday 27-Aug 2007

Shahia stopped at the letterbox to get the mail when they arrived home for their weekly housework session. Chris waited at the door, concerned; she was walking up her path with the strangest expression on her face.

When she got to the door, she said, "Chris, there's a letter from Lebanon here."

Oh. That could not be good.

He relieved her of her bag, took Maria out of the stroller, and then turned to go and sit with Shahia as she read the letter. She was already reading it, and as he watched, she went grey.

"I won't do it! They can't make me! I won't. They can't. I WON'T ... I ... I..."

She stopped, unable to speak any further, breathing as fast as she could. Panic attack! By the time she had stopped speaking, Chris had his arms around her. He hugged her, and took the letter from her. Within seconds, Hassan, Alyssa and Maria were also hugging her; she was wrapped up in a big envelope of love.

Hassan looked at him, real fear in his eyes. "If we keep hugging her, she'll be better soon. That must be a bad letter."

Chris straightened up the letter and read it for himself.

Dear Shahia

Though we have never met, I am your grandmother. I've received a letter from the Australian government telling me that my daughter, Georgette, and that man have died, and that you might be sent here to live.

I am sorry for your loss, which is mine as well, and I hope that you can write to me with news of my daughter, since I had no contact with her once she became pregnant with you.

I am also sorry about your government. I have talked to someone I know who lived in Australia for a while, and they have told me what it is like, and I suppose that you would not like to leave Australia to come and live in Lebanon. If that is the case I wish you well, and hope that you will keep in contact with me and tell me about your life.

However, if you leave Australia, I will have to look after you, and I will do my best. I have arranged that you will be married to Dr Abdullah el-Husseini. He is a good man and a respected doctor in the community. He works in a Hizb'Allah hospital, and has good relations with everyone. Also, he is a man of peace, and you would be his second wife, so this would not be so hard.

Your Grandma, Antoine Baracat

For a moment, Chris could barely see. He struggled to not lose it himself. This was his worst nightmare. He folded the letter up, stuck it in his shirt pocket, and held onto Shahia for dear life.

The only thing that saved them both from total despair was the one word, 'might'.

When Shahia was ready, Chris turned her towards him, their noses touching. Looking in her eyes, he said, "I swear to you, we stand together. I Will Not Let This Happen. I will do anything, anything at all, to prevent this."

"I believe in you. Please, save us."

Chris gave the letter to Hassan and Alyssa to read, and as they read it, Shahia and Chris held them tight. Perhaps because they already knew how bad the letter was, they didn't have a panic attack, though they were terribly devastated. All four of them took turns crying and raging, as Shahia gradually took back her mothering role and encouraged them all to express how they were feeling.

Chris stayed late that night, helping Shahia as she gradually settled. They talked about little else, and by the end of the evening, they'd hesitantly agreed that this grandmother had actually been trying to do her a favour by letting her know what was going on, and by sending her such an apparently loving but patently inflammatory letter. If only they could be sure. Chris took it home in order to show it to his parents and make lots of copies. If it came to it, this letter was going to get as much publicity as he could arrange.

Tuesday 4-Sep 2007

Chris was just going through warm-ups at First Eleven training when he heard his phone ringing. He made it just in time.

"Hello."

"Chris, I need you." It was Shahia, and she sounded awful.

"I'm coming." He listened for more, but there was nothing. His coach would be mad, and he might be off the team, but he turned and ran. Fortunately they didn't warm up wearing sprigs.

He made it in seven minutes. Shahia met him at the door, handing him another letter. Then she collapsed into his arms crying.

This letter was the Department of Immigration and Citizenship. In dry, official bureaucratic English the letter informed her that the Victorian Department of Human Services had referred her case to them, that they'd reviewed her status, and found that she was an illegal immigrant; that they'd contacted Lebanon and her mother's family, and made arrangements for her to be repatriated there; but that she would be allowed to stay in Australia as long as she was providing care for her brother and sisters, who were Australian citizens by virtue of being born in Australia. However, the letter warned, when that situation changed, she would be deported from Australia immediately.

Well, he wasn't surprised. He'd figured that they'd be getting an official letter soon enough, confirming what her grandmother had already told them. It wasn't good, but it could've been worse. And it confirmed that his planning was a good investment.

He sat down at the table with Shahia and Alyssa — Hassan was at his own soccer training — and discussed what he'd been doing. His dad had pulled some strings, and he had a meeting scheduled with the local member of parliament, who was actually of Lebanese descent, but that was still a month off — that had been all they could get. He had the number of the local immigration help support group; now that they had an official letter, they could get in contact with them.

Then there was a rather more personal project that no one else knew about. He carefully explained it to Shahia and Alyssa. He was building them an escape option. If everything else failed, they would run. It was definitely the last choice, but he wanted them all to be ready to leave at a moment's notice. He spent the rest of the day helping Shahia pack an emergency kit for each of them. Actually, Shahia ended up with only two kits — Maria's bag was already its own emergency escape kit; she just added a few things to it, principally the blue books for Maria, Hassan and Alyssa, and then she made one for her herself. Chris already had one for himself, but since Shahia didn't ask, he didn't mention it, not wanting to tell them that he'd be going with them if necessary.

When all that was done, he could sense that Shahia was resting easier. Perhaps it was stupid, but knowing that they could run at any time with no warning gave her hope; or perhaps it was simply that she was doing something. But it would be a desperate choice, Chris knew. If they used it, then all their other options would be closed, and every other option was better.