Short Stories Of Hope And Despair

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They say Woomera’s Main Camp makes or breaks people. Whispers at night and conversations by day are full of stories of hope and despair. These stories trouble my heart, for today the Australian 's decide my fate. Will I be granted freedom to live in Australia? Or must I return to my devastated homeland in Kabul with its demonic militia, the Taliban? Surely, if my visa is rejected I will die. The Taliban will kill me on sight. They think they are doing Allah 's will but all those radicals do is pervert and abuse His sacred name. My face flushes red. My mind is in a state of chaos. "Habib it is time." My train of thought comes to a halt. I hear the quiet voice of Azad, one of the men who live in the same dorm as me. "The Australians have reached their decision and wish to see you at the office." My dormitory is in E Block, near the Department of Immigration, a medium-sized concrete building. Beside this building, toward the centre of the camp, a large cage stands, containing a flurry of beautiful birds waiting to be free. I glance at them in sympathy, as I walk through the doorway to my destiny. I sit at the steel table next to Amin, the Afghani translator. The room is dimly lit and awfully quiet, enough to increase my heart rate and cause my hands to shake. Still, I try to remain optimistic. I expect to be interviewed by Bob, a happy and calm fellow. However, the man that guides me into the interview room is not Bob. He is not happy nor calm. This man, who says his name
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