Task 1 Memoir Flashcards
Intro
The Australian sun blazed overhead, but the warmth never reached me. It was the kind of heat that clung to skin, yet inside, I felt cold—like a ghost drifting through the gates of a school that wasn’t mine. The sign read “Welcome to Greenfield Primary,” but I knew better. Some welcomes came with conditions.
My Mum who was wearing her hijab which made us receive terrified looks all morning lingered her fingers through my dark, silky hair.
“Beta don’t worry, be youself and everything will be fine.” she soft spokely.
I hugged her a rather emotional goodbye and then blended into the crowd of pf excited students who were entering the gate. As I made my way towards my class a feeling kept repeating in my head. ”What happens if being me is not enough”.
Build Up
Inside the classroom, twenty pairs of eyes darted at me as if I was pray. Some curious, some smirking, some already calculating. First thought was that I was the only only non white person in the class. The teacher smiled brightly, like a shopkeeper selling politeness.
“Class, this is Osama. He’s from… Pakistan, right?”
I nodded my head slightly.
“Osama Bin Laden” someone whispered.
“Oh great, Al Qaeda has spread to our school” another muttered
These were just some of the things I heard as I plodded my belongings on a desk next to a polite looking boy.
The classroom was a battlefield, my name the first casualty.
“Hey mate, welcome to Australia. Let me know what day your going to bomb the school so I can take the day off” the polite boy snickered. A ripple of quiet laughter followed. I tried to smile, tried to make myself smaller. Maybe if I took up less space, they wouldn’t notice me.
Climax
At lunch, I unzipped my bag and lifted out the metal tiffin box Mum had packed with care. The scent of turmeric and cumin curled into the air, warm and familiar. But instead of comfort, it brought wrinkled noses and whispered words.
“What is that smell?” a girl muttered, nudging her friend.
“Ew, is that curry?” another asked, eyes wide with mock horror.
Heat rushed to my face. My hands hovered over the lid, hesitating. Back home, this food was a feast, a love letter written in spice. Here, it was something to be laughed at.
I shoved the lunchbox back into my bag, my stomach twisting. I watched the others with their Vegemite sandwiches and cheese sticks, blending in so so effortlessly. I wondered what it felt like to belong—to not have to explain yourself before you were even known.
Resoloution
Back in Pakistan I was a popular lad who could blend into all environments. However since moving to Australia my parents and I had been the victims of multiple of verbal racial attacks. Will they ever see me as a true blue?
The bell rang, but its sharp chime didn’t pull me back. I was still stuck in that moment—still hearing the laughter, still feeling the invisible wall between me and them. It was just one day, just one lunch. But some moments don’t fade. Some moments settle deep, planting roots in the cracks of your confidence.
Conclusion
As I watch my son step through the school gates, surrounded by children from every corner of the world, I think back to my own first day—the loneliness, the wary glances, the quiet struggle to belong. But today, the schoolyard is filled with laughter, with friendships that cross cultures effortlessly. My son doesn’t carry the same weight of difference that I once did; he moves freely, embraced by a society that has grown to celebrate diversity. And in that moment, I see how far Australia has come—not just in accepting people like us, but in weaving our stories into the fabric of what it truly means to be Australian.
