Sarah Stephen
Many of the 9000 Afghan and Iraqi refugees who were released from detention and granted temporary protection visas (TPVs) in 2002 and 2003 found work in abattoirs or on fruit farms in rural and regional areas.
Supporters who campaigned for them to be able to stay permanently praised the contribution TPV holders have made to this country, pointing to their hard-working ethos, and their willingness to do many jobs that other Australians wouldn't do.
However, the preparedness of many TPV holders to take any job that they are offered is not because of some hard-working ethos that's inherent to their "culture". It's because they are desperate for money to support the families they left behind, and their limited knowledge of English and the lack of recognition of their skills means these are often the only jobs that they can get.
Green Left Weekly spoke to Javed, a Hazara Afghan refugee, who explained that most refugees were financially supporting relatives back in Afghanistan. He said many families sold land and possessions in order to raise enough money to pay people smugglers to help a son or a brother or a whole family escape the brutal Taliban regime. As a result, they have nothing left, which places enormous pressure on refugees in Australia to regularly send money to their families.
Javed has been financially supporting his mother, sister, brother and wife since he was released from detention in mid-2000. A year ago they fled to Pakistan, so he now spends less time worrying about their safety, but still needs to send them money.
Javed told me it disgusted him how employers exploited refugees, paying them as little as they could get away with. He recounted one case of a friend who he had tried unsuccessfully to contact by phone for almost a month. He discovered later that the man had been picking grapes on a farm where there was no electricity or phone, for just $10 an hour.
Javed described his own experience of being released in Perth after spending eight months in Curtin detention centre. He and other refugees were desperate to find work, but they weren't familiar with the culture, and they had no idea how to look for a job. They weren't allowed access to government-run English language classes provided to other migrants and refugees — these services are denied to TPV holders.
After a month, Javed moved to Sydney, where he'd heard there were more work opportunities. He went to a job-search network provider in Lakemba, where he was living, to register for work. "They asked me about my previous work experience", Javed recounted. "I said I had none. They asked me if I had a drivers licence — 'no'; own transport — 'no'. They said 'Sorry, we can't help you'." So he was on his own.
"When I was first looking for a job, I was asked if I was a permanent resident. I lied and said yes. Then they asked me where I was from. When I said Afghanistan, they didn't give me the job."
Javed pointed out that, while there's a shortage of skilled workers in Australia, refugees on TPVs are denied opportunities to develop their skills so that they can contribute. "Most refugees on TPVs are young, they have energy. Most Afghans I know hate going to Centrelink to get money. They don't want to be a burden, they want to work."
His first job was at a carwash in Kogarah, working 10 hours a day with virtually no breaks, for only $8 or $9 an hour. Many Afghans recently released from detention worked there — they found out about the carwash through word of mouth and the boss was happy to employ them because they were willing to work hard for so little pay. "If you're on a TPV, you're a very easy target to be exploited." Javed only lasted there for a week.
Next Javed looked at the employment section of the newspaper and noticed lots of positions for waiters. He rang one place and was asked whether he had experience. Javed decided he'd have to tell a few lies to get anywhere, and said he had two years' experience working in Perth. "When I arrived out the front of the restaurant, I said to myself, 'I can't do this job!'. But I made myself go inside very confidently." Javed started work a week later.
"I didn't know how to lay a table with cutlery; I didn't know what VB and Crown Lager were; I didn't know the difference between one wine and another. So I copied other waiters as they set tables.
"When the customers started coming in, I couldn't face them! The boss told me to take an order, and that's when he realised I'd lied. He got very angry, but I didn't get the sack. Within two to three months, I'd become a good waiter. I was the most professional, and I was asked to train new waiters."
When Javed started work as a waiter, he was paid $250 for 30 hours a week — an hourly rate of just $8, which is half the award rate for a casual worker. "I didn't know about tax, superannuation and penalty rates — no-one ever told me about these things." It was only when he heard other employees talking about them that he realised he wasn't being paid legally.
In 2003, Javed quit because the pay was so bad. He looked for factory work. The first job he found was in an abattoir, but had to quit on his second day after being abused by the manager.
In early 2004, after working for 14 months in a factory manufacturing car roof-racks, Javed won his permanent residence. He immediately went to Pakistan to visit his family and his wife, who were living as refugees there. This was the first time he had seen them in five years.
When Javed returned, he was offered a job filling in for the pizza maker at the restaurant for a few days and was later offered part-time work. When the pasta maker lost his job, Javed was asked if he wanted to take over. He was relieved to be doing something less physically demanding than waiting, but he's still not happy with job and the way he's paid.
"I can work as a cook or a pizza maker, but because I'm not qualified I get paid much less — less than half what a qualified person would be paid. My three years on a TPV was time wasted, not being able to study and get a qualification.
"To be a TPV-holder is the worst thing. I look at these people being released now after spending four to five years in detention — now they have another three to four years on a temporary visa. That's eight to 10 years of their lives wasted, prevented from seeing their families."
After years in detention and then on temporary visas, Javed said "many refugees have lost their self esteem. They don't have the confidence to ask the boss for more money or for sick leave." Javed, though, isn't prepared to accept whatever his boss offers — he's been fighting every step of the way to get decent pay and conditions for the work he does.
From Green Left Weekly, May 4, 2005.
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