Tag Archives: Manus Island

There is nothing to worry about

My wounds are alright
There is no pain but being lost
A dream in this world
In my loneliness , when I go through the street of my memories,
I remember a red Tulip
I think there is some one hidden
That tulip has grown on his memories
All of sudden I remember, that person is me
I remember that my street is full of feelings of not seeming and not coming
I was forgetting to say, I want to build a house
Without doors
Without windows
Without walls
I just want to build a ceiling from tulip as big as your heart
What a pity
I still remember, my house being on fire
That burnt like a candle
My candle, don’t cry
My candle was crying
And in its cry, drowned slowly
Yea I’m alright
There is nothing to worry about

– M (Manus 2015)

Maybe I’m just asleep

Maybe I’m just asleep
Maybe I’m just deeply in hibernation
I don’t know how many years I’ve been asleep
Maybe it’s a thousand year old sleep
I which you were here
Not for a long time
For just a glimpse
I’d like to be a Tulip
To describe it a bit
So when a dove sits on my door
It remembers
There is some one here hidden
Let me say it again
I am alright
But, don’t you believe it.

– M. (Manus 2015)

Letter for Reza Barati

On the second anniversary of the murder of Reza Barati in Australia’s black site on Manus Island some of the men in the prison camp wrote this letter.

“Hello dear Reza,

How are you?
Are you in a good place?
Everyone is here and they are saying hi to you.
I’m sure you remember Mustafa! He is saying to you, ‘let’s play cards!’
Ali is saying, ‘do you remember you would always get 6-6 whenever we played backgammon?’…”

Letter For Reza Barati

Open Letter to the Senators and Government of Australia

8th October 2015 (by Asylum Seekers detained on Nauru)

Mourning and weeping from Hell

These words are coming from hell. There are many broken hearts screaming with headache because we have been kept here for such a long time with nothing except failing lives.

Our stories might not be interesting to you. If you spend lots of time doing nothing please listen to our voices and try to feel what these voices and what this letter tells you.

It is not magnificent. It is pain. Yes, extreme pain. This pain makes tears for all and everyone’s tears have made this letter for this beautiful nation.

Yes our dreams are failing , we are failing with out hopes and we are failing with our future too.

Our lives set on fire by inhuman politics. That fire burns us little by little every single second.

Those who can feel our bodies and souls burning with our dreams, you are the real Australians and great humans.

We can’t imagine why humanity is disappearing from this nation. Waiting and waiting, just a little bit of hope in everyones deep hearts that the disappearing humanity will return back to everyone. Then we will see that humanity will feel our pain and extreme grief and share our feelings. Let’s see… we are waiting.

We have kids yet we can’t think about our future. We can’t do anything for them, even their smallest wish. Our kids are dying slowly infront of us. We can see it with our own eyes. Every second our hearts are crying so badly about our kid’s future. Where are they going to go? What are they going to do? All these questions aare killing us. You also have kids. You have made plans for when they growing up but what can we do? Just one thing … dying slowly day by day.

Please give us your hand to get us out of this deep dark hell.

We are so broken. Our souls are crying silent every night. Only our pillow and our bed knows. We can’t share our pain with each other here because everyone is in same boat. We are travelling into the darkness with extreme pain. We can’t smile, we can’t be happy. These things are all gone. Our minds are melting away from us. Now our heads are empty, our lives too.

Oh our nations many of our mothers and fathers have children and babies. They are all happy with their freedom and they trust with their lives. We are wasting our lives inside the fence. Our joy and freedom is locked up in this hell. Still we can’t start our lives.

We are asylum seekers. Sorry but we have forgotten our names because now we are just called by our boat numbers. We have been in detention for years in this hell you call offshore-processing centre. We cannot describe our suffering. We are tired of being tired. We are dying every single second because of your inhumane treatment. Our presence is burning here.

When we came here we became victims of your offshore policy sent to offshore and kept with about 2000 people. By the end of 2012 almost 2700 asylum seekers reached your country by boat. Where are they now? You know well some are unlucky and innocent and are still kept in the hell of offshore processing centre.

All the time we are sorry about our life inside the fence on this dry land. We are coping with time emptiness day by day. You make life hard every second and cause us pain too.

We are wondering why our lives were saved from the ocean. If we died in the sea it would have been wonderful because we can’t cope with your inhuman actions. You took our joy, hope and dreams and locked us inside the fence.

We can’t breath[e] freely.

844 people from Manus and Nauru signed this letter. Because of this fear first we just sent to Sarah Hanson-Young. Now we sent to everyone.

My Soul Notifies You

My soul once provided
Only tranquility
And it would not make my body impatient.
Now my soul’s tenderness for my body
Has been forgotten.
My body is in tatters.
My soul follows
To notify you:
“I am talking about Freedom!
You throw me into the corners of your dark
You put me into the very depths of exile.
The delicacy of my soul and body is no more
In this endless shadow.
If this continues any longer
I will not see anymore light
And my soul will be forever

– Farhad Bandesh,
Manus Island, 27 months

My Fear

Being without you is not my fear.
Nor is it from the grief of being alone in a prison’s embrace.
How long must I look at the calendar of life
Through the burning red of my eyes?
Where shall I sit in tis prison you made for me
Out of hard metal?
What price should be returned to me for the price of myself;
For the loss of my youth? For my banished life?
Oh Freedom! How I longed to sit in the corner of your heart!
How I laugh at you whilst you cry at my condition.
I am entirely spent yet have so much more to say.
Oh my god! How could life have become so sorrowful
That I almost drowned in the pool at the bottom of my endless tears?
Yet to sit now, in mourning, in my cage, is sweet
Yearning for that precious lost time.

My fear is not coming from my loss of you now
Nor from the grief of being all alone
Within the possibility of being destroyed.
Because breathing simply the scent of the freedom to weep is good.
It’s tick-rock is pleasing; gives colour to my life
Separating me from your yearning,
Suspended in the sky.
It is is restful on this full-bodied Freedom Mountain!

– Farhad Bandesh,
Manus Island, 27 months

These Long Days

Distressing, depressing moods move and
wash like waves
inside me now
though I go above
to survey the sea
to gaze at waves
in a wind that makes
tree limbs dance
and leaves to tremble.
How romantic this should be!
But never now for me.
Glaring at Mother Nature from my cursed grey cage
Speaking from my heart
in nothing but the language of complaint.
Then I’m in a jail of grief-dreams
when night surrounds me
with its own particular darkness.
Yet still I wait
even now
for the light
of Freedom.

– Farhad Bandash,
Manus Island, 27 months

My Cocoon

How I continuously and irritably look at my life.
How I break in a strange and soundless way
in my green destiny a yellow hope waves.
And in my lonely solitude,
in the night of the cage,
a strange lump is standing outside the door
knocking constantly to destroy
a memory,
drown the life.
Who says that you are as beautiful as a butterfly
I am hiding in my cocoon
I die slowly, so slowly in this tight cocoon
with no space to shout.
I die soundlessly under the rubble of walls.

– Mamali,
Manus Island, 27 months