by Aldo Orlando

Created on: December 30, 2008   Last Updated: November 26, 2011

A New Christmas

The bright sunshine splashed onto the wharf and the glistening harbour waters greeted the new arrivals as they stepped cautiously along the ship's gangway. Treading onto their new-home soil for the first time, expectation filled their sinews as a faint breeze cooled the air; its breath barely concealing the sun's sharp bite.

For the Europeans it was a mismatched emotion: a new land, an unknown language, a hopeful future and a very hot Christmas. They came from afar; the Italians from Sicily,

Calabria, Abruzzo,

Puglia and some from Naples. There were others from other parts of war-torn Europe; the ones the war had displaced and the world had forgotten. Those that were made to wander from one refugee camp to another were also there.

As the ship unloaded its human cargo, a Babylon of languages and dialects sounded from around the crowded wharf. Uniformed police, customs and immigration officials, in short pants and long socks, shouted incomprehensible instructions as they herded the weary migrants through the narrow doorway which led into a big tin-roofed building.

Giovanni glanced down at his shuffling feet as a sudden surge from the mass of people surrounding him pushed him though the entrance and into the building. Inside, the rotors of the ceiling fans revolved slowly, rendered useless by the stifling heat of the day.

It was a truly strange land, he thought. 1951 and next day would be Christmas. It was the first time Giovanni would spend the Holy Day away from his family.

Quickly and without question, Giovanni tendered his travel papers and passport. An official with a sweaty brow spoke briefly, examined the documents, stamped them and returned them with a lazy smile. Giovanni reciprocated with uncertainty; he hadn't understood a word of what had been said.

Outside, a small group of his companions milled around an open truck; some had already boarded with their belongings, while others were stacking cases, boxes and assorted pieces of luggage to one side of the vehicle ready for loading. Giovanni waved to them as he passed by.

Giovanni took an envelope from his shirt pocket and glanced at the writing on it; the unfamiliar address was his only point of contact in the new land and Fremantle would now be his new home. With all of his belongings in a weighty suitcase and the address in his hand he headed towards the wharf gates where a group people waited to greet the new arrivals. A man in khaki uniform opened the gate allowing Giovanni to push

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