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Legacy of war in Asia
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Refugees. Photo: Tashny Sukumaran

Coronavirus quarantine in Australia to Hong Kong’s bread line: life as one of Asia’s 4 million refugees

  • With the world’s refugee population doubling in the past eight years, the Asia-Pacific is now home to more than four million displaced people
  • In Hong Kong, some struggle to survive on a food budget of HK$1,200 a month; in Australia, a healthy family must live in a coronavirus quarantine station

Asia is awash with refugees, put to flight by circumstances beyond their control and in desperate search of sanctuary. Impoverished, shunned by mainstream society and clutching at straws as they attempt to gain asylum, their plight has far-reaching ramifications and no quick-fix solutions.

According to the most up-to-date figures from the United Nations High Commissioner for Refugees (UNHCR), the world’s forcibly displaced population stands at a record high of more than 70 million – and more than 4 million are in the Asia-Pacific.

“The number of refugees has grown substantially, and particularly so in Asia with the massive flow of Rohingya refugees from Myanmar to Bangladesh,” says Babar Baloch, the UNHCR’s spokesperson for the Asia-Pacific.
“Overall, the refugee population under the UNHCR’s mandate has doubled since 2012. What we are seeing in these figures is further confirmation of a longer-term rising trend in the number of people needing safety from war, conflict and persecution.”
Rohingya refugees at Cox’s Bazar, Bangladesh. Photo: Reuters
Across Asia, few families’ lives have been subjected to quite such tortuous twists and turns as the Murugappans, Sri Lankan Tamils who are battling to gain asylum in Australia, but their case typifies the travails of many of the region’s refugees.

NADES’ JOURNEY

Nadesalingam, known as Nades, arrived in Australia eight years ago, having fled the aftermath of the Sri Lankan civil war. He was detained before being compelled to negotiate a thicket of legal hurdles in an attempt to be allowed to stay permanently. In November 2014 he married Priya, a fellow refugee he had met through the Tamil community in Sydney. Their first daughter, Kopika, was born the following May, followed by Tharunicaa in June 2017.

By the time another year had passed, despite having two children who had been born in Australia, it seemed like Nades and Priya had run out of asylum options.

‘It’s a miracle to be in Hong Kong’: a refugee’s tale, one of 70 million

In September 2018 they got a rude awakening when police and immigration officials mounted a dawn raid on the family’s home in Biloela, central Queensland, giving them 10 minutes to pack before hauling them off to a detention centre in Melbourne. Twelve months of drawn-out legal wrangles later, all four were put on a deportation flight to Sri Lanka, only to be saved in the nick of time by a federal judge’s injunction that ruled against Tharunicaa’s removal.

The family has since been transferred to Christmas Island, an Australian territory south of Java; supporters report they have become increasingly isolated and traumatised there, especially following its designation as a coronavirus quarantine station.
The Australian Immigration Detention Centre on Christmas Island, which has housed Australians evacuated from the coronavirus-stricken Chinese city of Wuhan. Photo: EPA

“It’s particularly distressing, even more so as there are no other children for Kopika and Tharunicaa to play with,” says Carina Ford, a specialist immigration lawyer who is representing the family in Australia.

“There remains no justified reason to continue to detain and isolate this family when they could be living in the community. Their case comes up again on February 21. We can only hope that common sense and justice prevail.”

While the Murugappans’ case has been and remains exceptionally convoluted, the day-to-day life of a refugee in Asia is characterised by poverty, uncertainty and widespread alienation in whichever society they have found a temporary home.

A refugee from East Africa in Tsim Sha Tsui, Hong Kong. Photo: Xiaomei Chen

HONG KONG’S BREAD LINE

In Hong Kong, some 7,000 refugees – from Asia, Africa and the Middle East – face a daily struggle not just to maintain their morale but also to keep body and soul together. Various concerned NGOs have been quick to point out that many Hong Kong citizens are themselves descended from refugees who poured into the city from China in the wake of the second world war and again during the famines and turmoil of the 1960s.

“It is very difficult for us to manage our lives as we are not allowed to work,” says Adella Namagembe, chairperson of the Refugee Union, which is based in Sai Ying Pun.

“Some refugees try to do illegal temporary work but if the police catch them, they can be taken to court and sentenced to jail for a year or more.”

A refugee in Tsim Sha Tsui, Hong Kong. Photo: Nora Tam

The government’s monthly per capita handouts make for a stark definition of life on the bread line. The food allowance stands at HK$1,200, and refugees are expected to find somewhere to live for HK$1,500. There is a further HK$300 for utilities, and HK$230 for transport.

“These amounts are too small for us, especially the transport allowance which we use for official visits,” says Adella.

“Some asylum seekers have to report to Immigration as often as once a week. We always end up having to borrow from friends, turning us into beggars. The medical situation is another problem. Currently we are treated at public hospitals but when it comes to serious complicated illnesses, we have to pay for treatment. For example, getting dental treatment, kidney transplants, any sort of cancer treatment is beyond our means, leaving many to suffer. The whole situation is beyond stressful.”

Any influx of refugees comes with a host of attendant problems: they are an economic burden on their host country, they may well be carrying disease or need medical attention for pre-existing health issues, thus placing a burden on local services, and they can disrupt societal norms and excite feelings of xenophobia.

Vietnamese refugees arrive in Hong Kong in 1979. Photo: Les Bird

Solutions are inevitably long term, and none come with a guarantee of success.

“Finding durable solutions to displacement is a core part of our work,” says the UNHCR’s Baloch. “Traditionally, these have included voluntary repatriation, resettlement to a third country, and local integration.”

The third option is one of the most attractive, and studies have shown that refugees often prove to be willing new citizens, contributing enthusiastically to the community and supplying hitherto unavailable skills or taking on what others might regard as uncongenial work.

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“Local integration is a complex and gradual process that involves refugees establishing themselves in a country of asylum and becoming part of the community there,” says Baloch.

“At the same time, there are legal, economic, social and cultural aspects to local integration, which over time should lead to permanent residence rights and, in many cases, becoming a citizen in the country of asylum. Lasting solutions require collective commitment so that millions of displaced people across Asia can rebuild their lives.”

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