2009 Being Irish in Australia

An Aussie friend suggested to me recently that my identity crisis might be solved by my trying to be more Irish. She says the Aussies will accept me more if I do that.

Does that mean that instead of saying 'G'day' in the mornings I should say "'Bout Ye?" (Belfast colloquial for G'day) wear green and whistle (I can't sing) 'Roddy McCorley' as I enter the staffroom every day?

I don't think that would really work.

The problem is that I'm not really Irish.

I'm not "The Real McCoy" in the eyes of the Catholic, nationalist homelanders in that foggy and windy outpost on the eastern edge of the Atlantic ocean called 'Northern Ireland' (If you're a prod or "The North" if you dig with the other foot).


You see, being from Northern Ireland I therefore don't really know what it is to be Irish either. I can't sing or dance, except when I'm drunk and I haven't got any friends who are leprechauns. The rainbow with it's pot of gold always seems to end somewhere out in the windy Atlantic ocean. (Although the the Catholics say they have seen the the rainbow ending under a Presbyterian church in Ballymena)

To me it's all just wind and fog.

Thumbprints in Brunei Darussalam

The Ghost of George Orwell must be in Brunei Darussalam.

How ironic that Brunei became independent in 1984!

I have it on good authority that at the most prestigious elite college in the nation the teachers now have to sign in with a thumbprint in the mornings!

What an indictment of the educational system in that nation.

I said indictment of the 'system' -not of the teachers, who are usually blamed for everything. Teachers are easy targets because many of them are foreigners.

Nor did I say indictment of the students who cannot be blamed for being poorly motivated by on outdated curriculum designed for people whose first language is English-not Malay.

Shame on the Ministry of Education.

What an admission of failure.

Wake up -and ship out and bring in an appropriate curriculum for your youth-and do it now-not in ten years time.

With a relevant curriculum you might just find you don't have to 'fingerprint' your teachers or students when they come to school.

Brunei Diary from 2001 june july

 

Friday, July 06, 2001

Even at this early stage, I was still looking for the next move. In order to do that i had to keep training my self up. One way to consider doing a doctoral thesis. I had started on in Brisbane, but had to stop because my supervisor went to Kosovo

 When I was at the water village school  before Christmas there was an interesting lady  there who was studying for a doctorate.  in those days I still thought a doctorate conferred high status and would give me more opportunities to get good work. I became interested in the idea . She was very helpful at first and helped me with documents on how to prepare a proposal for a Doctorate at Curtin University. After I came back at Christmas, I prepared my candidacy proposal which was a substantial document of around 5000 words. I sent her a  copy by E-mail and asked her for comments.

She did a very thorough job.

I was surprised though by a  curious comment fact she made about my draft in  which I referred to her article. She claimed I had not read it. This was not true.

I had in fact gone to the expense of buying conference papers from a recent conference Taiwan where she had presented the paper. When I casually told her of this in my reply she redoubled her criticism!

I was very worried by this turn of events. By now I had grave doubts about working with her. t I asked a  friend at the University of Brunei Darussalam for a second opinion. He reassured me that I had done nothing wrong and that she had "lost the plot entirely". Although I was reassured by this I was very disappointed that I could no longer work with her. The result was that I lost interest in the doctorate after putting in  a considerable amount of work . Disappointingly, my friend never read the proposal either!

P.S.A couple of years later I tried again . I liaised with a University professor at UBD and he thought I had a good idea about doing a longitudinal study monitoring the introduction of the International Baccalaureate into the International school of Brunei-the school where the children were.

I prepared a substantial document. The school rejected the proposal in a two line e-mail without giving a reason.

I suppose they were afraid of someone snooping around the school interviewing teachers etc.

Everyone in Brunei was afraid of their shadow-including me.

And with good reason.

That was my third attempt to do a doctorate.

My interest was rekindled three years later and I started an educational doctorate  by distance with a US University.

Diary

Sunday, July 08, 2001

  I have a particular interest in dreams and studied Jung's interpreation of dreams when iwa a yong man. Nighmares! Yes ...... its time I mentioned these. I had one around this time.  Maria says I've always had them. but I seem to remember them becoming more frequent and intense as time went on  in Melbourne , Brisbane and then  Brunei.  

In this particular nightmare,  someone told me that there was a man at the door. I knew he had a gun.I so I hid from him at the top of the stairs. But the door was transparent and he was raising the gun at me. As he raised the gun I screamed at him louder and louder in order to stop him shooting me. I woke up screaming and Maria was most disconcerted saying " the neighbors will have heard"

 I have been doing this quite regularly for the last few years. Poor Maria! it's always a different nightmare the theme is always the same –being attacked by someone or something . 

I feel a lot of this related to Melbourne where I believed myself/ourselves to be the victim of the owner of the school. There was also a conspiracy of silence often by those around us. The feeling of abandonment by friends and colleagues was so intense, whether real or imagined , and has never entirely left me . There is no doubt that there is an  element of paranoia in my psyche which takes over from time to time . When this paranoia takes over I feel depressed afterwards. I think the paranoia is often followed by a nightmare.This one was a genuinely frightening experience for Maria.



at this time in Brunei I was worried about what to do here in Brunei in my spare time and and whether I could  put up with the dysfunctionality of the system. I thought I could put up with it for two more years-until at least my eldest son had completed his International Baccalaureate.

But after a couple of years I think I would just start to 'deskill'  myself. so, I neede to keep training myself up. Then what/  Perhaps one more contract in the Middle East ?

Or, a contract in another international school ? 

My nightmares continued. I was treated by a homeopath for the last two weeks, for my frozen shoulder.

Just when I was feeling better I had a nightmare in which I shook my fists in my sleep  at my pursuing enemy and promptly pulled my shoulder tendon out again in real life!  (Dislocation) so, it was  back to square one and  painful especially at night.

What would Jung have made of it all?

G1 Brunei Darussalam(4) Diary from 2001

Diary from Brunei

Most of my writing and recording did not occur contemporaneously with the action. I wrote only incomplete recollections, many of them in 2009 20 or even 30 years after the action. I was at 3 schools in Brunei. The final school was Maktab sains an elite  school. I spent 4 years at Menglait. so lets here my thoughts form a diary I wrote at the time in Menglait. It might give you an idea of my frame of mind in the first half of the Brunei project.

Gangs!

June 20 2001

A  menglait student made an unusual comment today when writing the first draft of a composition in which he talked about being a member of a group in Bandar Seri Begawan Brunei which goes out at night and is involved in gang fighting! I really could not believe, this but it appears to be true. My students appeared to be so peaceful. I did not know whether to go to the Deputy Principal. The boy was a very pleasant pupil, diminutive in size and not very smart. He had just come back from "Haj!" in Saudi Arabia.

This same student asked me for extra classes in English ! The reason of course was to come to school so he could socialise. Many students at schools in Brunei are even prepared to go through the ritual of attending class in order to play with their friends.

"Why"? I asked. ""Oh, boring sir at home"

their life at home was so boring. They were not allowed out of the house, mostly. They were confined to their rooms. This was 'Social life' in a strict Muslim country.. The students like coming to school, not to learn , but to get away form their homes.

 Sunday 17 june

I was rostered on this Sunday  morning to clean up  the stadium at Bandar Seri Begawan with my class and colleagues from Menglait. The event was the upcoming  Sultans birthday The work started at 7.30 so I arrived at 830. My timing was perfect- hundreds of people were just setting out with their black plastic bags. Surprise, surprise! I only saw one form one student from Menglait, and about four teachers! I was able to go home at 9.30.

I think it is this unpredictability of living in third world countries that adds a bit of colour and spice to the boring routine. I love this unpredictability- you just never know what is going to happen. This feeds one's sense of humor, and keeps one humble. 

It is the predictability of first world cultures which leads people eventually to become complacent and arrogant.

 

 Tuesday, July 17, 2001

I never cease to be amazed by Brunei! How could Cfbt not have told me about this in my orientation course? One of my form for students said to me.

" Sir, on Sunday you tell the Principle that we want to go and wave flags!”

I thought about this for quite awhile and and I said

"What ? You want to come to school at seven o'clock on Sunday morning ?

"Yes Sir!"

“Why?” I said.

" Oh, home sir - very boring!"

What this means is that these kids come to school because they want to socialise with each other and they are prepared to, even on a Sunday at seven o'clock in the morning rather than stay in their homes!

Life in their homes must be very boring indeed. I could never understand why they wanted to come to school here. School is so boring in Brunei!

They want to come because it is more interesting than their home life.

What an indictment of their home life. Because the school has an old fashioned curriculum designed for Native speakers such as myself. In fact I did the very same exams forty years ago myself!

No wonder the Bruneian kids are bored!

It's more interesting than home life.

I am now totally convinced that man is a social animal above all and before all else!

Sunday, June 17, 2001

We were at the yacht club today and we met two very interesting people both of them very friendly. One was an Australian Pilot from Brisbane. 

 I was talking to another Australian about the Ashes cricket series between England and Australia. It was noticeable that when he referred to " you " he meant England-even though he knew that we were in fact Australian citizens. He assumed I would be supporting England. It is precisely this assumption by " Dinky di " Aussies that makes us believe we will never really be accepted in Australia. 

 Many Aussies are migrants–how long do you have to be here before you are regarded as ‘Australian’? Twenty, thirty, forty years? It's for this reason that I am  critical. The bottom line is they don't consider me Australian.

I have been in Australia 33 years, and I was recenttly refered to by one of my local work colleagues as "almost Australian'. I suppose the reality is that first generation Aussies like myself will never be regarded as Australian by locals. Accent is the social marker of status. It will be different for my children.


Wednesday, June 20, 2001

I had an interesting encounter To-day with a ‘Dinky Di’ local Aussie. I met him judging the debating competition.. We were speaking about the children of school. I don't know how we came round to the subject, but we both agreed that  we were both more comfortable around people who were not 'white' or of Anglo celtic origin.

There is something intense or uptight about Anglo celts: 

I once heard this beautifully expressed by an African who said the white man always appears to be looking for something!

But it was strange coming from a local Dinky di Aussie

Sunday, July 01, 2001


Last night we were coming home from dinner and we had picked up Roger and his girlfriend . Just before we got home we arrived at a police roadblock. It must have been half past midnight . Well, of course our tax disk was six months out of date. This means a fine. Suddenly, Roger's girlfriend  piped up from the back and spoke in Malay to the policeman, and and they let us go. She had told them that I had recently arrived in the country and the company had given me the car. This satisfied everyone including the police! Well, little lady,  we owe you one!

Thursday, June 21, 2001

I was coming home from school today and I decided to get the car fixed. The people in the shell garage are two Pakistanis. The younger brother I think his name is Ahmad is a really nice guy in his mid twenties - may be near 30. Well, it turned out that this that this guy a year ago had come back from guess where? Moscow, Russia,  where he had been for seven years and qualified as a Doctor.

So, he can speak Russian as well as Urdu, Punjabi Malay and perfect English. He’s learning French at present because he is waiting for a visa to go to Canada not to practice as a doctor, but to do an MBA and go into the pharmaceutical industry !! Meanwhile he was fixing my car in his brother's business in Brunei! He has invited me to play cricket before but I have said no. Now he's inviting me go to Kuala Belait just to watch and bring the family and have the day out.

It is precisely this sort of spontaneous generosity which makes life as an expatriate so interesting and so colorful. It is a spontaneous generosity which I venture to say although not totally absent from Anglo-Saxon culture, is much less common than in Non Anglo-Saxon cultures.

Saturday, June 23, 2001

I was thinking today about how risky life is overseas. People really do not know just how risky it is.

One has to make so many compromises simply to survive when I compare this with the lives of someone who's in suburbia and in that " rut " professionally in Australia or England.

I have realized that it is difficult for people in such a rut to understand our nomadic life.

This lack of understanding fuels the bitter disappointment which inevitably occurs each time I go back "home" whether it be Australia for Ireland. Also in my case the lack of money saved makes it worse. Many expatriates have saved lots of money and in fact in their own way are quite complacent.



Tuesday, July 03, 2001

I'm still getting treatment for this shoulder. I slipped on some seaweed on the beach and fell very heavily taking the weight on my left shoulder. It's being very slow to recover and I am not able to play golf which is irritating me.

sometimes I feel in a blue mood.  our life seems so complicated compared to most people's lives. Why would anyone want to put themselves out on a limb like I have done  by going to a new country? The answer, of course, is that we had no choice. Once i had accumulated some international experience as teacher, I was on the bandwagon and couldn't get off. I was only employable on the international circuit. Irish and Australians didn't value my overseas experience.

Take the Australian venture for example. How vulnerable we were after the disaster in Melbourne, and how utterly alone. I found myself thinking that I would never forgive myself for going to Australia.  I grew to dislike their independence and their chilling indifference.  Some things can never be forgiven nor forgotten. These thoughts kept returning to me  in the early days in Brunei, when I was in these moods..

Changing the subject...philosphical thoughts at menglait...a final diary entry

I have just been thinking about Chinese Theater . I remember seeing this little mini drama on television. It looked like two men wrestling with each with their head and arms locked together.

For a long time, it appeared to have been two figures fighting each other but in actual fact it was only one actor.! It was only one man although it looked like two. What this clever little piece of theater was trying to show was that the conflicts in life are often with one self-not with other people.

I am always trying to improve myself. I constantly fight with my negative side. Sometimes I really don't think I'm making any progress. I’m just more aware of my negative side-and become depressed thinking about it. Ultimately, one simply has to be oneself and accept it- no matter how ugly one knows one self to be-but it is hard to suppress the uncharitable impulses one has about about one's fellow human beings! “The murderous impulse in the breast!” a quote from an unknown source.

Another interesting quote from a recent book I've read is " My father told me that no one owed me anything in life". The author believed this was a good lesson to learn. I couldn't agree more. But I just wonder how perfect can one really be to believe this. Of course all of us especially in our younger years feel that the world does indeed owe us living . I have certainly believed this for much  of my life. I think many people do, mostly in developed countries. Africans, South and central Americans and Asians seem not to believe it. They are more practical and pragmatic.
 

Against being open in Australia

I've always considered myself (and I think others do too) to be a reasonably open person.

But now I have decided that it is counterproductive.

Being open with people just encourages them to be lazy and even exploitative.

They can't be bothered to respond openly themselves.

They just invent excuses about how 'Busy' they are, or worse still, make themselves busy to avoid being open themselves.

They get all the news but can't be bothered to reciprocate.

So:

Plan 'B'

I'm going to try to change.

I'm going to be as caustious as everyone else I meet.

Good Luck!

Reflection on Brunei truth and fairness

I wonder if some Australians realize just how defensive they appear to be to others? At a party I was introduced to an Australian teacher and after a few seconds of pleasant tries I said to him “Where are you from in Australia

“None of your business mate".

Am I being hypersensitive when I say this is rude?

Do they think it's humorous? Am I supposed to laugh?

Menglait and Lumapas

I have reflected on why I went so much better at Menglait school than at Lumapas. There is no doubt that I was much more relaxed at Menglait.

The students were much more friendly-they all said hello to me. The atmosphere was more relaxed. I enjoyed my classes more, and they enjoyed their classes with me more.

Why? It's chicken and egg. Maybe they were more relaxed because I am. Or am I more relaxed because they are better behaved? Whose behavior is influencing whom?

All of the reading I have done in psychology says is that you can change other people's behavior with your own behaviour. For example, if you are relaxed and friendly, people will respond to that. I think this was true to a certain extent at Menglait.

Victor Frankel

I remember a very interesting book but I can't remember the name of it – by Victor Frankel. He quoted the story of a concentration camp survivor who said that he had come to the following conclusion in the camp in the middle of the brutality and the barbarity-with people being beaten and murdered around him:

" They can behave like animals as they like but they will never control my behavior. I will not hate them. I will not be influenced by them. I will continue as I am "

In this way he says he survived the camp without going insane. Others, he said became angry and eventually destroyed themselves-which is of course what the Nazis wanted to see. Many of the inmates themselves became like animals-worse than the Nazis-and this fulfilled the Nazis view of them-and justified their continued brutality-an evil and vicious circle.

An extraordinary man, this survivor was able to remain detached.

I have definitely failed to do this when I have been under pressure. My reaction to injustice has often provoked my oppressors further and in their eyes justified their injustice to me in the first place. My panic has often delighted my persecutors as it has stimulated their sadism.

To return to the defensiveness of Australians..

I remember coming back from the children's “hash” in Brunei one Sunday (a walk in the bush). Again, it was the Australian necessity to insult people before you are on familiar terms with them which I found to be most offensive.

Basically, it is childishness. The message is that they don't care what anyone thinks of them..

But really I think  they are simply not sure enough of themselves to make a contribution to the  community so they make a virtue out of a of a vice.

(Not all of them of course)

But many seem to do this. Everywhere in Brunei I noticed cliques of Australians who would not speak to anybody else.

What bores they were. They were like a gang of children giggling at smutty jokes. Macho and  insincere they had a false 'hail fellow well met' attitude, which extended only to their 'Dinky Di' compatriots.


Fairness and Tuth


The concept of fairness has been one which has dominated my daily life-perhaps to a fault.

There have been so many occasions in which I have subjected the decisions of my superiors to the scrutiny of the " fairness " filter.

How many times have I grown impatient with people who simply say to me

" That's the way it is "

I have always felt this to be the tritest and most fatuous of all phrases.

Of course, as I have got older I have come to realize just how subjective the concept of fairness is.

This is a pretty sobering thought. How many times in my career have I sacrificed the well-being of myself and my family on the alter of “justice and fairness” -as if somehow I had influenced the world by so doing. It is so difficult to have the real perspective on what I am.

I have often lost focus and perspective at critical moments and been overcome with an obsession with fairness and " Doing the right thing whatever the cost " to myself or my family.

I remember once in Kilmore when my very able Deputy brought this clearly into focus. I was complaining of the way I was being treated by my employers. She was sympathetic and very supportive but I wanted more than sympathy and support. I wanted these evil people to be overcome by the forces of good. I wanted the ‘Robin Hood’ experience. Nothing less would suffice. I was disgusted at how I was was being painted as Principal by some people on the Board of governors.

" But it's not true " I complained.

" The truth? " she said, with a query in her voice. She paused and said no more-as if to say "What has the truth got to do with it?"

I have never accepted this attitude of realism which to me  verges on cynicism. But it seems to be more common in women than men

I have always had this naive belief that the "Truth will win out ".

She hadn't, and of course she is right. I know that now.

Death in Adelaide

I like my Adelaide suburban house.

Why?

Trees , parrots, weather, a job which a I can take seriously?

Perhaps.

I don't know really-but it can't be the people -because I haven't really got to know any of them. They are all too busy.

And it can't be the surrounding areas of Adelaide because I haven't seen much of that yet.

But I like my suburban house-and my fellow foregners who constitute my social life.

They need me-unlike the natives who seem to need no-one.

They're perfectly happy.

I wouldn't mind dieing here.

There can be worse ways to go than having an embolism.

2001-2008 Brunei 2

Tossing a coin

After about two months, in mid October I went to CfBT and told them  I was going home at Christmas.

I had not  even considered a transfer to another school because I had been told you had to be in a school for at least two years before a transfer could be arranged, and in any case I was pretty sure that many of the of the schools were just as bad as my current one at the water vilage. So I was very surprised, but not particularly thrilled to be offered a transfer to another school. I said I would think about it.

I had put a lot of work into the move to Brunei and a new school and so another move didn't immediately appeal. However, when I considered everything - especially Maria’s reaction, I decided I would give it a go and I accepted a transfer to  Menglait secondary school.

Cfbt told me to say nothing to anybody. I was therefore very surprised when three weeks,later at the Cfbt “dance” people came up to me and said

"Oh, I hear you are going to Menglait!"

I was furious. I had kept quiet but someone in CfBt had blabbed the news. It was really quite disconcerting when people came up to you and seemed to know more about my business than I did myself!

For weeks I maintained my silence as requested by Cfbt, but they did not confirm my transfer until the day before I went back to Australia at Christmas to collect the family. By then everybody seemed to know about my transfer except myself. It was very embarrassing at school in the water village.

It was fantastic to get back to Australia to see everybody. We had a very pleasant Christmas with some friends  their family. Their daughter was married to a Mexican!

Of course we had to rent the house and that was a real pain in the neck. In the end we ended up giving away so many things including our car "Bluey" who had served as so well for nine years in Australia.

Arrival of family in Brunei.

When we arrived at the airport the Deputy Head of Cfbt was there to meet the new cohort.  The first few days we took to settle in buying essentials etc.

Almost immediately Maria was offered a job at Al Falaah school. It was a private local school. This was important for her, personally,  us financially, but it meant that we were under pressure getting everybody settled in and getting the house organized so for the first month or two we were under a lot of pressure.


I was starting a new school too. Fortunately, my school turned out to be much better than the first one in the water village. The head was a disciplinarian and the students much better behaved.

Maria had a tough time adjusting to the Bruneian kids but, after a couple of months she seemed to be getting on top of it all.

I’ve reflected that in spite of my wide experience overseas one can not really ever be prepared for each new experience. Each culture is so totally different that not a lot is transferable from one experience to the next. This may go against the conventional wisdom, but it is my opinion, nevertheless. One is always hearing that someone with overseas experience will be better prepared for another one. Well, I'm not so sure about that. To me each culture is such a complete mystery that I only ever get to scratch the surface-even after a few years living in the place.


I have no time for the 'English travelogue' approach to travel. Although it may be interesting one learns virtually nothing of the cultures through which one passes as a tourist. I can can tell this by the crass and insensitive comments commentators  make about the locals they encounter - often basing their  sense of humor in that very personal English way of patronizing people. They really have no idea how angry these people would be if they could really understand and get someone to translate what they were saying. In fact, I sometimes find myself thinking that it is a good thing that people don't understand each other's languages because if people really knew what was being said about them there would be much more conflict!

STIP

" Staying in the present " is something I thought about a lot at this time. It actually comes from 'Transactional Analysis' a branch of psychotherapy. (T.A.). But only recently I have come to realize its significance. When I was about 28 I considered myself easy going and I think that's how others saw me.But I can’t be sure because as I have said before many times I don't really know how other people see me. It is a real problem for me.

Anyway, at some stage in my forties I became a real worrier.

First, in the nineties in Australia it was worrying about the past failures and disasters. I used to think about them all the time during the day and dream about them every night even having nightmares about them.

STIPS

but form about 2004  onwards I started to worry about the future of my children who were reaching University education stage.

And then there was myself.

What about my retirement or my old age? 

 These thoughts soon reduced me to a nervous wreck! So I learned to say to myself " STIPS " which means “Stay in the present stupid!” I gave myself this advice in the evenings and I thanked Maria for helping me.

A walk by the river in Adelaide

Last night I left the 'Gov' pub which said outside..

"Don't stand here! This area is under police video surveillance"

And we complain about Iran and Burma!



I went for a walk by the river today in South Australia.

It was all there!

The most beautiful place in the world -the trees and the birds!

The trees!

Two magnificent parrots.

The stupid mastiff dog that looked like something form the Hound of the Baskervilles protecting the assets of some some entrepreneur with shares in the stock market and who has sold his soul to the devil like thousands of others in the past decade in Australia.

The unecesary fence which blocked my way on the path-put tere to satisfy some stultifying bureaucratic Council regulation.

The holes in the fence which some sensible person had forged to allow even an elderly person on a walk to let cross.

I fell onto the ground as I tried to cross the fence, but managed to roll to reduce the impact!

There was an 'Orwellian' surveillance notice announcing that the camera had recorded me rolling across the fence!

If this is my last publication you'll know the law has finally caught up with me.

No people.

Why has this beautiful environment been invaded by bureaucratic and officious fools.

Oh, Australia!

What has happened to you the past ten years?

Shame on you!

In my walk by the river in South Australia.

It was all there!

Rupert the Fox,democracy and healthcare in the USA

Republican Americans are making such fools of themselves over the "Health Care" Debate.

It really reveals them for the selfish money-grubbing materialists they really are

They have have managed to corrupt the concept of democracy to mean voting for yourself.

Democracy does NOT mean voting for yourself!

You don't debate whether to feed your child or not or look after its health -it is a natural thing to do-and, quite rightly,a crime not to do so.

I think we should take the Republicans to the International Criminal Court and indict them for negligence  crimes against their own defenceless citizens.

And if fascist commentators like Rush Limbaugh try the Nuremberg defence? ("Rupert and Fox news told me to say those nasty things")

Well... the Nazis were all convicted Rush, Baby!

Australians as 'Desconfiados'

The original Aussie settler, comfortable in his suburb is closed and suspicious and in love with his possessions-his car, his house and his boat. He has inherited this attitudes from his Anglo-European forbears in Europe.

Unfortunately they have also influenced migrants from more 'neighbourly' cultures such in Africa and South America with these same attitudes..

Sadly, an African or South American through a process of acculturation in Australia eventually learns to behave like an Aussie in this respect. It is so sad to see it. I've seen Mexicans and Africans who behave in this way after they have been here for ten years.

In Spanish these Aussies would be described as 'desconfiados'.

They not only disinterested in foreigners but are disinterested in each other that is-anyone outside their own little social clique.

They don't know social intimacy and are unable to empathise with those migrants who are lonely.

They tell the world and themselves they are so generous at helping people in less fortunate circumstances in foreign parts while blind to  this homegrown loneliness and misery on their own doorstep.

Backstabbers

I just get fed up with some people taking me for a fool.

At flinders University, every day, I teach these lovely, personable people, from an oil-rich country which I have never visited.

So much more polite than us Aussies.

I'd rather chat to them than an Aussie any day.

So much more generous and fun to be with.

But they are two-faced and arrogant.Backstabbers

A danger to the world.

I'm not their fool.

Conflicy is inevitable with these people.

Brunei 1 Lumapas

The interview with the oil company in Abu Dhabi in January 2000 was yet  another farce! We were so disappointed that I had been found medically unfit to go  to Abu Dhabi. Somehow, or other we managed to pick ourselves up and start over again from where we had left off.  But work at the Brisbane Language college was getting  worse and worse-they were laying off teachers, left, right and centre and I knew my number would come up sooner or later. It was a matter of time. The Director of studies  was appalling, and I knew I couldn't last for much longer.




" I don't believe it" said Maria.

And neither did I! I had bounded up the stairs from the computer down below in 15 Storey Road after reading an e-mail from CfBT (Centre for British Teachers) in Brunei offering me a position to start as an English teacher on August. 26. 2001!.

 It was a feeling of disbelief , elation, even euphoria. We were afraid to believe to it. After so many disappointments I had almost totally lost my confidence.

But it seemed that finally our run of bad luck which had started in 1990 had finally come to an end.in 2001…. .

This was possibly the most farcical interview of all–there was no interview in fact , not even by telephone!

But why would they offer me a job without an interview?

A pretty obvious question to most people but I can assure you it didn't occur to me at the time!

We were so happy we just didn't see what we did not want to see!

I'm getting ahead of myself, and I don't want to spoil the story. For the time being we were elated.

At last! At last! At last!

I e-mailed them back and accepted the offer without an interview.

I then received a reply in writing saying that I needed to have a telephone ‘chat’ with a former teacher form Brunei who was a cfbt representative  and who would tell me about living and working conditions in Brunei.

We were in!

By now,  I knew myself well-if I was unhappy at a school the job wouldn't last, and I couldn't risk going to a place and then returning after a short period. Not any longer, not with the family at this critical stage. R was coming towards the end of his High Schooling at St. Pauls in Brisbane. So, it was clear to me that I had to go to Brunei alone first. I had had enough experience of overseas positions to know now never ever to make the mistake of taking my family with me overseas without going first to check things out. I had bitter memories of what happened to us on arrival in Australia – being trapped. I was not going to let that happen ever  again.

At first, I thought it best that I went in August and then Maria and the children join me in Brunei in December. But I later realized that this was not a feasible plan as it would mean Maria having to pack up all our belongings and renting  the house on her own. so, I planned to come back to help her pack up and rent the house at Xmas.

then , in a surprise development, we were very fortunate the Queensland Housing Department agreed to our letting the House.(probably out of laziness!)

I started to pack and I said nothing to anybody in Australia, mainly because I couldn’t really believe that I was going. I had become neurotic and pessimistic to the point that I felt that there must surely be some last minute problem which would prevent me from going.

I decided to use my frequent flier points to go visit my mum in Ireland. I thought it might be my last opportunity to see her. She was 85 and although in excellent health, I was unsure when we would ever be in a position financially to make it back to Ireland. So I went home for a week and was able to catch up with all of the friendly people in Donegal -like the Craigs and McGonagles who were great friends of the family-and had been for years. In fact Alan McG was visiting in Brisbane while I was in Ireland!-with a rugby team from his school.

When I got back to Australia I was very disappointed to find that Alan seemed to be less than interested in arranging a meeting. Alan and I used to play together as children. It is sometimes sad how things turn out. Some would say I am sentimental. I like to think it is more than sentimentality which drives the desire to foster friendship. but perhaps, I am wrong.


Arrival in Brunei

I arrived in Brunei in May, and was met at the airport by two CfBT ladies. One looked youngish and the other about my age. I don't know what they must have made of me in the evening arriving as I did in my Aussie hat off the airplane!

I was taken to my house and I remember being impressed by the size of it especially the front room.

However, close inspection revealed that there was in fact very little furniture in it and the House was roasting hot.

I was sharing with a very nice Australian couple who had been living in Singapore.

We arrived on Saturday. On Sunday we were left totally to our own devices- to find food and to find our way around. This week I did the driving and we turned up at CfBT on Monday morning for our four day ‘Express’ orientation course. Most of it was valuable information but there was too much and we were exhausted after two days.

I managed to get sick towards the end of it and my friend  left to go to another town so I was left on Saturday on my own. I had managed to pick up some bug, and by Saturday afternoon I felt awful. By Saturday evening I had a severe diarrhoea. On Sunday I felt a little better but by the evening I was feeling awful again. I went to bed. At five o'clock in the morning, I scrambled through my papers looking for phone numbers of people who I might know in order to phone the school to tell them that I was not going to make it into work on the very first day!

later I was to realise that nobody cared whether I arrived or not! 😅

Hardly an auspicious start!


One of the Aussie teachers at Lumapas had been assigned to be my ‘Mentor’ on the first day so he met me at the boat. I had to go to this school by boat. It was really a beautiful journey of five minutes. He took me across and we walked to the school, went into the staff room and he pointed me to the classroom of 2A, and that was it.

I heard very little from him again –so much for being my mentor.

"You're on your own mate!" was his message. What really gets me about these Aussies is they talk themselves up so much and they think they're the most friendly people in the world.

Well, judge for yourself!

Ten minutes later after a cursory ‘G'day’ from the Aussie head of department,  “Frankie's my boy” I managed the first of three consecutive  double classes..

I had prepared the same class of course for all three, of course. At the end of the three classes I came back to the staff room.


I knew immediately that it hadn't been an outstanding success but I had survived! I was pretty sure that the teaching was going to be disappointing. So I sat down and waited in that horrible, smelly, little staff room.

After few minutes my Mentor came over to gloat and said

"Well how was that then?"

I paused.. "Yes, interesting"

I got the distinct impression that they knew I'd been given a rough group of classes in the lower school and they were going to enjoy my discomfort.

So my reply was sufficiently non - comital to deny them the pleasure of enjoying my humiliation.

After a few days I realized the school was a total disaster. The kids were hopelessly disorganized and didn't listen to word that I said. The curriculum was a disgrace . It was actually the same curriculum I had done myself forty years ago in Ireland as a Native speaker!

 It was impossibly difficult for ninety- percent of the students. They were doomed to failure.

Most of them did not bring books or pens or pencils or anything to class. They constantly got out of their seats, walked around without asking permission and talked incessantly all the time -especially when I was talking!

Worse still, the English department was at war with the administration. There was an Acting Principal who had no faith in the English department and hated the expatriate teachers.

I could see that as a new teacher, I was not going to be exempt from her contempt.

For the first few weeks I was scared-not sure where to put my feet. I became increasingly anxious and I grew worried about the imminent arrival of my family which would commit me to such a disastrous workplace.

 
I just could not believe it. I was inconsolable-how could this be happening to me, what had I done to deserve this?, I had great difficulty sleeping at night and suffered from some night terrors.

Strangely, things seemed to get better when I went to the school-even though the school was so terrible. The good thing was that at 12.30. you could leave. My colleagues were certainly good company and were helpful when I asked for assistance in general-but some of them were disaffected through battles with the administration.

I went home every night and had a beer a gin and tonic in order to anaesthetise the days events.

After a few weeks I spoke to the counselor and she was actually very good. She came to my house several times in the period of about two months. But after six weeks I realized that I just could not commit myself to work in that environment for a period of five to six years. I would simply go insane. I hadn’t the courage to tell Maria for a couple of weeks and when I eventually did she was really disappointed. This made me feel even worse and that somehow I was responsible for the situation.

I was in a bind.

Fascism and the Bourgeoisie

I am pleased I do not live in Fascist states such as Iran, North Korea, Burma or Sudan-or in some corrupt Oligarchy like Russia, Saudi Arabia, or the United Arab Emirates.

I hope to play my small part in preventing Australia from turning into the same.

But on my return to Australia after ten years I am not impressed. I have noticed, as in America that right wing elements have colluded with the somnambulant and self-serving Bourgeoisie to make Australia almost intolerable to live in without being molested and criminalised by bureaucrats.

As a migrant and outsider I notice these things. The local Bourgeoisie, by definition, can not see them because they are part of the problem-and are 'asleep' politically.

Australia has moved much closer to being in the category of the aforementioned states.

It is approaching the time when a few verbal knee-cappings may be necessary to wake people up before they sell the rest of us down the river to the media and the big corporations.

1998 mexico 1999 Abu Dhabi interview

December 1998 Mexico.

By this time we had become quite friendly with a Canadian couple. He was from Canada and she was from Honduras. They had three children-the eldest girl being the same age as our Oldest boy. He  was absolutely obsessed with going back to Mexico to live. He had all sorts of weird schemes. He successfully involved us in one in the end - and we were fair game as we were not satisfied with our prospects in Brisbane. I was worried by the Asian crisis and the lack of students and also about the limited social life for our children in Kallangur.


After a year of both of us working we had actually saved some money. Maria had been working with the Beerwah cluster of primary schools as a Spanish teacher and mainstream primary teacher. So, in 1998 December we went to Veracruz for Christmas. We were desperate for a break and the kids badly needed Spanish lessons!

So, off we went , and what no-one else ever knew, not even the kids, was that we were half expecting, planning even, not to return to Brisbane from this trip!

Of course we had no money! About two thousand dollars after the airfares –that was all our savings.

When we arrived in Mexico City we were received rather ungraciously by our old Mexican friend  in his huge house. He was happy it seemed to visit us, but was not so happy when asked to return the favour . When we arrived, it was almost as though he wasn’t expecting us! Marie and I felt uncomfortable about this and Marie never really forgave him! It was the beginning of the end of a good friendship. Our friend  had become a bit cranky with the passage of time..

When we got to Mexico I immediately became enthused about the idea of applying to Greengates to teach again.(I had taught there in 1987 for one year) So, I kept visiting the school to try and butter them up. Actually, they were good to us because they agreed to allow our eldest son (then 13) R to spend a term in the school without paying any fees.  R stayed in a homestay family with a Mexican family close to the school and we thought it was well worth it. He later told us he hated it. All thirteen year olds hate change of any sort. But actually it was good for his Spanish, and in my opinion,for broadening his horizons.

Marie and Serge and Julie remained in Veracruz and went to a local government school there. not the most well-resourced school in the world but i never had any complaints from them about this experience in Veracruz. 

I was most impressed with the maturity of Adrian – Marie’s nephew.

I went up to Mexico city in order to stay close to Roger. I used the time to look for jobs. I kept visiting Greengates. I then contacted Lancaster school and The Edron, both international schools in Mexico city, albeit of a lower status than Greengates.  I got an interview with Lancaster and very nearly clinched  a job as Deputy Head, and a teaching job for Marie. but not quite! I also went up to Tequisquiapan to see a new school which was being set up by some British ex teachers from Greengates. I liked the set-up. The town was beautiful-about three hours from Mexico city by Bus. The school looked as though it might be promising.

After my efforts at Lancaster and Greengates had come to nothing I decided to look at Tequis again –this time with Maria and the kids. In the meantime I was disappointed not to be accepted back at Greengates. My friend and host  told me later they were never really interested.

Anyway, Maria and I went to Tequis in January with the kids and after sizing each other up we were both offered jobs ( to begin in April for Maria and August for me.).

The result was that I went back to Australia to try and rent the house and pack up!


I got home and started to pack and arrange things with the house. In the meantime Marie went to Tequis and almost immediately I started to get E-mails from her which indicated she was not happy with her situation at the school. Basically, they treated her in the most appalling fashion. She had to share a house with the childless  owners  who were clueless about the needs of children, and then she was asked to teach thru Spanish rather than English as promised.

 

 She had no car and was generally treated like a dogsbody by the Brits. It was very unlike Maria to complain about anything-especially people! So, when after a couple of weeks she still sounded miserable we decided to call it off. They were not gracious about her departure either.

So, back to square one again. Everyone returned to Brisbane.

But the kids had had a great six months in Mexico getting to know their relatives!
Roger  had the Spanish -.job done!

When Marie got back she was disappointed to find out that her replacement at Beerwah  had been appointed to a full-time position at Beerwah primary school cluster. Moreover, the replacement’s first language was French, not Spanish. Maria had been with the cluster for three years. The trip to Mexico had therefore effectively cost her the job. Soon, they offered her a temporary contract at the high school where I had been. She lasted four weeks (two more than I had done some years earlier!) and gave up because of the rudeness of the students.

Meanwhile I continued at Embassy College (originally called ‘Lorraine Martin College”)  and the contract teachers soon started to lose their jobs. I was put on to the advanced class of teaching which I enjoyed very much. However I could see that we were going nowhere financially.

I registered for a PHD at QUT but got stuck after a few months after my supervisor went on an assignment to Kosovo. I started looking overseas again and toyed with the idea of going to Saudi Arabia on my own and sending money back to Australia. But, at that stage,  the idea of splitting the family was something we were determined to resist at almost all costs – the last resort.

By 1998 the Asian crisis at Embassy College had gone from bad to worse. The Assistant Director of Studies was not popular with anybody because she  was a self –important, pretentious and insincere, She didn’t like me either. She started to cause problems for me by putting me on classes I didn’t like. This caused me to make my first trip to the Doctor to try to get something to help me sleep.

I was falling into a depression. The doctor prescribed anti depressants – but pride would not let me use them. Instead, I just drank a little more beer at night to help me sleep. I became  less available emotionally to Maria and the family.

The Asian Crisis

I was becoming desperate.-the situation at Embassy worsened with the arrival of yet another Director of studies . She was even worse than the previous one, a heartless individual  who would have pushed her grandmother off the bus to save her job. Most of the contract teachers were gone by this time, and, although i was the most senior teacher,  I knew it was only a matter of time before I would be targeted eventually .It was clear that I would not have a job for much longer or that the job itself would become intolerable sooner or later. 

 

I decided to study for a Masters in TESOL so that I could get a better job.

You might think that Embassy College would have been pleased to see me developing myself professionally. On the contrary, when I asked them to reduce my contract to four days a week so that I could study at my own expense they said no!

They said I would have to become ‘casual’ again. I knew this was the thin end of the wedge. They could then effectively sack me without any of the hassle of sacking a permanent teacher. I decided to do the course anyway and worked casually sometimes three sometimes four days a week for several months while I studied for my Masters online at USQ Toowoomba.

In July 1998 there was an advertisement for a job in ‘The Australian’.

"English teachers needed for oil company in Abu Dhabi-top $!"

I applied and heard nothing for a week or two and so I phoned the agent for the oil company who had placed the Ad. A very friendly and garrulous Yorkshireman  assured me that I was very well qualified for the job and that I was almost certain to get it-and did I know of any other friends who were interested because there were 24 positions on offer!

I thought it was too good to be true-and I was indeed right. Weeks went by, even months and several phone calls later until I became convinced that my married status and family had once again scuppered my chances. the Yorkshireman couldn't understand it" but I could. He thought the company would have been very keen. However,  ‘I'd been there and done that’-as the Aussies say. Companies prefer single people because they have to pay less than for candidates with families (schools etc)

We gave up hope about November and had one of the most depressing Christmases I can remember. It was the new millenium Christmas, I remember watching the millenium celebrations with feelings close to despair.

Then, on Boxing Day there was a phone call from Abu Dhabi . A Man with a Middle Eastern accent, who was actually Jordanian asked me if I was still interested in a job with the oil company. Because it was Boxing Day I had taken a glass of wine was generally in a merry mood. I told him of course I was still interested! Then he said he would like to interview me

“Would now be a convenient time?’ he said .

I was a little taken aback by this. I was still not used to the unprofessionalism of the esl 'industry', but had little choice but to agree. There followed a very brief interview on the telephone (another farce) which ended in him asking me if I would like to come to Abu Dhabi for further interview . Since the company were paying I said yes of course!

I could hardly contain my excitement. The only slight hitch was that the he wanted me to go on Monday - in three days time and I was due to start my course for my Doctoral thesis induction at Queensland University of Technology on the Monday. There followed 24 hours of intense excitement which was terminated by an unexpected phone call from our man from Jordan saying that the interview had to be postponed for a week. This allowed me to attend the university course and still go to Abu Dhabi.Win/win!

I remember driving with the family to the airport in ‘Bluey’ our Falcon 1982, and wondering if this was really going to be it our final and much anticipated escape from Australia! Maria was so excited.

The flight to Singapore was uneventful although on the way from Singapore to Dubai I had a very mild asthma attack caused by the wool of the beautiful woolen blankets courtesy of Singapore Airlines. I arrived in Dubai with a blocked nose - not an uncommon occurrence for me by any means. Not to worry, any discomfort I might have felt was soon to be removed by my V.I.P. treatment on my arrival in Dubai. A chauffeur driven car whisked me away from Dubai to Abu Dhabi where I checked in at about seven o'clock in the evening.

My evening was spent swatting for my interview the next day, but I was informed on my arrival that I would have to have a medical in the morning which would last several hours. I was really quite surprised at the length of the medical.

Next morning at seven I went down to the hotel reception- and I noticed another mature - looking man and I thought to myself that maybe he was also going for interview-so I started a conversation with him and sure enough he was going for interview-I think his name was Marvin. Anyway, Marvin and I were taken away by the driver to the oil company whereupon we started on the medical examinatioin. Well! What a performance! I had never been through such a medical before. Every conceivable test was carried out. I kept meeting Marvin in a different room either he was coming in or he was going out of,  or vice versa and both of us were usually in a state of undress! It was hilarious - and the medical lasted almost four hours!

Most of it was okay but I was a little bit worried by the respiratory tests. The Romanian doctor asked me to blow into a tube to test my powers of respiration. It was really quite an intricate procedure. My first efforts produced an instant paper graph which seemed to worry my Romanian friend. He said "Not good" so I did it again and he didn't look much happier but he allowed me to continue with the other tests. By the end of the medical Marvin and were worried individuals – and we wondered what was going to happen next. What really made us laugh was the fact that people kept asking us where we wanted to go as if we had any idea! We of course had not eaten because of the medical tests and at about one o'clock we were then informed that we were going to be taken to the interview. Nothing happened for about an hour and we simply sat and waited. At around two o'clock the Jordanian man who had interviewed me on the phone arrived and invited Mervin in first. Mervin was accompanied by a local UAE Arab. After about 45 minutes Marvin appeared smiling and happy.

I was then called in and asked exactly the same questions that I had been asked on the telephone in Brisbane! Yet another farcical interview.

It was weird. It was clear to me that in fact the whole process was just a formality as there were no questions of substance. When I tried to ask some really important questions like could I see the accommodation and what about the schools and could I see classrooms and the resources etc. etc, the man from Jordan became quite irritated as if he wanted to finish the interview quickly. He was shuffling his papers -and all his body language was saying “it's too late lets all go home.” I definitely had the impression that he didn't want to answer all these questions. I should have smelled a rat at that stage of course. But as usual I was desperate for the job so I didn't ask any more questions. How many times in my career have I made that same mistake? Perhaps a dozen?

Anyway Marvin and I went back to the hotel and we had a good evening. I went to the bar and I remember watching cricket in the bar. I felt pretty elated, as I was confident I had got the job. Next morning I was just leaving the hotel on my way to get a Taxi when the phone rang. Guess who it was? It was the Chief Doctor from the oil company and he wanted me to come back for further tests!

Well, I was devastated. I immediately began to panic of course and my thoughts went back to the breathing test and I was pretty sure that there must have been some problem with this test. So, the driver came again, and took me back to the doctor. The chief doctor was a Sudanese, and like everyone else in Abu Dhabi he asked me what I wanted!

I said "You sent for me, Doctor-you said there was some problem with my tests yesterday" .

He looked ar me quizzically over his glasses

"Who are you?" he said "I’m Nixon, Donald Nixon"

Oh! he said "No, it's Smith I want to see-there is a problem with Smith's tests”

Well, I was so relieved "You mean I can go? " He looked at my file and said

"I haven't got the blood test. But everything appears to be in order" 

I could've hugged him! On cloud nine again I was driven back to my hotel room where a taxi took me to stay with my friends  for the for the night in Dubai.

Wednesday, May 09, 2000

I had a pleasant stay with them  discussing the prospect of our imminent relocation to Abu Dhabi - because I was confident that I had got the job, I returned to Australia and gave Maria the good news. After a couple of days I sent an E-mail to the yorkshireman  Perth just to ask him to see if he could get some information about how the interview had gone. He contacted his agent in Abu Dhabi and he told me he had received word that I had been selected, but that they hadn't yet received the results of the medical.

We were overjoyed to put it mildly! Ten days passed, and eventually I emailed  him again just to make sure that everything was confirmed and that the results of the medical had been OK.

The next day I received an E-mail from the Yorkshireman in which he said that he was sorry to say that the results of medical had shown that I was unfit for employment and that it was company policy not to give the reasons.

We were devastated, shattered and stunned!

I just couldn't believe it! It seemed like the whole world was against -that there was a conspiracy of a divine nature. What had we done to deserve this? I could hardly speak about it to Maria for days.

I went to my Doctor and had a total checkup. He said I was fine and that if I had taken inhalers before the test I would have passed the test.

The interview was in January and somehow or other we managed to pick ourselves up and start again-from where we had left off. Work got worse and worse-the new Direcor of studies  was appalling, and I knew I couldn't last for much longer. I had thought of Brunei many times before-because we had friends who had been there- but i had been  off by the mixed reports they had given me about the schools and the teaching there. They had told me that the teaching wasn't good. Lifestyle and conditions were excellent, but the teaching wasn't great. For this reason I had rejected the idea again and again in my mind, because I knew myself well-if I was unhappy at the school the job wouldn't last, and I couldn't risk going to a place and then returning after a short period. Not any longer, not with the family at this critical stage-R was coming towards the end of his High Schooling at St. Pauls in Brisbane.

But I suppose it was desperation in the end. I decided to apply for Brunei on the internet. I actually had to make a written application to London and the whole process was quite long spanning January to March. Then in April……

B1 Brisbane(2) 1994-1998

Christmas 1994

It was pretty grim in Northgate, Brisbane, and I don’t remember much about it except that I was waiting for a phone call from a language college. I had walked in to this language college some time in November I think. It was in Edward Street. I remember asking if there were any vacancies. It was the time of the boom in students from Asia. They were everywhere to be seen in Brisbane and language Colleges were opening up everywhere. (I even considered opening my own later) I was received by a very busy Ms. Kay L__, whose Daddy owned the College.

I had a sort of interview with her for about 40 minutes on the spot. That was it. I never heard from her again.

In desperation, in December, after leaving Kooralbyn, I went to social security and requested to be ‘case-managed’. This was a category of being unemployed which for most people on the dole was   highly undesirable – because it meant having to phone up employers on a regular basis . This was exactly what I wanted: I wanted someone to actually make a few suggestions as to where I might work. I was prepared to do anything at this stage-even to retrain for something like a travel agents course-as I had considered before in Ireland.

Eventually I was granted my wish and I was signed up by a very helpful fellow. I'll say again that I found all the government organisations with whom I had contact in those days in my hour of need to be very helpful. Try as he might my case manager could not understand why I had not been able to get a job!

I told him about walking the streets of Brisbane and into Language Colleges.

“Oh” he said, ‘I know someone who is the Director of one of those in the city-I’ll give her a ring’.

This is just the sort of help new migrants to Australia need. If you arrive here in a boat in dire straits help is available-but anyone else is left to fend for themselves. So, anyway he made the call – and the conversation went on and on and I thought–well, this sounds like I might be in with a chance.

Eventually he said-‘Well, she says she knows you!’ I realized it must have been Kayleen. And she’ll give you a call in the new year.

‘Great’ I said, then I asked him why Kay hadn’t called me after my visit/interview. He said rather sheepishly

‘She said she didn’t like your clip-on Glasses’.

‘Oh of course! Yes, I should have known! I said to myself, "Silly me for wearing clip-on glasses!"

I remember I had bought these rather expensive clip-ons for the drive up to Brisbane from Kilmore. They were the old style which you could hinge upwards into a horizontal plane parallel to the ground when you didn’t want to use them. They actually had the effect of making the wearer resemble Mickey Mouse. Kay must have thought so anyway.

Anyway, the new year came and I was called one night by Kay who wanted to know could I start the next day. Most of the people in the ESL industry seemed to have this ‘last minute’ mentality – very different from regular High Schools. Desperate , as ever, I said yes. I arrived in to work to be given a bunch of papers and told to teach in five minutes! This was so typical of ESL Colleges!

Anyway I survived for a few weeks learning a few tricks of the trade. Then they appointed a DOS (Director of Studies) –who immediately invited herself into my class. Her comments on my teaching were clumsy and unhelpful. I took the hump, went home and  never returned. I had lasted a month-another dramatic Nixon departure! This was my first, but to be by no means the last experience of the ‘Bossy Aussie Female’. They seemed to be were everywhere in the ESL ‘Industry’ and I have suffered under many more!

Beerwah

In April 1995, completely out of the blue I got a phone call from Education Queensland, Sunshine coast office. I had registered with them as a science and English teacher-an expensive and lengthy waste of time. The Head of Beerwah State High school – Mr A____was his name- wanted to know if I was interested in teaching Spanish at his school! I was very surprised but agreed to go to an interview with himself and the LOTE coordinator the next day. As usual the interview was another farce: He asked me a whole lot of questions based on the Queensland curriculum etc about which I was understandably clueless. This was Australia's not so subtle way of making sure outsider’s didn’t get selected at the interviews. After a while I felt like terminating the interview as  it was going so badly, and I said to him;

'Actually I think we are wasting our time here'  I said, I can’t answer any of these questions”

“ Not at all” , he said suddenly. He went on to say he would be prepared to offer me a contract –including the promise of in-service development in Chile at Christmas! Could I start on Monday?

Well, off we went…


The buildings were beautiful at the school. The staff were ok but the problem was the students. They were revolting!

I had one year eight class which was truly horrendous. On the first day I spent five minutes getting them to sit down and then spent the rest of the class giving them rules and my expectations for the class. I got nothing whatever done. The second day was worse. I couldn’t get a group of five yobs at the back to sit down. They were all calling out to each other and laughing and whistling etc. After about ten minutes one of them decided to up the ante a bit by shouting out to me

“ Hey foreskins, are you Irish?”

That was my second class. I had been told by the Deputy Head not to accept bad language under any circumstances. So, I reported the incident.

Big mistake!

The result was the Principal sent in the counsellor with me to the next class. It was bedlam. The kids played up even more with him there and he must have dobbed me in to the Principal because the next day I was called in by the Principal and he told me he was withdrawing the offer of the job and that he thought a man of twenty years experience would have been able to control the students.

Anyway,  this was yet another disaster!

By this time my self confidence was shattered and my career was in ruins.

I stole home to re-sign on the dole again.

Lorraine Martin Language College

It is difficult to know how I regard this next phase. I suppose if the graph descended sharply between Colombia thru Mexico Dubai, Ireland and Kilmore –I might say that it started to  flatten out or bottom out at Lorraine Martin College. I spent almost six years at this Language College. It was a bit like being in a retirement home – the work was pleasurable and without stress most of the time-except perhaps at the very beginning and the very end. The problem was that I , unlike most retirees,  had to support four dependents on 32 dollars per hour. The money was very poor and I didn’t even realize this for most of the time I was there. Just shows you how money savvy I wasn’t! I earned about 38000 a year for the last three years when I was working full-time.

Anyway, I started at Lorraine Martin when I got a phone call from a very nice English girl, whose name now escapes me. (Pauline, I think) She asked me was I interested in an interview and so I said yes. I was ‘hired’ as they say in the U.S. She said the working atmosphere was very good and she was right in that respect at first. You could sense the atmosphere was completely different from Kayleen's joint., my first job. My confidence was at a low ebb and I only signed on for two days a week. I wanted to be sure I knew what I was doing before I committed..Pauline, I remember her name now, was happy with this.

Of course, I was earning less on two days than I would have earned on the dole. But my pride would not let me continue with the dole, and I had to claw my way back into the system somehow. I had to rebuild a new career entirely,in fact.

My days as a science teacher and administrator in international schools were finished as far as I was concerned.

I started with the High School students which I did not actually want to do. I had had enough of recalcitrant teenagers by this time. However non-Anglo teenagers were better than Anglos. After a month I felt confident enough to go to three days. After six months I went to four days.


During this six months at the end of 1995, we had a visit from an old friend Nick Rey___ an Englishman and Maths teacher in Mexico with whom I had taught at Greengates in 1987. Nick had been a solid colleague and a good friend. I don’t think he quite realised how bad our situation was financially but it was so good to see him. He loved the visit too and struck up a good friendship with the boys. I remember him saying that Sergio had a remarkable talent for maths – and he was only six! At the airport, it was an indication of my emotional state that I felt an acute sense of loss as he departed the plane for Mexico. It had been so long since I had been able to chat to another friend apart from Maria. (who, I should add, had single-handedly kept me together for the previous three or four traumatic years.)

Dad’s Death November 1995

In November, I was teaching in class one day when Paul G, another teacher came to my classroom to say there was an urgent phone call from Marie. She told me the sad news that Dad had taken ill and died. That evening I spoke to my brother and I explained to him that I would like to go to the funeral. This would not be possible, he said. My brother knew that we did not have the money to fly to Ireland so he kindly paid for us all to go at Christmas. I have always been sad that I couldn’t get to the funeral.

I was shocked by Dad’s death. A couple of months previously, I had spoken to Dad on the phone And for the first time I had noticed he was not his usual cheerful self. I had suggested he and Mum come to Brisbane and he had expressed little interest-in fact he sounded quite irritable. I think he knew then that he was not well and probably would never see Brisbane. He had loved the trips to Malawi, Colombia , Dubai and Melbourne.

I remember breaking down one evening  as I walked along Storey Road. That is the third time I have admitted to breaking down in these recollections.

Maybe the Nixons are weepers..

The kids loved the trip to Ireland and–and wasted no time in making friends with their cousins A and L. They loved tobogganing on the snow at Stormont!

When I got back I asked the college if I could transfer to teaching adults. This was granted and I started teaching four days a week. I continued during the ‘Boom’ days for a couple of years like this. There were plenty of students and the College even put us on permanent contracts –with four weeks paid holiday and sick leave. The teaching was tiring but enjoyable. There were twenty five contact hours per week.

But in 1998 the ‘Asian Crash’ happened. In the ‘Tiger’ economies of Malaysia, Korea, Taiwan and Japan the currencies all crashed. This resulted in a quite rapid reduction in numbers of students from our main target countries. Suddenly Lorraine Martin which was now Embassy College started to shed staff. The casuals were the first to go. Teachers started to look for alternatives-a couple went to Brunei-including Sam B–my first boss at Lorraine Martin. I began to get worried myself.

Social life in Brisbane.

This was a disappointing aspect of our time in Brisbane. We moved to Kallangur in North Brisbane and had co-ownership with the Government of a modest but attractive Queenslander in Storey Road. Why did we choose Kallangur? Actually with a pin on a map! We didn’t know where anywhere was so we chose a place mid-way between Brisbane and the Sunshine coast. I was able to go to work on my bicycle to the train in the mornings and then take the train to central station from where I had a ten minute walk to work.

Maria was accepted at QUT to do her Post Graduate Diploma in Education to become a primary teacher. This she achieved and it was a tremendous achievement. she was feeding and looking after three children as well. As well as a mainstream primary qualification, she specialized in teaching  languages other than English.

But our social life was disappointing. Nobody seemed to want to enter the house. It was like it was haunted. come in for a coffee/ have beer?

“Nah!"  was the inevitable reply.

But our neighbour Ron was a blessing! Ron and his wifr  were a great couple. Ron was on a permanent disability pension for epilepsy. He never worked in the five years we were there. He looked like a blond Hells Angel and liked to walk around the garden in his shorts and nothing else. I remember Mum being quite shocked by the sight of him when she came to visit!

But he was a an exceptionally helpful person. He helped me with many things in and around the house-putting in the airconditioner in the bedroom, replacing the basin in the bathroom, tiling the yard –everything Ron would help with and never ask for anything in return. He represented everything good about Australia. Whenever we left to go to Brunei, rather than get an insulting few hundred dollars for my car I gave it to Ron! I felt really good about it because although our 1982 Falcon ‘bluey’ had done 350000 Kilometers it was still in great working order and had another 100000 K’s in it at least!

Our other neighbour  was a builder. He was also quite friendly. But his wife, a polish immigrant, was more reserved. He  was a great provider. They were only living in their house while they built a new one. When he had finished and they moved in to the new house we heard that she had left him keeping the new house and throwing  him out! It was sad.

For a while their house was rented by an ugly young neandertahl  living with his girlfriend. We used to hear him roaring and shouting and cursing as he went in and out of the house. He made such a scene all the time and he was very noisy. One morning, when my maths teacher friend form mexico was staying with me, I got up early ,woken up by this man’s mother who had come to pick him up early in the morning and made an awful din. She was blowing the horn etc. I rushed down and out to the mother and remonstrated with her for waking me up. Suddenly, out of the bushes came the Neanderthal man in leaps and bounds.

‘Leave my mother alone you Dickhead !’ he roared.

I beat a fairly undignified retreat and my  at the top of the steps muttered to himself ( referring to me said) “rash.!.” He was right of course. I get grumpy early in the mornings.

Fortunately, the estate agent ejected this loathesome individual a few weeks later, but not until the police had been called one day by I don’t know who. Marie was alarmed by the fierce row going on. When they arrived they found the belongings of the girlfriend strewn all round the yard. It was a right mess.

He was replaced with a very nice couple. They were friendly.

Our other contacts had been were the friends  of my brother in Ireland . I he was a school friend. I knew him at Trinity college in Dublin. They now lived quite close to us in a beautiful new house.

They were a strange couple. He was very pleasant and helpful and stable-but she was a little odd at times-but could be very pleasant if she chose to.  A very funny incident occurred when Mum and Roger were visiting us in 1997.

They came over to our house and then invited us all over to their house the next evening for something to eat. We arrived a few minutes after eight to find the house in darkness. My my mother later  told me that my brother was incensed by this slight and had grumbled to her:‘Another Donald cock-up !’ or words to that effect. It was nothing to do with me at all. They had simply forgotten the appointment. We were about to leave, when their car drew up and out pranced the wife clutching a bag of chips which she was apparently just finishing off! They then half-apologized , sat us down, went into the kitchen and produced a large bag of crisps to offer to the assembled company. It was a disaster and after a polite interlude we made our excuses and left. My big brother was not impressed! 

My big brother, Roger, was a well-intentioned and good man, in that he looked after Mum very well in Ireland. He was also generous and helped me out when we were in crisis  in Melbourne. However, his blaming of me for this incident  shows what he really thought of me. and it wasn't just me, it was my lifestyle he disapproved of.  He  clearly didn't approve of many of the things I had done. He thought we were all on permanent holiday in the sunshine. As these memoirs clearly show., we were not. It was quite the opposite. We never had more than 2 halfpennys to rub together. I constantly invited my brother and his wife to visit  us but they never did until  after Dad had died and they came to Brunei, and only because it was on the way to visit his wife's relatives in New Zealand. Roger and I were never close.  The big brother /little brother sibling relationship is often fraught with problems and even  conflict. As we became older,  the relationship became more fraught. Our circumstances and lifestyle were different. He had a wife who had problems with all of the Nixons, they he retired early at 55,  and were loaded. My circumstances could not have been more different. I  had a wife who got on well with all the Nixons, we could not retire until  67, and had 3 children to support. Our financial situation could not have been more different. as Mum used to say: we were always pulling the devil by the tail.

 

Money was very tight. We never had more than about a thousand dollars in the bank, and often less. Eventually, Marie had a car accident which was not her fault. There was damage to our car but the guy had no insurance and I had only third party –to save money – a big mistake-false economy. Then, as luck would have it , a couple of weeks later, Marie had another accident . This time it was her fault and the bloke she crashed into was angry. We had to pay a bill of about three thousand dollars for our car to put it back on the road. I was too proud to ask my brother for money and I needed the money –or Maria couldn’t drive to work. So I asked an old  to lend me about 1800 pounds and this saved the day. i repaid it some years later when we had some savings in Brunei. This was the only time in my life I have ever borrowed money from anyone.

The Guatemalan peasant lady and Rupert Murdoch

I once saw an interview with a Guatemalan peasant who was a political activist undertaking direct action in support of indigenous Indians.

She made a very strong impression on me.

In the interview with some well-known TV network this humble woman gave a remarkable analysis of the pernicious role of the mass media in the world.

She said there were in the world two views of every place.

Simply put, there was the media image of a place and the reality of the place itself.

Both were important she said because both were often different and decisions were made about these places based on which view the political decision-makers had.

As an example she talked of the the media image of her little village in the mountains and compared it to the reality of it.

Both were very different.

I couldn't agree more.

Everywhere I have lived has been totally dfferent to the media image-including my home towm of Belfast.

Nowhere is as I expected it to be with all my 'Education'

But there is a Rupert Murdoch in every country.

Many of the places I have lived in have suffered from their media image.

Cali, Colombia is a good example. A media image of drug cartels and violence. The reality for us was very different when we lived there. It was a peaceful and happy place.

Now, twenty five years later I no longer even believe my own lived experience of Cali.

Such is the power of the media it has it has supplanted my own view of Cali with the violent media image.

That is how powerful the media is. The Guatemalan lady was right

It suits the media to portray Cali as a violent place because people want to read that. It makes them feel good about themselves–so we buy the newspaper and Rupert makes a profit.

Rupert and his friends are not fools.

The truth about Cali is not important in all of this.

It never is for the media. Fox news, after promoting their investigative reporters as 'intrepid truth gathererers' sacked them due to pressure from Monsanto corporation lawyers, after the journalists tried to publish the story of Monsanto's poisoning of milk for Americans.

No-one gives a flying fuck about the truth, least of all Rupert, his readers or Fox News.

People want to feel good about themselves.

Rupert wants his profit–and the rest of the world outside Cali wants to believe that Cali is the most violent place on the planet because it makes them feel good about their their own sordid little patch.

That is why people like Rupert Murdoch, Fox the and other private media magnates must be  neutralized.

They can not be trusted with monopoly ownership of Newspapers and Television stations. Such organs of communication must be forcibly rested from the hands of these monopolists who appeal to the lowest common denominator in human nature in order to make a profit.

A1 Brisbane 1994 Kooralbyn International school

Why Brisbane? Well,  Maria hated the Victorian climate and so did I. but, more importantly, I wanted out of  science teaching and administration and management in international schools. I was not suited to management.I had contacts with an international school in Brisbane and they wanted an ESL teacher. So, I accepted. 

This school had a mainstream of Aussies and the overseas students  were just there to bring in revenue to the school. The word was that in Queensland there were a lot of Language schools for foreign students. Foreign students were polite, hardworking  and fun.

I had to make a reconnaissance trip to Brisbane on my own first. I flew up and stayed with friends of my brother , who were I think a little bemused at our plans. I had no idea where to go. I went to a few estate agents on the South side close to the school but and didn’t like the look of them much. Eventually, I took a place very close to my friends place' in  Northgate –in an old and pretty grim Queenslander. My (flawed)  thinking was that we would be better off being close to someone we knew. The problem was it was one and a half hours drive from the school which was way, way  south of the city.

I flew back to Melbourne, and we packed up as quickly as we could. We headed north out of Melbourne for the sun in ‘Bluey”, our 1982 Falcon-loaded with stuff and three kids. R was 6 , Serge 4 and J still a baby. I bought a pair of polaroid clip-on sunglasses for the drive. I don’t remember much of the trip except that it took three days and two nights and the weather slowly improved as we headed north. The kids were magnificent. They slept practically the whole way.

When I saw 25 Hall Street again in Brisbane I was disappointed–and I think Marie was, too. It really was shabby –and the location wasn’t great. Nevertheless, Roger went to Northgate Primary and I went to the international school  every day. Marie did a sterling job keeping  everything going at home.

September 1994

The nightmare continued..!. Professionally, this was my first real stab at ESL teaching and I was nervous. It was very different from science teaching. I could see that it would take time for me to adapt my teaching style. It was a real ‘Baptism of Fire’. The school was in financial trouble and was trying to save itself by importing Koreans worth 20,000 dollars each to the boarding department. This was a great idea except that the Koreans were street fighters-‘new money’ from Seoul. The spawn of the Korean ‘Tiger’. They were absolutely revolting! They were immature and rude ..very  unlike most other Koreans I have met before or since. Most Koreans I have met are very polite and  hardworking The HOD was very apologetic to me .. and together we worked out a plan to tame these 'wild' Koreans.

After a few weeks we decided to expel two of them on a Friday! The Head agreed and we thought that was that. Job done!

But no!

On the  Monday when we came back to school the Head had changed her mind!

The HOd and I were devastated. I knew what this meant. They would be hell from here on – and they were!

A few days later the head of Discipline-the husband of the Headmistress, sidled up to me sheepishly  muttering  “Sorry about that Korean thing-they are worth 20,000 dollars each”.

That was the bottom line with that school.

They also had serious trouble between the Japanese and the Koreans in the boarding house. They used to line up and fight each other having pitched battles on the football field. I remember thinking ruefully maybe we hadn’t done so badly in Melbourne  after  all. We never had trouble like that

One particular incident sticks in my mind… I was asked to do a relief class in the main school –  an eighth grade high school class of Aussies. As I entered I immediately spotted a little knot of trouble at the back in the form of boisterous  youths who wouldn’t sit down, keep quiet, open their books or   even write down the instructions for their work.

Eventually. I asked one of them to come up to the front with his book so I could get his name. (I wanted to report him to the regular teacher)  If I had asked him for his name he would have given me a false one. I was sitting down and he turned round to face the class and then parked his bum on my desk in  front of my face. I pushed him off and he went squealing out of the room like a little pig screeching.... He told the  Head of Discipline that I had 'touched' him!

After school the Head of Discipline called me in and gave me a warning! “Don’t ever touch a student in this school again” I protested that the boy had invaded my personal space.The Head of discipline wasn't interested. There was only three weeks left on my contract till the end of term so I didn't say anything more.

Ironically,  a few  years later later when I was working at a language college, this same head of discipline turned up at the photocopier. He pretended not to know me. It turned out that the school had gone bust and he was unemployed! The Koreans, even at a 20,000 each apparently hadn't saved the school. I wasn't really surprised.

 Back to the story: I felt humiliated and that was it, as far as I was concerned. I had only three weeks left on my contract and I determined to look for work in a language college with adults.  At this school,  I remember actually walking into my ESL class and hardly even talking to those spoiled brats  who were completely ignoring me anyway. It was almost surreal! I would put on a video such as ‘The Lion king’ and just sit there, almost  sulking. That is the only time in my career  I have been reduced to doing that–a lesson in which I did not try, and hardly spoke!

This school collapsed in 2000  due to financial mismanagement.

Another winning choice for Nixon!.

Centrelink Sadistic Megalomaniacs

I've been working part-time at a University for the past four months since I arrived back in Australia (George Orwell's 'Utopia')

I go in everyday and teach a course. It takes about an hour to get to work. The money is not much but it covers petrol,speed camera and parking fines, my rent and food. The work is challenging but gives me a much needed focus in life at present.

I got this job myself without the help of any state or Government agency.

I want to contrast the attitude of Centrelink now to what it was fifteen years ago when I last claimed social security in Victoria.

In those days, the days of a Labour Governmnet, Centrelink staff were polite and helpful. 'Customers' as we were referred to, were assumed to be innocent of trying to cheat the state until proven guilty.

Ordinary people were often less sympathetic to the unemployed, but Government agencies such as Centrelink were very helpful to us.

Now, in 2009 in Adelaide I find the reverse is true. Individuals seem quite friendly (albeit with the stand-offishness inherent to most 'Dinky-Di' Australians)

But Government officials and petty bureaucrats have developed an officious attitude. There is a pervasive robotic, mindless, box-ticking mindset which sees even quite senior officials unable or unwilling to make decisions. As Hitlers deputies' did at Nuremburg, this army of petty officials justify their vindictive megalomania by quoting moronic regulations. Full of their own self-importance, some of these sadists use my tax money to push ordinary citizens around. Like Himmler and Goering they take pleasure in their jobs.

They do not practice what they preach themselves. If they have chosen this job and like it they are  then they are dangerous sadists who should be rooted out by the new Labour Government and told like everyone else that they should find another job.


See how they like being told that!

These petty bureaucrats think they have been given a legal and local license -a  "Fatwah" by the conservative Governments (and the voters who voted for them) to intimidate innocent people.

"It's ok to be a Bastard!" has been the message in the last decade.

They have been told by 'Big Brother' (The Mass Media) that it is ok to bully, harrass and intimidate your fellow citizens and look after your own interests.


By way of illustration here is my story. I am sure it is repeated every day hundreds of times around this Utopian lucky country of ours..


Even though I am working, I keep applying for social security so that I maintain my concession card to pay for medication from Chemists. This means I am officially still on Centrelink's books even though they pay me virtually nothing. They occasionally pay me a few dollars if I am sick (as my employer doesn't, because I am 'casual' like many employees these days) or if it is a week semester break between sessions.

The recent Government re-reorganisation of jobseekers has now seen me switched to  another Job provider called 'Jobs Statewide' (JSW) who proudly announce that they have 'won' a contract to provide jobs for job seekers.

Interesting word that they think thay have 'won'.

What is it they have won?

It certainly sounds like they have won a prize in a raffle.

It seems they have won a prize - that of being allowed to push their victims, other innocents and a few malingerers around.

What greater pleasure can there be in life than that?

On Monday, I found an e-mail in my 'Trash' box from Jobstatewide (JSW) 'reminding' me that I had an appointment the NEXT day (Tuesday) in the centre of Adelaide (miles away from where I live) at a time when I was teaching at University.

I had never heard from 'JSW' Jobs statewide before. how can i be 'reminded' of something I had heard nothing about?

I assumed they must be my new provider to whom I had been assigned by Centrelink.

I was annoyed that I had been sent a 'reminder' -when I had never even been sent an appointment in the first place-and at twenty four hours notice!


Moreover, the E-mail said I was 'not allowed' (Is this legal?) to reply to Jobstatewide by using the reply button on my E-mail.

This was an unsubtle attempt to force the 'customer'(or victim) myself into phoning them at the customer's expense.


Anyway,I overcame my indignation and did as I was requested- phoning Jobstatewide at my own expense on the Monday afternoon-immediately after receiving this junk e-mail-to tell them that I was working on the Tuesday.

I asked them why they didn't know that I was working?

I had ,after all, been filling it in on my forms every two weeks for the past four months.

They didn't even know I was working!


The thought occurred to me:

Was I just some number on the computer whose file is not even read before I am phoned. ?

Surely not-in a country where millions of tax payer's dollars is put into an educational system which is supposed to teach us to be critical thinkers and problem solvers?

Surely not! This is Australia...

That turned out to be exactly the case.

I phoned JSW and told them they should read the file and check with Centelink before they send out E-mails at such short notice.

Three days later I got a letter from JSW (Jobstatewide) making an appointment at the same time on the same day of the following week and making all sorts of veiled threats about what would happen if I didn't show up!

The letter started off with

"You are required to attend an appointment..."

So rude!

Such a presumption of guilt!

The arrogance of these people!

Who do they think they are talking to?

Ned Kelly?

An Al Qaeda suspect?



I thought about phoning them but felt that that was pointless as they had ignored what I had said in the previous phone call on Monday.

I E-mailed them on the Thursday night saying I couldnt attend because I would be at work on the Tuesday.

The next day, Friday, I was at work and was called by Centrelink who wasted a half an hour of my time going over all the aforementioned events.

During this call they adopted an accusatory tone from the very start of the phone conversation.

They spoke to me as if I were a criminal.

It was clear neither Centrelink nor Jobstatewide had even bothered to read my file before contacting me.

I pointed this ut to them quite clearly. Neither of them knew I was working at a University.

If they had read my forms they would have found that I had also been doing voluntary work at three agencies for the previous three months as well as my work at the University-and that therefore I easily qualified for the small amounts of money the they had been paying me every so often.

Moreover, when Centrelink realised that I had indeed been working it did not stop the mindless bureaucrat on the phone from continuing to talk to me as if I were an errant teenager rather than a tax paying citizen who has more than complied fully with all his obligations.

First of all she claimed that she didn't know where I was working.

(Because she hadn't bothered to read my file before phoning)

And then she kept insisting I needed to attend appointments with JSW implying that I had lied to JSW on Monday about my working on the Tuesday.

This robot eventually phoned my employer then and there, wasting more of my time, as I was waiting on the phone and after wasting all this time, eventually changed her tone as I explained to her that I intended to have nothing more to do with JSW as they had clearly on Monday misrepresented the contents of my phone call to centrelink in a predictable attempt to cover up the fact that they had not even bothered to read my file.

This story illustrates for me what has happened to the 'lucky country' in the last decade while I have been in Borneo

A veritable army of petty bureaucrats (liberals) have appeared and started to harass and intimidate those less fortunate than themselves.

A hostility of almost sexual proportions can be detected in the way these Government petty bureaucrats now address their 'customers' (You and I). I have been on the receiving end of these people for the past six months in Government Departments.

The power has gone to their head.

Don't they realise that their innings is over ?

Their number has come up?

That the corporate business model has failed?

That the 'blame the victim' approach is no longer acceptable.

These petty bureaucrats (like Hitlers "Brownshirts") are people who have amounted to nothing in life yet thay have the right to harrass and intimidate anyone.

They should be rooted out of the system.