"Whether it’s the story of a First Nations family who has cared for this continent for tens of thousands of years, or an Assyrian child carrying their flag and the memory of an ancient homeland in exile – our stories matter. We are not history. We are living truths."
We cannot have a conversation about migration in this country without first acknowledging, discussing and critiquing the reality of migrating to and settling on stolen land. We invite you to grab a warm drink and sit with us as we unpack these layers. But first, a welcome letter from roundtable facilitator and Refugee Council of Australia (RCOA) Director of Community Engagement, Deena Yako.
To my friend in First Nations Country,
Shlama (peace) from my land to yours. My name is Deena, and I am 10 years old. I come from Bet Nahrain — the land of the two rivers, Tigris and Euphrates. It’s a very old place where my Assyrian ancestors lived for thousands of years. Today, many of us have been pushed away, forgotten and uprooted from our land due to war and conflict. But I still carry their stories in my heart and in our songs.
I wonder what your land looks like when the sun rises, or how the earth smells after rain. Here, the soil is rich and fertile, and in springtime, the bright red poppy flowers bloom
across the mountains. The rivers still whisper old songs if you listen closely, although some of those songs are very sad, they are important. From your land to mine, I feel like our stories are connected, like the rivers and the red earth are cousins who miss each other.
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"Whether it’s the story of a first nations family who has cared for this continent for ten of thousands of years, or an Assyrian child carrying their flag and the memory of an ancient homeland in exile – our stories matter. We are not history. We are living truths."
We cannot have a conversation about migration in this country without first acknowledging, discussing and critiquing the reality of migrating to and settling on stolen land.
We invite you to grab a warm drink and sit with us as we unpack these layers. But first, a welcome letter from roundtable facilitator and RCOA Director of Engagement, Deena Yako.
To my friend in First Nations Country,
Shlama (peace) from my land to yours. My name is Deena, and I am 10 years old. I come from Bet Nahrain — the land between the two rivers, Tigris and Euphrates. It’s a very old place where my Assyrian ancestors lived for thousands of years. Today, many of us have been pushed away ,forgotten and uprooted from our land due to war and conflict. But I still carry their stories in my heart and in our songs.
I wonder what your land looks like when the sun rises, or how the earth smells after rain. Here, the soil is rich and fertile, and in springtime, the bright red poppy flowers bloom across the mountains. The rivers still whisper old songs if you listen closely, although some of those songs are very sad, they are important. From your land to mine, I feel like our stories are connected, like the rivers and the red earth are cousins who miss each other.
"Whether it’s the story of a First Nations family who has cared for this continent for tens of thousands of years, or an Assyrian child carrying their flag and the memory of an ancient homeland in exile – our stories matter. We are not history. We are living truths."
We cannot have a conversation about migration in this country without first acknowledging, discussing and critiquing the reality of migrating to and settling on stolen land.
We invite you to grab a warm drink and sit with us as we unpack these layers. But first, a welcome letter from roundtable facilitator and Refugee Council of Australia (RCOA) Director of Community Engagement, Deena Yako.
To my friend in First Nations Country,
Shlama (peace) from my land to yours. My name is Deena, and I am 10 years old. I come from Bet Nahrain — the land of the two rivers, Tigris and Euphrates. It’s a very old place where my Assyrian ancestors lived for thousands of years. Today, many of us have been pushed away ,forgotten and uprooted from our land due to war and conflict. But I still carry their stories in my heart and in our songs.
I wonder what your land looks like when the sun rises, or how the earth smells after rain. Here, the soil is rich and fertile, and in springtime, the bright red poppy flowers bloom across the mountains. The rivers still whisper old songs if you listen closely, although some of those songs are very sad, they are important. From your land to mine, I feel like our stories are connected, like the rivers and the red earth are cousins who miss each other.
