Stories and News No. 748
It seems that in Australia at least fifteen thousand young Italian immigrants work eleven hours a night, undergoing blackmail, abuse and even violence.
'Migrants' and 'immigrants', the same old story.
It always depends where you start to read on...
Once upon a time there the land of migrants.
The land of migrants was so-called not by chance.
The inhabitants lived always with the classic foot on the threshold.
Ready to go.
To escape.
A whistle was enough.
Come on, it’s time, let’s go!
Or even a way that was just it.
A more or less easily passing that would lead somewhere.
Possibly there.
It was the day when the migrants departed.
Some of you might ask: if the inhabitants migrated, who remained in the land of migrants?
Easy to say: the land.
And all those who dreaming of a better tomorrow had left the present behind.
Let alone the past.
So migrants without the old land arrived to the new one.
"Hello", the inhabitants of the latter said, "what do you want?"
"A job", they answered, "what else? You know, we are ‘migrants from the old land’."
"Oh no", the others promptly corrected, " you are now ‘immigrants in the new land’."
Meanwhile, elsewhere in the world, another land of migrants was about to become a crippled one.
Stolen of indomitable hope and blind courage.
It so happened that the migrants of the other old land arrived in the new land.
That was nothing but the old land of those who had become immigrants in the other new land.
"Hello", the natives said, "who are you?"
"We are looking for a job, as emigrants of the old land," they answered.
'Well, that is not accurate. Ours is the old land. And although we have neglected the present, let alone the past, we still remember our migrants. They are not you, you don’t look like them, ours are different, a completely dissimilar thing. In addition, at this time they are in the new land."
"Really?" the migrants of the old land or whatever it was said. "So they came back here to you?"
"What do you mean by that?"
The inhabitants of the old land of the other migrants who now had become the new land's immigrants became confused.
"Simple: because we are the ‘migrants of the new land’, that is yours."
"Then," the others exclaimed the people puffing, "if you really want to act like teachers with us, to be precise from now you are our ‘immigrants of the new land’, that is the old one."
The world seemed to find the right balance between dreams and needs, where the inhabitants of another land saw its migrants leaving.
Well, look how fate is mocking, they landed on the shores of the new land of the old migrants from the first old land.
"Hello", the inhabitants said, "who are you?"
"Let us work, because we are the ‘migrants from the old land’."
"Unbelievable," the others screamed. "Never seen so many lies in one sentence."
"Why?"
"First, because we know the ‘migrants of the old land’ and they are not you, they are quite different, just a unrelated world. And, moreover, they are already here. "
"And who are they?"
"They are the ‘immigrants in the new land’, ours. So, if you are not them, you are not here to work, but to bring crime and drugs. "
"But no, really, it is not so..."
"Maybe, then it means you're here to steal jobs from the immigrants of the new land, which in turn take it off us. And what do we do? We emigrate? "
"Good idea," the new ‘migrants of the old land’ thought.
So they left again, to come right on the very first land.
"Hello", the inhabitants said. "Who are you?"
"Look, we are the migrants from the old land, but also ‘immigrants in the new one’, as you prefer. Indeed, you can call us what you like, the words cannot do anything worse than what the fate writes since ever in our personal diaries. We also know to not look like your ‘migrants from your old land’. Another thing, as suits you, they are much more beautiful and cool than us, okay? Oops, you know that now they are ‘immigrants of the new land’? Either way, take our word, we are not here to bring crime and drugs. Not even to steal jobs from the other ‘migrants from the new land’, now ‘immigrants of your old land’, that they are stealing from you. You know what? We do not want a job.
"We just want to survive..."
The sentence was cut off before the end.
As the journey and the story.
Without they realized it.
Because they were only dreaming of the speech they would do once arrived at the destination.
Before disappearing beneath the sea waves.
Maybe, if we will be there, in the exact meeting, we should think very carefully about what is really worth saying.
As ‘Hello’ and more than all: ‘we know exactly who you are’.
You are ‘us’.
Read other stories about racism.
Storytelling with subtitles
Also on Stories and News:
It seems that in Australia at least fifteen thousand young Italian immigrants work eleven hours a night, undergoing blackmail, abuse and even violence.
'Migrants' and 'immigrants', the same old story.
It always depends where you start to read on...
Once upon a time there the land of migrants.
The land of migrants was so-called not by chance.
The inhabitants lived always with the classic foot on the threshold.
Ready to go.
To escape.
A whistle was enough.
Come on, it’s time, let’s go!
Or even a way that was just it.
A more or less easily passing that would lead somewhere.
Possibly there.
It was the day when the migrants departed.
Some of you might ask: if the inhabitants migrated, who remained in the land of migrants?
Easy to say: the land.
And all those who dreaming of a better tomorrow had left the present behind.
Let alone the past.
So migrants without the old land arrived to the new one.
"Hello", the inhabitants of the latter said, "what do you want?"
"A job", they answered, "what else? You know, we are ‘migrants from the old land’."
"Oh no", the others promptly corrected, " you are now ‘immigrants in the new land’."
Meanwhile, elsewhere in the world, another land of migrants was about to become a crippled one.
Stolen of indomitable hope and blind courage.
It so happened that the migrants of the other old land arrived in the new land.
That was nothing but the old land of those who had become immigrants in the other new land.
"Hello", the natives said, "who are you?"
"We are looking for a job, as emigrants of the old land," they answered.
'Well, that is not accurate. Ours is the old land. And although we have neglected the present, let alone the past, we still remember our migrants. They are not you, you don’t look like them, ours are different, a completely dissimilar thing. In addition, at this time they are in the new land."
"Really?" the migrants of the old land or whatever it was said. "So they came back here to you?"
"What do you mean by that?"
The inhabitants of the old land of the other migrants who now had become the new land's immigrants became confused.
"Simple: because we are the ‘migrants of the new land’, that is yours."
"Then," the others exclaimed the people puffing, "if you really want to act like teachers with us, to be precise from now you are our ‘immigrants of the new land’, that is the old one."
The world seemed to find the right balance between dreams and needs, where the inhabitants of another land saw its migrants leaving.
Well, look how fate is mocking, they landed on the shores of the new land of the old migrants from the first old land.
"Hello", the inhabitants said, "who are you?"
"Let us work, because we are the ‘migrants from the old land’."
"Unbelievable," the others screamed. "Never seen so many lies in one sentence."
"Why?"
"First, because we know the ‘migrants of the old land’ and they are not you, they are quite different, just a unrelated world. And, moreover, they are already here. "
"And who are they?"
"They are the ‘immigrants in the new land’, ours. So, if you are not them, you are not here to work, but to bring crime and drugs. "
"But no, really, it is not so..."
"Maybe, then it means you're here to steal jobs from the immigrants of the new land, which in turn take it off us. And what do we do? We emigrate? "
"Good idea," the new ‘migrants of the old land’ thought.
So they left again, to come right on the very first land.
"Hello", the inhabitants said. "Who are you?"
"Look, we are the migrants from the old land, but also ‘immigrants in the new one’, as you prefer. Indeed, you can call us what you like, the words cannot do anything worse than what the fate writes since ever in our personal diaries. We also know to not look like your ‘migrants from your old land’. Another thing, as suits you, they are much more beautiful and cool than us, okay? Oops, you know that now they are ‘immigrants of the new land’? Either way, take our word, we are not here to bring crime and drugs. Not even to steal jobs from the other ‘migrants from the new land’, now ‘immigrants of your old land’, that they are stealing from you. You know what? We do not want a job.
"We just want to survive..."
The sentence was cut off before the end.
As the journey and the story.
Without they realized it.
Because they were only dreaming of the speech they would do once arrived at the destination.
Before disappearing beneath the sea waves.
Maybe, if we will be there, in the exact meeting, we should think very carefully about what is really worth saying.
As ‘Hello’ and more than all: ‘we know exactly who you are’.
You are ‘us’.
Read other stories about racism.
Storytelling with subtitles
Also on Stories and News: