
My evolving Asian and Oz Christmas traditions
Christmas in West Malaysia 1970s Christmas is a public holiday. I don’t have to go to school. The street is quiet. I wonder how I might celebrate. It is suggested that I...
Christmas in West Malaysia 1970s Christmas is a public holiday. I don’t have to go to school. The street is quiet. I wonder how I might celebrate. It is suggested that I...
When we first arrived in Adelaide, we stayed in a two-bedroom unit off Goodwood Road. My sister’s old school friend had arranged for us to live there while the...
About a year ago, I began interviewing Za Dim, a lady from the minority Chin tribe of Myanmar. After describing her experience of torture in an Indian jail, she said that each...
My friend Merrilyn remembers a wonderful Afghan family and has a visual picture of where she parked when she visited them twelve years ago. On hearing that I would like to...
I sit in my study in Adelaide, thinking of the journey that my paternal grandfather took from China to Malaya somewhere between 1900 and 1930. It’s an imprecise...
I am deeply grateful to be the recipient of an Arts SA Independent Makers and Presenters Grant, in the Emerging Artists Mentorship category. As a result of this grant, I will...
Gardening is good for my soul because I usually reap what I sow. Sometimes I don’t reap at all, because of the weather, which I cannot control, or the weeds, which I can...
I raided my local library and met Australian reporter Lynne O’Donnell. That is, I read her book. ‘High Tea in Mosul’ is the result of O’Donnell’s...
In my garden, there is a patch of brown dirt that is unremarkable. My irrigation line doesn’t extend here so the earth starts to dry out in summer. By February fissures...