It was just my new casual Saturday. I had lived in this city of Brisbane for two months at that time. I just felt settled with the life there, the academic, social, work life, and everything in between.
The third week I was there, I was recruited to teach Indonesian children to read Quran in a community mosque in West End. After the class, it was around 13.00, my friend and I decided to have a visit to weekly farmer's market. Then, we took a walk to reach the site. It was just another busy Saturday noon in West End when suddenly a door of a hotel opened just right before us. A middle-age guy went out of the building, lighted his lighter on, and put it right in front of me. I could feel the fire at that time. As the shock was not enough, he slurred while smiling "I feel like burning your f***ing scarf!". I was stunned, frozen on the place where I stood. I looked around for help forgetting that I had my friend by my side. There was another guy leaning on the wall near by. I looked into his eyes, not saying anything. I was about to say something when he said, "Oh yeah.. terrorist!". I felt weak right at the moment, but my instinct said "Go.. run! you should save yourself!". Still I forgot I had my friend by my side. I remember I tried to smile when that first man threatened me. But I could not help it when the second guy added the offensive words. Right on the traffic light, I stood there and went numb. There was a young teenager who was there right after me, looking at me. I didn't know if he saw it or not, but he smiled at me, and he pushed the crossing button for me. My friend was there now, I ca't clearly remember. She was there with me and asked whether I was okay. I wasn't. We crossed the road and kept walking, pretending that nothing happened.
We stopped by the Coles, had some shopping, hoping that I would forget what just happened. I kept silence. We finished the shopping and when back home, and that silence broke. I started crying now in the bus. I couldn't stop. I cried so hard, I believed some old ladies offered to help, but my friend handled it gracefully, she is indeed a graceful lady, my precious friend. We took ferry to cross the river, and the walk home that day felt so much longer than usual. Just when I arrived home, I cried on and off. There were times when I screamed my heart out on to the pillow. The only think I thought was, no way, I would run home to Indonesia. I would never stay any longer here. I was not accepted here.
That night, the news spread among the Indonesian community, and somehow reached one of the police officers who suggested me and my friend to file a report about this incident the next day. I was so terrified. What? Police? No way. But everyone somehow convinced us to report. Then the next morning, we did it.
Days passed, and I still felt traumatized. One day, two police officers arrived in our unit. One of them was a woman with hijab too. It gave me a lot of comfort, to be honest. I still remember, I kept the music on a bit loud, not too loud thou, just to distract myself from all the terrifying feeling of being rejected. But I must admit, the police department worked really well that they kept checking on me.
Four weeks after that incident, I got a call from the police department. A woman on the other side of the line sound so in rage but relieved at the same time. She said that they finally succeed in tracing the CCTV footage and they were trying hard to seize the guy. Three days after that, the guy was captured, and I got another call. That was the last call, and I refused to attend the trial. I don't know what it's called, but I told them they could handle the case now. I was a coward for being scared to attend the court and I was afraid to see him again. I was thinking, "I will stay here for 20 more months. No way I had that courage to show my face to him!". I thought the police was not happy about it, but that was my decision.
I remember that I kept the story for myself and not telling anyone home but my cousin. She couldn't keep the secret herself. My mother called me after the incident. We cried. I remember feeling so bad and disrespected. It's not new feeling, but in Australia, I had no family. I mean I had a lot of supporting friends, but that's different. The trial done and the news was spread among Indonesian community in Brisbane. Here are some of them.
We stopped by the Coles, had some shopping, hoping that I would forget what just happened. I kept silence. We finished the shopping and when back home, and that silence broke. I started crying now in the bus. I couldn't stop. I cried so hard, I believed some old ladies offered to help, but my friend handled it gracefully, she is indeed a graceful lady, my precious friend. We took ferry to cross the river, and the walk home that day felt so much longer than usual. Just when I arrived home, I cried on and off. There were times when I screamed my heart out on to the pillow. The only think I thought was, no way, I would run home to Indonesia. I would never stay any longer here. I was not accepted here.
That night, the news spread among the Indonesian community, and somehow reached one of the police officers who suggested me and my friend to file a report about this incident the next day. I was so terrified. What? Police? No way. But everyone somehow convinced us to report. Then the next morning, we did it.
Days passed, and I still felt traumatized. One day, two police officers arrived in our unit. One of them was a woman with hijab too. It gave me a lot of comfort, to be honest. I still remember, I kept the music on a bit loud, not too loud thou, just to distract myself from all the terrifying feeling of being rejected. But I must admit, the police department worked really well that they kept checking on me.
Four weeks after that incident, I got a call from the police department. A woman on the other side of the line sound so in rage but relieved at the same time. She said that they finally succeed in tracing the CCTV footage and they were trying hard to seize the guy. Three days after that, the guy was captured, and I got another call. That was the last call, and I refused to attend the trial. I don't know what it's called, but I told them they could handle the case now. I was a coward for being scared to attend the court and I was afraid to see him again. I was thinking, "I will stay here for 20 more months. No way I had that courage to show my face to him!". I thought the police was not happy about it, but that was my decision.
I remember that I kept the story for myself and not telling anyone home but my cousin. She couldn't keep the secret herself. My mother called me after the incident. We cried. I remember feeling so bad and disrespected. It's not new feeling, but in Australia, I had no family. I mean I had a lot of supporting friends, but that's different. The trial done and the news was spread among Indonesian community in Brisbane. Here are some of them.
Man who threatened to burn hijab
https://au.news.yahoo.com/man-fined-for-muslim-headscarf-fire-threat-25357900.html
A couple months after it, I checked my spam inbox on Facebook, and saw that someone from local TV tried to reach me. Hehehe.. Sorry mam, I just didn't know you texted.
This incident has clearly taught me a lot. It seems like I was trained on how to treat minority in your community, how to really carefully watch your words and actions. To this day, I am still learning it. Tolerance is not the word I want to use really. Compassion seems too much. Respect is what I think appropriate. I should learn how to respect others for whoever and whatever they are. And more importantly I should learn how to forgive. I was damaged because of that, but I should forgive to let go and feel peace.
And a couple of months ago before deactivating my Facebook account, I found his account. I finally learned that he was an artist too. He paints. Isn't weird how the world works? And I couldn't stop thinking about what happened to Voldemort and Harry Potter. Voldermort didn't realize it when he attacked Harry, some of his power was transferred due to the attack. I was somehow, starting painting in 2017. Hey Mr. Dominic! I paint too now!! Hahahahah
https://au.news.yahoo.com/man-fined-for-muslim-headscarf-fire-threat-25357900.html
A couple months after it, I checked my spam inbox on Facebook, and saw that someone from local TV tried to reach me. Hehehe.. Sorry mam, I just didn't know you texted.
This incident has clearly taught me a lot. It seems like I was trained on how to treat minority in your community, how to really carefully watch your words and actions. To this day, I am still learning it. Tolerance is not the word I want to use really. Compassion seems too much. Respect is what I think appropriate. I should learn how to respect others for whoever and whatever they are. And more importantly I should learn how to forgive. I was damaged because of that, but I should forgive to let go and feel peace.
And a couple of months ago before deactivating my Facebook account, I found his account. I finally learned that he was an artist too. He paints. Isn't weird how the world works? And I couldn't stop thinking about what happened to Voldemort and Harry Potter. Voldermort didn't realize it when he attacked Harry, some of his power was transferred due to the attack. I was somehow, starting painting in 2017. Hey Mr. Dominic! I paint too now!! Hahahahah
