Teenage Asylum Seekers Are Running Away From The Australian Government

About a month ago, two underage Vietnamese asylum seekers swapped high school and soccer lessons for a detention centre in Darwin. The 16-year-old boys—who arrived by shanty boat without their families in 2011—were initially granted a fresh start in Adelaide under community detention. Then Australian Immigration decided their residence “was no longer in the public interest”.

When the boys were transferred, another 15 Vietnamese and Afghani teenagers in community detention also fled and they haven’t been heard from since. Now the two boys themselves are also missing, after last week running away from the school they were attending in the Northern Territory.

On Saturday, local teachers, students and the boys’ friends demanded answers. And despite the events, there was a real sense of hope in their gathering—mostly organised by high school students—on North Terrace outside of South Australia’s Parliament House. While saddened and shocked by what has happened to the two teenage asylum seekers, the young people have something tangible to fight for: their friends. It’s impossible for them to imagine that they won’t see them again.

Before the rally began, I watched as students, teachers, and adult volunteers ran around, directing others to stand on the steps of Parliament with their banners and posters facing out towards the crowd and the road. A group of students from Charles Campbell College were kneeling on the ground; sorting out the posters they’d made for the day and quickly scribbling out some more signs.

I asked the group if I could talk to them about why they’ve come to demonstrate. Jack, 18, and Chloe, 17, were quickly nominated by their friends. The two spoke passionately and assuredly about their school, their fears that this could happen to students they study with, and the way Australia is treating asylum seekers.

“Education is a basic human right,” said Chloe. “Why are we denying these people their rights just because they’ve come from a different country? And seeking asylum is a basic human right. I think it’s just really cruel what our government is doing to these people. It’s really sad.”

Further into the crowd was Sasha, a 13-year-old in Year 8 at Woodville High School, where the two Vietnamese boys were also studying before immigration officers gave them a few minutes to pack up their life one afternoon in June. Like most of the students, talking to Sasha gave me the sense that she feels this issue can be fixed. “Everyone is trying to do their part,” she says. “They’ve done nothing wrong, and the school is really behind getting them home.”

It was only when speaking to some of the adults in the crowd that the sense of hope dissipated. Eileen, whose daughter is a teacher at Woodville, said the whole thing is “so disturbing and inhumane”. “They’re just young kids. They must be so freaked out at the moment,” she said.

As the rally began, Wathnak Vy took the microphone. He is a friend of the two boys and has been one of their most vocal champions. “Can you believe it?” he yelled into the crowd. “This happens only in the movies! But this is real life.” Vy got caught up in repeating his mantra: “We’re here to help them. We’re here to help them. We’re here to help them.” He said the community wants “real justice” and “real policy to treat people equally”.

While the organisers had been careful to frame the rally as apolitical, Greens senator Sarah Hanson-Young was the only politician to speak. “Scott Morrison is the legal guardian of these kids,” she said. The crowd erupted into boos. I heard more than one person yell “shame” – a word that was quickly picked up by the crowd and regularly punctuated the speeches.

As they listened, the student organisers stood outside the doors to Parliament. They seemed buoyed by the speeches and the size of the crowd, which swelled to around 2000 people. Neo Pitso, a rapper and former Woodville student, performed a song written for the occasion with current student, Kyle Rigney.

As Neo performed ‘Bring Them Home’, the emotions of the day caught up with the students. “We have the power, the future is ours. We’ll shout to our voices are gone: bring them home, bring them home, bring them home, bring them home,” rapped Neo. The students standing behind him wiped away tears and were comforted by their teachers.

Just one building down from Parliament is Government House, where Hieu Van Le will be South Australia’s Governor from September. Le is also a refugee from Vietnam. Just one day before the boys from Woodville were removed from Adelaide community detention, he told a press conference that he arrived “36 years ago with nothing but an invisible suitcase filled with dreams”.

So, as the rally ended, the students walked towards Government House with wooden placards cut into the shape of baggage with the words “suitcase of dreams”. There was no stereotypical march: the small group waited at the pedestrian crossing for the lights to change, and the police stayed back at Parliament House as the next rally on that busy Saturday began.

Woodville principal Meredith Edwards then knocked on the door of the security building, and asked if they could leave the suitcases for the Governor. Looking amused, the security guard took a couple of placards, but told Edwards he couldn’t take them all. Still, the students were jubilant about how their day had gone.

One of the organisers Cathy, 17, grinned widely as the day came to an end. “I think it went really well,” she told VICE. “So much support. An overwhelming amount. I just think it’s so good to see everyone getting involved and really standing up for what we believe in.” For these students, it probably feels that anything is possible. But what will happen next to their friends remains to be seen.

Follow Jane on Twitter: @noplain