Keeping the borders closed

"indefinitely" seems to be the chief strategy of the federal government in the attempt to contain the Covid19 virus. 

Closing borders might sound like a good idea. Perhaps it is if it really does keep us "safe" but it also raises other questions - such as the "right to return".

But it also raised another thought in my mind. When I was a mere kitten Downunder was a very different country.  We were not the supposedly "rich multi-cultural" country we are now. There were migrants of course. This was post World War II and people were coming from Europe, particularly from the United Kingdom, Italy and Greece with some from places like the Netherlands and what was then called Yugoslavia. Asian migrants were almost unknown and the only migrants from Africa were white South Africans. 

I probably grew up knowing more of these people than most young ones did. My paternal grandfather was an elder of the Presbyterian church and his particular church sponsored quite a number of migrants as well as helping others to settle in. Many of them came from the Netherlands. In my primary school years my siblings and I would very occasionally spend the day with a Dutch speaking couple and their two children. This would happen if both my parents had to go to a day conference in the school holidays. (Teachers back then had to do all these things in the "holidays".) They would pay this couple to care for us for the day.

The days for us were interesting because A....and M... would speak in Dutch even to us. Their own children of course had grown up listening to it and we were simply expected to understand what was going on. Mostly we did from the context. We would, like their own children, answer mostly in English. Several years ago I met their son again. He told me he couldn't remember any Dutch. It has been years since he spoke it.  He has never been to the home country of his parents. He was considering a trip on retirement but the travel restrictions were imposed. We chatted briefly about the food his mother used to prepare. Again it was subtly different from the food my siblings and I were used to eating.  It seemed exotic to us but in reality it was very plain. There was very little money in that family.  The father, a carpenter, actually made the clogs they wore. When we were inside we went around in our socks. Their clogs were lined up by the door.  We knew to put our shoes next to these.

I wonder what children would make of all this now. It is unlikely that it would seem exotic or exciting or even interesting to them. It is much more likely that they would simply consider it rather odd that they were expected to remove their shoes. As for the food it is likely that children, now used to a much wider range of cuisine, would be in the least bit impressed in the way we were. 

I find all this rather sad. Some of the magic has gone out of the world for so many children.