The Migration series is aimed at the South African Australians - or should I say Australian South Africans - who for one reason or another have chosen the land Down Under as their home away from home. This series, over the next 12 months, will hopefully provide you with some useful information on a variety of topics such as the difficulties of moving and packing your life into a 6x4m container, to dealing with life post arrival and onward – all this while discovering what we South Africans are made of.

I am a third generation immigrant. A third generation of packed bags, of friends and families left behind in the space of 60 years. One would think that this would become easier with time and experience. Although planning and some helpful tricks can make the journey and settling in your new environment much smoother and less disruptive, there are other elements of immigrant life which no one can provide a step by step handbook for. There is no “Immigration for Dummies” book out there. Every one of us comes from a different background – social, cultural and economical – our experience of life in this brave new world is uniquely our own. 

So why the article, why the series? The aim is to share our unique experiences with you in the hope that it will allow you to learn from our mistakes, or even strike a cord somewhere. There is great solace in knowing that you are not alone.

Waltzing Matilda vs. Shoshaloza
National pride and patriotism tend to rear their heads, in this day and age at least, mostly in the confines of family rooms and local stadiums when national sport teams take to the field. The recent commencement of rugby union’s Super 12 series, again showed us how easily emotions, spirits and even tempers can flare. The rivalry between South Africans and Australians, when it comes to the sports arena, is legendary. Australia is the one nation we hate to loose to. And since living here, I have learnt how mutual the feeling is. 

The question I pose is: when do we become fully fledged Australians? Is it when we get our citizenship? When we have been here for 5, 10 or 20 years? Or is the true answer really never? We have had many a debate around barbies, and the opinions are varied. Some people feel that unless you truly adopt a culture (which also means supporting the local and national sport teams) then you can never really become assimilated with the country you have chosen to make your own. These people however seemed to be outnumbered (in our circle of friends at least). The majority thinking is: “over my dead body will I support an Australian team”. This is further exacerbated when their children, who are now growing up and going to school in this country, come into the equation. A friend Belinda’s sentiment is clear: only when her son runs onto the field wearing an Australian jersey will she stand up and cheer for the local team. Nothing quite like a bit of inter-family rivalry when it comes to team support!

Sitting at one of the recent Super 12 games, I am sure that we are undoubtedly the only 6 people shouting for the South African side. We feel positive and strong at the start, shouting and cheering the team on but with each opposing try scored, our enthusiasm wanes. We feel isolated and alone. The harder the opposing fans cheer, the more frustrated we become. After the game we see a few more downcast faces, identified either by their Springbok or Super 12 tops. We offer a few words of condolence in Afrikaans. We are quick to furnish the reasons as to why our teams are not performing to their potential in an attempt to justify our fervent support. I believe it is true that we have a better Springbok side playing at overseas clubs in England and France than we do locally. We cannot berate the players for this – after all are they not doing what we did? Trying to secure a better future for themselves and their families? Every season we hear of a new coach being named, a new ruling about quotas, a new scandal rocking the South African sporting world. Yet strangely enough, we hold on hoping for the grand slam comeback of our national sides: the cricket world cup, the rugby world cup, the Davis cup… something! It is perhaps the reason why I have started watching golf – thank goodness for “the goose” and Ernie - who now live in the UK!

We often tend to forget that we made the choice to come to this country. Some may feel that the circumstances in South Africa forced their hand and that we are biding our time until South Africa returns to its former glory – beautiful and crime free. And then? Will we pack up our lives once more and run back, tails between the legs hoping that she will embrace us with open arms? Life in a rootless state of limbo is even worse for the human spirit than accepting the decisions that have brought you to this new life.

I suppose the question is will we ever be able to let go of this deep rooted patriotism, cheer for the local side and become real Aussies? It’s an emotion rooted as deeply as the roots of the baobab tree somewhere in the blazing heart of the Namib Desert, it feels like there is an umbilical cord holding us back. I doubt I will be able to stand back and listen to or agree with the sweeping statements that my Australian boss makes about the Springboks without feeling the stirrings of my green blood. I am not someone who is susceptible to rage but I am unable to stand aside and listen to insults being hurled at the South African national side. How strange! When we lived in South Africa, I never once went to a live game and although I followed the sport on TV, our wins were of lukewarm importance. 

There is nothing like moving to another country to turn you into a stout sporting patriot. Ironic isn’t it? And why should the South African sides perform well? Just for us? Because we want them to? So that we can walk into the office on Monday morning and ask the boss: “So, how about those Stormers – great game wasn’t it?” with a gloating smirk on our face. Oh, the satisfaction of that!

Perhaps that umbilical cord will lose its power over time. I cannot tell, and perhaps I don’t want it to. A year on, I am settled and moving forward with my new life in Sydney. It doesn’t mean that I have to denounce my heritage and become all things Aussie. It also doesn’t mean that I have to be so passionate about my support of South Africa that I shut out the people of the country I am living in. For now, my Springbok top is freshly washed and ironed, ready for the next Tri-Nations game! 

By Alice Cumming