When Basim Shamaon arrived in Australia as a young teenager, a refugee from a war that was tearing Iraq apart, he was determined to learn English as quickly and as well as he could.
What he didn’t count on was the peculiarities of a country that twists and turns its language into something quite different to the King’s English.
“My sister teases me and my friends tell me I still don’t pronounce the word ‘mate’ correctly, that I make it too short,” he says. He practises it over the phone. “Maaaaate.”
It has been 18 years since Shamaon arrived in Sydney as a 13-year-old with his siblings and parents, a Christian family driven from Iraq and forced to rebuild their lives halfway around the world.
“My grandfather was a big businessman in Iraq, my father as well,” he says. “My family did a lot and then they kicked us out and made us feel that we didn’t belong there. This is now my country.”
Shamaon was born in September 1991 in Bataween, a district of Baghdad, and was the eldest of four children — three sons and a daughter — who lived a fortunate life as part of the Chaldean Christian community in an area that had a happy mix of Muslim and non-Muslim families.
His father was a successful civil engineer and businessman and he recalls having friends of different religions, playing soccer and battling over marbles.
The idyll was shattered in 2003 when the US invaded Iraq under the pretext of destroying weapons of mass destruction, bringing to an end the rule of Saddam Hussein.
The country fractured violently along political and religious lines and minority groups were persecuted. Before the invasion it is estimated there were about 1.5 million Christians in Iraq; now it is believed only 250,000 remain.
Shamaon tells of streets filled with rampaging militias and thugs, of seeing a man shot dead and of being plunged into darkness when electricity was cut off.
His mother was forced to cover the cross she wore around her neck when she left their house and a young Basim was barred from going to school.
Shops were trashed, homes and buildings bombed. A bullet in an envelope was left at the front door of his father’s business because it sold alcohol to non-Muslims. It was a grim warning.
Shamaon’s father, realising their future was precarious, decided the family must leave. He found safety in Jordan and his wife and children soon followed, leaving most of their possessions and all of their old life behind.
They found refuge in a tiny two-bedroom flat. Unable to work, his parents relied on relatives to help pay the rent and on churches to help feed their family.
Shamaon found a measure of comfort in the local Chaldean church and determined that he wanted to become a priest so he, too, could help others.
But his life would turn on its head again when his family received the news they had been accepted to come to Australia.
The Shamaon family arrived in 2005 and eventually settled close to relatives in the Sydney suburb of Fairfield, recognised as one of the most diverse council areas in Australia, where 71 per cent of residents speak a language other than English at home.
It is a community built from far and wide — Afghanistan, Iran, Iraq, China, Vietnam, Cambodia, Syria and Latin America.
Shamaon would begin to understand how his new country worked. Neighbours helped with shopping, he went to classes to learn English and he became adept at navigating the public transport system.
He also learnt to navigate the myriad of cultural differences between his old and new homes. “In our culture, we share food,” he says. “So if you invite a girl home for dinner, it is to share food, nothing else.”
A teenage Basim was accepted into the local high school and then worked as a cleaner and at a car wash to put himself through university.
His sister is completing her masters in teaching, one brother studied for degrees in law and criminology and the other is a truck driver.
Shamaon grew to understand that he didn’t have to become a priest to help people and has dedicated his young life to his community in his new country.
“That is how I integrated,” he says. “I went to school and volunteered and did what I could to become a part of the Australian community. Sometimes I feel like I was born here.”
Gaining citizenship in 2008 made him feel truly Australian. “It wasn’t just a piece of paper, it meant a lot to me,” he says. “I can vote and I can be part of the community officially now. No one can say to me you are a refugee.”
Shamaon has amassed an impressive array of educational credentials — including a bachelor of international studies and a master of arts in TESOL (teaching English to speakers of other languages) — but his commitment to helping others is equally impressive.
He was Fairfield City Council’s Young Citizen of the Year in 2014 and is a member of its multicultural advisory committee.
In any week you can find him teaching English, promoting men’s mental health through the We Are Men project, delivering food hampers, talking to young people or attending meetings with community groups.
By day he works for Navitas Skilled Futures, part of the Navitas Group, which has partnered with The West Australian to run the Best Australian Yarn short story competition.
Shamaon teaches a range of literacy and numeracy skills to students of diverse backgrounds and helps them outside the classroom to find work or study and become active community members.
He says refugees have much to offer their new country but they need time to settle and to be treated as individuals.
“These people have been through a lot,” he says. “Many have migrated from war-torn countries, they’ve suffered, didn’t have food and have not felt safe.
“They are expected in a short time to settle, to find work. We can’t treat them all the same because they have different needs.”
He believes one of the biggest issues they face is the scant recognition of overseas qualifications — teachers, engineers, doctors or medical staff — and says special, intensive training would go a long way to making them feel valued and relieving staff shortages.
Last year, he published From Iraq to Australia: Jewels from My Journey, part memoir and part guide for new citizens.
He hopes the Best Australian Yarn will encourage some to write their own stories and help other Australians get a better understanding of their journeys.
He said he was excited to be involved in judging the ESL Prize. “This addition removes any potential barrier for people from diverse backgrounds who want to tell their stories without concerns that they are not as skilled to do so as people for whom English is their first language,” he says.
“Being from an ESL background, and having just produced my first book about my personal settlement journey, I know it can be daunting to expose yourself through storytelling, but it is opportunities like these that help people find the courage and their voice to share their experiences for everyone’s benefit.
“I am really looking forward to reading these stories.”