Leaving My Mother’s Nest: The Story of An Overseas Student

My first two years in Australia were my “labor” years. I would wake up at 5 in the cold of the freezing winter mornings to catch the train at 5:30. I used to finish my breakfast with bread and banana in the train. Then I would go to clean the carpets of a Backpackers with a vacuum cleaner on my back. After three hours of hard labor, I would run to catch my classes at the University at 10 AM, until 3 PM.

Then I would catch the train to more proletariat work. I would go to an Italian restaurant to work as a Kitchen Hand, in other words, I would be washing dishes. My job was to rinse the pans and utensils with warm water and load them onto a massive dish washing machine. I would work straight until 11 PM; 8 hours of work with only a 30min break in between. For this, I earned $12/hour.

By the time I took the last train of the day and reached home, it would be midnight. Then, by the time I finished cooking up my dinner, praying, taking a shower and talking to my parents back home over the phone, it would be almost 2 in the morning.

I would go to bed setting up the alarm for five again.
Yes, I could barely have 3 hours to sleep a day. After working so much all day, I slept like a dead man during those 3 hours. It felt like I was paying my house rent for those 3 hours of sleep.

That was my routine for two years in a row.

In a way, I lived my life on the train. I had my meals there, I dozed off during my commute and sometimes, I even did my university assignments in there. The amount of work I put myself through was inhumane. Apart from studies, I had to do a huge load of grind work. And to think that when I was back home in Bangladesh, I didn’t even pour a glass of water for myself. I am not saying that with pride; just a bit of reflection of how naive I was about the ways of the world.

Someone was saying the other day, Proloy Hasan used to wash dishes in Australia. That’s definitely true! I have spent a lot of time washing dishes for a living. But that was not the whole truth. I have even spent a few weeks cleaning toilets in a local Pub. But I am not ashamed of it at all. I am proud of it instead.

Because I didn’t beg anyone for money, not even to my parents or relatives. I didn’t take a loan, and I didn’t steal. I didn’t even give up on my education because of the amount that I had to work.

When I came to Australia, my dad had paid my first semester’s fee and given me $1,000 USD cash pocket money. That was all I had. Afterward, I have worked, and I have striven, as much as I could. And I am still striving. The only difference is, back then, I worked in the heat of the outdoors, standing on my feet. Now I work indoors, in the comfort of an air-conditioned room.

Yeah, I have washed dishes. Because I don’t come from a wealthy family and I didn’t have everything handed to me on a golden platter. I belonged to an average middle-class family of a developing country. I worked, like any other average overseas students. Tirelessly and endlessly. I had no degree that time, nor did I have any experience or a nepotistic person to get me a white-collar job. I earned about $500-$600 per week by doing so-called multiple “odd jobs”. That’s all the money I had to pay for my university, rent and living costs.

Kids these days understand that, if they are going overseas to study, they will have to face loads of hardship. They now come here with that mindset. But I didn’t know that. I only knew, to study outside, you had to do a part-time job. But I was not mentally prepared for the exhausting amount of labor that these ‘odd jobs’ demanded. So it took me quite a while to digest that bitter reality.

P: S: Washing dishes or cleaning toilets is considered as ODD JOBS in our society.

My first job was at an Indian restaurant, though the owner was a Bengali, like me. I was working four days a week for $5/hr. The work was easy. I had to wait tables and serve them food and keep the bills from customers. When I received my first payment at the end of the week, I almost tore as that was the first income of my life. I laminated a $5 bill from that bunch that I have kept until this day as a souvenir.

Meanwhile, I went to a car wash. After two days of tremendous work, I returned home with every muscle in my body screaming in pain. The work had taken so much toll out of me that I fell sick and caught a fever. I never tried that stuff again. I have realized, “Carwash” is the other name for a hell-hole in the dictionary of an overseas student.

After a month, I quit my job at the Indian restaurant for a position as a cook at a KFC outlet in Bondi Junction, Sydney. The wage, as well as the work hours, were both comparatively much higher. It also came up with insurance, union membership, superannuation and many other facilities. I had prayed a lot to Allah for a better job, and he had answered my prayers. I had landed on that job interview almost coincidentally!

Within six months, I was promoted to an Assistant Shift Supervisor in KFC. On the other hand, the Italian restaurant I was working at, also gave me a little promotion; from a Kitchen Hand to a Sous Chef. Responsibilities, working hours, wages and respect, had all taken a leap overnight. Only then I learned that in Australia, the position of a Chef or Cook was very prestigious. Halal food was being prepared especially for me & the lovely waitresses who completely ignored me before (I reckon, it’s because of racism), was almost flirting with me now.

By then, I was earning about 50K-60K BDT per week. But it was still quite hard to pay my university fees with that earnings, as you know, regarding educational expenses, Australia is one of the most expensive country in the world.

So I took the job of vacuuming carpets. The hours were less, but the work was exhausting. However, it paid me well enough. So, I was doing three jobs at once. Although the Immigration Office didn’t allow me to work more than 20 hours a week, the pressure of paying my fees blunted all my other senses, and I did this for a few weeks just to get my tuition fees rounded. As soon as the amount has been entirely achieved, I left the job as I knew, I was breaching the VISA condition.

Please note, I would not recommend any future students to breach any immigration rules, under any circumstances. I repeat, I don’t encourage anyone to violate any VISA condition/Immigration rules.

Two months into working like this, I have developed severe chronic back pain (CBP is a medical term, so the doctor in me wants to leave it like that). The pain hasn’t left me until this day. If anyone asked, I would say it was from sitting in the chair in my classes for hours at once, that did this to me. On top of that, I didn’t get the time to work out, so that must be why I developed the pain. But I am the only one who knew that it was from carrying a heavy duty vacuum cleaner for hours on my back.
When I spoke to my mom back home, she would ask,

“Are you eating well, love?”
 — “Yeah mom, I am putting on weight from eating so much.”
 — “You aren’t working too hard, are you?”
 — -“Nah, of course not!”
 — “What work are they making you do there?”
 — “Don’t worry mom. I work at a shop; customer service. I am mostly sitting. The people are nice.”
 — “ Oh Great! Put your mind to your job, won’t you?”
 — “Will do, mom.”
 — “Study correctly, won’t you? Don’t let work keep you from studying.”
 — “Yes, mom. I won’t. Please keep me in your prayer.”

After talking to her over the phone, I would wipe up my tears with the sleeves of my shirt. Sometimes my eyes welled up with tears while I was still talking to her. Those days I would hurry up and say, “Ma, I am really sleepy, and I gotta wake up super early for classes tomorrow. I’ll go now,” and hang up.

I bet that this story isn’t just mine alone.

Sure, after that period I worked some so-called “white collar” jobs; I did TA-ship in a school, I worked in TPL, a telecom company. I was a teller in the Commonwealth Bank of Australia; I worked in PWC. But I will remember those first two years for the rest of my life.

Those two years have given me enough self-confidence that, I know, if Allah permits, I can survive in any part of the world, in any particular situation. I will at least not have to starve due to lack of work.

I realized, after those two years, that I was no more that weak and dependent boy, or no longer a spoon-feed kid who didn’t know how to fetch a glass of water for himself. I had faced the harsh reality very carefully, and it had left me with a mind of steel. I stand tall and confident. That two years taught me how to fight and survive.

I have never spoken of these incidences before. Because I knew that this was the reality of every student who had gone to study abroad and survived. My story was not a new one nor did I gain any new experience that no one went through before. But today, on this May Day, I felt like sharing my experiences for the first time.

I won’t let my mom work today. I am going to do all the cooking and household chores by myself. I can afford to do this as I have the day off. But even at this age, my mom manages to do the cooking twice a day, every single day. Both my parents don’t like our maid’s cooking, so she cooks by herself. I try to help her whenever I can.

My mom’s love, devotion, and tireless work have kept our family tied together till this day. My heart goes out to every hard working mother, father, and child on this May Day.

I wrote the original post in Bengali on my Facebook wall. Translated by Tania Tabassum. Fine tuned by me & Tania.