On the nights when I’m not soooooo tired that I fall asleep instantly (not because I have babies – they sleep fine, but I’m a night owl, it’s my own fault!), I lie in bed for a little while with my eyes closed, waiting for sleep. On those nights, my heart always breaks a little for something in the world. I guess I have a moment of worry. Sometimes it’s for my babies, thinking about how they might get teased one day and wanting to protect them from the pain that comes with being teased. Or that they will get sick one day, or have a car crash, or whatever tragedy might occur, and I worry about that. Sometimes it’s for all the people in Australia who haven’t got enough money or enough opportunities because our society/culture/system maintains strong inequality, and the inequality gap is widening every year. Sometimes it’s for the 1,250 legal refugees that Australia has tortured for three years. Sometimes it’s for the people worldwide who haven’t got enough money or enough opportunities. Sometimes it’s… anything else I can worry about. There’s a lot.
Last night I was thinking about the refugees. Thinking about, if I was in a camp with my kids, how every day in that camp would essentially be a day stolen from our lives. Every day is a day that has been killed and taken from you. Politicians on salaries of… what, $200K, $300K, $400K a year? Plus all their perks… who knows what their lifestyles are like. Rich politicians are torturing legal refugees.
And now – it gets even worse – it looks like the Australian government is handing these 1,250 people over to the American government, who will apply their new “extreme vetting” and then most likely send those poor, poor people back to the countries they tried to escape from. It is horrific.
I do not like my government. They are cruel and ridiculous. Have you ever watched Parliament Question Time, where a brief time in parliament is televised? Where these jokers on salaries of god-knows-what laugh and joke and mess around, booing and hissing and taunting each other, like they’re in an olden-days pantomime? I don’t understand how they’re allowed to do that. Can you imagine being at a work meeting in an advertising agency, or in a bank’s corporate head office, where the senior staff are jeering, booing, hissing, and talking over each other? They’d be fired in two shakes. I don’t understand. It’s like the Emperor’s New Clothes – everyone is allowing the politicians to act like clowns, like it’s normal, and nobody is reacting to it properly – with disgust and anger.
I wish it was a rule that politicians had to live on an average person’s salary for at least 3 months before they could gain any kind of senior position in politics.
Imagine Turnbull or Trump on an average Australian/American wage for 3 months. Woo, boy!
I hope, in the future, when I am working for a dollar again, that I can help the world somehow. There is so much pain.