TRANSCRIPT: Transcending both time and borders, the story of migration is one of change and continuity. My own family’s journey to Australia in the late 1960s and early 1970s is a poignant example of the sheer transformations that come with moving to a new country. Our story begins with a devastating civil war in Greece. In the aftermath of World War II, a conflict erupted after a communist uprising attempted to take over the Greek government. Spanning from 1946 to 1949, the war left the nation grappling with the effects of deep-rooted political divisions and ideologies. Greece was plagued with poverty, political instability and destroyed infrastructure - uncertainty and fear were in the air. Australia offered the promise of a bright future for those hoping to escape from the uncertainty. The establishment of the assisted passages scheme by Australia’s first immigration minister Arthur Calwell in 1945 opened the doors to a wave of migrants. It was introduced in response to labour shortages caused by the Second World War. “We must populate or perish” was the slogan Mr Calwell championed in support of migration. The scheme granted migrants subsidised travel expenses and, in return, they would commit to two years of work upon arrival. The program was mutually beneficial, addressing the needs of Australia while offering new opportunities to many migrants struggling with the post-war challenges in their home countries. It eased the process for many, leading to a wave of Greek migrants settling in Australia. Amidst this, Australia was undergoing significant changes to its social and legal structure. This period of time marked a shift in attitudes towards multiculturalism in Australia. The abolition of the White Australia Policy by the Whitlam government in 1973 led to a more diverse group of migrants. Concurrently, the global Civil Rights Movement was amplifying the importance of equal treatment and nondiscrimination. Demonstrating the nation's commitment to equality, the government introduced the Racial Discrimination Act in 1975, aiming to protect the rights of migrants from diverse backgrounds. The assisted passages scheme, in conjunction with Australia’s evolving response to immigration and discrimination, sparked an era of change in the nation, fuelled by the wave of migrants who would settle in Australia. My maternal grandmother’s, Yiayia Vana, migration journey began in 1974 - although she didn’t know it at the time. Her brother-in-law, who had already migrated to Australia, returned to Greece for a visit and invited her to come back with him for a short trip. What was initially meant to be a holiday turned into a new chapter of her life - life in Australia. Upon arrival, she was struck by the difference in landscape and architecture - the iconic white buildings she was accustomed to in Greece were replaced by brick buildings, in a palette of red, brown and beige. Amidst the challenges of language barriers and cultural differences, she found solace in the Sydney inner suburb of Marrickville. A hub of the Greek community, Marrickville offered her a sense of belonging. The large concentration of Greeks in the suburb helped foster an environment where they could relate to each other, and build a bond regardless of where in Greece they were from. It provided a sense of home away from home, as Greek music played, coffee brewed and people gathered on their balconies, speaking to each other in Greek. By 1975, she thought of herself as an Australian. My maternal grandfather, Pappou Con, also moved to Australia in 1974. Having left Greece for Germany in 1969, he was no stranger to relocating to a new country. In his time in Germany, he worked at BMW, formed close friendships, learnt the language and made many memories. After five years, he decided it was time for a change and moved to Australia, where his younger sister Dina had settled 10 years prior. He moved in with her in her home in Marrickville, finding a sense of familiarity in the language, music and stores with a distinctly Greek imprint that surrounded him. Greek-owned businesses adorned the streets of Marrickville. Bakeries, milk bars and coffee shops, such as the Hellenic Bakery and Dana’s Deli, allowed Greek culture to flourish in a new nation. While their prevalence has waned over time, many of these businesses still thrive today, upholding the traditions of the past. The migration journey, however, is not without its challenges. My Pappou Con struggled to adapt to Australian life - a difficulty faced by many migrants when adjusting to their new home. Despite these changes, my grandparents managed to maintain a strong connection to their heritage, with language being an integral part of this. For my Yiayia Vana, who worked as a language teacher for a number of years, spreading the language was a pivotal part of preserving the Greek identity for future generations. While most first-generation Australians, like my parents, almost exclusively spoke Greek at home and attended Greek school, these days it’s not as prevalent. For example, when I was younger, I went to Greek school for a few years. My younger brother, however, chose not to, and it’s not something my parents insisted on. Greek culture flourished in times of celebration then, as it does now. When my grandparents first arrived, large feasts featuring lamb on the spit and midnight church mass at Easter time instilled a sense of community and continuity of tradition among migrants. To this day, celebrations call for that same lamb on the spit that our ancestors have been enjoying for many years before us. Then, of course, one of the most well-known Greek Easter traditions is that of cracking red eggs. The eggs are dyed crimson to symbolise the blood of Christ in his resurrection, representing a triumph of life over death. These traditions carried forth through generations, serve as a testament to the enduring power of Greek identity in a new land, ultimately bridging the gap between Greece and Australia - between past and present. One tradition that has changed over time is the celebration of Name Days. Traditionally more significant than birthdays, Name Days were once a prevalent part of Greek culture. My dad’s brother, Thio Sam, fondly recalled his memories of these celebrations - “I remember these celebrations would last well after 1am or 2am as the music blared and people were dancing. We would also join in the dancing too (after being forcefully dragged) from time to time. Back then we kinda hated it but this was because our parents wanted us to adopt the Greek culture, to pass the baton of tradition from one generation to the next”. However, as time went on, the celebrations diminished with Western practices, such as birthdays, taking precedence. My Thio Sam recalled this shift saying “As the years go by these name-day ‘parties’ became rare. I remember as mum aged it took a toll on her to prepare all these different foods so we had to tone down these celebrations as many had toned them down years earlier”. While still celebrated, the scale has greatly reduced - it is often limited to a phone call and a small cash gift from grandparents. A tradition that my parents upheld to some extent is naming their children after their own parents. I was named after my paternal grandmother, Yiayia Bia. Her name was Olympia, which is the name I was christened with and am referred to by in Greek. My parents opted to use Olivia as my official name. My brother, Christian, was named after my paternal grandfather Pappou Christos. From the rubble of Greece’s civil war to the vibrant and welcoming streets of Marrickville, my family’s story serves as a testament to the resilience of culture and traditions amongst change. The torch of tradition ignited by our ancestors burns brightly, serving as a guiding light on my grandparents’ journey to a new country. As the torch is passed to future generations it is important to remember that these changes should not be viewed as a bad thing - it is just a part of life. There is only one thing guaranteed in this life, and that is change.