This Harmony Week I want to thank the immigrant who taught me to ride a bike 

I was seven years old when I first met an immigrant.

It was winter, and I was sitting at my yiayia’s (grandmother’s) house in Magoula, a suburban town of Athens in West Attica, when someone knocked on the door early in the evening.

It was a tall man, sunburnt, wearing tattered clothes. He looked like he was in his mid-thirties and very tired. He could not speak Greek but managed to introduce himself.

I understood his name was Andreas, and he said he had walked from Albania. He was polite, calm and sometimes offered yiayia one of his smiles.

While he was trying to communicate, I was peeking over yiayia’s shoulder, wondering whether it was safe talking to this stranger.

She offered the man a seat, made him a coffee, and instructed me to call my pappou (grandfather). She explained that Andreas and some others who had walked with him had found shelter at a nearby ruin and needed food and work.

My late grandfather, the son of refugees from Asia Minor, knew what he had to do. I still admire his openness of mind and ability to see the individual behind the label.

The next moment yiayia and pappou dug the storage chests to find spare blankets, jackets, and stretchers. They shared fresh bread and dinner leftovers.

Within the next few days, the whole town had been mobilised. We realised that we were not the only ones helping.

As a 7-year-old, I felt part of a more significant cause and understood the words ‘Philoxenia’ and ‘Philotimo’. I also learned the Greek word ‘Xenophobia’ because many Greeks saw the Albanians as a threat to their society.

Most refugees said they left Albania because they disagreed with the Communist regime and did not trust its promises of change. But many others said they came to Greece seeking work and a better life.

The sudden influx of refugees had severely strained the local economy, but we knew we had to help without expecting any assistance from the Government. They were humans looking for a new place to call home.

As the months went by, we shared meals and stories. We played with their kids and taught them how to speak Greek. My father hired one of Andreas’ friends at his workshop.

I learned that back home, Andreas was a school teacher.

He spent hours teaching me maths with chickpeas because we were speaking different languages and encouraging me to ride my bike without training wheels.

It took me about six months to get rid of the trainers, but I will never forget his smile when I did. Andreas immigrated to Germany not long after.

Fifteen years later, as an Australian of Greek heritage who has chosen to call Australia home, I want to thank him for showing me how to engage meaningfully with people of different backgrounds.

I may belong to the so-called ‘established’ Greek diaspora, but as an independent immigrant -and many of us out there- I still face challenges that I must overcome.

Multiculturalism is a reality of Australian society. We live it every day. Is Australia’s cultural diversity represented within senior leadership positions in our governments, parliaments, executive boardrooms, and media? The short answer is – no.

Although we have come a long way from the anti-migrant ‘White Australia Policy, ‘discrimination and racism remain current issues. It’s time to shift the conversation.

Harmony Week, for me, is not a celebration but an opportunity to understand the magnificent stories of migrants, refugees, and ethnic communities that ultimately make up Australia’s story.

*This article was first published on LinkedIn