After the problems started there was no peace for us at all, we were always tense. In my country you had to know the national language and you were afraid everyday that they would identify you as a Tamil, and for the slightest thing they could just take you. When you went anywhere you just put your head down when you walked, you didn't want to look anyone in the face.

Even if someone tried to be friendly with you, you always had the fear of what their motives were. You might go out somewhere and until you returned home you didn't know where your life would be. I mean every day, every moment, you were fearful. You begin to think why not just kill yourself, at least then you are at peace. There are things such as this you can't understand unless you experience it. It's not just physical torture, it is something mental that you go through when it is happening to your family members. It's right in front of your eyes, like when your loved one is killed. That is persecution. That and the fear that they might come and harm you also.

We had to leave. We lost everything. The family split and was never together again - each of us scattered. My oldest brother left the country, he had to stay away for years. The youngest brother died in Sri Lanka. He was assaulted and became a quadriplegic, he was in hospital with brain injuries and he was helpless. When my dad died we were alone. We didn't know where my two other brothers were, we don't have contact, and when we finally left Sri Lanka we had to leave them behind. We were able to get a visitor's visa to enter Australia because where there is a peaceful country you would try to settle there. We had a feeling of security when we arrived here. You first need to have security rather than fear, as freedom comes only after you have security.

We just want a normal life but getting a job here has been most difficult, even if you are willing to do any work. We are faithful and we have a lot of service to give. We have a heart to serve but we are not in a situation to do it. I have a work permit but no work and we know other refugee claimants that could have work but they have no work permit. I'm working so hard to get work and I'm always thinking of tomorrow. Tomorrow, what happens if I lose my work permit? We would like to have a nice house but we can't get anything nice for ourselves or buy anything nice for the house because we keep thinking - what happens if we don't have a future?

Waiting for our case to be decided has been most nervous, depressing, perhaps even more depressing than what we were facing back home - because this is where your life is decided. When we were rejected by the Refugee Review Tribunal (RRT) we couldn't believe it. We wanted to hide ourselves, we wouldn't go out, we just brought our mattresses into the lounge room and all slept there - we didn't cook or eat properly for a week. It wasn't so much hiding, it was just something that we couldn't face, we didn't know what we could do next. I remember the Refugee Review Tribunal member, there were things I wanted to tell him but I couldn't. I was so nervous getting back to all the memories and I couldn't think clearly. If you have gone through something you can't just say it in a matter of fact way. Sometimes you want to hold back. When I start talking I don't want to feel everything I'm saying because then I just stop talking. Each day here something else comes up and we have to tell the story again. We're just trying to forget everything. But it's hard to think of anything else. I don't want to think - just be blank. That's why I try to keep myself occupied, but with nothing else to do. I have been receiving treatment for depression. This experience has changed us. What you see and experience, it's always there. There's a fear you can't let go of - that fear is always there.

There is nowhere that we can go now. My husband had to go back to his country (not Sri Lanka) but we can't join him there. There we have been threatened because of our religion, they have said that there we will be killed. That's why we had to stay in Australia and couldn't go with him. At least if we get residency we could stay here and be safe, that would be one thing we wouldn't have to worry about, and gradually we can get over what we have experienced - but it would still take some time to heal. Like, Mum was looking after this boy who was here in Brisbane, who was a quadriplegic. After a few days Mum couldn't do it anymore because it reminded her too much of my brother who died in Sri Lanka. It was very difficult, everyday she came home and cried and couldn't eat. She didn't want to leave him but it was too difficult with her memories of my brother. It was very sad the day she said goodbye; he said she was like a mother to him. Each day there are things that remind you of things that have happened to you, it is always with you.

At times like this it's the moral support that you need, not the material things. I still have some hope that something will work out for me and my mother. I've started going to church again. I've become positive minded rather than negative minded and I am singing with the Refugee Claimants Choir. We sing with real emotions. We are not just showing off our voices, I think everybody is singing with their own experiences. We sing together. That in itself is enough, that somebody is standing with you and to know that somebody is there for you. I think about the people who are experiencing what we are experiencing and don't have this support, for whatever reason, imagine the moment that they are going through. Life is so precious, otherwise why would we live in this world?