Australia, my new home

Sister Eva-Maria told me in the evening, that Joachim Jaeck, one of the doctors, had met an old German friend of his, who was a wool buyer in Melbourne. He gave me his address and suggested that I visit him next day. His name was Alex Stucken, but he was not related to the Stuckens for whom Peter Spies was working in South Africa. When I talked with him, he seemed concerned that I should have no one in Sydney I could turn to. So he gave me the address of Michael Jensen, and urged me to call on him as soon as I arrived in Sydney. I was very pleased to get at least one address.

The SKAUBRYN left Melbourne at 8 pm on 14 May, practically empty, as all the migrants had disembarked to go to the migrant camp at Bonegilla. I made the best of all the space on board, walking through each deck and at the same time took my leave of every familiar item. After five and a half wonderful weeks on the SKAUBRYN there were quite a few people I wanted to say my good-byes to.

Next morning I got up at 5 am, so that I wouldn't miss the entrance into Sydney Harbour. It was still twilight when the ship sailed past the eastern suburbs of Sydney. Through a depression in the land I had a brief glimpse of the Sydney Harbour Bridge, which I had seen on many photos before. Then the ship approached some high cliffs, with a light house nearby. The engine stopped for a while to take on the pilot. Then we were sailing between North and South Head into Sydney Harbour. But where was the Harbour Bridge? There were a lot of sailing yachts on the water, their sails reflecting the rising sun, a most beautiful sight.

After what seemed ages to me, the Harbour Bridge appeared around the corner. Everybody on top deck took photos, but I had no camera. I just let the image soak in. It left an indelible mark on my mind, sharper than any photo could ever do. The suburbs of Sydney stretching out on our left, bushland on our right, and we were heading straight for the Harbour Bridge. The early morning sun was on the iron girders, bathing the whole structure in a pink light. Some cars were crossing the bridge, and a bus or train intermittently. Just before the bridge the SKAUBRYN turned left and docked at Circular Quay in front of old sheds, where now the Overseas Terminal stands.

Only a few people were standing there, huddled in their overcoats, to meet their family or friends. Suddenly a lady from our group got very excited. She had recognised her daughter down on the wharf and was waving frantically to get her attention. The evening before she had given me the address of a young man, a friend of her daughter's family, who was involved with the YMCA in Sydney. She thought it might help me to meet some friends.

On Sunday, 16 May 1954, Sydney opened its arms, inviting me to come ashore. What would the future bring? Happiness? Disappointment? I guess much would depend on me. I knew no one in that city of over 3 million people.

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