Ali Hussaini cannot recall when he first started wrestling. “I was young!” the 28-year-old exclaims. But for as long as Hussaini can remember, he has wanted to compete on the world stage. “I have always been motivated to one day become a wrestling world champion and go to the Olympics,” he says.
Hussaini is a multiple-time Australian wrestling champion, winning his most recent title last May in the men’s 57kg freestyle category. A bricklayer by trade, Hussaini rises early at his home in western Sydney to spend the day on sweltering construction sites. But despite the physically-gruelling nature of his day job, evening after evening Hussaini can be found at a local gym – training himself and coaching others in the finer points of freestyle wrestling.
The wrestler claimed his first major domestic title in 2014, and has been almost unbeatable ever since. Hussaini is instantly recognised at the gym – “anything for the pro” laughs a staff member after spotting him. Even on rest days, Hussaini can be found in his backyard working out with his own weights (despite being in the lightweight category, Hussaini is renowned for his muscular strength). Together with a nightly call to his mother, wrestling provides the daily rhythm to Hussaini’s life. “Sport allows me to keep moving forward,” he offers.
But the national champion’s Olympic dreams remain agonisingly out of reach. An ethnic Hazara refugee from Afghanistan, Hussaini arrived by boat in 2013. He remains in Australia on a temporary visa; which, under the federal government’s immigration policy, can never be made permanent. That leaves the wrestler unable to compete in international competition, blocked from wrestling under the Australian flag.
In other words, the best wrestler in Australia may never represent the country.
“When I arrived here, I was really excited to compete for Australia,” Hussaini says through an interpreter. “I was ready in 2016 to go to Brazil for the Olympics.” But unable to travel, Hussaini could not contest the Olympic qualification event in Algeria. “Because of my visa status, being a stateless person, with no passport, I was not allowed to travel,” he continues. “That crushed my hope.”
Nine years after Hussaini arrived in Australia, he is no closer to fulfilling his dream. “Today I am still wrestling and still on a temporary visa,” he says in a deflated tone. “I have done everything I can in Australian wrestling.” His dreams live on – but only just. “It is still a dream that I can represent Australia one day,” he continues. “But time is moving really fast. Looking at my visa situation, it looks like very impossible at the moment.”
Hussaini is not the only one. “There are about 5,000 Afghan refugees in this situation in Australia,” says Zaki Haidari from the Jesuit Refugee Service. In August 2012, the Gillard government froze the refugee application process for anyone who had arrived by boat; in 2014, the Abbott government amended immigration law to prevent boat arrivals from ever receiving a permanent visa. That prohibition still stands today. “We cannot get permanent protection from the Australian government, ever,” Haidari adds.
This “temporary” cohort can lawfully work, but are effectively unable to pursue further education. These refugees are unable to sponsor visa applications for immediate family back home to relocate, and if they start a family in Australia, their children face the same limbo. “Ten years is a long time we’ve been away from family,” says Haidari. “We can buy a lot of things, but we cannot buy time. Once it is gone, it’s gone.”
On Tuesday, to mark the return of federal Parliament, Afghan refugees from across the country will gather in Canberra to demand an end to the temporary visa limbo. “We are physically safe here but mentally, emotionally, we are dying,” says Haidari.
‘I was searching for a safe country’
Hussaini grew up in a small village in the province of Maidan Wardak, outside the capital, Kabul. The Persian-speaking Hazara people are a persecuted minority in Afghanistan. “The Hazaras have been persecuted for a century or more,” explains Haidari. “But especially lately.” The Taliban have massacred and persecuted the Hazara throughout their reign. The Hazara are predominantly Shi’a muslims, while the majority of Afghans – including the Taliban – practice Sunni Islam.
As a teenager, Hussaini moved to Kabul to train professionally as a wrestler. Despite the post-9/11 American occupation and establishment of a new Afghan government, the Hazara continued to face persecution – including from Taliban rebel forces. As the security situation deteriorated in the early 2010s, it became increasingly dangerous for Hussaini to travel between Kabul and his home town. “The roads were not safe,” he recalls. “Every day it was high-risk.” Hussaini’s brother was kidnapped, tortured and killed by the Taliban. “It was a tough time,” he says.
In 2013, barely an adult, Hussaini fled Afghanistan, alone. He flew to India, then Singapore, then Malaysia, before crossing to Indonesia. Hussaini subsequently made the journey by boat to Christmas Island, where he was detained by Australian immigration authorities and claimed asylum. “I was searching for a safe country,” he says. “I thought Australia would allow me to achieve my hopes and dreams.”
He was mistaken. Hussaini spent several months in detention centres, shuffling between Christmas Island, Darwin and Western Australia, before being released on a bridging visa. Hussaini has been in limbo ever since: accepted as a refugee but unable to apply for a permanent visa, with no pathway to residency. “I will be on temporary visa forever,” he says.
Throughout his arduous journey, the wrestler never stopped training – even during his stint in immigration detention.
“Wrestling is a good distraction for me,” he says. “I can’t see my family, the visa, the crisis in Afghanistan – there’s a lot happening in my head. But wrestling gives me hope. Even though my life is not under my control – it feels like it is controlled by the immigration system – wrestling is something I can control.”
Even still, the fall of Kabul last year has taken a heavy toll on Hussaini and the wider Hazara community. “Our families are dying in Afghanistan,” says Haidari. The refugee advocate says there have been a number of suicides, and increasing rates of depression, among the refugee cohort.
Hussaini’s immediate family fled to Pakistan following the Taliban’s resurgence, which means they are out of harm’s way for now. But he is unable to bring them to Australia and cannot travel to Pakistan to see them (while refugees on temporary visas can get special travel documents, solely for travelling to see immediate family, Pakistan is not currently granting visitor visas to such travellers). “It is hard for me, not knowing when I can see my family,” he adds.
He worries about his ageing mother; never missing their daily calls. His mother asks when he will come to see her again, but he cannot answer. “I say ‘I don’t know when I’m coming.’”
Despite the enduring hardship, Hussaini remains optimistic. “I love it here,” he says. “It’s a peaceful country. I don’t face discrimination that I used to face in [Afghanistan]. I can see dozens of different nationalities all living together peacefully.”
Approaching a decade since he arrived on Christmas Island, Hussaini says his predicament – his permanent limbo – remains baffling. “It’s a hard thing to accept,” he admits. “But I don’t have any other option. I just have to enjoy the life I have.” He tries to stay positive and give back to his community, providing training and mentoring to emerging wrestlers. “Life has been tough for me, but I must be a nice person,” he adds. “Otherwise there is no difference between me and the government.”
Despite all this, he insists that he would pull on the green and gold in a heartbeat if given the opportunity to wrestle internationally. “The Australian government punished me because of my arrival on a boat, but the Australian people have always been nice to me,” he reflects. “Of course I would represent the Australians.”
Hussaini’s sporting ambitions seem distant. Following the fall of Kabul, the Morrison government pledged that Afghan temporary visa holders would not be sent back, but there has been no indication the status quo will otherwise change.
Yet Hussaini still dreams of competing under his adopted flag at the Olympics. “The hope will always be with me,” he says.
