The citizenship ceremony

The town hall was packed on Australia Day. Rows of nervous, excited people sat with their families, many holding small flags, waiting for their names to be called.

Among them was Amina, who had arrived in Australia eleven years earlier with two suitcases, very little English and a seven-year-old son who refused to let go of her hand.

In the first year, she had cleaned offices at night and studied English during the day, often falling asleep over her textbook. More than once, she had thought about giving up.

What kept her going, she says, was a volunteer tutor at the local library, a retired teacher named Margaret, who met her every Tuesday for three years and never once corrected her in a way that made her feel small.

Amina went on to qualify as an aged care worker and now supervises a team of twelve. Her son, now eighteen, was sitting in the third row, filming everything on his phone.

When her name was finally called, she walked to the stage, shook the mayor's hand and made her pledge in a clear, steady voice.

Afterwards, someone tapped her on the shoulder. It was Margaret, now in her eighties, who had come along without telling her. "I wouldn't have missed it," she said, and for the first time all day, Amina couldn't find the words.