In the months my husband and I were apart, the world changed completely
In March, when I left Beirut, where my husband Felix and I were living, for a new job in Sydney, I knew we would be apart for a little while. It wasn’t a huge deal – if the worst came to the worst, one of us could just jump on a plane.
But 10 days after I arrived in Australia, Lebanon closed its only airport. Ten days after that, Australia introduced a mandatory fortnight of hotel quarantine for all overseas arrivals.
There were repatriation flights but we decided it was best for Felix to stay in Lebanon. He was working for the United Nations high commissioner for refugees and, with the country closed, it wasn’t possible for UNHCR to replace him.
We didn’t know the airport’s reopening would be delayed several times. Or that three of Felix’s flights home would be cancelled. We didn’t know it would be five months.
But somehow, in late July, Felix boarded the plane. At 8pm, he landed at a mostly empty Sydney airport, where a border agent, struggling to scan Felix’s passport, said, “Sorry, my machine is shitting itself.” A colleague ribbed him, “No, it’s human error! Human error!” Ah, Australia:
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