Once we got to the hostel I had to convince the taxi driver to take Pakistan Rupee. He reluctantly agreed, but only after I pulled out the ‘it’s either this or nothing’ line. We were greeted by the receptionist who was friendly enough, where she confirmed our stay and directed us to our room. Our room could barely fit two people let alone four.

‘Guess it’ll have to do’ I say to no one in particular.

The next morning we gather our belongings and head out to try to get some work. Most of the people we ask turn us down but we finally we get a job for the local newspaper stand. It is slow income but at least it is a start. We deliver papers for approximately 6 hours and then return to the hostel for supper. The next day we return to work with a vengeance and we manage to sell all of the papers by noon. We sell another load before the end of the day and Mr Christano, a fat, short Italian man, who owns the newsstand, gives us a raise for our efforts.

After a week of selling newspapers we have enough money to rent a small unit in the city. We move out of the hostel and into there the next day. Later that week we send a letter over to Pakistan containing the extra money we had earned.

  ‘Hopefully that’s enough for the rest of our families to afford to buy a boat trip to Australia’ I say to the other boys.

Many weeks later we receive a letter from our families stating that they are arriving in the next few days. We rejoice that night and await the following days for our families. They never arrive. The only thing that does arrive is a very formal looking letter originating from Christmas Island.  It ruins our day.