The Migrant Experience: From Village to Suburb

By Alexander Glafchev

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Introduction

By examining the sociocultural patterns which exist in our society, we are able to better understand how we can best address the needs of our urban environment. The patterns of life which exist form an intricate and complex web, encompassing all aspects of human existence. These patterns are dependent upon the forces and factors which mould our lives and shape our physical environment.

Comparisons will be drawn between the sociocultural patterns of a Macedonian village and the urban pattern of life in Adelaide. Much of the information presented is based on the life experiences of one Macedonian² in the village and in South Australia, and I thank him sincerely for sharing his experiences with me. This paper will also overview the changes and challenges faced by the Macedonian community in adapting to the wider Australian community and their relationship with the urban landscape. Particular emphasis will be placed on the built form in the village of Visheni, which is situated in the Southern Balkan region of Europe.

It is hoped that this overview will allow a closer self-examination by architects, planners and designers of the need to carefully consider the sociocultural factors which influence the Australian cultural fabric and the need to seek community involvement and participation in the design process.

Background

The village of Visheni³ (Visinca in Greek) is located within the borders of Northern Greece, and lies within the geographical territory of Macedonia. This territory was under the control of the Ottoman Turkish Empire for approximately five hundred years until 1912, when the Turkish armies were defeated by an alliance of Balkan countries. The resultant victory saw the partition of the territory amongst Greece (which acquired 51%), the Kingdom of Yugoslavia (acquired 38%), Bulgaria (10%) and Albania (1%). The Macedonian people who inhabited the region were given no role, nor representation in determining their fate with the disembowelment of their land, under the Treaty of Bucharest (ratified in 1919 by the Treaty of Versailles). These treaties in effect paid little heed to the ethnic composition of the Macedonians within the region and only acted as a catalyst quickening the process of denationalisation, proselytization, forced assimilation and persecution of Macedonians by successive Greek, Yugoslav, Bulgarian and Albanian governments. Today, Macedonians have been left a legacy where their basic and fundamental human rights have been seriously denied and their very existence threatened.

The Macedonian situation is not an isolated occurrence in the annals of twentieth century history. Parallels can also be made with other countries and peoples who have suffered similar fates, such as Kurdistan, Palestine, and more recently East Timor, and not forgetting the disenfranchisement of Australia's own Aboriginal population

The Village

The form of the village was shaped by the rural pattern of life and the immediate physical environment. The village was located in a valley through which a mountain stream ran, and was predominantly surrounded by tree covered hills. Thus it was ideally situated to make full use of the catchment area provided by the hilly terrain and the availability of water from the stream.

At its peak in the 1920s, the village of Visheni had a population of around 800 people. It had no electricity, no mains sewer or water and was totally dependent upon the physical environment for its survival. The main activity in the village centred around maintaining a rural life, the farming of crops, tending to livestock, orchards, and vineyards. People were up at sunrise making preparations for the day’s work ahead and normally worked until sunset. There was a clear social delineation of the work that men and women were expected to do. The men primarily worked in the fields and open spaces, which were located on the outskirts of the village perimeter, irrigating their crops with water diverted from the stream or tending to the animals (sheep, goats and cattle) which were left to graze. Men were also able to freely roam the hills, to other close lying villages and to the nearest local town of Kostur (Kastoria in Greek). The men's physical environment extended far beyond the confines of the village, to other villages, other towns and other regions. The women also worked the fields, and had the added responsibility to ensure their houses and small farm lots were well maintained, that food was prepared and children cared for, but essentially they were expected to remain within the limits of the village.

The villagers had a close affinity with their surroundings, the hills, the forest, the animals and especially the stream. Distances were measured in terms of time, by walking or travelling by drawn cart or pack animal such as donkeys. The stream was the source of the village life. Their crops drew sustenance from its waters, their children played on its banks and swam in its waters during the summer, the village women washed their clothes on its rocks and talked about all manner of things. Water was in abundance; in addition to the stream, most of the houses had their own wells from which they drew drinking water from underground springs. This was supplemented by seven continuously running village taps, where the women often gathered to collect the icy cold mountain water. The taps also served as meeting places for the women affording them the opportunity to exchange news and gossip and provide them with a break from their monotonous daily household chores. The men had their own meeting place in the cafe which was adjacent to the modern equivalent of the village square known as the Ano, offering them a more convivial and relaxed atmosphere for social discourse. The Ano was also the cultural centre of the village, and was used as a gathering place to celebrate various religious feast days.

Village Social Structures

The village was socially based on a patriarchal system. An administrative structure was in place to look after the welfare of the village and to make decisions which affected the livelihood of the villagers. The positions of Village President and Village Secretary were elected from amongst the men in the village, while the Village Treasurer (who normally kept and maintained records and accounts) was usually someone with some degree of bookkeeping knowledge from the nearby town of Kostur, selected by the Greek authorities.

The older men of the village were held in high regard, and often were sought to provide advice and direction. Whenever disputes arose, redress was sought from the elected officials and on occasions arbitration was sought from the local parish priest who was deemed to be independent. Once a year, the village would appoint amongst themselves various overseers to look after the cooperative interests of the village. These men would have responsibilities as the village shepherd, swineherd, goatherd, orchard and vineyard overseer and the village forest keeper. The forest keeper had an important role in ensuring that the villagers only cut certain trees in the forest for their needs. Trees not earmarked for felling were strictly protected and anyone caught trying to cut these trees was severely reprimanded and in some cases fined.

The women’s role on the other hand was seen as subservient to the men. Even though they ran every aspect of the households, they needed to exercise servility to the male members of their households. The church also reflected the delineation of male and female. Men were allowed into the inner sanctum and aisles, whilst the women were confined to the rear of the church and its upper mezzanine level. Family ties and kinship bonds were exceptionally strong, and help explain why many of the houses were occupied by more than one family, often incorporating up to three generations under the one roof.

The main social occasions of the village centred around religious days which were eagerly awaited. Namedays (Imenden in Macedonian) or Saints days were a continuous occurrence and took the place of birthdays. Families would attend a church service on such days, returning home afterwards to prepare food and drink and to greet the guests who would arrive unannounced.

The Village House Form

The form of the village house had changed very little for centuries. They were built without reference to plans or drawings and relied on the accumulative knowledge of the villagers, which was passed on from one generation to the next. House building was a cooperative effort, involving many of the villagers, especially those with specific skills such as stonemasonry and carpentry. The villagers had a close affinity with the building materials they used, which were extracted from the earth, stone and forest around the village. Stone and mud mixed with what chaff created walls 600mm thick. Local clay was shaped and left to dry and used as roof tiles. Timber was cut and used for the main roof structure and as lintels, load bearing posts, doors and window frames. Their homes sprang from the very earth they walked upon.

Houses were either single storey or two storey and orientated on the north-south axis, with the main rooms orientated south to make full use of solar orientation. The floor plans for all the village homes were essentially the same with slight variations. Most homes had two main rooms (Odaja in Macedonian) serving as both bedrooms and meal areas. One of the Odaja known as the Novata Odaja (new Room) also served as a visiting room for the guests. In fact the term Novata Odaja is still used to this day even in Australian homes when referring to the formal living room.

There was little privacy, as many as six people would share one room, which included in many cases three generations. This physical closeness also meant that family bonds had to be strong to endure such overcrowding, and indeed they were. The Keral was a room used to store various barrels of foodstuffs and wine. The main entry served as a transitory space and was also used to store grain in sluice-gated cupboards called Umba.

Handwoven Kilim rugs and carpets were placed on the earthen floors upon which mattresses and cushions were placed serving as both beds and eating spaces. In the warmer months, food was prepared outside the home in a detached area known as the Ushchalak, which incorporated a large mud and stone domed baking oven, Umba, timber troughs, various earthenware storage vessels (Stomni, Brdache), and an open fireplace where meals were cooked. The livestock consisting of sheep, goats, pigs, chickens, cow and calf, oxen and horses, mules or donkeys were housed in various sheltered pens adjoining the Ushchalak.

The house was used primarily as a space for rest and a sanctuary from the elements for both people and animals. “The house was sanctioned as a place of refuge – from weather, flies, work, even people. Mostly it seemed to be a refuge for both men and women, except that it was still the women’s responsibility to maintain and care for the house.”⁴

Migration to Australia

Though the villagers were able to sustain themselves, they could not improve their lifestyle. Stories were told of others who had left to go overseas to the USA and South America in search of wealth and fortune. In the 1920s, 1.3 million Greeks from Asia minor were resettled principally in the northern part of Greece, which included Macedonia. This created enormous social and economic pressures in the region. In 1926, the Greek government introduced laws whereby all Macedonians had their names changed into Greek and all the topography (mountains, rivers, lakes etc) of the region likewise had the names changed from the Macedonian into Greek, the village of Visheni had its named changed to Visinea.

With this backdrop of social and political upheaval, many men set out to travel to foreign lands to seek a better life. They were known as Pechalbari, (meaning those seeking fortune) and they journeyed by ship for one and a half months to reach South Australia. They arrived in Australia without any knowledge nor understanding of the land, its language, culture, traditions or customs. As one would expect, they stuck together in groups, which in many cases included Macedonians from other villages, and wherever possible pooled their resources to overcome the obstacles of just surviving. “In 1921, there were estimated to be around fifty Macedonians in Australia”.⁵

Work in Adelaide, especially during the Depression, was scarce and so they became “…itinerant workers who travelled the countryside in small groups, taking whatever work they could get, and they were often the victims of discrimination. In most urban centres, union opposition prevented their being employed in factories.”⁶ Many found work clearing scrub on the West Coast, in places like Ceduna and Cungena and in building the East-West Railway, or fruit picking in Barmera or in the rest of the Riverland. They lived in tents, some for as long as eight years, their only belongings were those they carried with them.

The Pre-War Period

Money saved was sent back to their families in the village. Their isolation from their families placed enormous pressures both on them and their families, some were unable to withstand such pressures and returned home after several months, whilst others remained. Those that did knew that their sacrifices had to be worthwhile for them to stay. The wives and particularly the children left behind in the village had to take on the extra work of their husbands and fathers and in many cases children were raised by their grandparents, not even knowing their fathers. During the mid 1930s, the Greek government, under the military dictator Metaxas, passed laws which prohibited the use of the Macedonian language within Greece. The families of the Pechalbari were forbidden to speak their own language in the village and lived in constant fear of arrest, beatings, imprisonment and in extreme cases exile to one of the Greek islands. They communicated these developments to their menfolk in Adelaide by the only means available to them, by mail. This more than ever gave the Pechalbari the added incentive to work even harder, and to secure for themselves a stable economic base.

When the South Australian economy began to recover, they gravitated back towards the city in search of stable work. Some found work in factories doing manual labour, while others worked in the shops, cafes and businesses of other immigrants. They rented accommodation in lodgings within the inner city of Adelaide, and in most instances were sleeping six to eight people to a room. These lodgings were chosen as they were in close proximity to their workplaces, which were within walking or bicycling distance, thereby enabling them to save money on transport. They worked long hours for very little monetary reward, sharing whatever they had amongst themselves.

In 1939, the first Macedonian café called “Makedonija” opened for business in Hindley Street amongst other émigré cafes. These cafes provided an important cultural and social focus for the Pechalbari who regularly stayed there to exchange news, reminisce on old times and to seek help in finding gainful employment. These places played a vital role in drawing together the Macedonians and helped to facilitate the establishment of invaluable social networks. Where financial support was sought by those worse off, they would pool their resources to assist them and rarely would ask for repayment. The café area of Hindley Street took on the ambience and cultural atmosphere of a small European village, with various nationalities readily mixing and interacting with one another. This was a far cry from the mainstream Australian society of the time.

The War and Post-War Period

With the outbreak of war in Europe, the South Australian economy geared itself to produce weapons and equipment for the war effort. Masses of Australians enlisted for armed service, resulting in critical labour shortages in the factories. Those Macedonians who did not or could not enlist found work alongside other immigrants in the factories. Surprisingly they found that the war had swept away some of the racial bias which for years had plagued them, as they were now seen to be contributing to the Allied effort. Though their economic fortunes were improving during this period, they were effectively cut off from any contact with their families in the village.

Even though peace was declared in 1945, the end of the war in Europe had reignited political divisions within Greece, resulting in the Greek Civil War of 1946-49. As a consequence, many of the Pechalbari had not had contact with their families for more than ten long years. The Civil War in Greece resulted in the massive displacement of tens of thousands of Macedonians. In one case alone, around 8,000 Macedonian children aged fifteen and under were evacuated from their homes by the Red Cross. These child refugees (Detsa Begaltsi) sought sanctuary in the Eastern Bloc countries willing to take them (primarily in Poland, Hungary, Yugoslavia, Romania, Czechoslovakia and the USSR). Some of the villagers managed to flee the country by different routes, making their way to Australia to be reunited with their husbands and fathers. For the first time in more than twenty years the first Macedonian families began to arrive in Australia. The Post-War period saw a massive influx of migrants to Australia, many of whom were displaced persons. In 1947 1.5 per cent of the Australian population were registered as having been born in Europe (excluding the UK and Ireland) increasing to 5.5 per cent by 1954.⁷

The resettlement of families meant that men who had lived in Adelaide had to change their lifestyle to one which was conducive to stabilising the family both economically and socially. Initially families lived and shared lodgings with others until such time as they could find more suitable accommodation. The Macedonians tended to settle collectively in the same areas, establishing their own social networks. When new Macedonian migrants arrived they would gravitate towards these areas, reinforcing the social pattern. They rented houses and land towards and on the outskirts of the Adelaide urban fringe, in Kilkenny, Challa Gardens and Croydon. Others settled in Fulham, Lockleys and Ferryden Park where they found large unused tracts of broad acres, which at that time was used primarily for agistment.

They commenced working the land using the only real skills they knew, those of farming. They created market garden plots and built their own glasshouses, growing primarily tomatoes which at that time were in short supply. They also commenced to build their first homes, which were constructed out of the most readily available and least expensive materials, using timber framework, asbestos cement cladding and galvanised iron. This was a great departure from the solidly constructed stone and mud homes they had left behind in the village. These early Australian houses were built alongside their packing sheds where they graded and packed their produce. As they were not restricted to a small plot of land, as in their village, they soon discovered that they had ample space to extend to accommodate new family members. Due to the materials they used, walls and roofs could be taken down and put up without difficulty, unlike their homes in the village, thereby giving them greater flexibility and choice in satisfying their needs. Though these first homes were not suited to the harsh Australian climate, the Macedonians for the first time began to firmly establish themselves within the urban landscape.

The Community Form in Adelaide

The establishment of families also meant that they could revive some of their village traditions. Religious feast days and traditional celebrations for weddings, christenings and other special occasions were transposed into their Australian lives. Initially, small gatherings were held at individuals homes, making use of the large packing sheds where they danced traditional Macedonian Ora, and played and sang old village songs.

As the families and population increased, they began to hire assembly halls in Hindmarsh and on Henley Beach Road to accommodate the growing throngs of people. There was also a conscious decision to formalise their activities and once again pool their resources. A committee was established ostensibly to undertake the responsibility of coordinating their social activities, such as traditional dances and picnics where up to two hundred people would attend. In the late 1960s, after the influx of more Macedonian migrants from Yugoslavia, they decided the time was right to commence building their own community hall. A campaign of fundraising was commenced, seeking donations from all Macedonians throughout Adelaide. An Italian builder by the name of John Pinta was engaged to design and build the hall and it was officially opened in 1968, on Crittenden Road, Findon, in close proximity to one of the most concentrated areas of Macedonian settlement, that of Fulham and Seaton.

The hall design bore a strong resemblance to the packing sheds and glasshouses which were built at the time. One can only speculate that neither the builder nor the local Macedonians had the necessary expertise in building or designing a structure which would echo the built form of their homeland. Even in the event that they had, the cost of undertaking a more complicated structure may have been cost prohibitive. Another possibility may have been that they did not wish to draw attention to themselves by creating a structure which may not have been in keeping with mainstream Australian society, and in so doing afforded themselves a degree of anonymity within the urban fabric. Whatever the reason, the completion of the hall symbolically represented another step in establishing themselves within Australian society and cemented their ties with their new homeland. The Hall also filled a cultural void, as it symbolised the reaffirmation of the existence and identity of the Macedonian people, an identity which was totally denied them in their own homeland. The act of building a permanent community structure also meant that social foundations had been put into place and the process of redefining their cultural identity within the Australian social fabric had well and truly begun.

During the 1970s and 1980s the community expanded its activities significantly. It had its own soccer club, youth group, school, women’s section, folkloric dancing group, a cultural society and even its own locally produced community radio program. It was also around this time that a move was made to build the first Macedonian Orthodox Church, on a vacant lot adjacent to the hall. In the past an enclosed space directly behind the community hall was utilised as a chapel, but it was unable to accommodate larger gatherings such as at Easter and Christmas, resulting in religious services being carried out in other non-Orthodox Churches. In the 1980s Jim Petrie, a local architectural draftsman of Macedonian descent was engaged by the building committee to undertake the design of the new church. The final design chosen encapsulated their new found confidence in proclaiming their Macedonianism to the wider Australian community.

The design emulated the basic form and appearance of the eighth century Byzantine architecture found in the Balkans, especially in Macedonia. The church was built with the cooperation and financial support of the community members, many of whom freely donated their services and labour. Cost once more played an integral part in the final design, materials such as clay bricks and pre-formed concrete panels, steel framework, a fibreglass dome and compressed sheet roof shingles were used, rather than stone, timber and terracotta.

The floor plan and interior of the church follows the Byzantine Orthodox tradition, with a central nave and two aisles, reflected in the vaulted ceilings. The main central feature of the interior is the iconostasis (wall of icons) upon which is adorned copies of icons dating back centuries and to which all believers in the Orthodox faith pay veneration and alms. The congregation still followed the traditional physical separation of men and women within the church, men sat on the right and women on the left. A carry over of both the village custom and the religious tradition. A cultural centre incorporating a library/ meeting room, radio recording studio and a social welfare office were later added to the existing community hall and church, thereby addressing other cultural and social needs of the community. All of the community buildings created a distinctive imprint on the cultural fabric of South Australian Macedonians, allowing them to reaffirm their identity and culture. It also provided them with a physical reference point which linked their past, present and future.

The Adelaide House Form

The homes of the Macedonians on the other hand, unlike the church, did not attempt to emulate or reinterpret the Macedonian home in the physical sense. There is nothing externally which differentiates their homes from the surrounding homes. There is no sense of uniqueness or of cultural diversity in the streetscapes. This possibly again may mean that they are content to accept the Australian homogenous approach to house form and do not see the exterior of their homes as a form of self-expression or of extrovertness in the same way that other ethnic groups do. The interiors unlike the exteriors are richly decorated with photos, emblems and artefacts which reflect their cultural and historical heritage. The pride of place in many of the homes is taken up by a photo of their village or of their village house. Thus creating in a sense a nexus between their old and new way of life, and emphasising the acceptance of the physical built form as the symbolic embodiment of their culture.

The Social Structure in Australia

The family unit and the patriarchal structure which was embodied in the village pattern of life was transferred into the Australian landscape. In the majority of instances where both the husband and wife worked, sometimes taking on more than one job, the wife was still expected to prepare the food and maintain and care for the house and children. There were however increasing instances where both the husband and wife shared the household duties and parenting, but these more often than not were undertaken by those Macedonians who had come to Australia at a relatively young age and had been influenced by their new Australian lifestyle. Generally even today, if one visits a Macedonian household, the female will serve guests while the male will be waited upon. Strong family links remain, and it is still not uncommon to find three generations living in the same home, with grandparents sharing in the parenting and caring of children while their parents work. This again reflects a similar social pattern found in village life.

The first Australian born children had been brought up in the Macedonian way of life, instilled with many of the old traditional village cultural values and norms. Many of this generation found conflict with such cultural attitudes and rebelled. Females in particular were expected to follow the village traditions and adhere to the social hierarchy, actively being encouraged to be efficient in house keeping and to marry and raise families.

Males on the other hand were still seen as the centre of the social fabric, and as in the village were given freedoms and liberties not afforded to the females, encouragement was given to succeed in all their pursuits. Today, what we see are the last remaining remnants of a culture and a way of life that is slowly disappearing. The other Macedonians in the community who lived in the village are the last custodians of that unique culture and once they are gone, the link between the village and the suburb will be severed forever.

Conclusions

In Australia today, there are approximately 110 different ethnic groups representing a myriad of cultural and social diversity. “One in five Australians are not born in Australia and a further one in five have parents who were born overseas.”⁸ Add to that the uniqueness of Australia’s own Aboriginal people and one can see that we have a rich and diverse culture which needs to be articulated into the built and urban form. Yet such a cultural diversity is not reflected in the architecture and urban pattern of Australia.

Moreover, the approach adopted by many architects, planners and designers has merely regurgitated the myth of addressing the cultural and social needs of Australians in a way which treats all Australians in a monocultural fashion, without regard for their cultural and social heritage. “There is an assumption that most migrants will eventually have more or less the same housing as Australia-born citizens.”⁹ It is pertinent to note that one of the most authoritative documents published in regards to the makeup and social composition of the Australian community, The Australian People: An Encyclopaedia of the Nation, Its People and Their Origins, made specific reference to the fact that “Little has been written on migrants and housing from a national perspective, and few writers on housing have said much about migrants. Studies of migrants have rarely focussed on their housing except in the case of settlement difficulties.”¹⁰

The overview presented in this paper on one ethnospecific group, on their cultural, social and urban patterns highlights the complex nature and composition of only one of the many groups that make up South Australian society. In order to effectively reflect and interpret the cultural diversity of our society through the built and urban form, we as architects, planners and designers must be able to perceive, understand and respond to such cultural differentiation.

The best way of achieving this is through increasing our perception of the way our society functions. Even if we have achieved a certain degree of perception, we may not be able to understand the social and cultural context of what we have found, as our own cultural reference point could be far removed from that of the other culture. Once we have perceived and understood what we have found we are in a far better position to respond.

Our response will be better complemented by directly involving the communities and encouraging participation in the design process. In this way we can better judge whether or not our response is in keeping with the social and cultural determinants of that particular culture, by the very people who make up that culture.

The idea of openly inviting community involvement and participation is seen by many as an anathema to their select professions. It is incorrectly perceived as a threat and an undermining of their professional training, practise and expertise. The truth however would tend to suggest that the fear lies in the individual’s reluctance of self-examination and a re-evaluation of a system that clearly has painted all people with the same cultural brush. There are however an increasing number of architects and educators who take a different stance and have seen the sociocultural responsibility that architects and other environmental designers must address.

The seminal work, “A Modern Theory of Architecture” by the renowned architectural historian and philosopher, Bruce Allsopp, foresaw such a need and stated that “Architecture requires sympathy with understanding of and satisfaction of the emotional needs of people. All people are different and all communities of people differ. The concept of “one architecture” is a totalitarian monstrosity.”¹¹ Other researchers too have been equally cognisant of this need elaborating that “Rather than thinking in terms of producing finished and complete environments for people of a common culture they (architects and environmental designers) need to establish environmental alternatives among which the public can choose. There need to be alternatives in settings for different lifestyles and preferences for physical settings expressive of different values; there need to be different forms of housing and different urban areas.”¹²

The realisation of the need to involve people and communities has gained a global dimension, in addition to the United Nations World Commission on Environment and Development, the European Communities Commission Green Paper on the Urban Environment stated that, “Planning without broad participation by and concern for the city’s inhabitants will result in a narrow view of its efficiency which ultimately condemns it to sterility”.¹³

In South Australia, the need for community involvement in the urban environment has also been clearly emphasised. Government social policies have been developed and acknowledged that “…the Planning Review saw community involvement as an essential component of effective planning and decision making as well as providing one mechanism through which the community identity and belonging can be achieved.”¹⁴ Specific reference was also made to cultural diversity which further stated that, “…the need to create an urban environment which is responsive to public values and reflects Adelaide’s diverse cultural and community heritage.”¹⁵ All of these recommendations and thoughts reinforce the view that we much readdress our way of thinking and our approach if we are truly to reflect and interpret society’s needs in the built and urban environments.

“A major aim should be to challenge the widespread cultural values of an antiurban society – a society that stresses cultural homogeneity, fleeting fashions, consumerism, and degradation of cultural symbols, a society that replaces community interaction with instant communications.”¹⁶

This paper was written as part of a Post Graduate Urban Ecology course for a Master of Architecture Degree at the University of South Australia, June 1994

Notes

1. Nottridge, Harold E, 'The Sociology of Urban Living', Routledge & Kegan, London, 1972, p.83.

2. Interviews with Peter Kiosses, a well known and respected member of the local Macedonian Community

3. Visheni is the local Macedonian name given to the village. Names in brackets denote the current Hellenised version changed by Greek law in 1926.

4. Lozanovska, Mirijana, ‘Gender and Architecture in a Macedonian Village’, Exedro, The Journal of the School of Architecture, Deakin University, Vol. 1, No. 2, Summer 1989, pp.26.

5. Jupp, J, (Gen. Ed.), ‘The Australian People: An Encyclopaedia of the Nation. Its People and Their Origins’, The Settlers: Macedonians, Angus and Robertson, NSW, 1988, pp, 685-691.

6. Ibid.

7. Ibid pp. 166.

8. Jupp, J, op. cit., p.1.

9. Jupp, J, op. cit.

10. Ibid

11. Allsopp, B, ‘A Modern Theory of Architecture’, Routledge & Kegan Paul, London, 1977, p.27

12. Whitley, G.S., “Immigrants in the Australian Environment’, Hardboard’s Australia Ltd Scholarship, Research Paper, 1972, p.89.

13. Commission of the European Communities, ‘Green Paper on the Urban Environment’, Directorate-General Environment, Nuclear Safety & Civil Protection, Brussels, 1990, p.45.

14. Community Information Services, Department of Housing and Urban Development, ‘Social Policy Aspects of Urban Development’, S.A. Govt, 1993, pp. 5-6.

15. Ibid.

16. Lozano, Eduardo, E, ‘Community Design and the Culture of Cities: The Crossroad and the Wall’, Cambridge University Press, 1993, p.305.

Bibliography

Allsopp, B, ‘A Modern Theory of Architecture’, Routledge & Kegan Paul, London, 1977, p. 27.

Commission of the European Communities, ‘Green Paper on the Urban Environment’, Directorate-General Environment, Nuclear Safety & Civil Protection, Brussels, 1990, p. 45.

Community Information Services, Department of Housing and Urban Development, ‘Social Policy Aspects of the Urban Development’, S.A. Govt., 1993, pp. 5-6.

Jupp, J, (Gen. Ed), ‘The Australian People: An Encyclopaedia of the Nation, Its People and Their Origins’, The Settlers: Macedonians, Angus & Robertson, NSW, 1988, pp. 685-691.

Lozano, Eduardo, E, ‘Community Design and the Culture of Cities: The Crossroad and the Wall’, Cambridge University Press, 1993, p. 305.

Lozanovska, Mirijana, ‘Gender and Architecture in a Macedonian Village’, Exedra, The Journal of the School of Architecture, Deakin University, Vol. 1, No. 2, Summer 1989, pp. 26.

Nottridge, Harold. E, ‘The Sociology of Urban Living’, Routledge & Kegan, London, 1972, p. 83.

Whitley, G.S., ‘Immigrants in the Australian Environment’, Hardboard’s Australia Ltd Scholarship, Research paper, 1972, p. 89.

Recommended Further Reading

Arias, Ernesto. G (Ed.), ‘The Meaning and Use of Housing’, Avebury Ashgate Publishing Ltd., England, 1993.

Kee, Pookong, ‘Home Ownership and Housing Conditions of Immigrants and Australian-Born, Institute of Applied Economic and Social Research, Aust. Government Publishing Service, Canberra, 1992.