A Country Nurse

by Thea Hayes

  Bob’s lifelong interest in breeding traits of sheep and cattle was developed while farming in New Zealand. In 1970–1974 a group of farmers and two geneticists at the department of agriculture at Ruakura Research Centre, in Hamilton, developed a system for measuring animal genetics. The modernised version of this development is now used throughout Australasia and is called Breed Plan.

  Bob did a wonderful job of restoring the property with the help of BlazeAid, who came to our rescue again. There were about thirty volunteers, men and women working in two teams for six weeks under the supervision of two professional fencers from Victoria, who came to clear the debris, untangle wires and erect new fences.

  In the meantime, Bob was tagging newborn calves, feeding bulls and keeping the fencing material supplied to the BlazeAid volunteers.

  Thank goodness for the invention of BlazeAid, a volunteer-based organisation that works for farmers and families in rural Australia after a natural disaster. These wonderful people came from all over Australia to help us. We couldn’t thank them enough.

  45

  Wave Hill/Jinparrak Art

  One day in July 2013 I had a phone call from a dear nursing friend Marjorie Gordon, inviting Bob and I to come to Canberra to see an exhibition of Aboriginal paintings by Canberra and Wave Hill/Jinparrak artists. The artists to be flown to Canberra for the exhibition were from Kalkarindji, Wave Hill.

  We were very interested and excited at the thought of catching up with some of my old mates from Wave Hill, but we had no idea who might be going. The only Aboriginal art that I ever saw in my time at Wave Hill was on their bodies, at corroboree time, and on Aboriginal artefacts at Gordon Downs where I had asked Popeye my gardener if he would make me a coolamon for my third child Jason. He gave me a very, very old coolamon, finely grooved for the length of the curved wood with message symbols and dots burnt into the wood. He also gave me a woomera, a shield and a boomerang, all of which had dots painted in Vestey’s red and white paint. I was very interested to see how the ‘dot’ paintings had developed at Wave.

  As soon as we arrived at the exhibition, we saw Jimmy Wavehill, one of the stockmen from the old days when Ralph and I were there. Jimmy Wavehill looked resplendent in his ringer gear: check shirt, blue jeans and R M Williams Cuban-heeled riding boots. He was so pleased to see me and to meet Bob, quickly leading us across the floor to find his wife Biddy Wavehill Yamawurr. After much embracing, Biddy took me to see her paintings of Wave Hill—scenes of the Victoria River and surrounding country, a combination of dots, lines and figures. All the Wave Hill/Jinparrak artists painted in a similar manner. Violet Wadrill from Kalkarindji also had paintings exhibited.

  I had brought with me photos of all the Aboriginal staff at Wave Hill, taken in family groups just before we left the station back in 1979.

  In the meantime, Jimmy and Bob were having their photo taken by the media with the Governor of NSW, Dame Marie Bashir, who was there to open the exhibition. What a lovely, charming lady. After being introduced, Marie Bashir asked me how I knew Jimmy, Biddy and Violet. We chatted about Wave Hill Station and my twenty years in the Territory, and the book that I was writing.

  When I told her we now lived at Narrandera, Dame Marie Bashir said, ‘There is no doubt about us Narrandera girls!’

  46

  A momentous moment

  After leaving Wave Hill and moving to Queensland, memories of the Northern Territory were always there in my mind—the Wave Hill homestead, the old and the new, the Aboriginal staff, nursing in the old corrugated iron clinic, the stock camp, the Negri races. At family gatherings, dinner parties, or while catching up with old friends from the Outback, a remark out of the blue would trigger my subconscious, reminding me of a character, a story or a memory of my twenty years as a young nurse at Wave Hill and Gordon Downs Stations.

  After Ralph, my first-rate storytelling husband, passed away, I started telling my own stories of the Outback. One day someone said, ‘You should write a book.’

  Me! My worst subject at school was English. I couldn’t write the composition for our weekend homework, which the nuns gave us every Friday, without agonising. Give me mathematics any day.

  I joined a writers’ group in Toowoomba, because I had a yearning to write. At each lesson, we were given a one liner with which to start a story. All I could ever think of were stories from the Territory. And when one of the tutors said, ‘Thea, I love your style!’, there was no stopping me.

  One year after Christmas festivities at Straddie when my family had gone back to the mainland, instead of feeling lonely and sorry for myself, I sat down at my computer and started writing my book. At home on Straddie or travelling to Sydney, I would spend every spare moment on the computer writing. I loved reliving my life through writing.

  When I started travelling Australia with Bob, my writing habits changed; there was too much to see, too many people to meet, my ‘baby’ was motherless for a while.

  But fate was responsible for Bob and I meeting. Fate was also responsible for finding this ideal job in Narrandera where I was told about ‘Writing for Pleasure’. Along I went every Friday to the Narrandera TAFE College.

  ‘So, what has brought you here?’ they asked on my first day.

  ‘I’m writing my memoir and want to get it finished.’

  ‘Can we read it?’

  ‘Of course, but I’ve only written forty pages.’

  From that day on, I couldn’t stop writing. The words just flowed. Every week I would write a chapter and the students in the class would critique it.

  Our new tutor Kerrie Ross, a journalist of many years and a dynamic personality, taught us about famous novelists and their different writing styles. Kerrie would say, ‘You can write a story about anything.’ And I know Kerrie could, but the rest of us had to learn.

  I found myself, in that writing course.

  One of the members, Roxanne, wrote a play and we were all given parts. The next thing we knew we were preparing for the Leeton Eisteddfod. The worst part was trying to remember the lines. We got a first in a line-up of one!

  The next year Kerrie suggested I enter the Leeton Eisteddfod to help prepare me for public speaking, in case my book was published.

  ‘Thea, you need to practise your public speaking and become more confident. You must be prepared to answer many questions that will be asked of you, about the walk-off, the Aboriginal people and how you felt at the handover with Gough Whitlam. Were you happy with the way the Aboriginal people were treated?’

  Kerrie entered me in several speech divisions at the Leeton Eisteddfod: an Australian ballad, bible reading, prepared reading and a seven minute speech on ‘Handmade is …’

  Was I nervous at the thought of appearing at the Eisteddfod at my age! Yes! Terrified. I knew I’d probably be competing against children. How silly would I look?

  The day of the Eisteddfod arrived. The other contestants in the speech-making were two young lads of sixteen. They were so good. I forgot a few words in the ballad, but I didn’t get emotional. I came away with two firsts (as the only competitor), two merit certificates, and much more confidence.

  At ‘Writing for Pleasure’ we had a visit from Sonya Gee, organiser of ABC Open. The ABC initiative would suggest a theme and ask listeners to write their story of 500 words associated with that theme. My first 500 word piece, ‘I was there’, was the story of the handover, when Gough Whitlam came up to Wave Hill to present Vincent Lingiari and the Gurindji tribe with 1250 square miles of Wave Hill on the 16th August 1975—nine years after they had gone on strike.

  I presented the history of Wave Hill Station at a Pecha Kucha one night at a local hotel in Narrandera to a very interested audience. Pecha Kucha is a presentation style in which twenty slides are shown for twenty seconds each, which keeps presentations fast-paced and concise.

  An interviewer was sent to Narrandera from the National Library of Australia in Canberra to do an oral history of my life for the Archives. His name was Charlie Ward�
��we had met in Canberra at the Wave Hill/Jinparrak Aboriginal art exhibition.

  I gave up my job at the nursing home in April 2013 to write full time. The plan was to finish my book by June, start looking for a publisher or self-publish, and spend the next year travelling to sell my book to all the grey nomads at every caravan park throughout Australia.

  Well, that was the plan.

  My friend Jane Grieve told her publisher at Allen & Unwin that I had an interesting story.

  I had just finished the last chapter when I received an email from Allen & Unwin asking me to send them an extract from my book. I was amazed to hear from them, and then in a dilemma as to which of the sixty-four chapters to send.

  Having picked three, I also had an email from Ted Egan, the folk musician, former Administrator of the Northern Territory and writer of the song ‘Gurindji Blues’, which he wrote after hearing the Minister for the Interior Peter Nixon dismiss the Gurindji claim to their land.

  I had written to Ted, to ask him if he had ever written a song or talked with Vincent Lingiari after the walk-off from Wave Hill.

  I was thrilled to receive a reply from Ted—a story about being present at Wattie Creek visiting his old mate Vincent Lingiari, when Ralph Hayes turned up asking Vincent for help to save 800 bullocks about to perish, and Vincent Lingiari sent back 100 Aboriginal people to work on Wave Hill Station. The year was 1969, four years after the walk-off.

  After reading my extract, along with Ted’s story, Allen & Unwin asked for the whole document.

  A few weeks later, I was sitting at my desk answering a few emails, when the phone rang.

  I couldn’t believe it. It was Allen & Unwin: they wanted to publish my book.

  Kerrie said, ‘Thea, people would kill for this opportunity.’

  I knew then I was meant to write this book.

  My unbelievable year—2013

  (Published by ABC 500)

  January: Hot and sweaty, have to write as now a member of the Narrandera Writing for Pleasure group.

  February: I’m obsessed. I’m going to complete my memoir about being a young nurse in the 1960s on one of Australia’s most historically significant Outback stations, Wave Hill.

  March: Me Missus Ralph: Twenty Years at Wave Hill Station will be the title.

  April: Could this be happening? Excerpt from my book to go on-line with ABC Open. National Broadcaster!

  May: So passionate! Gave up nursing to finish my book by mid-year.

  June: Publisher rings out of the blue. I’m over the moon. Panic! Send chapters.

  July: Send whole manuscript. Will they like it? Can’t sleep.

  September: Appointment with my publisher at waterside cafe, Circular Quay, Sydney. Trembling with anxiety. Every man who passed, I thought: is this him? ‘Him’ turned out to be gorgeous. Best caffeine hit ever.

  October: Allen & Unwin, requesting version three of manuscript. National Library of Australia sent interviewer to do oral history of my life for the Archives.

  November: Call from Publisher. They are going to publish my book. Contract on the way. Fantastic! Can’t stop screaming with joy.

  47

  The process of having a book published

  In January 2014, Bob and I went on holidays to Straddie, calling in to Sydney on our way to see my publisher Claire Kingston from Allen & Unwin. I was going to call my book, Me Missus Ralph, but Claire said An Outback Nurse was more descriptive, so of course I agreed! The book was to be published in September 2014. I still remember the evening at Straddie when Claire rang to confirm the publication date. Wow!

  I found a professional photographer in Narrandera, who was experienced in setting up websites, to take my portrait. Claire said she would like to see them, as a photo of me was required for the cover of the book. I had some great photos of me in my twenties at Wave Hill. I didn’t want one of me at the age of seventy-nine on the cover my book.

  The photographer came out from Narrandera with his wife, spending a couple of hours taking photos of me in an assortment of outfits at different sites: on a bridge, sitting on a low tree branch, next to an antique cart. I felt like a film star.

  The next day when I saw the photos, they were beautiful and so well done, but you could see every wrinkle and blemish. When I commented he said, ‘Don’t worry, I’ll airbrush them.’

  When I saw them again, I looked about forty years younger. Bob thought I looked great. My family were horrified. My publisher didn’t like them either, so I got my wish to have one of my old photos on the cover, at the age of seventeen when I started nursing at Royal Prince Alfred Hospital.

  I cried with joy when I saw the cover of my book for the first time. I couldn’t believe that this was happening.

  Once the contract was signed the work on my book really started. A writer was employed to help me fill in the empty spaces. I had to expound on details of cattle work, Territory bush terms, Aboriginal words, and times and dates. I had written the story for Territorians. I ended up writing another 8000 words.

  I also had to find someone to launch my book. I wrote to Marie Bashir, the Governor of NSW, whom we had met in Canberra, and who came from Narrandera. Marie Bashir’s secretary told me that Marie Bashir would give me one hour of her day when she came to Narrandera for an Indigenous Conference in September. I was thrilled.

  We had a morning tea launch at David Farley’s beautiful Art Gallery in Narrandera, inviting the Mayor Jenny Clarke, the Minister for Education, Adrian Piccoli, heads of various organisations in the district, my publisher Claire, my daughter Penny, Bob and a few friends.

  Then I had to plan the big launch, for all of Narrandera. I was so honoured when Heather Henderson consented to come down from Canberra for the ‘Big Launch’ at the Race Club, helped by the ladies from the Inner Wheel Rotary club and proceeds going to charity. Eighty-one people turned up and it was a great night.

  I was really inspired. I wanted everyone to read my book.

  After the book was launched, I was contacted by radio stations all over Australia for radio interviews. Most were over the phone, but I went in person to my first one at the ABC studio in Wagga Wagga.

  I gave talks at libraries throughout the Riverina, followed by Canberra and Sydney. At Berkelouw Books in Paddington, Sydney, Warren Snowden, Minister for Lingiari in the Northern Territory, and I sat on high stools and had ‘A conversation with Warren Snowden about An Outback Nurse’, in front of over sixty people, including my brother and sister-in-law, who had flown in from Santa Barbara, California for the occasion. It was such a great night. I loved it all.

  I saw a position in the local Argus wanting a registered nurse to be ‘on call’ at the other nursing home in Narrandera: Teloka, the RSL nursing home. I decided I would apply, since now that the book tour had died down, I didn’t have too much to do. However, the application form requested my age. I was seventy-nine years old. I was very surprised, but very pleased, when I got the job. It was a comfortable nursing home with most patients in single rooms. Each morning, I would check the patients and, with the nurse in charge, help with medications and dressings. I would then be ‘on call’ for the rest of each day in case of any emergencies or if a patient needed to see a doctor.

  I was there for a few months before we decided to leave Narrandera.

  48

  On the move

  Bob and I loved our time working on Carraman. It was a beautiful property with plenty of birds and wildlife, wonderful river frontage, beautiful river red gums and the local town only eleven kilometres away. We had promised Brian to stay for three years, but Brian’s talk of embryo transplants had Bob hooked. My book was about to be published, so we thought, why leave? We ended up staying another year.

  Once we hit four years at Carraman, Bob felt that the workload was becoming too heavy for him. The time had come to move on. We wanted to get back to Queensland to take over our downstairs flat in Straddie that had been rented out since I met Bob; to prepare it for our retirement. The desire to t
ravel, and the opportunity to promote An Outback Nurse, which had only recently been published, made us even more determined to leave.

  During those four years Bob had felt a great sense of achievement in being able to put his past knowledge of animal breeding and genetic selection into good working practice and to assist Brian in becoming a top Angus breeder. But he could no longer sustain the long hours and physical effort required for the job.

  We were pleased with Brian’s choice of the incoming manager, who would continue Bob’s work. With the launch of my book in September 2014, we happily moved on to the next chapter in our lives.

  A month of packing and farewell parties, and then we were on the road back to Queensland, with two vehicles and the caravan. It broke our hearts to part with Rupert, but he was adopted by a friend on a large property at West Wyalong with kangaroos aplenty.

  We returned to Straddie and enjoyed catching up with friends and family. The weather is always beautiful on the island, and we wondered if we could settle there, but the call of the bush was too strong.

  From Straddie we branched out to various towns, selling my book in markets and giving book talks in libraries throughout Queensland. Bob’s caravan, the Bunkhouse, was traded in for an ‘Elite’—a newer model with a shower and toilet. We loved its black marble benchtops, golden-brown woodwork and the queen-sized bed.

  We flew over to Western Australia to visit Bob’s brother and sister in Geraldton, whom we hadn’t seen since our tour in 2010. While we were there, we did book talks at libraries in Geraldton and the neighbouring town Dongara, returning to Sydney on the Indian Pacific train. I asked the conductor if I could give a book talk to the passengers.

  ‘Yes, of course, that would be great,’ he said. ‘We will serve afternoon tea at the same time.’ A large crowd turned up and everyone seemed to enjoy it.