The Crocodile Hotel

by Julie Janson

‘It’s good to get fresh meat. You use a spear or gun?’ she asked.

  ‘I hunt by myself, I love early time, you know when dark gone. You can track a wallaby or family of kangaroo. I like might be own new Land Cruiser one day or something flash, maybe white or red.’ He knew that Jane liked him. She blushed when he looked at her. She was fidgety when they had to work close to each other.

  ‘You smell good, like sweet flower or somethin’. But your nose holes, they too small like white woman’, Jane laughed.

  ‘I straight talk and if a woman wantem me, well it be cruel to say no. Woman gotta be right subsection, skin for me. I don’t care if people talk about me.’

  ‘I have to care’, said Jane.

  ‘You going to that church when they start up. I like Jesus’, said David.

  ‘I don’t know; depends on how desperate I am’.

  There was a Christian revival in the 1970s in the Arnhem Land region. The arrival of Pentecostal missionaries had brought ‘the Light’. After their arrival in Lanniwah country, they sang all night, just like a ceremony. ‘Yes, Jesus loves you, the Bible tells me so …’ Boys stopped sniffing petrol and there were spiritual visitations, singing, ‘Halleluiah’ and baptisms. Entire families committed themselves to Christ. Everyone played American cassette tape recordings of testimonies of converts, ‘We are saved’.

  It was like America, like Southern revival meetings with Lanniwah boys striding around the small settlement all washed for church. ‘We gottem new clothes.’ Everyone was polished and shining for God. Aaron ran to the meetings with Edie’s children, joined in the singing of hymns and ate lots of lollies given out by women with bad haircuts and sensible sandals and socks. Jane was horrified but kept a polite distance. It was painful to refuse some company – her sadness was killing her.

  The Reverend welcomed the new missionary families as they got out of their trucks. They had jubilation on their faces; it could have been the Promised Land. They had come to save the heathen world. They set up tents and caravans in a circle, started up a generator with a sound system and loud speakers and aimed it towards the Lanniwah camp. ‘Build on the rock and not upon the sand …’ They seemed to be waiting for an Indian attack.

  The sound of the church bell rang out from the church tent and the missionaries did the rounds collecting people. They took them in the old truck to church – it was one tent with space on the ground at the back for the Aboriginal brethren.

  Evangelism gripped the region. The cow cocky wives, looking forward to a break from station monotony, arrived at the tent mission in droves. Edie and Hubert were there in their best clothes. The tent filled with ecstasy. Reverend Wiltshire was good looking, mesmerizing, sexy. He had a microphone. Jane huddled near the door, ready to escape as the voices rose.

  ‘God is great, long live Jesus.’ A hymn sung by Barry Manilow started up from a cassette player. Stamping legs throbbed rhythmically, the tent swayed, the chanting built to frenzy.

  The minister shouted: ‘Are you with me?’

  The room replied in a swoon, ‘We are with you!’

  David watched Jane from down the back.

  Jane saw Edie rise from her seat as if hypnotised.

  ‘Take me oh Lord, into your heart. I am ready to be reborn in Christ!’

  Wiltshire took her hand and led her to the platform, flapping his hands all around Edie, flapping up and down like he was putting out a fire.

  ‘Out, out devils.’ She fell into his arms. Well, who wouldn’t?

  ‘When the son of God descends in glory, we shall all gather and he will divide the sheep from the goats.’

  Jane wondered where the sheep and goats were. She would have liked a leg of lamb with garlic and lemon. She sensed the metaphor meant the literal and moral exclusion area between black and white, Christian and non-Christian. Some of the women moved forward to hold Edie just as she began to speak in tongues. Jane’s eyes met the minister’s briefly; he seemed to be saying; ‘I know this is ridiculous, but here we are.’

  Jane began to sway; she felt a high energy coming. The Reverend smiled, a conspirator, then raised up his muscled arms in a Jesus pose, prayed aloud and the room was hushed as Jane moved in a hypnotic swaying and chanting.

  ‘Jesus is coming. For there shall be great tribulation. Prepare for the end of history.’ Jane felt lifted by the pulse and they took her into their grasp. What on earth was she doing? It was confronting; she must be really desperate for friends. Clammy female hands were on her head, some women had BO (all that crimplene), and oh no, they lifted her to heaven, the grey mildewed tent roof.

  ‘Oppose witchcraft! Strike out the rulers of darkness!’ shouted Edie.

  ‘Where is he, Mummy? I can’t see Jesus’, said Aaron. The Reverend’s eyes fell on Jane again; the look seemed to convey a message. ‘I can read you. I know who you are.’

  Edie opened her eyes and looked at Jane; it was look of devotion. Her red curls she tied in a knot on top of her head, a crown of thorns. Any minute stigmata? In a sea of brainwashed homemakers, could she be part of it, or go outside and sit with the sane Lanniwah women under a tree?

  It seemed more likely that the devil-worshippers were inside the tent, moaning in group oblivion. Dixie had an intelligent light in her face. She looked at Jane. ‘I think you are our enemy.’

  ‘Stop! I can’t believe in this shit!’ shouted Jane.

  Jane felt suddenly naked and cold. She watched the Evangelist women hunch their shoulders, their eyes averted. They fingered their thick wedding rings. David stood up at the back and laughed aloud. It was embarrassing. Jane watched Dixie rise and go to the tea urn, a look of disgust on her face. Jane was not sure if she should leave. It seemed that her evil non-conformist thoughts were being telegraphed out of her head; the tiny congregation could turn on her in disapproval, and they could sense her alien presence. They knew she was an unmarried mother, a fornicator (she wasn’t alone there) and an agitator for Aboriginal rights. Maybe they would rip her to pieces, tear her blonde hair out by its black roots, and eat her heart on a Jatz biscuit. They had tea with a cream and jam sponge cake, light as a feather, and David helped the Reverend pack up. Jane went back to her caravan with Aaron, there in her yard were three Brahman bulls, and they had eaten her washing off the rotary clothesline. Aaron got down on his little knees and prayed for them to leave.

  Next day, David moved over to stand near to Jane at the school barbecue with the travelling evangelical missionaries. The Reverend was talking about his efforts to raise money towards the ongoing medical supplies for the clinic. Edie leant forward and nodded at him. She was strangely dressed in a cocktail dress of Chinese brocade and high heels, and was speaking with a plum in her mouth.

  David whispered, ‘You come with me tonight?’

  Jane smiled as she handed David a sausage on a plate. The Reverend stared at her sternly, fingering his cross.

  ‘People will talk’, said Jane.

  ‘You come.’

  David looked down and mumbled. He looked uncomfortable with so many white people looking at him. Over at the teaching assistant’s table, the Lanniwah women stared and giggled. Mayda was serving drinks. She passed a glass of cordial to Jane, pursed her lips towards David and smiled.

  ‘One look at you, Miss Jane, and everybody know it all – before it even starts they know you bin lookin’ for each other’, said Mayda.

  ‘The old ladies sung us, I reckon’, said David.

  David ate and tried to talk to the Reverend who was grinning over lime cordial. Jane pushed a burnt chop around her plate. She smiled at David.

  ‘What happened to Orlando?’ he said.

  ‘He went away months ago. He sometimes works for the university in Darwin, and in Katherine. He commutes, sort of. He’s gone, that’s all. It’s okay, really. He wanted to go.’

  David’s eyes found Jane’s brown eyes. He swam in them. He smiled and moved to touch her leg with his. She felt a surge of nerves and strolled away to get salad of tinned peas
, beetroot and pineapple. She wanted to be with David. She no longer cared if white people would condemn her, or the Lanniwah. She no longer worried about her job. She would take on the fight. Who cared? She would get another job, or live in a tin shed. The taboo around a teacher and a traditional man could be broken.

  Jane sat at a table. The Reverend followed her and sat opposite. David found a place, laughed, and chatted with the students. ‘Any one going to, you know, to evangelical bible reading class tomorrow?’

  The Reverend looked up expectantly.

  ‘You goin’, Jane?’ said David. His eyes betrayed him. Jane thought it was the furthest thing from her mind. She was rolling in the surf, video clip style, wrapped around his body, gasping.

  The evening progressed and the missionaries wandered off holding sleepy children. David reached under the table

  ‘Your hand burns’, he whispered.

  ‘Stop looking at me.’

  His hot eyes followed her, and then he looked down, ashamed..

  She whispered, ‘Hey, I keep looking behind, trying to see which pretty girl you’re lookin’ at.’ Her fears were all gone – she could do whatever she wanted.

  ‘It’s you.’

  ‘I’m ugly. Stop looking. People are watching.’

  David held her mouth in his eyes.

  ‘I’m lookin’. You lookin’ back. You got brazen eyes; I catch ’em and hook ’em in. Eh, come later and meet me.’

  ‘I’ve got to go to bed.’

  ‘Can I come?’ he whispered.

  Then they were on the billabong beach in the dark. He kissed her ear and neck, fingers already in her pants. She breathed hard. ‘Jeez, you black men are fast.’

  He kissed with a fire that took her breath away. It was an explosion of heat.

  ‘I don’t care if anyone sees. Oh shit, it’s a missionary lady.’

  ‘She chasing a dog.’ David was soft and tender.

  ‘Be quiet’, she said.

  ‘You lie under me and pretend you dead. She’ll go.’

  Jane was trying to get up. ‘Oh God, let me up. I’m goin’ home. Bad idea’, she said.

  He smiled and helped her up. He brushed the casuarina needles from her dress.

  ‘Come fishing tomorrow?’

  There was a long pause.

  ‘Yeah, I’ll come.’

  Jane woke in the night. She could hear a Lanniwah song, a love song, calling a man to a woman. Jane wanted to take David’s body and lick him and mount him and nibble and eat his flesh, gobbling. Or fill him full of spears like Saint Sebastian. She hated him because he would eventually become unavailable. Culturally different, he might see her with contempt afterwards. Oh, the angst and the lust of it.

  The next afternoon after class, Jane leant over a washbasin and wrung out a shirt. She was hot, and tipped fresh water over her breasts to cool down. At that moment, she looked up. David stood by the gate looking. Her tee shirt clung to her nipples. She plucked it free. His eyes burnt, and then he hung his head in the familiar shyness and walked off.

  That night, Jane snuck over to David’s camp. The fire smouldered. David slept in the open on a mattress. His college satchel hung from a nail in a bough. Billycans were next to bags of flour and suitcases. There was a long shovel nose spear, three-pronged spears and a fine woomera leaning against the branch. The dogs growled at her. It was madness. Her heart pounded as she crept near.

  ‘David, wake up’, she whispered.

  ‘What? Jane, you not come here.’ He sat up and dragged her over to his bed. David kissed her hungrily, his eyes open and laughing. Jane hugged him and fell into his arms. She was in love with his difference, his gentleness and his sexy smooth skin. He covered them both with a new blanket and held her against his chest. She smelt his pungent masculine scent.

  ‘I have to be quick. Aaron is with Edie’s children’, she said. His eyes were bright in the darkness and he stroked her legs and laid his curly head against her breast. He tasted her nipples and nuzzled into her. Jane breathed as though her heart would explode, she panted and touched his dark chest, her fingers traced the raised scars. He nodded at her and whispered.

  ‘Now?’

  She pulled him urgently to her and he slipped into her wetness; he sighed as he made love to her. Her head arched back in joy, this was a lover who she had longed for and now he was with her.

  CHAPTER 10

  Sports Carnival

  At school the next day Jane gave balls to the girls. They ran outside to play captain ball. The school regional athletics day was coming up, and Jane was on fire with the desire to prove her school was great. They wanted Harrison to win. Ricky was a good runner, faster than any child in the school. Rumours ran through the school: that passionate teacher from Germany was training the Rainer River School. They heard that he was a fierce competitor and had the teams trained to win with mathematical precision. Tunnel ball, captain ball, all were very fast teams. Jane imagined a man in a severe uniform with a whistle and blue staring eyes.

  She feared that she would not have the necessary commitment to bring home the Remote School Trophy. All that whistle blowing and repetition – no, she couldn’t see it. Then there was the problem of sports uniforms – they had none – and she could see no way to raise the money to buy some. Anyway, where on earth could they be bought? All the children wore grubby worn out-tee shirts and shorts. David was very good at ball sports, and trained the boys every afternoon in forty-degree heat. Jane preferred high jump and sprinting. They marked out an athletics course on prickly earth. The children had no shoes, not one pair between them, even Jane went bare foot.

  On the day before the carnival, fifteen chosen children piled onto the back of the Toyota, screaming with happiness. Many had not been to Katherine before and had been practicing their manners for buying ice cream in a real shop. Jane had turned the school into a living drama role-play for the children to practice their ‘good English’. They waved goodbye to their mothers and crying sisters and brothers who were left behind.

  The trip was dusty and Jane fed the children sandwiches and milk on the five-hour journey. At last, they drove into Katherine sports ground and were ticked off a list by the local school principal.

  ‘I welcome all the remote school teachers and children. We have some dedicated Katherine teachers who are very friendly, they are here to make you all feel at home. There’s a barbecue and then mattresses with sheets will be spread out in the hall’, he said. Excited children ran around wildly.

  The Woolworths supermarket was well packed and air-conditioned. Aboriginal families sat quietly on the cool floor; old men sat cross-legged with empty laps, hoping for a relation to come by and give them lunch. Jane found it unbearable to see old people so thin and unwashed. She watched quietly to see what people were buying. Some white men came out of the grog shop with shopping trolleys laden with cartons of beer, and then she saw two Aboriginal mothers come out with a similar load of beer. Jane looked away; not her business. She wondered where the food was. The skinny children clustered around eating lollies and drinking Coke.

  In the school hall, the Lanniwah children had the barbecue provided by smiling town teachers. The children had a shower and went to sleep.

  All was calm then in the middle of the night, a noise woke David. He looked outside the hall and woke Jane. ‘There drunk men outside, they call for their nephews.’

  Jane got dressed and went outside into the blackness with David, standing behind him while he attempted a friendly negotiation.

  ‘You fellas can’t come in here – we got little ones sleeping.’

  Ricky stepped forward.

  ‘Hello, Uncle, you wantem me?’

  The drunken man staggered and reached out for the boy. Jane watched him warily as the uncle embraced the frightened teenager

  ‘You givem me twenty dollar.’

  ‘No gottem money, Uncle. Teacher got ’im.’ Ricky was shamefaced.

  David began talking softly and asked the uncles t
o leave.

  ‘You come back tomorrow, see kids runnin. Make you real proud.’

  ‘You come wid me!’ The drunkest uncle lurched forward and took Ricky by the arm. David argued, but a punch swung wildly near his head. David ducked and put up his fists, drew in his breath. The air was electric with violence. Jane jumped forward and gently pushed David back.

  ‘Let me talk – he won’t dare hit a woman.’

  She walked out to meet the two swaying men. They wore dirty tee-shirts, and looked like they always slept rough.

  ‘Sorry, you should go. We teachers here: we look after these kids; not your job, our job! Get!’ she said.

  The children were huddled behind her, they sucked in terror and the next moment the man’s arm shot out, with one huge punch knocked Jane to the ground. She saw stars, hit the ground and felt a thunder of pain shoot through her skull, ears ringing. Children cried and screamed. Mayda held onto a screaming Aaron. The man stood over Jane with his fist clenched, but he looked remorseful and David pushed the man away and shouted at him:

  ‘What you doing? You hit the head teacher! I call the police; you go to gaol!’

  The Lanniwah man had no teeth; his face crumpled and he began to cry. His bare chest had many cicatrices raised on the black skin; he must have been a highly initiated man. Jane raised herself up on her elbow and pulled her jaw from side to side. She was dizzy and disoriented.

  ‘My teeth are all loose! Shit, that was hard.’ She spat blood onto the ground and held her chin. The children gathered around her and touched her hair, their eyes shining with concern. Her body shook with fear and anger, but her voice was powerful and full of authority. She got up on her feet and wiped the blood from her mouth. She faced the men.

  ‘You shame these kids – they wantem look up to Uncle. You come back tomorrow, makem proud. See them run better than all the white kids’, she said. The drunk men swore and turned. They called out for money and walked into the night. Ricky was upset and his head leant on his chest.

  ‘Don’t worry, Ricky. You okay with us’, David said, as he hugged the youth. Many children were awake, and whispering went on into the night. David held a wet cloth with ice to Jane’s face. It was the first time he had touched her in weeks.