The Crocodile Hotel

by Julie Janson

  The next day was the sports carnival. Mayda marked off the children’s names and lined them up. When they entered the grounds, they were shamed that they were the only school without uniforms. The Katherine schools had shiny blue tee-shirts and sparkling white shorts, so the Lanniwah children cringed in embarrassment. David gave them a pep talk.

  ‘It’s not the uniform that wins. It’s the faster team, and you are all real fast. Go out and show them how you can win.’

  They all cheered and entered their races. Ricky lined up with the white Katherine school athletes, who wore new running spikes and knelt for the starter’s gun. Ricky just stood in jeans with fists out ready to run. The gun went off and Ricky streaked down the running track, the two hundred metres flew by; he won with ease, the white boys puffing behind him. The Lanniwah children cheered and jumped. After the final, the white boys shook Ricky’s hand.

  ‘You are the best runner; you won first place. Good on you.’

  The dreaded Rainer School team arrived on a cattle truck and precisionmarched out onto the oval in crisp white uniforms, looking like Hitler Youth. The Harrison school team cringed; they looked ragged with sores on their legs. It was a shame job. But Jane had a fighting spirit – she went to every child whispering some magic incantation for power. The tunnel ball competition began. Mayda was captain and she lined up Shirley, Lizzy and the others.

  They had fierce concentration and played hard but lost. The final point score reflected the extra points from team games. Amongst the few remote schools, Harrison came second. Jane couldn’t believe how important this result was to her. She was elated. She could do this thing, leading a school to victory.

  ‘That team might be cheat: those kids older than dat”, said David.

  ‘Leave it alone; the judges know best’, said Jane.

  ‘Dey bush champions.’

  The children were transported back to Harrison on Hubert’s truck. It was school holidays and Jane stayed on in town for work and a few days later she drove the long road back with David at her side.

  A silent time at midnight and a long drive back down the highway to the station … Jane drove and David watched the road. The moon was full and cast a pale shine on the ghostly bitumen. She had Aaron tucked up beside her, and David sat with his arm out the window. The closeness was comforting.

  Jane whispered. ‘Scary at night, you reckon?’

  ‘Yeah, real quiet. Drive slow. Gotta watch out for ’roos and pigs’, David said.

  ‘More like bullocks: they just wander on the road.’

  Jane drove for hundreds of kilometres, concentrating fiercely to stay awake. They stared for hours. David changed the country music cassettes; they sang along to Slim Dusty. Then a strange powerful mist crept along the bitumen; it had wisps of figures; it was elusive and like a coming fog of mysterious power. They both were silent … a tension filled the vehicle.

  In her head, a screen of a long moonlit road. She saw something, but didn’t speak. Her hair prickled on her skull, a cold shiver ran down her face and into her torso. She shook her head, there was a vision of something, a terrible thing that was coming, but what? It was in her mind – a picture of a pale weeping man, standing on the road, covered in blood and his face was transformed with terror. He pleaded for them to stop, begged them to stop. He looked like Daniel. No way. It was not him. He was at a mining camp. David’s leg was close and hot. The man was hurt. In her head, she would get in the back of the truck with him and rip her dress into bandages. She could feel the ripping of cloth between her teeth, the cotton stuck in her teeth. Her hands tensed against the steering wheel, they were white and bony. She would save him. She wondered: How do you stop arterial bleeding? Pressure. Yeah. Oh, God. The road went on and on – the eerie tension, the strange light.

  Meanwhile David was staring at the road. Later, he said it was funny because there was a bend and there were no bends on that road. In his head, he saw around the bend; it was the only one on the road. He looked at Jane. ‘Somethin’ there. See ’im?’

  Jane’s face was pale. ‘I know!’, she whispered.

  ‘Narr, he gone. Might be somethin’ scared, I reckon.’

  David laughed in relief. He looked at Jane and his voice trembled. ‘Ya know what? I thought dere was …’

  ‘What?’

  He could see her fright. ‘A man … blood, might be.’

  ‘Bleeding. Oh God! You’re sweating. What’s wrong? Your face is pale’, said Jane.

  ‘You know dat, I wasn’t goin’ to stop.’

  ‘I would have …he was bleeding.’

  The next morning, at school, Jane told the story to the older girls. They gathered around her desk, big eyes and hushed voices.

  ‘Last night, we saw something on the road.’

  ‘What you see?’, said Shirley.

  ‘I saw a bleeding man on the road.’

  Lizzy joined in:

  ‘Who dat?’

  ‘I don’t know. Maybe Wunungah man’, said Jane.

  ‘Shoulda take us. We look after you. You no good widout us’, giggled Shirley.

  Jane kept up the story to an enthralled audience of kids. ‘He was covered in blood, he was hurt very badly. Then he was gone. Disappeared.’

  There was quiet. Ricky touched her on the shoulder. ‘Dat alright, Missus. You saw a new ghost. We callem cheeky fellas. He fresh killed.’

  ‘No worries. See em alla time. But you no go in bush widout us; them wild fellas might steal you.’ Shirley smiled and played with Jane’s long hair.

  Jane piled all Orlando’s possessions – notebooks, penknife, prayer flags, hash pipe, Indian dream catchers – into a box and pushed them out the door. Maybe she would set them on fire.

  CHAPTER 11

  Ceremony

  Another day and the sound of the didgeridoo and singing had been going all morning … Jane lay on her bed and the throbbing sound of ceremony saturated her body. It was mesmerising; the sound called her. It blocked out all other thoughts. It was summoning all the people. It was impossible to work.

  With the roar of a motorbike … there was Daniel again: he couldn’t stay away. Daniel stood astride his blue BMW , took off his helmet and ruffled his dusty blond hair. Jane waved to him but she was annoyed.

  ‘You need permission from the Boss if you want to stay a while’, said Jane.

  ‘Darlin’, I can go where I like, but alright, I’ll tell him I’m here.’

  ‘You should ask the head man too,’ said Jane.

  Daniel walked over to the Boss’s house and knocked on their door. Jane watched him laughing with Hubert as they smoked outside on the veranda. She watched their easy masculine conversation; she was aching for friendships. She was tired of being ignored, her advice treated with disregard. As though she knew nothing.

  Aaron had created a long road with stones under the washing line and set up toy animals on farms out in the yard. Jane hung out washing on the bent rotary clothesline and saw Daniel playing with Aaron. Eventually Daniel knocked on her caravan door.

  ‘I’ve been invited to ceremony.’

  Daniel picked up Aaron and swung him around then placed him gently on the ground.

  ‘That’s a bad idea.’

  ‘Come on, it’s started’, Daniel swept Aaron up, laughing, onto his shoulders, and carried him towards the Lanniwah camp.

  Jane followed behind and waited for someone to ask her to sit down. She saw Old Lucy nodding at her. Jane sat next to Old Lucy, who removed sand and casuarina pods from the blanket and patted it. Jane saw Daniel shake hands with Burnie and Old Pelican. It seemed fine. The young women whispered and snuck looks at Daniel.

  It was a special ceremony. Jane hid with Old Lucy for the sacred business and the women cowered under blankets with Aaron and the other small children, but he fidgeted and asked why the older boys had gone with the Lanniwah men.

  ‘It’s sacred business, for initiated men only. Circumcised men’, said Jane as she looked out for Daniel. Old Lucy pulle
d off the blanket.

  ‘You got sugar? We makem billy-can tea.’

  ‘Aren’t we supposed to hide for hours for this ceremony?’

  ‘We waitem for mens chase us with fire sticks. Good fun dat bit. We got powder milk, Beatrice, you bringem up’, Lucy said. Shirley stretched out her legs by the fire and massaged them with Brylcreem.

  ‘Makem shiny’, she said. Suddenly, there was a very loud noise. Jane’s head reeled from the explosion and Aaron buried his head in her lap.

  ‘What was that? A gunshot? So loud?’

  Jane saw a terrifying fire sculpture like a burning Satan twenty feet tall with horns, hideous and frightening. She wondered if she had seen the devil. She looked over at the figure, not Satan after all; it seemed to be a construction from pandanus palm leaves and sticks. Still it was strangely eerie. From the distance came singing, throbbing didgeridoos, clattering of boomerangs, rhythmic pulling towards the sound … Jane sat transfixed while Old Lucy patted her hand. Jane stood up, searching for signs in the distance.

  ‘You go down dere they killem you – dat man’s business.’

  ‘Okay, I will stay here’, said Jane.

  ‘You got instant coffee? I likem dat Pablo coffee … Dat nephew, he lovem you. Wantem.’

  ‘Who?’ said Jane?

  ‘You know ’im, David.’ She whispered and pointed her lips towards his camp. The old lady pressed Jane’s hand and giggled.

  ‘You sit here. I teachem you ’bout dis dance’, Lucy said. She painted Jane’s face, red ochre with dots for water. A water cleansing ceremony – they would clean the spirits from a dead woman’s house.

  Jane watched the women and Old Lucy pulled her up to dance with them, she followed the rhythm and swung her hips and lifted her feet in the dust, her elbows pushed out at the sides. The women moved their hands with a piece of stick held between them. They swung from side to side in a pulsating exciting dance that went on and on in a mesmerising rhythm. Jane saw Daniel watching the young women. Those swaying bottoms.

  The ceremony went on for hours. The men and boys’ steps were more spectacular – devil-devils came alive with bulging eyes. They conjured ghost skeletons that frightened the children.

  Aaron jumped up and began dancing with the little boys. Jane saw David in the middle, and watched him dance with Aaron. David had painted himself up with white ochre; he wore a grass headdress and carried a ceremonial stick. They were re-enacting the sea-crossing journey of the Dreaming sister and brother from another place. These were some of the great creation ancestral beings.

  Jane realised that something was wrong: Daniel was dancing with high stupid kicks and mocking the dancers with his flamboyant gyrating hips. Jane was mortified. The girls watched him and hid their faces in laughter. He danced up in front of Mayda and wiggled his hips, his eyes on her lithe body. She sat down with the women and hid her face in a blanket. Jane squirmed knowing that Mayda was a promised wife to Old Pelican, and he was watching, staring at this Wunungah interloper.

  Old Pelican stopped singing and stood up. ‘This Wunungah cheeky fella. He show no respect.’ Daniel danced like a wild white man. He was a funny bloke, he mocked and cavorted, he moonwalked backwards across the sand. The old men watched and muttered. The Lanniwah children squealed and laughed, hands over mouths. They didn’t want anyone seeing them, didn’t want to be told off, but they were gripped by the sense of danger in the dance. White ochre streamed with perspiration down Daniel’s face, knees lifted too high.

  Daniel made a mockery of this solemn occasion, Old Burnie watched with an angry face. He was also bilka, a clever man, capable of curing illness or other skills, like flying across the night sky on feathers of fire. His mysterious powers were not to be ignored. You could die so easily. The old man beckoned to Jane, she bent down to listen.

  ‘Daughter, you tell ’im go back to his place, leave Lanniwah place’, Burnie said.

  Jane didn’t know what to do. She nodded but stood still. People were looking.

  Old Pelican commanded the music to stop. There was tension in the air as he walked in front of Daniel. Old Lucy walked a few steps behind him, she carried a big waddy stick.

  ‘You go. We not wantem you here!’ he said.

  ‘It’s a free country’, said Daniel.

  Everyone stared. Jane cringed in embarrassment. David stepped in front of Daniel. He took his arm.

  ‘Come on, fella. Let’s go.’

  ‘Narr, I’m an Australian and this is Australia. I can go where ever I want – no Abo can tell me to get off my own country.’

  The air crackled with tension. Jane watched, hoping Daniel would just leave and not come back, but instead he picked up one of Old Pelican’s spears. She gasped. This was very bad. He held the spear out in front of the old man. The Lanniwah were quiet. Jane stood up, she had to say something.

  ‘Dan, put it down! Don’t be so stupid.’

  ‘You go. Wunungah not wanted here!’ said Old Pelican.

  ‘Stop dat fella, daught. You stop ’im!’ Old Lucy yelled.

  Daniel took the spear and it began to bend in his hands; no, this couldn’t be happening, it was a bad movie. He broke it over his knee in front of the old man. The carved wood splintered. Jane was unable to speak; she hid her face. Would the headman kill him right now? Daniel threw it at Old Pelican’s feet. Jane clutched her face: was Dan suicidal? Did he understand what a tribal challenge was? David shook his head and waited.

  The old man laughed and turned to look at his tribal brothers. They were hanging their heads. Old Lucy stood up, she shook her waddy at Daniel. She was dangerous and she pushed Daniel away down the path towards Jane’s caravan. People yelled behind them. The old lady belted him with her waddy.

  ‘Get out of it! I get it, I’m going!’ said Daniel. He skipped out of Old Lucy’s reach and ran down the track.

  ‘You get, we no wantem you here! We not want cheeky whiteman on our country, we proud people. We killem! No more have Wunungah cheeky for us mob!’, Old Lucy yelled. Jane followed them.

  ‘You idiot, Dan. Go away! Don’t come back!’ shouted Jane.

  Daniel rode away on his motorbike in a dust cloud. Jane breathed easier and went back to apologise to the elders. She sensed something vast and sad, a thing that hovered.

  ‘Sorry for that man. He won’t be back.’ Jane was ashamed.

  The finale of the ceremony came in the late afternoon when the fifty painted people danced down the path to the billabong, and everyone danced into the water. Coloured water trickled from Jane’s face; Dan’s presence was her fault.

  The rain came in the night. In the early morning, Shirley and Ricky stood at the school caravan door, soaked, with scabies sores, skinny and hungry, all grins and white teeth. Jane felt amazed that she was teaching in this remote place where no one had a waterproof house, yet the children were all affection and laughter, then quiet as can be when the lesson began, with respect for teachers that was wonderful. There was no sign of David or the older boys until midday. School began without them and Jane took over all the classes.

  David came back from the ceremony one evening a few days later, his eyes shining and hair tangled. Aaron sat on his lap and Jane felt her self growing in love towards this remarkable man.

  CHAPTER 12

  Gossip

  Gossip was always possible, especially with the new missionary neighbours. It had the capacity to destroy people. Jane was away overnight at a nearby community meeting at Rainer River and Orlando arrived from Katherine to run the school. On her return, he told her about an incident. He had played guitar all day to the children and they made up songs; they all had academic free time. Late that night, the stars were bright. There was knock on the aluminium door of the caravan. Orlando was reading in bed.

  ‘Who’s that? Okay, I’m coming’ said Orlando.

  He opened the caravan door and there was a young woman from the camp. He said he didn’t know her name. She stood there wrapped in a blanket, shining black eyes
and a wide luscious smile. She looked up at him coyly then dropped the blanket. Her skin was the colour of cream and caramel, her big nipples stood up and invited. Skin soft and smooth. Beckoning. It was a moment from Xavier Herbert and a hungry man’s dream. She was Australia’s history and love all together. Lubra. She of the Never Never.

  ‘I said: what are you doing? Cover yourself up for God’s sake! He had turned his head away, and asked her to put the blanket back on.’ The girl smiled with long dark eye lashes, her body shimmering. Small upright golden breasts, glossy dark skin, a small mound of Venus with a fluffy bush of black hair. Yes, I will tell it all, the details, yes. She let him look, for a long while, and then she giggled, coyly wrapped herself up and strolled back to her camp. ‘I swear it’s true.’ Jane listened with fascination.

  ‘I don’t know why you are telling me this.’

  Orlando said: ‘I lay hot on the bed, I was swimming in lust. I always have a battle with the devil living in my penis. I tossed in sweat, gnawed my fingernails, and I slammed my fist into the pillow. I rooted the bed. I knew at that moment that I could do this, have self-control, as other men did. Then I masturbated and lay panting, I was miserably aware that I am a weak man.’

  Jane breathed out: okay.

  ‘Did you know her name?’

  ‘No, never seen her before.’ She saw that he was lying.

  However, Jane heard later that someone saw him having her in the river, by moonlit pandanus, watched by crocodiles, and again in the Toyota truck, their bodies clinging together in lust under the yellow moon with all the eyes watching from far away. Jane fumed. She felt the jealousy eat her up. She didn’t want to believe it. It was evil, dirty, shitty gossip. She shut her ears to Gertie; she was just stirring trouble. She hated the way the Lanniwah enjoyed gossip; the women lived for it. It was like going back to her childhood, nasty horrible things said that broke up families, tore apart lovers – sent her father away. Jane put up her chin and felt ferocious.