It was late afternoon when we arrived at the nearest homestead. The station hands were surprised to see us. Quickly the men released and penned the camels in the stockyard. When we told them where we had come from, the station hands reaffirmed how lucky we were to get out! We were invited inside for hot showers, and billy tea around the kitchen table. I think they were grateful for the company too.
When I arrived back at the squat, my friends told me I looked fantastic. Even I knew I looked healthier from my time in the desert.
My friends passed me a beer and rolled me a joint. Just for a moment I hesitated. I wanted to look fantastic all the time.
Heroin
in the arms
of another man
he finds her
in his arms
the jealous man
he binds her
in his arms
the woman
sheds no tear
in his arms
bruised woman
shows no fear
in their arms
they survive
a modern world.
Forty Six
It was a shock to realise that I was homesick. I couldn’t believe it. I never thought that I, of all people, would ever get homesick. Heroin had a lot to do with it. Heroin came along and wrecked the party. Some of my friends changed. Some of my friends left. One of our friends even died. I was scared of heroin because I knew that if I used it I would get addicted. I didn’t ever want to stick that first needle into my arm.
So I decided to leave. I rang home. Mum was very upset, but she was not upset at me. My foster brother had been seriously injured in an accident and was in intensive care. Mum and Dad insisted on paying for the ticket. When I got home, they insisted that I visit him with them. They warned me how smashed up his body was. He had been in a coma for weeks.
As I walked into the hospital room he gave a feeble thumbs-up sign. The nurses got excited and said stupid things. They said I must be very special to him. I was afraid of feeling sorry for him; I didn’t want to forgive him for not looking after me when I was too young to protect myself. I didn’t stay long. I walked the corridors to the exit and waited in the car for Mum and Dad to finish their visit.
Forty Seven
It was good to see Margy and Mingari and Mingari’s mum again. We sat around the table and laughed at my adventures. Mingari’s mum had been to many of the places I had visited. She even knew Uncle Alec.
We were having fun until Bones rocked up, and then the laughing stopped. But he told me how wrong he was to hurt me. He told me how wrong I was to give up our kid. He told me he wanted a second chance. I told him to go and buy a carton of beer.
Later he tried to have sex with me in the car. He was so drunk. He was so pathetic. He even pissed himself. I hated him. I hated myself. I hated being back in that place.
I saved some money. I stole the rest of what I needed from Bones, and then I headed back up north.
Forty Eight
This time I got a job in an Aboriginal community in the Tanami desert. My job was working in the community store.
I spent several days with friends. But the old gang had changed. The building boom was slowing down, and many friends were heading further north to chase work. The crowd at the pub had thinned, and only strangers lived at the old squat.
A truck driver friend gave me a lift out bush. It was night-time when we arrived. Camp dogs came from everywhere, and their barking was nonstop. Only a few street lights lit the deserted streets, but eventually we found the store manager’s house. They gave me the key to where I was staying. My accommodation was a caravan surrounded by a six-foot fence, with barbed wire strung along the top of the fence. The truck driver told me to keep the gates locked. I didn’t sleep much that night.
Morning time arrived on a beautiful sunrise of pink and gold. I waited inside with big eyes staring out of the dirty caravan window. I saw families living in humpies across the flat. I watched them cooking on their campfires. Their laughter floated across the flat towards me, woven with their traditional language. Some of the camp dogs were so mangy they didn’t even look like dogs anymore.
I noticed an old Aboriginal man sitting outside the locked gates. Eventually I asked the old man where the store was located. He laughed, and motioned me to sit down. In broken English he told me he would look after me. He told me he wanted to marry me. He told me I would be his new wife.
I told him I didn’t understand a word he was saying. He laughed again, and then pointed me in the direction to the store.
Hidden Water
there is love in the wind by the singing rock
down the river by the ancient tree
love in kangaroo, goanna and emu
love when spirit speaks no human voice
at the sacred sites eyes unblemished
watch wedge tail eagle soar over hidden water
find the love
Forty Nine
I was the ‘checkout chick’ in the store. Slowly I got to know most people in the community. Everyone was friendly, and I lost my shyness. On my breaks I sat outside with the older women as they told me stories of their land. The old man visited every day, and he was always laughing at me. One day he gave me a Red Heeler puppy. I named him Moses.
Some of the local women also worked in the store. I made good friends with Hida. She lived in a rainwater-tank humpy near my caravan compound. She gave me lots of advice and shared Aboriginal knowledge with me. She even tried to teach me her language, and invited me to traditional women’s ceremonies, but I was always afraid to go with her. She didn’t seem to mind. One day she didn’t come to work. The boss’s wife told me Hida’s husband had beaten her up, and that she was being flown to hospital with the Royal Flying Doctor. We all heard the plane fly overhead.
On the weekend I got a lift to town to visit her in hospital. At the shops I bought a towel-and-soap set as a get-well present. She was happy to see me, and liked my gift. But when she returned to the community her husband found it. He got real jealous, and beat her up again. She was flown back to the hospital. I didn’t visit her next time.
Fifty
Friends from town drove out to visit me, and smuggled grog with them. When we were drunk, they told me they were heading up north, where there was heaps of work. I decided to chuck my job in. I didn’t know how to say goodbye to the old man, and the old women, and my friend at the store. So we left in the middle of night.
It felt good to be travelling, and to be seeing new places again. The further we drove north the hotter it got. We were heading for the tropics. Slowly the country changed from desert red to green. There were trees everywhere, and rivers filled with water. We camped and partied along the way. We caught fresh fish, and swam every day. After a while we noticed signs warning us that ‘Saltwater Crocodiles Infest These Waters’. I didn’t swim in the rivers after that.
It was fun being back in the pub scene. I had saved heaps of money working in the store. I made new friends easily and caught up with heaps of old friends. The building boom had moved north, so there was plenty of work. I decided to work outdoors; the tropical weather was ideal for that. I joined a CES landscaping team with another woman I had met at the pub. It was a scheme for Aboriginal people to learn new skills. There were twelve of us working on the team. The other ten were all traditional men.
I arrived every Monday morning with a hangover. Our boss was happy if we just rocked up. We learnt practical and theoretical skills of landscaping. It was hard, hot work. I enjoyed the physical work and feeling fit. And we made our own fun; I liked pitting my farm knowledge against the men. The landscaping all had to be done to scale, so we set puzzles and races for each other. Their way of thinking was often different to mine. It was fun to learn new skills from them, and it was fun to teach them some of mine.
Sometimes my hangover was too heavy. I would find a place under one of the transportable buildings where I could slide in and sleep. I smiled, watchin
g the boss’s boots walk past. He could never find me; no one could, except the men. They always came and got me when it was time to go. Every evening after work we went to the pub. Everyone I knew did.
Our training wages were shit. One hot day I stole the entire crew from the site in the work vehicle. We drove through the bottle shop and bought two cartons of beer. Then I drove everyone to the river. At first the men were mortified, and full of fear of being discovered. But eventually everyone relaxed, and they spent the afternoon telling yarns about their families. We all promised to be sworn to secrecy. The next day all the bosses were on site wanting a meeting. We tried to deny our whereabouts the previous day. Negotiations were held all afternoon, and we put forward a strong case about how hard we worked. Because of our success on site, our wages were doubled. My workmates repaid me every time they saw me at the pub.
I liked that town. The friends I made there mingled more with Aboriginal people. I felt freer and more able to be myself. I earned a reputation as a reliable worker. I was never unemployed again.
Fifty One
I met a hippy, and I moved into his house. I never had to purchase marijuana again. We shared an old warehouse on the edge of town, with other heavy drinkers. It was a party address, and there were always visitors at night. Everyone was a rev head. Cars would do burnouts in the front yard; motorbikes would do burnouts in the lounge room. It didn’t matter what we did; as long as we paid the rent the landlord left us alone.
I landscaped the front yard with equipment and plants I had stolen from work. I planted seeds for a lawn and made a vegetable patch, and one of the guys built a beautiful barbeque from stolen bricks. My friend Jacki and I built a shade house. The hippy organised a working bee and built an aviary, and filled it with budgies and quail for my birthday. We fenced the front yard, and we put a sign on the front gate. It said, ‘No Dickheads!’
Sometimes we would visit the local drop zone on Sundays. I loved watching the skydiving. I really wanted to do it, but by the end of the weekend my money was always spent.
One guy jumped out of a plane with a little pig. I rescued the piglet and took her home. She lived in the front yard. As she got bigger she would chase the guys when they teased her. Often they would scramble onto the bonnets of cars, especially if they were drunk, to get away from her. I was proud of my pig.
That house was a place that I could really call home.
Fifty Two
My friends at the pub became like family to me. We did everything together; we played jokes on the old fellas; we held all-night parties along the river bank; we arranged charity events for the community, and we celebrated our birthdays together. We were always together. Margy lived further north, and she visited often too.
I fell in love. His name was Roderick. He was Aboriginal. I knew he liked me; I could see it in his eyes.
Roddy often came to the warehouse. He enjoyed a drink and a smoke too. I looked forward to his visits. I looked forward to seeing his smile. I looked forward to hearing the stories of his family. He was the first person I told about my family, about growing up in another family and not knowing my own. He told me I would find my Aboriginal mother one day, and that it would be a good thing.
I never told Roddy that I loved him. The words of Mingari’s mum rang in my ears. She had warned me to avoid any relationship with Aboriginal men until I found my family. I felt empty when Roddy left town.
I stayed with the hippy for two more years. When our relationship ended, some of my friends told me I deserved better. Everyone I knew scored their drugs from him, and I had thought he was well-liked. I was relieved they remained my friends.
Fifty Three
I went to a concert in Darwin with a group of friends, and I got really drunk on tequila and passed out. One of my mates, Dave, sat and waited for me to wake up; then he offered me a lift home on his motorbike.
We stayed with friends for the night, and left in the morning. It was a long way home. We were having fun, catching up with friends in the pubs along the way. The day got away from us, and then it was dark.
It was still a long way home for us. I sat watching for landmarks from the back of his bike as the moon shone brightly and the stars pulsed. The air was perfect. I wanted to remove my helmet and shake my hair in the wind. I had never ridden on the open road at night before.
The road was unfenced, so as we came around a corner, we saw cattle wandering across the road. Dave tried to swerve, cursing loudly. As I looked across his shoulder he lost control of the bike. I was in a tunnel spinning around and around rapidly. There was a big light. I didn’t know where the running pictures were coming from. I landed on the roadside with an audible thud. My left leg was resting on my shoulder. I remembered Mum used to say, ‘Don’t look at it!’ whenever we hurt ourselves as children. It was the best advice I could think of.
Eventually a car stopped to help. The wife stayed to keep me company, while her husband ran to check on Dave, who was running, limping up the road. I felt calm. They lifted me into the car using a tarpaulin. I was talking non-stop. Dave was freaking out.
Some of our friends were already at the hospital when we arrived. My legs had been badly damaged. Everyone seemed upset, so I tried to reassure them. I knew broken bones mended; I had learnt that as a child.
I was given intravenous pain relief and felt very happy, joking with my friends. I remember that I wanted to share the drugs with them but couldn’t figure out how to. There was lots of whispering going on. Finally the medical staff rang the air-ambulance. I was being flown to the nearest major town. I didn’t care. I was comfortable, although I couldn’t move. Our friends drove out to the airport to see me off. The reality of what had happened was beginning to sink in. The doctor gave me another injection, and everything went black.
It was the next day when I awoke. A medical team was called to my bedside. I was told that I had smashed both my knees, and would need a series of operations to repair them. They told me I would be in hospital for a long time.
Over the next months I was surprised by the amount of visitors. Some of the girls arranged for hairdressers and beauticians to visit because my legs were really hairy scary by then! I knew most of my visitors through parties and pubs. But other people from the community also came to visit, as well as people that I hardly knew. Later I learnt there was a roster in the local pub, making sure I had a visitor every day. I felt special.
One day some friends wheeled me out of the hospital in my wheelchair. We shared a joint in the car park. We were laughing so much, and I was so stoned, that I pissed my pants. Quickly they wheeled me back to the hospital entrance and took off. It took me ages to wheel myself back to the ward.
Fifty Four
I stayed in the hospital for five months. Most people thought it must have been horrible for me. But I was enjoying myself. I had visitors every day, I received lots of phone calls, and my room was cluttered with floral arrangements. I had never been treated like that before.
Mum and Dad rang. They asked if I needed them to visit, as they were very busy on the farm. I told them I was okay. My big brother told me he was coming to visit, whether I liked it or not. Secretly I hoped he would leave his man bag at home.
My doctor was a highly skilled surgeon. He was marvellous explaining all the concerns and procedures to me. I began to realise the extent of my injuries, and I began to wonder if I might walk again. I wished Mum was coming to see me, but I didn’t ring her to ask.
It took four weeks before the swelling went down. Finally the day arrived for the reconstructive surgery on my legs. My doctor told me straight-out that there were no promises, except that he would do his best to rebuild my legs despite of the severe damage, and he promised me he would talk to me again as soon as I regained consciousness. Then he gave me a hug.
After the surgery the pain built until it was unbearable. I looked around the room, then I called out for the nurse to ask her for more pain relief. She came and checked my chart, but told me
I had been prescribed the maximum dosage and would have to wait. I asked to see my doctor, but she told me he was busy. She told me not to be a sissy. I pretended to cough, and dropped my voice to a whisper. When she came closer, I grabbed her by the throat and dug my fingers in around her windpipe. I repeated that I wanted to see my doctor, and that I wasn’t no sissy bitch. Then I passed out.
Dave and Margy were sitting by the bed when I awoke. They were laughing. They said the doctor had told them what I had done and that the nurse had been reprimanded because she hadn’t noticed that there was a blockage in the pethidine pump. They joked about the blockage in her throat. I couldn’t join in with their laughter because of the pain—a pain factor that eventually landed me in ICU for five days. I felt like crying when Dave and Margy left. But still no tears fell.
Eventually my Doctor could share good news: that I would walk again. But I needed to stay close by the hospital to undergo hydrotherapy and orthopaedic rehabilitation. He told me I needed to focus on this treatment for the next two years.
I felt sad. It meant I wasn’t going back home south, to that smaller town, down the highway.
Fifty Five
Mum rang. She said my foster brother was coming to see me after travelling north with my big brother. She asked if he could stay at my house, and said he was still recovering from his accident.
When my brothers arrived, I was happy to see them. Big Brother gave me a huge hug, and then told me all the latest news from back home. My foster brother sat quietly. He had lost the use of one arm, and he couldn’t talk properly after his accident. We compared scars. I showed him the fresh scar patterns on my lame legs. He showed us the hole in his skull, where his head had been crushed. He won.
Too Afraid to Cry Page 6