Finding Kerra

by Rosanne Hawke

The sun was rising by the time we arrived at the muster camp. Rainmaker hadn’t turned up as Matt predicted so Kerra let me ride Gypsy while she rode in front of Matt on his horse. When I protested, he said it wasn’t far. I had a lot to learn about the rules between the sexes in the Outback. If Matt was half-dying, he wouldn’t have let me have the extra weight of Kerra. I chose to accept it as the respect I thought it meant. I was used to that in Pakistan.

  Matt’s ‘not far’ was a lot further than I realised and I was embarrassed to have been a bother to everyone. I was glad it was early; glad that the first one to greet me was only Bow. Matt let Kerra down while I managed to climb off with the grinning blue heeler pawing at me.

  ‘Hey, Bow, did you miss me?’

  He nearly knocked me over, and as I patted the rippling muscles in his upper front torso, I was glad to be on the right side of him. When I met him in the Townsend’s yard that first night I never dreamed he’d be all over me like prickly heat one day.

  Blake was there then, and Richelle. She didn’t look pleased, more like she’d hoped I’d fallen down a thousand-foot bore hole. Blake was all care and concern, and under his questioning I remembered all my bruises.

  ‘I think I’ve pulled muscles in my back. I came off Rainmaker when she swerved to chase the brumbies. Did she turn up?’

  ‘Yep. Last night. But there was no point looking for you in the dark.’

  Richelle cut in then. ‘Besides, we knew Matt would be with you.’

  I don’t think I imagined it: she sounded bitchy and I checked how Blake took it. Guys I knew at school would get uptight if a girl they liked spent the night in the bush with another guy, but Blake seemed fine. Guess he knew his mate, or—horrible thought—he didn’t care enough for it to bother him. It was beginning to matter what he thought about me and I wasn’t sure I enjoyed being in another’s power like that.

  Zack turned up and was introduced. For an instant I was shy; he was tall, good looking like guys I’d seen in Afghanistan, though with a broader nose. I remembered in time that Zack wasn’t Afghan in the traditional sense. I shook his hand and thanked him for catching Rainmaker the way I would have done to Matt. ‘No worries,’ was all Zack said at first but he stood there in front of me with more to say. Apparently Blake had told him I’d been in Afghanistan earlier in the year. ‘I live in town,’ he finally said. ‘Would ya like to visit? My mum would like to see ya. After the muster?’

  It was painfully obvious he didn’t invite many girls home and how to do it without sounding like he was asking for a date tied him in knots. I’m sure if his skin was paler he’d have a pink blush rising up his neck.

  Blake was enjoying it too and with a smirk towards me as I nodded, he said, ‘Sure thing, mate. I’ll bring her.’

  With all my aches and pulled muscles, Blake or Matt wouldn’t hear of my riding with them that day to catch more brumbies. They’d only caught six the day before, which, as Matt said, wasn’t a bad haul considering what cunning brutes wild horses were. That’s a subtle translation of what Matt really called them.

  It was Matt who took me to the yards for a look. As we approached, the brumbies rushed to the other side of the fence, kicking and eating the dust (Matt’s words). I kept seeing the huge mob thundering through the scrub yesterday, and here were only six!

  ‘They’re hard to catch,’ Matt explained. ‘Even the professionals up north, who do it for a living, only get seventy in a five-day muster.’

  I wondered how they could be tamed. Four of the horses were huddled almost on top of each other in the furthermost corner of the yard. The other two were running at the fence, banging their heads and torsos on the steel rails. ‘Do they get out?’

  ‘Not often. We’ve strengthened the yards. They’ll kick down wooden fences.’

  ‘How will you get them home?’ I thought of the answer at the same time he gave it.

  ‘The truck. We’d lose them in the bush otherwise.’ Matt put a boot on the bottom rail. ‘Blake’s father can change these mongrels into stock horses that’ll eat out of his hand.’

  I didn’t butt in with questions as it dawned on me that I’d passed some sort of test the night before and now I was being offered a friendship—mateship—that would probably never be spoken about. A warm security soaked through me and I knew that Matt would be there when I needed him. He explained that people used to break the horse’s spirit, but Mr Townsend used a control rope with gentle talking and touching. ‘A horse will never forget a hard breaking, they’ll kick and bite, but with Mr Townsend’s way, they have no fear of people.’

  ‘Matt.’ He was watching the brumbies quietening down, though a few still scrambled for the corner. He glanced down at me.

  ‘Thanks.’ I had to say it but I didn’t expect him to know why.

  He surprised me. ‘Think nothing of it.’ Despite his words, I knew it meant a great deal to a guy like Matt. I felt I’d managed to slip under the gate of a fortified castle.

  While I was ‘in’ I’d ask Matt another question.

  ‘Do you think Richelle minds me coming here for work experience? Would she rather have done the job?’ I held my breath, unsure if I’d like what he said. I couldn’t imagine Matt saying anything negative about his sister, yet she hadn’t exactly rolled out the red carpet for me.

  ‘Don’t let Richelle get to you. She doesn’t like change. Or sharing. She’ll come good. She just doesn’t think that anyone from such a different background would know what was best for—well, for Blake.’

  ‘Was she Blake’s girlfriend once?’ I had to ask that, even though I knew she couldn't be now—for why would he ask me to come?

  ‘Nah. They’re mates. Always have been. Always will be.’

  He held my gaze as he spoke and I recognised the care in his eyes. I knew he wasn’t just talking about them. In that moment I came to understand Blake’s friendship with Richelle.

  The night we returned to the Townsends’ house I was sent in the truck with Zack and, of course, Kerra wanted to go with me. I thought the muster would have worn Kerra out, but she chatted constantly. Being away from home turned her into a regular ten-year-old. When we drove off Matt’s eyebrows were perched high, like you’ve really scored with the kid. Yet, he didn’t seem jealous, and I was reminded of the tower of a caravanserai, how it shelters you in a storm or a battle. I could tell Matt was one of those people who believed in special places in the heart. No doubt he knew he had one in Kerra’s and felt secure enough to know that it couldn’t be replaced, that Kerra’s heart would grow bigger for me.

  Her father and Matt were the only other people Kerra seemed to care about. Even Bow, I noticed, only paid her attention when Blake wasn’t around. It was weird how Bow sensed that Blake wouldn’t approve. I watched Kerra waving to Matt and then caught her look as she glanced up at me. It seemed like adoration, but it was hungry and pleading too, like an addict who’s run out of chocolate and knows you have some. I wasn’t fooled; I knew why she came with me. It was the stories: they took her somewhere else.

  Kerra was already tucked into her bed and I was about to put the light out when she said my name. Elly did that to keep me on her bed longer, as if it were life or death. I stood at the door, wondering if this was a false alarm and Kerra would drop off after all, but she rolled onto her back.

  ‘Jaime? When you were talking to Matt at the campfire, did it make you feel better?’

  So she’d heard us. I thought she’d been asleep. This wouldn’t keep till later and I sat on the bed. ‘Kerra, when you talk about things, get them out in the open, it does help. It’s a very brave thing to do, like facing a big shadow in a cave. It might look like a dragon’s shape, but until you take a torch and go and see that it’s only the moonlight shining on a funny-shaped rock, you’ll always be scared of it.’ Even as I was talking, I still had no idea of the size of Kerra’s dragon, or maybe I wouldn’t have been so fli
ppant with my solution.

  She sat up then, and I saw the first glimmer of hope in her face that I’d seen. ‘Liana told you a story about her and her brother, didn’t she?’

  ‘Yes, she grew brave when she had to save him and her friends.’

  ‘She did it by dancing.’

  ‘I guess.’ There was so much more—too much to explain.

  ‘And telling you about it made her feel better.’

  ‘Possibly.’ I didn’t know where this was going.

  ‘And the stories you tell me—they’re for feeling better too.’

  I sighed. It was her story she needed to tell. ‘They’re just folktales.’

  Her face had a stubborn look about it then. ‘No, they’re not. You said stories help, to talk is to help. They’re true, and they can happen to me as well.’

  I stared at her. It shouldn’t have been such a surprise; I’d begun to suspect she was making more of the stories than any regular kid would. Did I just think that? Wasn’t Kerra a regular person?

  Then her face softened. ‘Was it brave of me to tell you that Blake is always cross with me?’

  I drew her to me then. ‘Yes, it was. And that’s what I mean. If there’s something that bothers you, you can always tell me. Then it won’t hurt so much.’

  ‘What if I said why I was bad?’

  ‘That too.’ I didn’t think there could be anything ‘so bad’ about Kerra. Maybe touching Blake’s kangaroo or cowhides? I prepared myself for what she’d say, searched for encouraging comments like, Its okay, everybody does stuff like that. But it didn’t come. She shut off, just like the generator did every night. She stuffed that thumb in her mouth and didn’t even say goodnight.

  I sat there, stroking wisps of her hair away from her forehead. Whether she had really gone to sleep or not, I couldn’t tell, but the way she refused to talk tore at my heart. What could be so terrible that a child of ten wouldn’t even say?

  10

  The scratches from my tumble off Rainmaker gradually healed. Mr Townsend in his no-fuss way had said I’d be fine in a week. He was right, but then he was right about most things, which was why I could never work out why he didn’t intervene in Blake and Kerra’s relationship. Maybe he didn’t know the full extent of it.

  Blake had me on Rainmaker again as soon as I could raise my leg far enough to haul myself onto the saddle. ‘You have to get back on as soon as possible,’ was his grinning explanation for my misery, ‘or you’ll lose valuable ground.’ Right then I couldn’t care less about catching up ‘ground’ with Rainmaker, or proving I was boss.

  Rainmaker had just responded to my knee pressure and I was about to swing my leg over to dismount when Blake was there at my side, looking up at me. ‘What do you say to a ride tomorrow? A picnic.’ And before I could answer, he cut in quickly, ‘Just us two.’ Guess that was so I wouldn’t invite Kerra. He needn’t have worried as I was looking forward to time alone with him. He might talk more if we were away from the house. ‘Sure,’ I said.

  ‘Sweet.’ He helped me down. Apart from his closeness, I appreciated his thoughtfulness since my back muscles still felt as if they’d been pulled to shreds.

  That afternoon Blake took me in the Land Cruiser to Zack’s place. He lived an hour away, across a disused railway line, in an old part of the town. ‘This used to be called Ghan Town.’ Blake was pumped up with ‘showing me stuff’. It reminded me of when I first came to Australia last year and my friend Danny used to buy food just to show me what it was. ‘There’s something I think you’ll appreciate, Jaime.’ He steered me to a mud brick structure with a grass roof.

  ‘This looks ancient. What is it?’

  ‘What do you think?’

  Then I saw the brass crescent and star rising above the thatch. I sucked in a breath. ‘It’s a mosque. In the Outback?’

  Blake grinned as if he’d arranged to have it there just for me. ‘It’s a replica of the original one they built here when the first camel drivers came from Afghanistan in the 1860s. The local community restored it.’ I watched Blake enter through the baked mud archway and, with the afternoon sun behind me, I peered in at the little circular alcove showing which direction to pray.

  ‘Come and look inside.’ Blake beckoned me, but I couldn’t move. How could I have explained it? The mosque was just a monument to the past but I couldn’t follow him in. I could see it all: the Afghan camel drivers washing their feet in the mosque pool, men who at the right time each day would enter the sanctuary of that mud-and-thatch and give their allegiance to the God they owed everything to. It was a men’s sacred place; no women would have entered and if I had, I would have felt as if I’d trampled on a grave. It seemed different from mosques in Pakistan and it wasn’t just the thatch and open walls, but my scrap of thought fled as a shout from behind brought Blake out from the mosque.

  ‘That’s Zack,’ he said.

  Zack’s family was nothing like I expected; not like the Afghan families I knew in Adelaide. His mother had a Slim Dusty tape on and was humming to it as she bustled to the fridge and got a beer out for each boy. ‘You too?’ Her eyebrows asked the question of me, her hand poised in the fridge. I imagined the look on Dad’s face as I toyed with accepting.

  ‘No thanks.’

  ‘So Zack tells me you’ve been to Afghanistan?’

  ‘Yeah, early this year.’

  ‘What’s it like?’ They thought they were asking normal questions and it wouldn’t have bothered them if I didn’t elaborate, so I don’t know why I found their interest so difficult. Maybe because I’d been a captive. Also, there’d been a war going on for thirty years. I don’t think I saw the best side of the country, so I had to be honest. ‘It’s really shot up; not so beautiful like it used to be years ago…’ I paused. ‘There’re still untouched places and the people who have survived are rebuilding, replanting and deactivating the mines. There’s even a radio station, culture being revived, music. But still fighting, everyone waiting for peace—’ I was struck by how weird it seemed: me telling them what Afghanistan was like when they were the Afghans.

  Just then Zack’s grandmother walked in. She was the spry sort of eighty-year-old who I could imagine bungee jumping for a last fling. She looked more Afghan than any of the others, yet when she spoke her accent sounded more Australian than mine. Her first comment confused me. ‘Did you come for The Cup?’

  ‘The Cup?’ I echoed her words as if their meaning would magically come to me.

  Blake helped me out. ‘It was going to be a surprise. This weekend is the camel races. We’re all going.’

  My eyes must have shone, and Blake held my gaze longer than usual as though what he saw there was special. ‘Thought you’d like that,’ was all he murmured, before he turned back to the old lady. ‘Nazzi, this is Jaime.’

  It’s an amazing feeling being introduced to a lady so old she must have the answers to life’s every question. The way she was looking at me gave me the odd sensation that she knew I was still struggling with some things. I ventured a question to deflect her searching eyes from seeing further than I could myself.

  ‘Do you remember the days when the camel drivers were here?’ I wanted to ask so much more: the days of exploring, the camel strings heading north taking mail and supplies, the men in the mosque—a way of life that seemed to be lost.

  ‘Of course. I grew up on a camel. My grandfather told me stories of Afghanistan. He was very strict. I couldn’t go out of the house once I was twelve and my marriage was arranged.’ Then she tipped her chin at Zack, as he lifted the can to his lips. ‘No beer either. Those days are gone now.’ And she sighed as though there were some things she would like to have kept. ‘People knew who they were then.’

  Zack’s mother cut in. ‘It doesn’t have to stay like that. We can write it down so the young ones know.’ Zack was growing restless and his grandmother put her hand over h
is on the table. ‘Zack here, he’s more Nunga than Afghan.’ I thought I understood what she was trying to put into words. It was the intermarriage that had changed everything. The first Afghans who came couldn’t bring their wives, so the old ways died after a few generations, their beliefs buried with them.

  The atmosphere in Zack’s house and what I’d seen in Nazzi’s ancient, perceptive eyes stayed with me long afterwards, so that I hardly said a thing on the way home. What made a person real inside? Nazzi called herself an Afghan-Australian. How did she keep that knowledge within herself when Zack didn’t show any signs of knowing?

  ‘A penny for them?’ Blake asked. Then he sighed softly. ‘My mum used to say that.’

  He didn’t say more about his mum, so I told him what I was thinking. ‘How much do you think a place influences who we are? I mean, you’re different in the city.’

  He shrugged. ‘Living in the city, apart from study, was like a break. Here there’s work—I want to be here in the Outback but, it’s just—’ He glanced at his side mirror.

  ‘You’d rather fly over it,’ I said, even though he was trying to say something else.

  ‘Yeah, I guess.’

  That afternoon I couldn’t find Kerra; I’d checked the stable, the chook house and the garden to see if she was hiding anywhere. I started when I heard her call me from the sky. I looked up and there she was on the platform under the slowly spinning windmill blades. I shut my mouth to stop myself calling out. Wasn’t that a dangerous place to be?

  ‘Come up, Jaime.’

  It took me a minute to decide to climb and when I neared the platform, she said, ‘Don’t stand up, Jaime, coz you’re taller than me and your head might get chopped off.’

  She had Sasha with her. Kerra held the cat fast until I got settled. Maybe because it was so tiny and young its middle seemed overly huge and I hoped it didn’t have its kittens on the windmill platform.

  ‘What are you doing up here?’ I asked.

  ‘Drawing the house.’