Black Angels???Red Blood

by Steven McCarthy

  With the number of hands available it took only one trip. Tim started collecting wood for a fire and the kids helped him. Cassandra and Brendan came strolling down arm in arm. “Looks like these two are set,” Shane remarked, meaning that Cassie looked happy. “They brung an ounce of pot with them too,” he added.

  Tim somehow knew that this would be a women’s night when Aunty May took control of the kupamurri. Sherry, Elaine and Marion were coming judging by the arrival of most of their children. All of their husbands were working so they would only hear about it. Talk about steamrolled, he thought, but he took much pleasure in it. The kids were running everywhere. Occasionally the smaller ones sought protection from the bigger ones by wrapping themselves around Shane and Tim’s legs. The women showed up. They didn’t drink and Tim hoped it didn’t bother them that they were. Elaine jokingly said, “Hey, blackfellas never brought that stuff to a kupamurri.”

  Shane quipped, “Wanna bet. It just never came in a brown bottle,” and they all laughed. It unsettled Tim a bit and he just sipped the remainder of his beer as he didn’t like getting drunk in front of the older women.

  He could hear the two four-wheel drives coming around the other way. The cars pulled up fifty metres away and the group joined the rest in a matter of minutes. Tim sought out Sylvia’s eyes after saying g’days all around. She came over and said hello. “This is a big surprise. What else have you got up your sleeve?” she said. Tim smiled and told her what was in the ground. Then he invited her to have some bush fruit.

  He noticed the women were looking at their movements and smiling at each other and them. He did a good job of ignoring it. Sylvia came back with a handful of assorted fruits and asked Tim what they were. Shane introduced everybody around, making a fuss of Cassie’s introduction. The women demanded that a fire be made so that they could have a cup of tea. Tim looked at Shane and mouthed “you”. In ten minutes he had a fire going with a lot of help from the million or so kids now present.

  “Do you have anything to drink?” Tim asked Sylvia.

  “I’ve, got two bottles of wine from the pub plus two glasses,” she said, catching Tim with a sideways glance. “But I’ll settle for tea right now.” She then moved to mingle with the others.

  Peter came over to say hello to Tim. “We haven’t been introduced properly.” They shook hands formally and began talking about the documentary. Tim jokingly produced an angle on the documentary with the scenario being desert, dying sheep, suicidal farmers and then finishing with Mroodies having a feast to show their adaptability and longevity with the land. When Tim saw that the director was taking him seriously, he played it to the hilt and gave him even more angles. The director finally said it was a story on its own and he would talk to his producers about it but said he would use some of it in his closing scene.

  Aunty May and Alfred came down to join the group and she issued instructions. Tim and Shane dug the kupamurri out and placed it on the ground and the women placed the food on the table while Tim and Shane removed the rocks and filled the hole back in. Within ten minutes everybody was eating. Towards the end of the meal Alfred came over and addressed Shane and asked him if he wanted to dance. Shane looked straight at Tim and said, “Yeah, we’ll dance.”

  They put their plates aside and went into the bush. Alfred rejoined the group half an hour later and called for their attention. He explained what the boys were going to do and what the songs and the dances meant.

  The old man started his song and began clapping two sticks. It was just before dark and the dancers emerged in a frenzy with the tribal rhythm of old. This dance was led by Shane who’d learnt it from his grandfather. It was about the min-min light. It teaches kids to stay within parents’ reach and out of the way of harm. The second dance was to say thanks to God and the Spirits. The third dance was a contemporary dance about the goanna and the crow who join forces to fight an evil man who is trying to steal children. Then Aunty May called the women up and they danced while Aunty May sang. Then everybody got up. The kids loved it. Alfred showed them some movements of the bush animals and Shane led them in a play dance.

  It had gotten dark by now and Aunty May asked the boys to take the table and everything back to her place. The kids helped and they only needed to make one trip. When they came back, the crew thanked everybody, and Aunty May, Alfred, Elaine, Marion and the kids left. Sherry stayed behind talking to everyone in general. Tim stoked the fire up and Shane came back from the car carrying an esky. Sylvia sat down next to Tim. “What a wonderful experience. You certainly don’t do things in half measures.”

  “It just happens like that. Soon as it started everyone wanted in. The dancing was a bonus,” he replied.

  “I feel like a glass of wine.”

  Before Sylvia could move, Tim had gotten to his feet. “I’ll get it.” He returned and poured two glasses. They clinked glasses and saluted.

  Sylvia added, “To a wonderful evening.” After she had a mouthful she said, “Peter’s been telling me about what you said and he really likes it.”

  “I was only joking at first,” Tim replied.

  “We’re going to use it in closing. Is that alright?” she asked.

  “Sure. It’s alright.”

  Tim noticed a couple of joints being lit and pulled a two-papery out of his tobacco pouch and lit it. “You don’t smoke, hey?” he asked.

  “No,” she replied. “Where is your shack, Tim?”

  “It’s about ten minutes in that direction.”

  “Would you like to go for a walk, Sylvia?” Tim asked

  “It’s a great night for it,” she said and they both stood up. Sylvia went to get the second bottle, leaving Tim standing conspicuously by himself for a few seconds. He didn’t want to look at the others’ faces because he knew exactly what they were thinking.

  The night sky was bright but it took a little while for their eyes to get accustomed to the dark. He felt her arm sliding into his. “It’s a little bit dark out here.”

  “It’ll be okay. It’s fairly flat,” Tim said. He pointed at the landmarks which weren’t visible and told her stories about them. Then he said, “See that little light over there?”

  “Oh, yes.”

  “That’s my place.”

  “Let’s go. I’d like to see it,” she said.

  “There’s nothing in it really and it’s put together very roughly,” he explained, “nothing like the comfort you would be used to.”

  “What’s the big hole in the wall for?” she asked, after Tim showed her his “Humble Abode”.

  “I lie down and watch the stars at night,” he answered. Once inside she went to the bed to see what sort of view Tim got. Tim poured two more glasses and took them into his bedroom. “It is a good view. Food, dancing, wine and then lay down and let the stars put you to sleep.”

  “Mind you, the stars are a bit second rate at the moment,” Tim said from the foot of the bed while looking at Sylvia bathed in light from the night sky. She returned his look and sat up and they kissed gently. They removed their clothes and made love. Tim rolled a cigarette and finished his glass of wine. He knew Sylvia was studying him and looked intently at the stars.

  “You’re not the run of the mill, are you?” Sylvia asked and stated at the same time. “I see a few battle scars Tim. Old uncle reckons you’re a bit more than a featherfoot. I couldn’t quite get what he was trying to say.”

  Tim thought for a while and then said, “Let me tell you a story. I was training hard and I was at a peak both physically and spiritually. I was having a quiet time on the river thinking about my God and my Aboriginality—because I’d studied the Bible and believed in Jesus and wondered where we, as Aborigines, fitted in.”

  He took a drag on the cigarette and continued. “That night I had a dream. I wasn’t aware of what was being said and at the end of the dream I heard a voice say, ‘Aren’t you going to kiss your father goodbye?’ Then the dream opened up and I saw an old black man dressed like a stockman wit
h about twenty other men who were like him.”

  “You have to tell me more than that. Who do you say it was in the dream?”

  “It was my father. My creator, the Lord of the Dream time. He was visiting two old men up in the Centre about my initiation.”

  Tim was just about to go on when he heard, “Tim, hey Mroody.”

  “That’s Shane,” Tim said to a startled Sylvia.

  Tim put his jeans on and went to see Shane. He returned a couple of minutes later. “He wanted my swag.”

  “I see him and Wendy are getting along fine,” Sylvia said as Tim came back to bed. Sylvia was getting sleepy. She cuddled up to Tim and said something about the bed being so comfortable, and then she nodded off.

  Tim fell into a light sleep, waking occasionally through the night. In the morning he lay awake waiting for Sylvia to wake up. She had him in a bear hug. Eventually she stirred and popped her head up to reacquaint herself with her surroundings. Tim hoped she didn’t realise it looked better in the dark. A couple more hours and she’ll be gone, Tim thought.

  “Come here,” she said, pulling him close and stroking him. They were gentle with each other and they made love passionately until neither of them could control themselves anymore.

  They lay back to recover. After a few minutes, Tim asked, “If ever I went to Sydney, would you see me again?”

  She popped up and said, “Come and visit me and find out.”

  “Truly?” he said. “The beautiful black actress and the Mroody from the bush.”

  “I think you’re a bit more than a Mroody from the bush,” she offered.

  “That makes me feel good. I’ll be in Sydney before you guys,” he joked. She laughed with him.

  “I’ll make a cup of tea,” Tim said and hopped out of bed.

  “What time is it, Tim?”

  “Around seven.”

  She got up and got dressed.

  “You look a little out of place, here,” Tim said, meaning it as a compliment.

  “Now, now, Tim,” she said calmly, knowing what he was going to say.

  “Have you got time for breakfast?”

  “Yes. I want to see if you can cook.”

  Tim had heated some water for her to wash in. Then she asked the dreaded question. “Where’s your loo?”

  “Next to the shower outside.” No matter what he did, he couldn’t get the smell out of the thunderbox, which is not unusual.

  He made some milk and put cereal on the table and when she came back he was ready to cook. “What did you think of the thunderbox?” he asked, wanting to offset the tension he was feeling by talking about it.

  She laughed. “A thunderbox is a thunderbox, Tim.”

  “By the way, how’s Louise?” Tim asked.

  “She’s recovering slowly. Out of hospital and on crutches. She’s tough, she’ll survive,” Sylvia replied.

  “Did she tell you what happened?”

  “Yes. She jumped out the window in sheer panic.”

  “It’s just a bit hard to believe. Jumping out the window and all.” Tim said.

  “Enough said. Let’s have some food.”

  He put some frozen bacon in the pan and mixed some eggs and milk. She had some cereal and Tim wished he had some fruit. He rummaged through the fridge and pulled out a litre of apple juice and put that on the table.

  He prepared bacon, scrambled eggs and toast for two, made a fresh pot of tea and they sat down to eat.

  “My kitchen is looking for someone like you,” Sylvia said when she had finished.

  “That’s nothing.” Tim said.

  “I wasn’t joking about my kitchen either, but if you leave it too long, I’ll think you’ve changed direction. Apart from that, it’s up to you.” Sylvia met Tim’s lingering look.

  They said their proper goodbye in the kitchen before Tim walked her back to where the rest of the crew were camping. He pulled her up a hundred metres from the camp. “I don’t think I’ll go down.”

  “A bit shy, are you?”

  He kissed her passionately and said, “I will be coming to Sydney after I’ve finished my business.”

  “See you then.”

  He watched her walk for a while and she turned, waved and then disappeared behind the treeline.

  CHAPTER FIFTEEN

  NOT WITHOUT A STRUGGLE

  On the way back, Tim got his brain into overdrive and thought about some as yet uncompleted work. Shane ambled through the door with a loosely rolled swag, looking shagged out. “Good night, hey, Tim.”

  “One of the best,” he replied.

  Shane washed in the basin. Tim asked, “Have they gone yet?”

  “They just left. Sylvia had a bit of a glow and I can see you’re no different,” Shane said, smiling at Tim.

  “How did you get along with Wendy?”

  “We went soaring, mate. She’s definitely no scrub turkey. Here, roll a joint.” Shane threw Tim a bag. Tim was reluctant, knowing that dope changed his thoughts a little. He rolled one anyway and shared it with Shane.

  Cassandra and Brendan drove up and said hello. Tim made more tea and got a couple of chairs from the kitchen.

  Tim couldn’t figure out why he was so stoned but the guitar sounded great as he and Shane jazzed up some old country and western while drinking tea. After they had finished mucking around, Tim told them of his plans. “I’ll be going up to the Centre soon,” he said.

  “She hasn’t got you by the short and curlies then,” Shane quipped.

  “She’s really lovely but … my business,” Tim said, looking out into the distance.

  “Be a long ride,” Shane said, then added, “When are you going?”

  “A couple of weeks.”

  They talked, laughed and ran over old times for an hour or so before Brendan and Cassandra got up to leave.

  “We’re going back in a couple of weeks too,” Cassandra said.

  “Me too,” Shane joined in. “I’m going to have a look at Sydney.”

  “You won’t like it,” Cassandra said abruptly.

  “Doesn’t matter.”

  “Yeah, I know why it doesn’t matter,” Tim said, having a go at Shane.

  “You’re worse than me,” Shane retorted.

  “Well, there’s heaps of room, Shane,” Cassandra said.

  They left Tim by himself and he was pleased to be alone to do a lot of thinking and planning. He cleaned up the kitchen and walked into the bush to water his plants. “A week and a half and you’ll be coming out,” he said to them. On the way back he had a swim, and then changed into some neater clothes to go to town. He went past Aunty May’s. It was after lunch and Shane was sitting outside in the shade with a beer.

  “I’ve never seen you with sunglasses on out here,” Shane said.

  “It’s only a prop. Got anymore beers?” Tim asked.

  “Yeah.”

  “Where is everybody?”

  “They’ve gone to Bourke to do some shopping. They’ll be back tomorrow,” Shane replied.

  “I feel sad about leaving this place so I’m gonna get on the piss. Wanna come?” Tim asked.

  “Yeah, bit boring drinking by yourself.”

  Shane stopped at the pub while Tim went to the shop-cum-post office-cum-bank to get some cash. He told the shopkeeper he was leaving and she remarked how nice it was having him around. He headed back to the pub and started with a schooner. Caroline gave her usual bright hello. Tim ordered a packet of chips and cigarettes. Shane was in a jovial mood, chatting to the regulars, when Caroline slipped in with, “So.” Tim looked surprised. “You don’t have to say anything, I already know.”

  “Did Shane tell you I’m leaving in a couple of weeks?”

  “Really, where are you going?” she asked.

  “Up to have a look at the Centre,” he answered.

  Shane and Tim were throwing the beers down and starting to get drunk. They grabbed a couple of stubbies and walked to the closest part of the river and had a joint. When they got back to
the pub, it was obvious to Caroline what had gone on. They were a bit quieter and trying not to look drunk and stoned. An old HD Holden pulled up out front and Hank and a friend he later introduced as Toby walked in.

  Hank didn’t waste time and told them his cousin didn’t walk out of the Bourke jail alive. They threw in for a carton and went back to Tim’s. Hank relayed the rest of the story and said the funeral was on Monday. They sang sad songs, funny songs, got angry then sad again. Then they blessed his cousin’s spirit and went to sleep. Next morning they got ready to go to Bourke.

  They went to Hank’s cousin’s place and paid their respects. They then went to Shane’s cousin’s house and put their gear in the shed out back. Neither of them felt like drinking but they went to the pub anyway. Tim sipped on a beer as Shane went around the pub saying g’day to all his people, some of which he brought back to introduce. One in particular gave Tim graphic details of the young man’s death and left no doubt that it wasn’t an accidental death. He then described the coppers involved.

  Tim watched TV all day Sunday while Shane went to visit his aunties and cousins.

  The funeral on Monday was sombre and Tim wanted to cry with everybody else when he saw the grief on the face of the young man’s mother. They didn’t go to the wake and went back home with Cassandra, Brendan and Aunty May.

  When they arrived home, they dropped Aunty May at Alfred’s place and she told them she would walk home to get rid of the car stiffness. The rest of them went to Tim’s for a cup of tea and a joint. They left him alone an hour or so later and then he remembered he hadn’t said goodbye to Caroline. He walked out to the front, looked in the direction of Sydney and said out loud, “Goodbye, Caroline, look after yourself,” then went and lay down for a rest.

  He didn’t feel much like eating when he woke so he just made a cold meat sandwich and a cup of tea, then went to the river to shrug off the blues of the last few days. He started thinking about Sylvia. Soon he felt his normal rhythm returning.

  Tuesday, Tim thought, as he woke and ran his mind over things he had to do. He had breakfast, washed and then went into town. He checked the shelves at the shop and got some jam. He overheard a middle-aged man he recognised as an out-of-town cockie saying, “The black bastards think they can claim our land.” Tim stood stock still and he heard Mrs Bowrie say in return, “It was theirs in the first place. Surely they’re allowed some of it back.”