Mazin Grace

by Dylan Coleman

  At first, I didn’t want to go ’cause it was real early in the mornin’ and there was ice on the grass and I was only a minya wunyi and I knew my toes and murra mooga were gonna be freezin’ but I knew we could be eatin’ a nice stew or soup for tea. So off I went.

  When I got there I was real shy and waited until they asked me what I wanted.

  ‘I want some burru,’ I say to the Nyunga workers.

  If it was whitefellas cuttin’ up the meat I’d be usin’ manners. ‘Can I ’ave some meat, please,’ I’d say. Like I bin taught to do ’round walbiya mooga and to wongan to them proper-way in English, ’cause sometimes Mission mob growl us if they ’ear us talkin’ Nyunga wonga. But ’cause it’s our own mob I can talk how I wanna.

  They try to give me horrible pieces from inside the nyarni but rememberin’ what Ada told me, and worried she growl me, I shake my gugga and point to the leg part like she showed me.

  ‘I want that meat there,’ I say quiet-way with my guru mooga lookin’ at the munda.

  They laugh at me then, like I’m an idiot and I just wanna run all the way ’ome and hide under our bed, for shame.

  ‘I’m sure you’d like that piece, but you can’t ’ave it. That’s for the Superintendent and ’is family,’ they say, still laughin’.

  Then they take the money Ada give me and hand me the fatty ribs.

  Ada real moogada when I come ’ome with the ‘shit burru’, but I tell ’er what happen and she just shake ’er ’ead. Whether at me or them Nyunga mooga butchers, or the walbiya mooga, I don’t know. But it wasn’t my fault.

  They really think they high almighty, walbiya mob. Like they own us or somethin’. Our Old People would ’ave somethin’ to say to them, ’specially Granny Charlie.

  ‘Nah. Don’t worry we already got someone comin’ to see my leg,’ I call out to Sister as she walkin’ outa our bedroom with Mumma and Ada.

  Ada turn and give me moogada look that say, ‘Grace, shut up, and don’t be so cheeky.’

  Mumma frown at me and lead Sister into the kitchen talkin’ ’bout appointment with Doctor and things like that so Sister don’t take notice of what I just said.

  When Jumoo come to see me I’m real pleased ’cause I bin in bed for long time not even able to walk to go to the goomboo-wally unless Ada or Mumma ’elp me. My jinna in pain all the time now and I’m sure there’s a mumoo in there and I want ’im to take it out straight ’way. The sooner it’s out the better, ’cause all the grown-ups bin growlin’ me.

  ‘See, you wanna run ’round where you shouldn’t be, ’round dangerous places, ’round campfires, course you gonna tread on mumoo,’ they tell me. ‘Goojarb, you got nobody to blame but yourself, Grace.’

  I feel real shame and real guilty. Must be my fault I got mumoo in my leg for not listenin’ to the grown-ups and runnin’ round everywhere. I must be real naughty girl that’s brought lotta shame on myself and my family. After a while I don’t fight the pain, I just let it take over me. Maybe I deserve it, I tell myself.

  When Jumoo come, he standin’ there in the doorway lookin’ round our bedroom. I wonder what he lookin’ at. Nunkerie can see lotta things we can’t, he can see inside someone, just like God and Jesus. He can see the sickness inside and with ’is murra he can take that sickness outa a person’s body. He’s a real special man. When he come over to the bed I can see Jumoo got a beautiful glow ’round ’im. ’Is guru mooga shine like the reflection on the water at night and like the stars in the sky. He put ’is murra on my head and feel my ngulya. Then he move ’is murra up and down my leg to feel for mumoo. ’Is guru mooga go real close together like he tryin’ to see inside my jinna. Can he see a mumoo? Is it the same one that jumps into Old Rod’s car when we cross over the railway line? Maybe this time that mumoo jumped into me.

  ‘No. No mumoo ’ere,’ he say as if he ’eard the question I was just askin’ in my gugga. ‘I can’t fix this. This not Nyunga gu minga, this walbiya gu minga. You got to go to walbiya doctor to fix this one,’ he tell us.

  I’m real pleased I ’aven’t got mumoo inside but worried at the same time. Walbiya gu minga must be real bad if Jumoo can’t fix it. And how come I got it anyway if it belong to walbiya? Maybe Old Rod gave it to me? Or one of the walbiya Mission mob. Superintendent, most probably, he look like he would carry walbiya gu minga inside ’im the way he go round frownin’ all the time. He can ’ave it back, I don’t want it. How doctor gonna fix me? I start to worry then. Mumma and Ada look real worried too, ’specially later when Doctor tell ’em I gotta go on plane to Adelaide and it’s so far away it’s gonna take over one whole hour. Papa Neddy’s not very ’appy that I ’ave to go away but he reckon I’m gonna be fine ’cause I got the Good Lord lookin’ out for me. I better stop bein’ so cheeky and start prayin’ again, I s’pose.

  10

  Healin’ jinna minga

  Before I go to Adelaide, Sister check my ’air for gooloo in the Mission ’ospital, Superintendent standin’ next to ’er. Sister pushes my gugga sideways real rough-way and start scratchin’ round the back of my gugga uru. After a while she look up at Superintendent, ’er mouth open like she seen guldi or somethin’.

  ‘This child has no head lice,’ she tells ’im.

  Superintendent’s guru mooga open up wide-way, like he can’t believe what she just said.

  I shrug my shoulders and think, your gugga would ’ave no gooloo too, if Ada tipped stinkin’ kerosene over it every time she seen you scratchin’. It stings like bloody hell too. Sometimes I’m sure them gooloo all long-dead and I’m only scratchin’ cause that stinkin’ stuff make my gugga itchy but she tip it on anyway, just in case. And when she’s not doin’ that she’s holdin’ us down, pullin’ out the dead gooloo, slappin’ us if we move. Sometimes the aunties do it too.

  Lookin’ round the old Mission ’ospital ward I shiver, lotta bad memories here when I was minya wunyi gettin’ sick with high temperature, fever and everythin’, all the time. Lyin’ on the bed there by the window’s the worst place of all, ’cause I nyindi the minya room where they put the dead people is just outside the window. I awake at night in the ’ospital bed, guru mooga wide open in the dark, sure I hear guldi breathin’ real heavy-way in the empty bed next to me. Then I squeeze my guru mooga shut tight-way, frightened I might see somethin’. I hate this ’ospital so much, and I hate bein’ sick.

  Like that time I was ’ome with a fever. Ada goes out and see if she can find me somethin’ to eat ’cause we got no mai at ’ome. Minya while later she come back with piece of bread and I cheeky-way throw it on the munda ’cause I’m too sick to eat and she tryin’ to force me. Then Molly come in the room, goona stirrin’. I’m so moogada with ’er ’cause I just wanna be left alone but she keep goin’ on and on. That’s when I grab a penny near the bed and throw it real ’ard at ’er. It hit ’er right on the lip and bounce off, then she start squealin’ like a minya biggy ngunchu and even though I feel as sick as a booba, I ’ave a chuckle behind my murra at her. I got big smile on my face, and I feel better then, ’cause I got ’er a good one, and I know she’ll leave me ’lone to ’ave some rest now.

  That Mission ’ospital’s not so bad when Dr Dewer’s there though. She’s real nice doctor who take my appendix out one time and treat me real special-way. Sister bin put that stinkin’ thing on my mulya and asked if I could count to ten. I thought she’s stupid, course I can count to ten. But when I wake up I think I didn’t count to ten, now she’ll think I’m a baby and can’t count. Then I feel the pain and forget about Sister. ’Nother pain this time, not like the djuda minga I had before, this one’s different. I felt my djuda and there’s a big sticky plaster on it and that’s where the pain was coming from. Anyone who came to see me wanted to have a look at my djuda. Must’ve bin the most popular djuda in the whole world. Even after the plaster came off, everyone wanted to see my scar. I’m still real pleased to
show it off when anyone asks ’bout it. I hope the doctors in Adelaide are nice like Dr Dewer.

  I never bin on plane before so I’m real ngulu when Superintendent take me to the airport. When Papa see the big planes in the sky, he shake ’is gugga and say if we were meant to fly the Good Lord would’ve given us wings like wultja mooga. That’s the eagle hawks that fly ’round our rockholes, lookin’ out for ’em. I’m thinkin’ what if the plane crashes to the munda or into the wanna and I die. But once I’m on the plane and the nice plane ladies there lookin’ after me, I feel all right, ’cause they talkin’ real nice to me and spoilin’ me with pencils and colourin’ book, givin’ me drink and mai, makin’ me feel real special.

  When I get to the Children’s ’Ospital in Adelaide, though, I don’t like it. Everythin’ smells funny-way, and everyone’s wah looks real serious and they talk like the walbiya mooga on the Mission boonri boonri-way and sometimes real rude, not like Mumma’s nice voice. My bed’s real hard with cold, scratchy white sheets, no hidin’ if I goomboo. I wonder if nurses will growl me when I wet the bed and make more work for ’em. All these years I’ve bin hidin’ from welfare, sly-way trickin’ that fat old cow Sister McFlarety and now ’ospital mob got me, takin’ me long-way ’way from my family. I’m wonderin’ if they ever let me go ’ome.

  Lyin’ down on the bed, I put my face into my pillow and start cryin’, quiet-way. I miss snugglin’ up to Eva and my minya sisters in our big old bed on the Mission, our warm bodies squashed up close. I even miss their smell, I never knew they smelt so good, ’til now. When I’m with them there in our bed, I feel so safe. But everythin’ ’ere’s different. I feel scared and I don’t feel safe either.

  They bring me nice mai but at first I don’t wanna eat ’cause I can’t stop thinkin’ of ’ome. But then a nice doctor come in and tell me I ’ave to eat to get better, and the sooner I get better the sooner I can go ’ome. So I eat like real djudayulbi after that, like a minya biggy ngunchu. Dr Taylor’s my doctor’s name and I’m real ’appy he’s a sweet old tjilbi, real nice like Dr Dewer. He tells me my leg’s minga with ost-eo-mye-lit-is, that’s a big word that means infection in the bone. When I ’ear that name I know Jumoo was right, that I got walbiya gu minga, ’cause we got no word for sickness like that in our language. They put plaster under half my leg and wrap bandage ’round it so I can’t walk on it, I just lie or sit there in bed all the time. The minga in my leg moves up and down, I can feel it from the pain. Pain’s there all the time. They give me lotta medicine they call penicillin to try to help fix it but it’ll take long time to get better, Dr Taylor says.

  Even though I’m real bored all the time, after a while I get used to the ’ospital. I work out which nurses the nice ones and which ones are grumpy. The nice ones smile when I goomboo in bed and wash me and put clean bultha on me and change my sheets. The grumpy ones just act real grumpy. I’m in Suzanne Ward, the red pyjamas ward, there’s lotsa nice kids in ’ere but there’s this one ugly, cheeky boy same age as me, seven, and I don’t like ’im at all.

  ‘How many sisters and brothers you got?’ bully boy asks me one day.

  I start countin’ on my fingers, Uncle Murdi’s kids, Uncle Jerry’s, Aunty Essie’s . . .

  ‘Twenty-somethin’,’ I say ’cause I’m sure I might’ve missed out a few.

  ‘You are such a big fat liar,’ he yells real loud-way at me.

  ‘No I’m not. True God, that’s ’ow many I got.’

  ‘You can’t ’ave that many sisters and brothers. I never heard such a big lie in my whole life,’ he growls me.

  I feel real shame ’im yellin’ out loud-way that I’m a liar like that. I do ’ave that many sisters and brothers. How would he know anyway? Joobardi city kid. I want to jump outa bed and flog ’im but my leg’s in plaster so instead I just put my ’ead into my pillow and don’t talk to ’im for long time.

  One day, I get real excited when I find out I ’ave minya relation stayin’ in Duncan Ward next door, with the same jinna minga as me. ’Er name’s Terry and she’s the sweetest minya wunyi with curly hair that bounces when she shuffles along. But sometimes she real nuisance and the nurses growl ’er and tell ’er to go back to ’er ward. She has plaster all the way up ’er leg with a minya ’ole cut in it for a sore on ’er leg to get better. Nurses always growlin’ ’er to stop pickin’ at it but she just can’t stop ’erself.

  ‘You shouldn’t pick it, Terry,’ I tell ’er like I would my own minya sister. ‘It gotta get better. If you pick, it won’t get better, you know.’

  She always smile at me and laugh. When she come to visit, she like fresh air blowin’ over me from the wanna, reminds me of ’ome. Sometimes we talk ’bout how much we miss our family and all the deadly things we remember back ’ome. Other than Mumma and Ada, the one I miss most is Uncle Murdi with ’is guitar and our singin’. I lie there thinkin’ of ’im sittin’ on ’is bed next to Lil-Lil, Eva, Sarah, Polly and Joshy, strummin’ ’is guitar and ’im and me singin’ together, ’im with ’is deep munyadi and me with high minya munyadi we singin’ the old country and western songs. That’s when I go off to that special place that make me feel so good. I really miss that most of all.

  On special days, when the sun’s shinin’ real bright, Nurse Traeger take me outside in a wheel chair. If I’m real lucky she take me down the Torrens River that looks so pretty with all the colours, all the brightest greens. I never seen colour like that before in trees and plants, so different from ’ome where the paddocks out the back of the Mission look like tjilbi with gugga bunda, the bald head of an old man, and the colours of the mallee trees and saltbush, dusty green, grey and light brown.

  Sometimes, I get a visit from an old walbiya man who works in the ’ospital doin’ odd jobs. He collects all ’is pennies and brings them to me in a minya bag. He doesn’t say much, but he’s real nice to me. And the Salvation Army ladies in their uniforms come ’round and give me colourin’ books and pencils and even comics, magazines and story books sometimes. And teachers come and visit me in ’ospital too. They give me lessons, English, Spelling and Arithmetic and leave me lotsa ’omework. I finish everything real quick-way ’cause I got nothin’ else to do but sit in my ’ospital bed. I learn to read real deadly-way with Noddy books. He a funny little man whose gugga nods all the time and ’is best friend Big Ears. He called Big Ears ’cause he got yuree manardu. After I get tired of the Noddy books, I start to read other book by Enid Blyton and books without pictures that are more grown-up than Noddy. I can read and write real well now. Teacher Peabody’s going to get a big surprise when I go ’ome.

  Time’s going by real fast, lots and lots of months go by, and I feel like I’ve been in the Children’s ’Ospital forever. Not many people come to visit me, though, and I don’t even think of my family much any more. I’ve even stopped worryin’ about when my leg will get better so I can go ’ome. People who were strangers, like the old handy man and Teacher and the Salvation Army ladies are the ones I now look forward to visiting me, and Terry too of course, who I see at different times, but sometimes with big gaps in between.

  One day my bed is moved inside the big ward and I’m put in a special room. Everybody has to put on these white face masks, gowns and gloves. I haven’t had any visitors for a long time. No Salvation Army lady or Teacher, nobody, only nurses with wada mooga on their wah and white gloves on their murra mooga. I feelin’ sick, hot and my eyes hurt when the big lights on in that minya room. When I notice red rashy things on my body I asked one of the nice nurses, ‘Why am I in this little room all by myself and what’s these minya spots on me?’

  ‘You have measles,’ the nice nurse said, smilin’ at me sorry-way, ‘and you’re locked away for a little while so the other kids won’t catch it from you. That’s why we are wearing these.’ She holds ’er murra mooga up to me then.

  I lie back in bed quiet-way and wait for the itchy red rashes to go a
way. Then after a while I get wheeled back into my room again. I’m even happy to see that bully boy again. My bed’s outside on the balcony. It has sides on it like a cot but the nurses can pull them up and down when they want to.

  Sometimes my jinna hurts and when they bring nice mai, I can’t eat it because I feel too sick but them nurse mooga sit there and make me eat. They tell me I’m too skinny and gotta put on more weight and nice food will ’elp my jinna get better. My best mai’s in the mornin’ before dinner time when they give me nice drink with green leaf in it and apple and cheese. I really like that.

  Walbiya visitors come into the ward not long after I come out of that minya room. I’m thinkin’ ‘what big sooks’, what they cryin’ for. Then when they go ’way, I see a minya stretcher being carried out by fellas who work there and it’s got a sheet coverin’ it. What’re they carryin’? I wonder.

  Not long after, I get a visit from my Burns Aunties, Vera, Bertha and Janet. They all live on the Mission but go away sometimes to work. When I see them walk through the door I’m so ’appy, it’s like bein’ back ’ome again. I feel really good inside knowing that they came all the way from ’ome to see me. They look real pretty too, like the movie stars I’ve been lookin’ at in the magazines, with their lipstick and deadly clothes and high-heel shoes and the nicest ’ats on their ’eads.

  ‘Oh, you weena mooga look real yudoo. Real pretty bultha too?’ I say, touchin’ the soft material on Aunty Vera’s dress.

  They laugh and give me hugs and kisses and tell me all ’bout what’s happenin’ at ’ome. They make me feel real proud that I’ve got such pretty, flash aunties who care about me.

  Then one day, Old Rod comes to visit me too and even though he brings the biggest bananas I’ve ever seen in my life, and even though I’m real pleased to see ’im, I don’t feel so comfortable with ’im, not like I do with my aunties. And I’ve still got that memory in my head of when I saw ’im last, growlin’ Ada when she was real upset when we walked all the way to the farm in the dark. It sticks in my head like a prickle.