Mazin Grace

by Dylan Coleman

  Lotta us Mission mob come outa our houses and talk quiet-way to each other. There’s lotta whisperin’, shufflin’ of feet and askin’ questions. ‘Who that mob?’, ‘Why they bringin’ ’em here?’ It’s real strange to see our grown-ups lookin’ all worried and nervous, makes me think of all them scary stories I hear about tribal mob. Even though some things are the same, they different from us Mission mob. They look different, more wild, they only talk their language, and they do things like the real Old People. They must know lotta things like the Old People too, like Nyunga magic. Pastor talks about them old tribal ways like they hand in hand with the devil. And thinkin’ about that makes ’em more scary. I’m too ngulu to go near ’em, lot of us on the Mission are too ngulu to go near ’em, even some of the Camp mob that stay just on the edge of the Mission in wuthoo mooga and tin sheds. Sometimes Pastor goes out and gives them devotion and reads his Bible.

  Camp mob are same as us Mission mob but different too, it’s like they wanna stay by ’emselves with nobody to bother ’em.Welfare still goes snoopin’ ’round Camp mob and takes their kids just the same. Some Camp mob stay because their kids are in the ’Ome and they wanna be near ’em. But them tribal mob that Superintendent bring ’ere, they’re real different from the Camp mob too, they can get their mai from the bush like the Old People. So why they here? What country they from?

  ‘Look out,’ Molly whisper in my yuree as I peekin’ out the window at tribal mob walkin’ past. ‘You better not leave any gugga uru in your deadly new ’airbrush or old Nyunga might sing you for ’is wife.’

  I punch ’er in the arm and tell ’er to stop lying. But we always careful not to leave our hair lyin’ round, ’cause we know that if Nyunga get hold of it and use magic, he can make us want to be with ’im even if we think he’s real ugly. That’s how strong Nyunga magic is. So, when Molly say that to me, I ngulu-way go inside and get all my hair outa my brush and chuck it in the fire ’til it shrivels up and disappears. No old Nyunga gonna sing me for ’is wife.

  Soon after, I find out that some of them tribal mob are related to us on Papa Neddy’s side, they Kokatha mob, and sometimes they come and sit ’round the fire with ’im talkin’ in language. Then I ask Papa Neddy why tribal mob have been brought to the Mission. He says the government mob dropped big bomb on their country and Superintendent drove out to pick ’em up before they all jinga. I reckon that government mob’s real bloody idiots. Why they wanna go do a stupid thing like that?

  After that, I make good friends with one minya tribal girl called Ooji. She lives in the Children’s ’Ome with all the other kids Superintendent brought to the Mission. I feel real sorry for ’em locked up there away from their parents, ’specially one day when Superintendent takes away all their grown-up family somewhere and I hear some grown-ups talkin’ about Tallawan and Ooldea. That horrible day for Ooji and them other kids in the ’Ome. They all go joobardi, screamin’ and cryin’ for their family leavin’ on the truck. I would too if my family bein’ taken away. Mission mob doin’ to these grown-ups what welfare mob did to some kids, stealin’ ’em away. The poor kids locked up in the ’Ome at night might never see their family again.

  ‘Why Superintendent takin’ ’em away?’ I ask Ooji.

  She just shake her gugga, cryin’.

  I put my arm ’round her then. ‘You’ll be right, Ooji. I look out for you,’ I tell ’er.

  But I know nothin’ I say is gonna make her feel better. How could it?

  Later, I ask Mumma why they do that to Ooji and her family. Mumma put her ’ead down sorry-way. ‘Walbiya got funny ways, Grace, real funny ways. Ooji just lucky she gotta friend like you.’

  Ooji’s a good friend to me too but some of them tribal kids treat me real mean. They make my life hell more than ever before with their teasin’ ’cause now them as well as the others make it double the teasin’. The new kids swear at me in their Pitjantjatjara wonga, using really filthy names and sometimes I feel real miserable, ’cause there’s nowhere to hide or get away from ’em. It makes me feel further away from everyone and confused inside. Sometimes it hurts so much I feel real numb and empty. Sometimes Ooji growls ’em in their wonga but they don’t listen.

  After a while I get real sick of the teasin’ so when I hear ’em sniggerin’ at me, I look over the top of my book and throw my cheeky look at them with my guru mooga, then they get real wild. Sometimes they stick their finger up at me and in a high voice say, ‘Boi, walaba goona muroo.’ That means, you think you’re just it don’t you, but you’re just a white woman with a black arse.

  ‘You just smart ’cause you got stinkin’ whitefella kid blood in you,’ is the new sayin’.

  ‘What? You don’t think Nyunga mooga are smart or what? You think stupid?’ I ask ’em, rememberin’ what Mumma Jenna told me when we were campin’ at Denial Bay. ‘Don’t go puttin’ yourself down like that.’

  One boy, Tjoobin, he’s the worst, teasin’ me all the time. One day at school when Headmaster asks me to hold the door open for everyone to go inside, I real proud-way reach for the door but Tjoobin pushes past me and yanks the door open ’imself, nearly knockin’ me over. I’m so moogada with ’im, I push ’im back. He hits me and I start punchin’ into ’im. We’re havin’ a big fight right there in front of all the kids and Headmaster but I’m so moogada I don’t even care and I give him a good floggin’. Headmaster’s yellin’ at us to stop and runs over and pulls us apart.

  When we goin’ into the classroom, Ooji grabs my murra and squeezes it. ‘Bulya,’ she whispers and flashes a smilin’ look at me.

  I know that means ‘good’ in her language. I know she’s glad I stuck up for myself.

  Tjoobin doesn’t bother me much after that.

  12

  Riddle solved

  One evening, out of the blue, not long after my fifth minya sister Maddy is born, Old Rod turns up at the Mission in his FJ Holden to pick up Eva and me to take us to the farm. Mumma invites him inside. He wants to look at my jinna and see how it’s goin’. He squats down and runs ’is fingers soft-way along the pink scar from when the doctor scraped out the walbiya gu minga from inside my bone and even though I don’t limp any more, he asks if it still hurts.

  I shake my head. I feel safe with Old Rod lookin’ at my leg like that, not like that welfare man who came to pick me up from the airport. I don’t think he was interested if my leg was hurtin’ or not. Old Rod can be a bit grumpy at times but I reckon he cares about us and does a lot of things to help us too.

  He goes into our room with Ada, then closes the door and us kids aren’t allowed to go in there. I don’t know what they’re talkin’ ’bout, it must be a secret. We just sit outside waitin’, then after a while he comes out, and tells Eva and me to get some clothes and come out to the car.

  Mumma waves to us from the front of our cottage as Old Rod opens the car door so we can jump in the front. Eva and me are real excited that he’s takin’ just us two, Ada isn’t even comin’. We feel real special. Old Rod jumps in the car then too, starts it up, switches on the headlights, ’cause the sun’s just gone down, and we take off out of the Mission. It feels so good.

  When we pull out onto the main road, Old Rod’s talkin’ about it bein’ a bumper year for his crops ’cause of a special wheat some government mob are gettin’ ’im to try out and it’s growin’ much faster than the other one he uses. He says he likes tryin’ out new things to make the crops give ’im more grain, make the pigs fatter, and the sheep and cattle get more meat on them, and that he’s even brought bigger animals from Adelaide to mix with his animals, to do that. That’s probably why he’s won all those prizes at the show.

  Lookin’ at ’im talkin’ away there, he looks real sure of ’imself. Like he’s an important man, the way he moves ’is strong murra mooga in the air when he’s talkin’, then puts them back on the steering wheel and sits there real tall and proud
-way. And he seems to know a lotta people too, not jus’ ’round where we live but in the city. He’s always travellin’ over there to do ’is business. And a lotta people seem to know him as well.

  Once I saw him and Mrs Williams at a dance with all these people in the Charra Hall. I was standin’ outside with Aunty Mim and Aunty Dorrie. Mrs Williams was real pretty and from her smile I knew she was a kind lady. Nyunga mooga can tell straight ’way, things like that ’bout a person. She was wearin’ a nice flowery dress with lace on the collar. Her light colour ’air was tied up in a bun at the back of ’er gugga. Under the light, she looked like she was shinin’. Old Rod was playin’ his button accordion and she was on the piano. They looked real happy, dressed real flash-way up there, playin’ their music together while everyone danced. It was deadly music too.

  Aunty Mim, who’s now mudgie mudgie with Old Rod’s son, Dave, told me that she heard that Old Rod argued with the big boonri mooga in Adelaide to get the telephone here. Just imagine that, the government draggin’ them wires and poles all that way, just ’cause Old Rod told ’em we needed it. And another thing Aunty Mim told me was that Old Rod’s the big boss when fire breaks out anywhere ’round the place. He gets all the farmers together and they put the fires out. He must be a pretty big important, clever man. So why does he want to hang ’round Nyunga mooga like us? I still can’t make ’im out. I use to look at ’im as a riddle but he’s not like the mysteries in the books I read. In them all the clues lead to the answer, sooner or later the loose ends are tied together, then the mystery’s solved. But in my head Old Rod’s still just one big knotted mess. Nice one, though.

  It’s real dark outside while we’re cruisin’ down the road in Old Rod’s car headin’ towards the farm, engine hummin’, headlights shinin’ bright so we can see long way ahead. It’s real nice and relaxin’ sittin’ between Eva and Old Rod.

  But all of a sudden, there’s a loud crunchin’ sound like metal scrapin’, and next minute there’s a screech of brakes and his car’s swervin’ off to the side of the road. Old Rod’s strong hands are tryin’ to grab at the steering wheel but it’s spinnin’ outa control, he’s pushin’ back against the seat with his jinna flat on the brakes but the car’s still slidin’. Eva and me are flyin’ towards the dashboard, but we put our hands out just in time to stop us hittin’ the windscreen.

  The car comes to a joltin’ stop right in front of the biggest stump I’ve ever seen.

  ‘You girls all right?’ I hear a voice yellin’.

  Dust is everywhere.

  ‘Are you girls all right? Eva? Grace?’

  I blink a couple of times. Everything’s dark, but I know the voice is comin’ from Old Rod, it just doesn’t sound like ’im, it sounds real scared. I’m real scared too. I can feel my heart goin’ real fast. Then I hear the door open and Old Rod mutterin’ and scroungin’ underneath the seat for his torch. Next minute, there’s bright light shinin’ in my eyes and the same question bein’ asked.

  ‘Are you girls all right?’

  Eva squints in the bright light, rubs ’er eyes and tells ’im, ‘Ahh. Yeah, I’m ’right.’

  ‘I’m right, too,’ I say after Eva, shufflin’ my jinna and wrigglin’ my fingers to check that everything’s still there ’cause I feel like I’m somewhere else.

  ‘What happened?’ Eva sounds groggy.

  ‘I just lost control of the car, couldn’t steer it. Something’s broken. Might be the steering rod.’ Old Rod jumps outa the car then, opens our door and reaches his big murra mooga for us. ‘You sure you not hurt?’ he keeps askin’ while he helps us outa the car.

  He makes us stand there while he checks that we’re all in one piece. ‘Thank God you’re all right.’

  He’s shakin’ and all jittery. I’ve never seen him like this but then again, I’m feelin’ a little bit strange too, like everything’s catchin’ up with itself after slowin’ right down.

  ‘We’re all right,’ Eva says, lookin’ a bit annoyed. ‘Just a minya knock on the gugga, that’s all.’

  Normally Old Rod tells us to talk English when we talk Kokatha lingo but tonight he doesn’t seem to care.

  Old Rod feels Eva’s head and lets out a big shaky noise from his mouth. He must believe us then ’cause he stops askin’ us the same question over and over and walks to the front of the car.

  Eva and me just stand there shakin,’ huddlin’ together. It’s freezin’ outside.

  I can see his face in the shadow of the torch that he’s flashin’ from the front of ’is car to the big stump and back again. He looks like he’s just seen the scariest guldi ever. He puts ’is murra over ’is mouth and makes a sound like a dog when it’s hurt real bad.

  I feel like askin’ him, ‘Are you all right?’ But Eva might thump me if she hears that question one more time.

  Old Rod comes back then to where Eva and me are standin’. He grabs both of us, puttin’ his big murra mooga on our ’eads and pulls us into ’im. I think I can hear him sobbin’ but I’m not sure, then I ’ear ’im blow ’is nose in ’is ’ankie.

  As we stand there, huddled together in the freezin’ cold, a minya light starts glowin’ over the horizon.

  ‘Someone’s comin’,’ Old Rod yells, switchin’ on his torch and walkin’ into the middle of the road, ready to wave them down.

  Soon an old ute comes puttin’ to a stop. Old Rod seems to know the driver.

  A walbiya tjilbi gets out and goes to the front of Old Rod’s motor car. He puts his hands on his hips, shakes his head and gives a low whistle.

  ‘You damn lucky you stopped where you did, Rod, or you’d be dead now.’

  Old Rod nods his head slow-way, agreein’.

  We all get in the man’s car then and he turns the ute ’round and drives us back to Old Rod’s place.

  Me and Eva think Old Rod’s gonna put us in the shed or the caravan where we usually stay but this time he goes to the front of ’is house and opens the door. Me an’ Eva stand still. He tells us to go inside.

  Eva and me look at each other. All those years we’ve been visitin’ the farm and we always wondered what was behind that door and behind them flashy lace curtains and now we’re gonna find out.

  ‘It’s all right, you can go inside,’ Old Rod says when we just stand there, not movin’.

  Eva walks in first, real careful-way, slow steps as if she’s steppin’ over a grave. I follow, with my murra on her back. That spooky witch gubarlie, Old Rod’s mumma with the minya glasses sittin’ on ’er nose might be in there waitin’ for us. We look ’round. It’s real nice and clean inside with flash table and chairs in the middle of the room, a bed up against the window, a piano in the corner opposite the bed, and a big bookshelf with lotsa different lookin’ books. My eyes nearly pop outa my head to see so many deadly books. This must be where Old Rod gets the ones he gives to us kids sometimes, all them books about mermaids and things under the sea, and the fairy stories. When I was a really minya wunyi I used to like the ones with all the pictures but the other kids would rip them up. Soon enough they always ruin everything that Old Rod gives us.

  Old Rod moves us towards the fireplace and tells us to sit down and warm ourselves. Then he stokes the coals and puts a few more stumps of wood on top. The fire starts to smoke and crackle before minya flames jump out from the sides of the stump lightin’ up the wood. Then he makes us a cup of chicory each and cooks some toast over the fire with a fork. I look at the fork and wonder if my hair’s messy, so I pat it down with my hands then.

  Even though we’re both still scared from the accident, Eva and I smile at Old Rod and say thank you to him, quiet-way, like we’ve been taught to use our manners around walbiya mooga.

  Mrs Williams comes out of a room off the side and sees us and Old Rod then steps back in again and closes the door. Old Rod follows ’er into the room and leaves the door a
minya bit open so I can see ’im sittin’ down on the end of the bed. He leans down and puts his elbows on his knees and cradles his head in his hands.

  I take a sip of chicory and look up on the fire mantelpiece, then ’round at the cabinet on the other wall. They’re covered in Old Rod’s trophies and ribbons. I’m real surprised. I know he’s won at the show every year but not this many, there’s the biggest mob there.

  Eva is warmin’ her murra mooga by the fire that’s really startin’ to take off now.

  There’s quiet talkin’ comin’ from the room where Old Rod and his wife are. Maybe she’s moogada that he brought us into the house. Why did he anyway? We usually just stay in the shed, next to the pigsty out back, light a fire in the middle, put blanketie on the ground and sleep in the dirt if all us mob are over, or maybe the caravan if it’s just Ada and us girls. Maybe he’s still all shook up from the accident. I still feel a bit jittery. Maybe if I listen close-way, I can hear what Old Rod and Mrs Williams are sayin’, I think.

  ‘We came that close to dying tonight, Betty.’ Old Rod’s voice is shakin’ again.

  I look at Eva, she’s listenin’ too.

  ‘I could’ve lost my two daughters.’

  I nearly drop my cup of chicory, a minya bit splashes on the floor. Did I hear right? Moppin’ the spill up with my dress so Old Rod won’t notice, I look at Eva, turn up my murra and shrug my shoulders to ask, ‘Is that true what we just heard or what?’

  Noddin’ with a sad look on ’er face, she says, ‘Yes, but we’re not meant to know.’

  ‘Why didn’t you tell me?’ I hiss real quiet-way in case Old Rod hears.

  I put my cup down and lean back then, lookin’ at the ceiling, starin’ for a long time, not really believin’ what I just heard. Old Rod’s too old to be our father. All the grown-ups in our family must know if it’s true. So why do they wanna keep a secret like that from us kids all these years?