Season of Hate (7 page)

"Was?" Doug and I asked together.

"He died – on the battlefield – in my arms. He was my best friend. And I miss him." Dad's eyes were getting watery, his thoughts drifting to the past. This was the first time he had made any mention of Girra or the War.

"Are Mr Wood and Mr Green bad people?" I asked in an attempt to bring Dad back.

"Not bad son, just ignorant. And ignorance comes from fear. They're scared they might have to share – to live alongside these people. Boys, there's been a lot,
lot
worse things done to these people over the years, but that's something to learn about when you're older. Come on, history lesson over. They're expecting me," he finished, ruffling my curls with his hand.

We went further to the small circle of humpies and more hessian or canvas curtained iron huts with their basic tree trunk frames, built around the main fire, near the clump of large gum trees.

A group of about thirty or so men, women and children gathered to meet us. All they had on were thin worn out clothes and no shoes. Many seemed listless, apathetic – not moving much at all. One tall old man sitting cross-legged got up and approached Dad. We hid behind Dad's legs and peered out.

The old man's face was like dried, blackened cattle hide. He had a broad flat nose and a beard as long and unrestrained as his mane of coarse white hair. His feet were splayed, the soles thick and weathered and he had large brown eyes. He smiled and shook Dad's hand with his larger strong hand.

"These are my boys, Doug and Pat. Fellas, this is Ganan. 'Ganan', means he's 'from the west'," Dad gestured. "And he's what we call the elder, or chief of his people." It
is
just like the Indians, I thought. Ganan gave us a big welcoming grin. The whites of his eyes with their red spidery veins stood out against his dark skin. I noticed the milky film of a cataract was beginning to cover his left pupil.

"Fellas, you go off and play with the kids. I've got some food and supplies in the car for you," he told Ganan. Ganan then called out a directive in their language and four men immediately came forward and went with Dad to the car.

Doug and I saw a group of children playing hopscotch in the reddish brown dirt. Another boy had an old busted metal toy truck, moving it along a road he'd drawn with a stick, while two little girls played jacks with some animal bones. They were the only toys we saw. The flies didn't bother us so much, but they seemed to always be around the other children's eyes, noses or mouths. Some had runny noses like Snotty Norris.

"If this is a Reservation, and s'pose they are like Indians, what's to stop them scalping us? Didn't you see the big knife in that rope holding up that old chief's pants?" Doug whispered. I pointed out a pile of spears leaning against a tree.

We ran quickly after Dad and the others, watching our backs in case of an ambush, and feeling I guess that if we were to be killed, at least we'd all die together.

"What if some fur trapper has sold them guns?" Doug puffed. We eventually made it to the relative safety of Dad and the car, but if something did happen we felt we were outnumbered and unarmed.

We all came back as a group, Dad looking a bit annoyed at us for running after him and not playing with the children as we were told. Two of the men set down the large metal drum full of water. It had a little tap attached to the bottom. When the children saw the box of food, they all clustered around it. One woman got two enamelled cups and measured out some of the powdered milk. She filled them to the brim with water from the drum before giving both a good stir. Another lined up the children and as the cups were past down the lines one would take a large two-handed sip, while another shooed away the flies as they drank.

Mrs Symonds' spam and pickle sandwiches were handed out and quickly eaten. Two boys offered us a bite out of theirs but we declined as we'd already had a hot breakfast.

At first we stayed close by Dad, thinking we'd be safer if anything did happen – but not so close as to be a nuisance. After all, we didn't want to ruin our chances of the double feature. As the time past we became more relaxed. One man let us hold one of the spears and touch its stone spear head.

Dad had brought an old tarpaulin which he laid over the small altar in the shed. He used it as a makeshift examination table for the patients to sit on. In front of it he tied off a sheet between two poles to act as a screen for privacy. The people sat in the pews waiting their turn. He started examining the women and children first and then the men. Ganan, on the other side of the sheet partition to Dad, acted as interpreter when Dad asked the patients a question. Dad gave some medicine on a spoon and to others, a tablet or two. Some got medicine and tablets. All received an injection in their arms. The adults comforted the children as Dad gave them all saline eyewashes with their injections. But after each jab the children got to choose a lolly from Dad's bag for being brave. Any tears soon evaporated.

The wind started to come up a bit, swirling the dust about in circles. The last to get checked out were two kids and their mother. Ganan said a few sharp words and they came forward from the back. We'd noticed early on that they played and ate apart from the others, some distance from the main group in front of their little tin shack. These two children, a boy about five and a girl about seven, weren't like the others. Their skin was darker than Dad or Doug's, but not the dark brown almost black of their mother and the rest of the group. The little girl had blue eyes and they both had light brown almost blonde hair. When Dad finished with their examination and the injections, they returned to the front of their house with their mother, to suck on their lollies and play by themselves.

It must have been three hours since we arrived to when Dad packed up. The casserole had been placed at the edge of the fire and the dampers under a cover away from the flies and the weather. Dad made a point of walking through the group before giving one of the larger blankets to the woman and her two children. Behind the curtained front of their shack was a filthy mattress flat on the ground and one worn blanket folded neatly at the foot of the bed. The mother seemed a little suspicious and cautious of accepting his gift at first, but took the blanket nevertheless. The other women looked on, none to pleased.

"I'll be back again through the week. I want to see how things are going. Take care, my friend. And remember, only put creek water you've boiled to refill the drum," Dad instructed, shaking Ganan's hand. The old man placed his other hand over Dad's in a tight grip and shook it vigorously.

"Thank you Doctor Harry."

As we made our way back to the car, I turned and looked at the dusty group. It seemed strange. They were all smiling and waving, despite their situation. At the time, I thought that bringing the food seemed to be a good idea, for it stopped them from killing and eating us and using our skin for slingshots.

Driving home, Dad asked us how we felt about what we just saw.

"They weren't like I expected," I stated, a little disappointed.

"What, no bows and arrows and war paint?" Dad replied with a grin. He'd read my mind, again.

"That and, I don't know ... they were friendly and that I guess, but … how come their skin's so dark?" Doug chimed in.

"Everybody's different. Some people are tall, some short, some skinny, and some fat – all different. And some have dark skin, some pale, and others every shade in between. But underneath, we're all the same."

"What about those two lighter kids?" I asked.

"They're called half-castes. Half black, half white."

"Like black and white cows?" I asked.

"No, but I understand your thinking. No, in their case it's where their mother was black and their father was white." Then Doug piped up with a really good question, I thought.

"Well why aren't they living with him in his house?"

"That's very complicated. The upshot is the father doesn't want the kids even though they're his, because he had them out of wedlock and in all probability he's already married to a white woman." Dad noticed we were struggling to understand.

"But if he was already married, isn't he wedlocked?" Doug offered.

"To another woman, not the mother of these two kids. You can't be married to two women at once. And these kids were born to another woman other than his legal wife." Dad tried to explain but our faces showed we weren't comprehending fully. "The woman you're talking about is Ganan's daughter. And as you both saw, they live separately in camp. For some reason, they're not fully accepted by all of the tribe – especially the women. I think its got something to do with the fact she's Ganan's daughter."

"That's not fair," reasoned Doug.

It all seemed very confusing to me at the time. Doug and Dad both had light olive skin that tanned, while mine was white and freckly like Nan's and burnt easily. But no one was mean to us. I sat there thinking for a bit.

"I'm glad we live in a warm house with plenty of food and that. I'm glad we have you Dad," I eventually added.

He patted my leg as he looked across at Doug and me with affection, before going into one of his quiet thinking spells.

"Boys, remember when I talked about taking an oath to help everybody who needs my help?"

"Yeah," we sung in unison.

"Well a long time ago, a very important British religious leader called William Penn once put it something like this: 'I expect to pass through this life but once …'" he paused to remember the exact words. "'If therefore, there be kindness I can show, or any good thing I can do for any fellow being, let me do it now, and not defer or neglect it, as I shall not pass this way again.' Don't you think that's a wonderful way to live your life, being kind and doing good to everybody?"

"It's hard being good all the time," replied Doug. Dad fought off a smile.

"Well I guess as long as we try, eh fellas? As a matter of fact, it was Poppie who first told me that quote years ago." The mention of Poppie's name gave it more importance to us.

"Say it again," asked Doug. Dad did so, slowly and with clarity.

"I agree and that, but if ya don't do anything but spend all your time being kind and good to everyone, how do ya get anything done?" I put forward.

"It's not something you do or think about all the time, its just in the back of your mind so that when something happens, you automatically choose to do good and be kind rather than nasty and 'orrible to people," Dad counselled with a grin.

We continued on home for lunch. Once there Dad took us aside.

"I have to apologise fellas. I shouldn't have called Bob Wood a goose. Like I've told you before, it's not nice to call someone names."

"That's not name callin', you're just statin' facts," called out Nan from the kitchen.

"Mum, please. The sad part is, it's hard to change people like Bob Wood, boys."

"They're gonna hear a lot worse words than that as they grow up. You protect 'em too much at times. It's time they started learnin' that everythin' in the garden isn't always lovely," Nan emphasised. Dad mulled it over.

"S'pose you're right. Come on fellas let's wash for lunch."

"The sandwiches are fantastic, Nan," I enthused.

"What's got into him? You usually turn yer nose up at brawn."

"After this morning, I think for what they have received, they
truly
are thankful," Dad summed up.

"That's good, 'cause I'm thinkin' of doin' curried sheep's eyes Sund'y, with tripe sponge for puddin'." Dad and Nan guessed our response and joined us in a collective,

"Urrh."

The wait was over. We met Barry and Raymond out the front of the School of Arts for the pictures. All the kids in town and the surrounding districts were there. Sitting with a group of the girls from our class was Penny Farrar, now with a plastic mouthguard to help push back her top teeth. Steve was with his mates and at the back of the hall the older teenage boys and girls sat in pairs. Throughout the audience were various parents keeping an eye out for any shenanigans. Anyone caught throwing boiled lollies at someone's head would be immediately ejected. The ladies of the CWA sold the tickets as well as refreshments, just inside the entrance. Dad sat at the end of our aisle, far enough away so as not to seem like he was babysitting us, in front of our mates.

We all stood and sang
God Save The Queen
to Gwen Grady's piano accompaniment then took our seats. There was much talking and manoeuvring nervously in our seats in anticipation until the red velvet curtains jerked open and the white screen descended from above the stage as lights faded.

From the moment the musical fanfare began, and an old sailing ship glided behind the titles for
The Sea Hawk
, we were mesmerised. After interval and
Smitten Kitten
, a Tom and Jerry cartoon, we were taken on an adventure into deepest darkest Africa with Johnny Weissmuller as Tarzan, in
Tarzan and The Leopard Woman
. We sat with our eyes straining at the screen, cheering and calling out whenever a baddie was dispatched, while crunching on our chocolate crackles and Smith's chips, or sucking on homemade toffees – mmm, magic.

Afterwards we all hung around outside talking excitedly over what we'd just seen with our mates. Penny smiled at me as she nervously played with her hair, but I didn't smile back even though I liked her, because I was shy. Snotty reckoned she was keen on me.

"Pat and Penny sitting in a tree, k-i-s-s-i-n-g." He kept on singing as he wiped his nose on his shirt sleeve. I gave him a nipple cripple. That shut him up.

The Golden Sea was just a short distance up the road. We'd never seen inside before. A little bell attached to the door tinkled as we entered a wonderland of red and black carved and lacquered screens, wall plaques and statues. From the back came Mrs Chang, shuffling to the front counter in her tight fitting blue cheongsam.

"Table for three?" she enquired with eagerness.

"Just some takeaway please," Dad replied. She handed Dad the menu as my eyes and Doug's took in all the shiny painted red and black surrounds. Hanging over the light bulbs dangling from the ceiling were different brightly coloured paper lanterns that gave the room a soft diffused glow. Dad and Mrs Chang exchanged friendly smiles as he studied the menu. Doug and I peered at it from the sides, not convinced cat wasn't hidden somewhere in the listings. If you haven't eaten cat before and it
is
served somehow, how would you know, we surmised in whispers to each other.

"I'll have eight fried dim sims, a beef with oyster sauce, a chicken chop suey and a large fried rice. Will that do four people, Mrs Chang?"

"How about sweet and sour pork as well? Should do."

"Fine."

After fifteen minutes of banging and clanging of utensils, Mr and Mrs Chang came out from the kitchen with a box containing our order. Dad paid the bill and Mrs Chang rang it up on their old cash register. Handing Dad the box Mr Chang added,

"I put in some soy sauce for the dim sims and some fortune cookies. No charge. Thank you. Please call again." Both of them gave several little bows.

"My boy Shen goes to school with your boys. You're Doctor McNally, yes?" asked Mr Chang.

"Yes. And these are my sons, Pat and Doug." They smiled at both of us.

"Shen's a little older. Ten. Different class."

"I didn't see him at the pictures. He's not sick is he?" Dad enquired.

"No not sick, but the other boys make fun of him because he's Chinese. Actually, Aussie Chinese. Third generation. Born here."

"Do they make fun?" Dad asked of both of us. We nodded.

"Steve Wood and some of his mates," offered Doug.

"Why doesn't that surprise me? What do they do?" Doug and I squirmed like worms thrown on a camp fire rock.

"They call out when he goes past, 'ching chong Chinaman'. And pull their eyes like this," Doug demonstrated, finishing with a little laugh.

"You find that funny, Dougal?" 'Dougal' – okay he might be in for it, but that didn't immediately mean me as well. I made sure I kept a serious look on my face.

"No sir. It's not as if they bash him up or anything."

"Doug, do you call him those names?"

"Sometimes. Everyone does." I waited. Was Doug going to dob me in as well? Dad looked at me, but said nothing. My red face was always a give away.

"I'm very sorry that this is happening to Shen. Is he here?" Dad asked.

"He's in the kitchen," replied Mrs Chang before calling out something to the back of the shop in Chinese. Shen peered through the thin strips of beaded curtain that separated the restaurant from the kitchen before parting them and joining his parents. Dad moved close to Shen, who remained looking at the ground.

"Shen, I'm Doctor McNally. You already know Dougal and Patrick." O-oh he used both our full names. We waited.

"Dougal would like to apologise, wouldn't you, for calling you names. Dougal?" Doug shuffled his feet a bit then spoke.

"I'm sorry I called ya names."

"Patrick?"

"I'm sorry as well."

"Now shake Shen's hand, but only if you truly mean what you just said." Doug moved first and shook Shen's hand, followed by me.

"I think we'll see some different behaviour from now on," Dad confidently predicted to the Changs. Mr Chang got a bag of prawn chips from under the counter and gave them to Doug.

"For your honesty and kindness." Both he and his wife bowed to Doug and me.

The bell had tinkled and the door just closed behind us when Dad turned to both of us.

"I want you to go out of your way to include Shen in your games at school."

"He's not in our class," I answered.

"Doesn't matter. Do you forget so quickly what happened to you when you first went there, just because you were different? And how
you
felt?"

He was right. He always was. I hated that sometimes, back then. But we were both thankful that if we didn't have to get home with the tea before it got cold, we would have copped another on-the-spot lecture, for sure.

We breathlessly filled Nan in on the pictures and the restaurant's interior as Dad placed each meal on warmed plates with serving spoons for us to help ourselves. It tasted great and different to anything we'd ever eaten. It wasn't too spicy and not cat as far as Doug and I could tell. Dad suggested we could make it a regular thing, say once a month, or try the Italian restaurant for a change, and Nan agreed. She especially liked the fried rice with its bits of ham and egg and peas. Doug and I loved the dim sims but even more, we liked playing with the glutenous sauces of the other meals that set like jelly on our plates as the food cooled. The fortune cookies finished off our meal. Dad explained the meaning behind my insert's saying, 'A journey of a thousand miles starts with the first step' and Doug's, 'Look not over your shoulder to find happiness'.

We drove Nan to the pictures then spent the rest of the evening curled up at Dad's feet in front of the fire, eating the prawn chips and listening to serials on the wireless. It was the one thing about winter I liked the most. It felt … good, and cosy. Later in bed we each gave him a big hug before he kissed us both on the forehead and tucked us in securely.

"I love my boys."

"We love you too, Dad," we chorused.

"It was the bestest day, Dad. And I promise I won't be mean to Shen again," added Doug.

"Me neither."

"I'm pleased with both of you. I think you've learnt a lot today. Now close your eyes and get some sleep. I'll see you in the morning."