The Bunyip Collection

Chapter 11

“Mum?”

“Yes, Tris?”

They were washing the dishes with bottled water heated from the billy.

“I saw an aboriginal man hiding in the forest.”

“Did you? You sure it wasn’t your imagination?”

Tristram considered this. He often imagined things that were embarrassingly easy for his parents to disprove.

“No…” He decided, as he watched the others happily gathered about the fire.

Holly eyed him shrewdly.

“What did he look like?”

“He was old. And he was wearing an old, dark blue woollen jumper.”

“Anything else?”

“A green floppy hat.”

“Ah…did he have a limp?”

Tristram looked into his mother’s half smiling face.

“I couldn’t tell.” Tristram answered.

“You think he is the witch doctor from the opal.”

“No, I don’t…do you think he is?”

youHolly could see that he was anxious. She was tempted to play with his highly active imagination. However, she did not want him to have nightmares. He had only just stopped having them about his grandfather Toby.

Granddad Toby. A tear came into her eyes at the thought of him. She had not grieved properly yet. Russell hadn’t either. She looked at him telling jokes around the fire, every now and then falling silent as the chatter swirled around him. Russell stared into the flames, then up at the cold stars. Saffi sat sleepily in his arms and he kissed her tenderly. He saw his father in her smile.

Granddad Toby“Mum?”

“Hmm? No, I don’t think so, Tris. That old witch doctor would have died years ago. If you did see a man, he was just that – a man.”

Tristram began to mull this over when another thought struck him suddenly.

“How did you know about the witch doctor?” Tristram cried. “Have you been looking at my opal?!”

“Toby told us the story, Tristram, before you were even born. And we know that the opal is made of memories.”

Tristram was positively startled. In a flash he felt foolish. He had thought that the opal’s special properties were a secret between him and Toby.

“What’s the matter?” Holly asked.

“Nothing.”

“We haven’t looked at the opal since he gave it to you.”

There was a sullen silence from Tristram, but curiosity soon got the better of him.

“What did you see when you looked at it, Mum?”

“Lots of pretty colours, just like you see.”

“Pretty colours? What about memories?”

“Oh yes, I saw lots of those. When I looked at a blue colour, I could imagine Toby sitting by the ocean.”

Hang on…thought Tristram.

Hang on…“You could imagine?”

imagine“I saw him sitting there.”

Wrong, thought Tristram. That’s not how it works. She is bluffing! But how did she know about the memories?

WrongThat’s not how it works. She is bluffing! But how did she know about the memories“When I looked at a yellow colour,” Holly continued, “I saw him enjoying some sweet corn.”

Saffi!

Saffi!Tristram was furious.

“What else did Saffi tell you?”

Holly knew from the look in Tristram’s eyes that the game was up. She changed tactics.

“Do you really see Granddad’s memories in that opal?”

reallyTristram knew that she was asking a confession from him.

If I tell her yes, she’ll want to know more. If I tell her no, I would be lying, and lying is wrong.

If I tell her yes, she’ll want to know more. If I tell her no, I would be lying, and lying is wrongTristram was going red with guilt at the thought of telling a lie. This did not escape Holly’s mild yet penetrating gaze.

“Tell me the truth, Tristram. Look me in the eye and tell me…remember that Jehovah can see the truth, even if you hide it from me – and He will remember forever if you tell me a lie.”

Tristram looked her in the eyes, braced himself and said with a calculated shrug “I think I do. I think I see granddad’s memories in the opal – but I don’t know if others can.”

thinkthinkHolly considered him.

“I think I heard Toby say once that only children can see into the opal. Maybe that’s why you kids see what I don’t.”

“Yeah, maybe.”

“You’re a good boy, Tristram. We’re very proud of you. And thank you for letting Saffi and Jase look at the opal. They need a good older brother.”

Tristram had no answer besides a downcast glance and an embarrassed mumble.

“I’ve nearly finished here, why don’t you join the others?”

“OK…Mum?”

“Yes?”

“What about the aboriginal?”

“Aborigine.” She corrected. “Don’t worry about him. I’ll tell Daddy and the others, but he is probably just here to enjoy the bush just like us. It was theirs first, you know.”

Aborigine“I know.”

Do you? Holly wondered as Tristram wandered away to the fire – but she knew that now was not the time to lecture him.

Do youHolly had also seen the aborigine. She also recognised him. His name was Fred Morris and he was the janitor at her school. He was an elderly man and was recognised as an Elder of the Koori community around Bairnsdale and Lakes Entrance. Holly often noticed him smile at bright-eyed young aborigine children as they ran past, beaming at him in the corridors. Then, once they had turned a corner, a deep sadness would emanate from him. She noticed how he was civil to the white staff – humble yet dignified.

Holly made a special effort to reach out to Fred. She was always courteous and charming, sounding him out as was her wont with all whom she encountered. Her reward was a warm “G’day Holly” in an old, rattling, nasal voice as she walked to her classroom every morning. As the years rolled by, they spoke more often, occasionally smoking a cigarette together outside the staffroom at recess.

“I’m not gonna tell ‘em what I know anymore.” Fred had said one morning as they smoked. He looked into Holly’s hazel eyes, bitterness radiating from his deep brown ones.

“The chil’ren,” he pointed, “dey alright now – but soon – smokin’, pregnant, drunk, vandalisin’ – violent…but dat’s not da worst.”

Holly waited for him to continue, but Fred was searching her face to see if she could guess what was coming.

“What’s the worst, Fred?” Holly finally asked with respectful calm.

Fred reached down and picked up an empty Coke can.

“This.” He said, holding it up in disgust. “Rubbish. Just thrown all over da place – they don’t care.”

“White kids litter too.”

“Yeah, but don’t yer see? Black fellas are always sayin’ dat white man stole deir land – but dey don’t respect da land anymore demselves. What would a black fella do wi’ da land, if he had it back, eh?”

“The black people looked after the land very well before we whites came along. White man has wrecked the land, not the black man.”

“Black man has changed, Holly. Look at ‘im drunk in da street, beatin’ ‘is woman. Look at ‘is house. Dirty, overgrown, rubbish everywhere – everythin’ broken. He don’t respect da white fella – dat’s fair enough. But he don’t respect ‘is own people – he don’t respect ‘imself. His kids don’t respect deir elders, dey don’t respect ‘im and dey don’t want knowledge of deir people. But worst, Holly, worst…” He waved the can angrily “Dey don’t respect da land.”

A bitter sadness overwhelmed his anger for an awkward, silent moment.

“I’m sorry, Fred.” Holly murmured.

“‘It’s alright, Holly. Not your fault. You do your best, eh? You show respect. But not da blacks – dey don’t deserve da knowledge I got. Dey’re like mongrel dingos – no good ta anyone. I’ll keep my knowledge. When I die – it’ll die wid me.”

Holly was moved. Carefully and sincerely she said “That’s such a shame, Fred. I think you’re knowledge is precious. I wish that you’d tell me some of what you know. I wouldn’t throw it away. I would treasure it and pass it on.”

Old Fred eyed her thoughtfully and puffed a final puff of his cigarette.

“Well,” he said finally as he stubbed out his smoke and put the butt in the bin, “maybe I’ll tell ya coupla things…” He grinned and pointed to his watch. “But not today.”

With that, Fred had sauntered off, leaving Holly thoughtful and full of curiosity.

It was two weeks ago that that conversation had taken place, and she had forgotten it until she saw Fred watching the children from amongst the trees. Holly had tried to get his attention, but he had disappeared into the bush.

He probably came here to get away from people. She had thought. Just like we did.

He probably came here to get away from people Just like we did