by Di Morrissey
‘Who be you, girl?’
Sami spun around, startled by the croaky voice. The view had so captivated her that she hadn’t noticed the old lady in a chair at the other end of the verandah. French doors from a bedroom were open behind her. She was a wizened Aboriginal woman, her spidery hands clutched a cotton blanket over her knees. Sami went towards the woman she knew must be Biddy, feeling shy and slightly panicky at how to converse with her. ‘I’m Samantha, Lily’s daughter.’
Small bright eyes studied her keenly, then the old lady’s mouth parted in a gappy smile. ‘So, girl, ’bout time you came home an’ see Biddy.’
‘Well, actually my home is in Sydney, Biddy. But it is lovely being in Broome . . . and meeting you.’ Sami didn’t know what to do next.
The old lady made no gesture, but her narrowed eyes seemed to be looking right into Sami’s mind. ‘So why you go out lookin’ at Kimberley art, eh?’
‘Oh. You know about my trip.’ Biddy’s hearing wasn’t impaired and she obviously kept tabs on the conversations around her. ‘I’m studying all sorts of tribal art, sacred messages and symbols.’
‘Good that you learn up them stories. They be your stories from long time ago.’
‘I’m beginning to understand that, Biddy,’ Sami assured her, but inside she was struggling to accept the old lady’s embrace of her as one of the black family. ‘There is a lot more to learn, I have to go back to the rock galleries again soon.’
Biddy hitched up the blanket, moved her feet off a footstool and signalled to Sami to sit on it. ‘Them stories important for university people, all people. Our Dreamtime stories, tell us where we come from, what we gotta do, why everything be made dis way. Mountain, river, rocks, why they be there. Stories live with us, make us know who we are.’
‘You’re so right, Biddy,’ said Sami, trying not to sound condescending. ‘Can I get you something to drink?’
Biddy ignored the remark. ‘You gotta know your stories, girl. Den you can tell your children. You go up the coast and spen’ time with the old women. Mebbe you and me, we go together, eh?’ She laughed.
But Sami didn’t laugh with her. For one thing, the reality that this old lady accepted they shared the same culture, surprised her. Biddy expected Sami not just to acknowledge it but to learn and be involved in it. And Sami also had the strange sense that Biddy meant that they really should make a journey together. She was relieved to hear her mother’s voice.
‘So, you’ve met at long last. I told you, Biddy, that Sami would come and see you.’ Lily kissed Biddy’s brow.
‘Took her long enuff,’ sniffed Biddy. ‘Fetch me some of that red drink, eh Lily.’
Sami leapt to her feet and went to the buffet table. ‘It’s the red cordial, not the merlot,’ called Lily.
Harlan drew Sami to one side. ‘Would you like a tour? The house and grounds are quite lovely.’
She smiled at him, gratefully knowing he had offered her a few moments of time out. ‘I’d like that. Thanks.’
They walked in the garden in silence, enjoying its tranquillity. Then Sami pointed at the neat vegetable patch. ‘Who’s the gardener?’
‘Not us, I’m afraid. We’re too busy. Rosie’s uncle and nephew take great pride in looking after “The Captain’s garden”.’ He glanced at her. ‘There’s no shortage of rellies around here. We can muster a cricket team, cheer squad, do the loaves and fishes for a hundred at a drop of a hat, babysitters coming out our ears. On the downside, I treasure time with just Rosie and Lizzie. There’s always someone camping here, visitors from all over, artists, we were even a tourist attraction when some smart arse started a bus tour. Had to put a stop to that.’
‘It wouldn’t be much fun going to the front gate for the paper in your slippers and being gawked at, I imagine,’ said Sami.
‘It was almost like that. Your great-great-grandad is a legend in these parts.’
Sami gazed at the handsome man beside her. ‘And how did you feel coming into this family?’
‘With Rosie it’s love me, love my family.’ He was about to say more then changed his mind. ‘Do you know the story of Tears of the Moon? Rosie’s painting?’
‘Kind of.’
‘Another time. You’re probably on overload. How’re you coping?’
‘All right, I guess. I just find it all a bit . . . strange. Though Biddy made a few sharp comments.’
‘Sometimes she seems out of it, other times she follows every word. Sami, just take it at your own pace. I know it means a lot to your mother, finding her family. But don’t feel pressured. Any time you want a coffee when you’re downtown give me a yell. If I’m not in court, I’m available. Rosie’s gallery is always a happy madhouse. So treat me as a bit of an objective ear.’
‘Harlan, that’s really nice. Thanks. I appreciate it.’
‘Let’s do the house tour. It’s almost as interesting as the Historical Society.’
Lunch was casual and to Sami’s surprise relatively stress free, although she was glad that Pat and Jimmy were there. They were an interesting and entertaining couple and there was a lot of banter and jokes. Two teenage girls appeared, also extended family, who joined in and helped to look after Biddy, who’d decided to have lunch in bed.
Later, over coffee, Rosie asked, ‘Any plans for this afternoon, Sami?’
‘Yes, I’m meeting Pauline for a late swim and a drink out at Cable Beach.’ She glanced at her mother, unsure whether her response was in order.
‘Lovely idea,’ said Lily. ‘I’m going to hang out here a while so take the car, I’ll walk back.’ Lily gave her a fond look that said, You’ve done well.
‘Can I help, Rosie?’ offered Sami, but she was keen to make her escape.
Rosie waved her away. ‘Helpers everywhere. You go and meet Pauline. And Sami, I’m really glad you came.’ Their eyes locked for a moment and an honest, open look passed between them.
‘I’m glad too.’ And she realised she meant it. The informal gathering had made an emotional and difficult excursion comfortable. But Sami had a lot to think about. ‘Biddy is asleep, say goodbye to her for me later, please.’ She kissed Lily, patted Rakka and left.
Pauline had found a quiet table and had a large margarita in front of her. ‘Yours is on the way. I thought you might like something with a bit of a kick.’
Sami dropped her bag and tipped her sunglasses up on her head. ‘Good thinking.’
‘So how was the family lunch?’ Pauline knew she could probe as she felt she and Sami had developed something of a bond. Plus knowing and being so fond of Lily helped.
‘Okay. I guess.’ She stared across at the beach. ‘I’m not sure.’
‘You sound confused.’
‘Yeah, I suppose that’s the word.’ She thought for a moment.
‘But?’ prompted Pauline.
‘It was like being on a seesaw. One minute I felt like I was with a bunch of nice friendly people, I loved little Lizzie, then it would all hit me and I’d plunge down to the ground. I suppose it wasn’t as bad as I was expecting. There were other people there and lots going on, all very casual, that made it an easier social event.’
‘Social. Not family occasion.’
‘Pauline, I just can’t come to grips with it all just like that. I mean, I look at old Biddy – if you didn’t know her, she looks just like any of the old Aboriginal women sitting under the trees on Kennedy Hill, or down by Streeters Wharf, outside the Conti!’
‘There but for the grace of . . . eh? Listen, Sami, my best friend’s mother was an alcoholic. A drunk. But she was white and had money. The cops picked her up and took her home, and they shut the door and no one said anything. Her friends never knew or, if they did, they never talked about it. What’s the difference? One is more honest, that’s all.’
‘Do you miss your mother?’ said Sami quietly.
Pauline gave a shrug and a slight wry grin. ‘Your mother has been more of a friend, a mother figure, for me than anyone in my family.’
‘You met when she first came here, right?’ Sami had vaguely listened to Lily’s story of meeting and keeping in touch with a girl in Broome. But she tended to tune out. ‘She didn’t say too much about your family. I guess she didn’t want to break any personal confidences.’
‘That’s okay.’ Pauline also wanted to move away from the topic.
While neither said it, Pauline and Sami both recognised there was a bond between them. Pauline hoped Sami didn’t resent the closeness she shared with Lily.
Sami was relieved her mother had someone to look after and fuss over in Broome. It took the pressure off her feeling she might have to stay on for as long as her mother decided to stay there.
‘So,’ Pauline asked, ‘what’s your schedule? Are you fancy free or do you have to spend all your time working on your thesis?’
‘I’m flexible. Still have months to finish researching and writing it. The trouble is, I thought I had it all down pat but now I’m finding new angles to explore.’
‘Isn’t that part of the process? I think you’re so clever to do a PhD,’ said Pauline.
‘It’s challenging. The big question is what do I do at the end of it all? Unlike you, I don’t have the guarantee of a job or a career.’
‘Your mother inspired me. She told me to go after the big dream. She’ll be there for you when you need it. I know it.’
‘Mmm. I just hope my mother doesn’t want to analyse every moment of today’s lunch when I get back.’ Sami sighed.
‘You need some distraction,’ declared Pauline. ‘Finish your drink and I’ll take you to meet some friends. Over there.’ She pointed at the beach.
As they crested the top of the dunes Sami saw in a sheltered dip a small camp with a shack that someone was obviously living in and to her surprise, in a large area surrounded by a strung-wire fence, she saw a dozen camels.
‘Come on, follow me,’ called Pauline. She headed for the little shack nestled at the edge of the dunes. ‘Anyone home?’
An old man opened the screen door and stepped outside. He was wiry and tanned, and so thin that he looked as if years in the sun had sucked the fat from him. He had bright dark eyes and wore an incongruous red fez on his dark hair. An embroidered bolero was worn over a faded blue workman’s shirt. He drew his hands together at his chin and gave a small bow.
‘This is Farouz, our camel man. Famous for his camel rides at sunset along Cable Beach. Farouz, this is my friend Samantha.’
‘Welcome, ladies. How is your business, Pauline?’
‘Booming. I’m sending some pieces to America. How about that?’
‘Excellent.’ He beamed. ‘Do you want to come for a ride this evening? I have an empty camel. We will leave soon.’
‘Thanks, Farouz, we’d like that. Can we help?’
‘If you wish. But Bobby is here helping me. Come.’
Sami was surprised to see Bobby Ching, whom she’d met briefly at the concert the night before, duck under the wire and wave to them.
‘Be careful they spit,’ he said.
‘I didn’t know you were working here,’ said Pauline. ‘This is Sami, I think you saw each other last night.’
Bobby nodded. ‘Hi. Ah, I’m just helping Farouz. So which camel would you like to ride?’
‘The quietest,’ said Sami.
‘One that doesn’t bite,’ said Pauline.
They watched as Farouz efficiently saddled the camels and roped them together in a single-file team, speaking softly to them. ‘What’s he saying?’ asked Sami.
‘He speaks Farsi to them,’ said Bobby. ‘Farouz is a descendant of one of the old Afghan camel train drivers who helped open up the outback. My dad can remember some of them still operating around here when he was a little kid.’
Farouz made a camel sit down, folding its long legs beneath its heavy body, and he called the girls to climb onto the double-seated saddle. With Sami in front and Pauline behind, the camel lurched to its feet making the girls squeal. Farouz handed them safety helmets. ‘Just in case. Regulations. Now we shall go fetch the tourists. Your camel’s name is Amsara.’
‘Do all the camels have names?’ asked Sami.
‘They all have names from Persian poetry. Each name carries its own legend. They are beautiful stories. One day you might like to hear one,’ Farouz added politely as he opened the pen and led them out.
‘Hey, did you hear the story about the camel races at Bradley Station?’ asked Bobby, and went on to tell of his win.
‘I hope there aren’t any fractious mothers in this mob,’ said Pauline.
Sami laughed, but she was thinking about stories – the stories of her family, the stories Goonamulli had told her, stories Biddy hinted she must learn, the stories behind the people she’d met in Broome, and now the old camel man, promising stories from a distant ancestral homeland.
C h a p t e r S e v e n
SAMI FELT QUITE COMFORTABLE NOW THAT SHE HAD adjusted to the gait of her camel, who plodded along the firm wet sand at the water’s edge, pegged to the rear of the camel in front. Farouz had given the tourists a brief history of the Afghan cameleers, including the story of his grandfather who came to Australia to care for a group of camels imported by the South Australian government. After listening to him, Sami could appreciate how explorers like Burke and Wills and the early traders and cattlemen must have relied on camels to get them and their supplies through the harsh outback.
‘I’d forgotten how weird it is sitting on a camel,’ Pauline said.
‘I was thinking a camel would be useful for getting up some of those ridges out in Wandjina country,’ said Sami.
‘Your trip sounds amazing. Maybe I should go with you next time.’
Sami turned around to Pauline. ‘You haven’t been? You’d love it. The art is quite extraordinary.’
‘Sami, do you realise how privileged you’ve been? To go there in the first place, and with a custodian and knowledgeable people to explain it, to help you experience it.’
‘You’re right.’ Sami thought about it for a minute. ‘Especially about the experience bit. I went with an academic mindset, but found I took more in by sitting there and looking at the paintings on the rock face than by asking questions. Although hearing Goonamulli’s stories was fabulous, once I got the hang of his accent and expressions.’
‘Farouz has great stories,’ said Pauline. ‘Here we are, I’ll be glad to get down from this beast. I was starting to feel seasick.’
‘Come and have a drink with us, Bobby,’ Pauline suggested as the last tourist had taken their photos and left.
‘Thanks, but I promised Farouz I’d help him.’ He looked disappointed then suddenly brightened. ‘Say, how about coming crabbing next week? I’m going with Eugene, he knows all the secret places up the creeks across the bay.’
‘Now there’s a local activity for you, Sami,’ said Pauline. ‘No touristy deal there. I’d love to, but I’m so busy getting my show together.’
‘What about it, Sami? Your mum loves muddies.’
Sami tensed, everyone seemed to know her mother so damn well and she didn’t even live here. ‘I’m not sure.’
‘I’ll send some crabs to you guys with Eugene then,’ he said affably.
‘Sami, you should go,’ urged Pauline. ‘It’ll be fun.’
‘Let me know if you change your mind. I’d better help Farouz with the unsaddling. See you later.’ Bobby went back to the camels.
The girls called their thanks to Farouz who gave them a salute. ‘Come any time there’s an empty seat.’
A few days later, Lily and Sami were sitting on their balcony eating breakfast when Blossom came by and gave them a call from the lawn below. ‘More mangoes! Can you catch?’ She pitched them up to Sami.
‘Thanks, Blossom. Hey, I’m going crabbing tomorrow. I’ll trade you a mud crab.’
Blossom gave her a thumbs up. ‘I love muddies. I hope you catch some. They can be tricky buggers.’
‘I’m going with expe
rts. Come by on Friday morning!’
As Sami sat back down to her muesli Lily asked, ‘Who are you going crabbing with? It sounds fun, if they know what they’re doing.’
‘Bobby Ching invited me. I wasn’t going to go, but Pauline said I’d enjoy it. Eugene has a tinnie and knows all the creeks across the bay.’
‘Oh, that’s probably Dolly’s grandson. Eugene was in a car accident recently, but his injuries are healing very quickly,’ said Lily and looked surprised when Sami started to laugh and shake her head.
‘Is there anyone in Broome you don’t know, or who doesn’t know you?’
Lily spread homemade marmalade from the market on her toast. ‘Dolly is one of the elders I visit up the coast every year, when I go and see the old people. Do women’s business.’ She took a bite of toast and didn’t look at Sami who let the remark slide past. She figured if she made any comment her mother might take it as interest and wrangle her into going off on some trip with her. ‘Say, is there room for one more?’ Lily asked.
‘I don’t know, Mum,’ Sami answered hesitantly. ‘I really don’t think it’s your scene.’
‘No, not me. I’ll cook what you catch. No, I met a fellow the other day, Ross, and I promised I’d find someone to take him to the crabbing spots. That is if he hasn’t gone back south.’
‘I’ll ask Bobby. Who is he?’
‘A policeman from Melbourne. He lives in the city but he has inherited his uncle’s old shack near town. He’s a nice fellow.’
‘Okay. You tell Bobby where Ross lives and we’ll call by and ask him if he’d like to come. So what are you doing today?’
‘This and that,’ Lily said casually. ‘Having coffee with a friend. You?’
‘I’m going to take Rakka for a long run, then I’m going to the library to do some work.’
The crabbing expedition set out at sunrise from a strip of beach near the port. Ross had been delighted at the invitation, and the four of them settled in the aluminium runabout to balance their weight. Eugene sat in the stern controlling the motor. They zoomed across the bay, through a channel that led into one of the mangrove-fringed creeks. Looking back at the foreshore, Sami saw the pink building of Moonlight Bay and the elegant white Mangrove Hotel next door. For the first time she could picture in her mind the route the pearling luggers had taken from the sea into the huge expanse of Roebuck Bay, and then into the tidal passageways cut through the mangroves to the shore.
