by Di Morrissey
‘Well, if you could, it would be more grist to the mill. Oh, and Chris, while we’re talking, I’d like to have a couple of sample chapters when you can, just to see how things are moving. There’s a definite keenness out there for your book in principle, but publishers need to see content and your writing style before committing. The sooner we get a deal, the sooner you’ll get some cash in your pocket.’
‘That’d be nice,’ sighed Chris. ‘I’ve been looking at the formative years of these guys, and it’s really made me think. Their families all seem to have been quite an influence.’
‘Is that so unusual?’ asked Georgia.
‘No, of course not, but it’s made me wonder about my own life and my family.’
‘Like how?’ asked Georgia, gently.
‘Like, I wish I’d talked to my dad when I had the chance, found out more about the influence his parents had on him. I’ve been wondering what effect the way I live my life is having on Megan’s future . . .’ He stopped, feeling a little awkward. ‘Oh, all that kind of stuff.’
‘Have you come up with any answers or decisions?’
‘Not really.’
‘The fact you’re thinking about these things is good. I bet Megan’s big adventure has helped you focus your mind on her.’
‘That’s very true,’ laughed Chris, trying to lighten the conversation, but then added, ‘Seriously, these last few months with my daughter have been some of the best times of my life, and when she was lost, it wasn’t just Megan who was frightened. I was pretty scared, too. I couldn’t bear the thought that I might have lost her.’
‘I can understand that,’ said Georgia. ‘I don’t think any parent would want to go through what you did.’
‘No, certainly not,’ Chris murmured, pushing the memories aside.
‘Any joy with Alan Carmichael?’ Georgia asked, as though sensing the need to change the subject. ‘Have you heard anything more from his straight-shooting solicitor?’
‘No, not since I answered his letter through my mate Duncan’s solicitor brother in Coffs. He told Alan that I would be continuing with my book with or without Alan’s cooperation but that I would be careful to avoid defaming him.’
‘Good for you. That was a wise move. When are you coming to Sydney next? I’d love to catch up.’
‘No plans. Why don’t you come to Neverend again? There’s a long weekend coming up.’
‘I’ll think about it. A break could be just what I need.’ Chris could hear the smile in her voice.
‘And bring your camera.’
*
Susan was as surprised as Chris had been when he told her what he had found out about Norma’s return to Indonesia and her marriage.
‘That is so interesting. She was so dedicated to her profession that I never really thought of her as the marrying kind. I’d love to be able to talk with her again, if you can track her down.’
After a quick google didn’t produce anything useful, Chris checked the Australian White Pages website and saw immediately that there was only one NM Marzuki listed. The address given was in Melbourne. Chris rang the number but there was no answer, so he left a very brief message. A couple of hours later his call was returned.
‘Mr Baxter?’ The voice on the phone was quietly modulated.
‘Yes, speaking.’
‘This is Norma Marzuki. I believe you wanted to speak to me.’
Chris caught his breath. ‘Yes, I’m so pleased you’ve called back. As I said in my message, I’m Chris Baxter. You were in the volunteer programme in Java in ’68 with my mother, Susan . . .’
‘Of course I remember Susan, although I haven’t seen her since then. How is she?’
‘She is very well. She’ll be so pleased that you’ve made contact with me. I know she’d love to see you again and especially find out about your life. She understands that you returned to live in Indonesia?’
‘Chris, what made you want to find me? Was it on behalf of Susan?’ Norma broke in.
Chris hesitated. ‘Not primarily. I hope you don’t feel I’m intruding, but I’m actually writing a book about the four men who were with you in Java, and I would like to hear what you have to say about your time there and perhaps your opinion of those men and their work in Bogor.’
There was a slight pause. ‘So you’re a writer.’
‘I used to be a journalist, but the media business is a sea of shifting sands these days, so I’m trying to write a book. I’m presently living with Susan and my fourteen-year-old daughter in my mother’s house at a place on the New South Wales north coast called Neverend. Look, I’d love to talk to you in person; can I meet you? I realise you live in Melbourne, but would there be a problem in my flying down?’
‘I’m not sure that I can be of much help. I haven’t kept in touch with the others, and I can’t say that I’ve taken much notice of their subsequent careers, apart from Evan’s. I have very much admired his medical achievements over the years. I did turn up at the first reunion, as I was working in Sydney at the time, but Susan didn’t go and I have to say that I felt a bit lonely there without her company.’ Norma paused. ‘Funny that. I never considered that we were particularly close when we were in Indonesia, but I’ve often thought of her. Anyway, when I moved away from Sydney for work, I didn’t bother to go to any more reunions again.’
Chris was rather surprised at her comment about his mother. Norma didn’t sound like the self-contained woman Susan had described. Perhaps his mother had had more of an influence on Norma than she realised. ‘Norma, I’d love to know your story. Where your life path has taken you . . .’
‘Oh, no. I’m not at all interesting,’ Norma said quickly.
Chris felt a mild panic rise in him at her hesitancy and knew that her willingness to talk was slipping away. ‘Norma, Mum would love to catch up with you, and I would so appreciate anything that you can tell me about those Bogor years.’ His gentle and persuasive tone quickly came to the fore.
There was another pause on the end of the line before Norma said, ‘I’ve got to be in Sydney for a few days next week. If you could get down there, perhaps we could meet on the weekend. Do you think your mother would be interested in doing that?’
Chris was filled with relief. ‘We’d planned to make a trip to Sydney in the near future, as it happens,’ he quickly fibbed. ‘And I know Mum would jump at the chance to see you. Next Saturday all right with you? Could we exchange mobile numbers so that we can stay in contact?’
Before Norma had time to make any further excuses, they’d set a time and hung up.
Chris felt elated as he rang off and went to find Susan.
‘Guess what, that was Norma on the phone, Mum. She’s agreed to a meeting, next Saturday in Sydney. I think she mainly wants to see you, so I said you’d be there with me. Do you think you can come?’
Susan smiled broadly. ‘Of course, I wouldn’t want to miss it! I’m very curious to hear about her going back to Indonesia, as well as her marriage. But we can hardly leave Megan by herself.’
‘Megan would be more than happy to stay overnight with one of her friends. I’m sure something can be arranged.’
‘Maybe Toby’s parents could put her up,’ Susan suggested. ‘Those two are pretty thick these days and I know Toby’s parents well. You chat to Megan and then I’ll give Toby’s parents a call.’
‘That sounds like a plan to me. Do you want me to call Mark and tell him we’ve found Norma and that we’re coming down to Sydney to meet her?’ asked Chris. ‘He did offer to put us up any time, so perhaps if we accept his invitation you could catch up with him too and meet his wife, Lorraine.’
Susan waved a hand. ‘I wouldn’t dream of imposing on him,’ she said.
‘Mum, he wouldn’t have offered in the enthusiastic manner he did if he didn’t mean it.’
Susan relented. ‘I suppose so, and I would like to meet his wife. Oh, all right, you can call.’
‘Wait till you see Mark’s mansion,’ added Chris.
*
Mark’s wife Lorraine, elegantly slim in slacks and a cream cashmere sweater, her pale gold hair swept up in a French roll, met Susan and Chris at the front door of the North Shore house. She ushered them into the enormous family room at the rear of the house, where lunch was beautifully laid out on a table.
‘I’m afraid it’s just me at present,’ Lorraine said, indicating with a gentle wave that they should take a seat. ‘Mark was called away suddenly to an emergency meeting of the board of the Art Gallery of New South Wales. Evidently there’s a problem with a forthcoming exhibition that needs to be solved straight away. Anyway, he’ll be home for dinner, so you can talk to him then.’ She smiled.
‘It’s very kind of you to put us up like this, Lorraine,’ said Susan.
‘I’m so happy to meet you, Susan,’ Lorraine said warmly. ‘I’ve brought you out here as the sun just streams through these windows in winter, making this a very pleasant spot.’
‘It’s a gorgeous room,’ said Susan, unable to help glancing around at the stunning interior of the house. ‘You and Mark have a really beautiful home.’
‘Thank you, Susan,’ Lorraine said. ‘Mark talks fondly of the time you all spent in Java. It must have been an incredible experience.’
‘Yes, it was an amazing time. Have you been to Java?’
Lorraine shook her head. ‘No, although we’ve been to Bali a couple of times. The grandchildren love it there.’
‘Bali seems to be all anyone thinks about when talking of Indonesia,’ said Chris. ‘Even though it is just one of the seventeen thousand islands.’
‘I think Mark likes to go there just to practise his Bahasa. Do you still speak it, Susan?’
Susan laughed. ‘I haven’t spoken Bahasa since I left Indonesia! And that was such a long time ago that I don’t think I remember any of it.’
‘We can go for a holiday and you can brush up on it,’ said Chris. ‘When I have the money,’ he added quietly.
‘Actually, I was thinking of learning some Italian and going to Italy for a holiday,’ said Susan, casually. ‘A friend of mine has a holiday house there,’ she explained to Lorraine, obviously referring to David’s farmhouse.
‘I wasn’t sure how long it would take you to drive down, so I thought I’d just get some quiche and salad made up for us. Something easy and quick. I hope you don’t mind,’ said Lorraine, as she poured their coffee from a shining chrome pot. ‘It’s good to hear that you’re thinking of learning another language, Susan. Mark has business dealings with Indonesia on occasion and he says there’s not much point sitting around the negotiating table if you’re the only one in the room who doesn’t understand what’s really being said. Language is the key to understanding people, culture and friendship, don’t you think?’ Lorraine passed around some crusty fresh bread.
Susan nodded, taking a piece of bread and spooning some salad onto her plate. ‘Yes, I agree. We all found speaking the language made a huge difference to connecting with people. Being there to help and working from the heart are important, but from a practical point of view, knowing the language is essential. Without that knowledge I am sure we would not have been able to form the wonderful bonds we did with the local people.’
Chris cocked his head to one side. He had always thought he knew his mother inside out, but recently she had begun to surprise him, and he could glimpse the young woman she’d been all those years ago.
Later that afternoon, the two of them met Norma for coffee in a café in the Sydney CBD. They were seated at a table beside a window when Norma walked in. Chris knew immediately who it was, though he wasn’t sure how.
‘That’s her, isn’t it?’ he whispered to his mother.
Susan nodded, turned, smiled and gave Norma a short wave.
Norma was a solidly built woman with short faded red hair abundantly flecked with grey. She looked efficient and businesslike.
In her usual affectionate manner, Susan rose, reached out and embraced Norma, and although Norma looked slightly taken aback, she returned the hug.
‘Norma, it’s been so long! I can’t believe that we’re actually meeting up after all this time. This is my son, Chris, who cleverly tracked you down.’
Chris stood and shook Norma’s hand. ‘It’s such a pleasure. I’m so grateful you could come. We’ve been looking forward to this meeting.’
‘I went to the last reunion hoping that you would be there, but of course you weren’t,’ said Susan, retaking her seat. ‘I was disappointed, but that was silly of me. After all, it was the first reunion I had ever been to, so I could hardly expect everyone else to go just for my benefit.’ Susan smiled. ‘Still, it was lovely to catch up with the others. They have done such interesting things with their lives – which is what gave Chris the idea of writing a book about them. Listen to me! I’m just chattering on because I’m so happy to see you. Please, Norma, tell me what you’ve been up to these past forty-five years,’ said Susan, her face beaming with delight as she talked with her old friend.
Norma relaxed. ‘No, Susan, you first. You tell me all about your life.’
The three of them quickly ordered coffees as Susan told Norma about becoming a teacher, marrying and moving to Neverend, and staying there to raise a family and eventually becoming part of the town’s fabric.
‘I know that my life doesn’t sound all that exciting, especially compared with the lives the boys have led, but it’s been a very happy life and I’ve no complaints.’
‘After your adventures in Indonesia, perhaps living in a quiet country town was the life that best suited you,’ said Norma, gently.
Susan smiled gratefully at Norma and then said, ‘What about you, Norma? I was so intrigued to learn you went back to Indonesia and that you married. When did all that happen?’
Norma paused, looking down at her coffee. ‘When my contract was up and I came home from Indonesia, I worked here in Australia, first as a midwife and then teaching midwifery. I moved around a bit, but to my surprise I never felt really fulfilled. I thought that working with like-minded people in clean, well-run hospitals with up-to-date equipment was what I wanted, especially after the difficulties we had working in Indonesia. But eventually I realised that it wasn’t. While the work was in many ways satisfying, I found that it wasn’t challenging enough. I knew that there were literally hundreds, even thousands of women in Australia who could perform my job as well as I could, but I knew that in Indonesia that simply wasn’t the case. Then out of the blue I heard about an opportunity to join a team establishing a birth centre and postnatal clinic in Bogor, of all places, so I went back.’
‘Good heavens,’ said Susan. ‘That is simply amazing. I have to say that out of the six of us, you are the one I thought least likely to go back to Indonesia. So how did the clinic go?’
‘Very well. The centre was very successful. The death rate amongst newborn babies plummeted in Bogor and so the model was adopted by other towns in the region. I began to train women to be midwives, and they took their skills back to their own communities. It was a very productive period of my life.’
‘I bet it was,’ said Chris, thinking what an extraordinary woman Norma was.
‘Norma, that sounds wonderful,’ said Susan, genuinely delighted at the success of her old friend. ‘I think I was startled initially when Chris found out that you’d gone back to Indonesia, but I do remember how committed you were to the mothers and babies you worked with, so I guess your decision to return is not all that surprising after all. And tell me, when did you get married, and who did you marry?’
Norma paused while she took a sip of her coffee, as though trying to gather her thoughts.
‘My husband’s name was Anwar Marzuki,’ she said in a low voice. ‘He was an Indonesian doctor at the Bogor hospital. You would never have met him, Susan; he started work in the hospital quite some time after you had left Indonesia. He was such a fine man and he was an excellent doctor, very committed to raising health standards in Bogo
r. I admired him greatly.’
‘He sounds very dedicated,’ said Susan.
‘He was,’ replied Norma. ‘Unfortunately, our marriage didn’t work out.’
‘Cross-cultural marriages are difficult, I imagine,’ said Susan, tactfully.
‘Yes,’ said Norma, frowning slightly. ‘His family were devout Muslims, although Anwar himself was not quite so religious. I didn’t want to adopt his religion and this led to friction with his family. To escape it, we eventually decided to come to Australia, but after a couple of years Anwar decided that living the good life in Melbourne was doing his own country a disservice and so he returned and we divorced.’
‘Have you been back to the Bogor area since then?’ asked Susan.
‘No. If truth be told, I never expected to stay in Bogor as long as I did, but after Anwar and I divorced, I decided that that part of my life was over and it was time to move on.’
‘But I bet you never lost your passion for your work. Good on you,’ said Susan with a grin.
‘No, I didn’t,’ said Norma, the corners of her mouth lifting. ‘I used my experiences in Bogor to help NGOs set up similar clinics through other parts of South East Asia and the Pacific. I’m here in Sydney for a few days because I’m supervising a student’s PhD on the Indonesian family planning programme that was aimed at promoting a two-children-only policy.’
‘Was that successful?’ asked Susan.
‘Yes, in some ways. But it was also extremely intrusive and often came close to forcing contraception on women.’ She gave a tight smile. ‘All part of the authoritarian social engineering by Suharto’s New Order. Women were dumbed down to be no more than adjuncts of the militarised and patrimonial state he built. Thank heavens they don’t have that programme anymore,’ she said, her eyes hard. ‘I’m also on a couple of working panels over the next week, to discuss what improvements can be made to the current working model of postnatal care in emerging nations.’
‘That’s fantastic! You must have phenomenal energy,’ said Susan, draining her cup. ‘I’d kill for another coffee. Anybody else?’
