Casino feet

Joselyn is 5. She just turned 5. She's one of our preschoolers and I don't mind telling you she can be a handful . My nickname for her is "Bossy Jossy" because frankly there are times when she is the boss of everyone and CANNOT be told what to do.
I arrived at Mulga Bore this morning and made my usual stop at Lindsay's house. Joselyn came running up to me very excited. She was holding a pair of shiny black shoes that looked to be about her size.
"Lisa, look my casino feet."
She was proud as punch to own a pair of shoes that would gain her access to the Casino in Alice Springs. Sadly, I fear that she knows this phrase only too well because it is a venue frequented by her father. Joselyn mostly stays out at Mulga Bore and is cared for by her aunties and her grandparents. She's happy enough and all in all I have to say that she's better off being a bossy little school girl than a Casino orphan.

Silence

It's after midnight and I find myself unable to sleep. There is a type of silence you discover when you live in the desert, silence that isn't really silence. A silence so quiet that it makes you acutely aware of everything around you. A tap dripping, the fridge as it adjusts to the nightime temperature drop, the house as it creaks and moans, the quiet noises of nocturnal animals. Once you are tuned into these noises that can only be heard in the silence they become as loud as the trams that used to pass by my bedroom window when I lived in North Fitzroy. They keep me awake. And so I stop fighting my sleeplessness and I step outside to breathe in the night air. I'm glad I did becasue it is the most miraculous night for stars. There is no moon in the sky, not yet at least. The Milky Way is a cloudy white blur that stretches from one side of the sky to the other. The sky is glittering from the sheer volume of celestial bodies visible on a night like this. All of a sudden sleeplessness doesn't seem so bad and I am glad for the noises that have kept me awake.

Bush trip

Last Wednesday we went on a bush trip. Now many of you might think that I live in the bush already. But trust me it is possible to go further bush than Mulga Bore. In fact going bush for them means driving out to some very special hunting grounds. I have been there twice now and still dont think I could find it by myself. The track to get there winds through scrub, creek beds and rocky outcrops. Often there is only a faint set of old tyre tracks to guide the way. Luckily for me I just have to follow someone else when I go.
The kids were so excited about our bush trip - running to school when they saw my Toyota arrive and excitedly reconfirming 'We going bush today Lisa?'
After the regular amount of pfaffing around and sorting out who would travel in which cars and which adult members of the community would be coming with us and which of their cars had enough petrol to get there and back - we set off. The kids in my car took control of the tape player immediately and put in the Utopia Songs tape - a complilation of songs the kids have written and recorded during my time at the school. They sang along at great volume the entire way!
About half way to our final destination we stopped at a significant rocky hill and the old men and women took pleasure is showing certain special features to the children - the piece of rock that had been made smooth long ago when the 'dreamtime people' sharpened their stone knives there, the rocks leaning together in the shape of a roof that used to provide shelter for people, the water hole where animals can drink.
Then it was back in the cars and on to the hunting ground. Once we arrived there the kids made a beeline for the huge rock hill and climbed it at great speed eagerly anticipating the views that awaited them at the top. Then back down they came and it was time to do some hunting. Some people went off looking for echidna and goanna tracks. Others took axes and went looking for sugarbag, some took shovels and crowbars to look for honey ants. I went with Maggie to look for witchetty grubs (Tyape). A gaggle of small boys trailed after us. Usually boys don't look for tyape -it's womens work. But these were young boys and still learning all the bush arts so it was OK. It didn't take long for Maggie to spot the first sign of possibility - the shed skin of a grub left at the base of the tree as it has entered the root system. Maggie dug up the roots like a pro but alas only found old cocoons - the grub had long since moved on. Same story at the next couple of trees but eventually we were luckly and dug up some nice, fat juicy tyape.
After a while we got tired and decided to head back to 'camp' where the BBQ was being cooked and two of the old ladies had decided to make damper. Egged on by myself and the kids this quickly turned into a race to see who could make the best damper and in the shortest time. Everyone had a great laugh as these two matriachs of the Community folded and kneaded their damper as quick as they could. Out of deference to both we declared the competition a draw. Both dampers were very good eating!
We found some bush fruits and bush medecine but unfotunately the creatures with feet managed to avoid capture so no goanna or perentie for us that day.
Never mind, I'm sure it wont be our last bush trip!

Something lost, something found

In my first weekend alone in my house since the start of the year I decided to have a bit of a spring (or autumn) clean. I was cleaning out the cupboards in my spare bedroom when I came across an exercise book with the lyrics to a song I wrote with my class written out in pencil. Above certain words the guitar chords were marked in. I soon realised that the handwriting belonged to my friend Kirk who died last year. I had a token stab a few years ago at learning the guitar. It lasted about 5 minutes but those 5 minutes happen to coincide with a visit to Utopia of Kirk and a bunch of other friends. I remember it being a crazy few days with their 3 or 4 cars arriving out here at about 8 pm one night - they had left town later than anticipated and driving in convoy on a dirt road at night is not easy! I remember all 9 or 10 of use sitting on my front verandah - talking, knitting, doing crosswords or marking of birds we'd seen in Birds of Australia books (not me so much for that one!). I remember Kirk particularly enjoying the hammock. This is possibly because he had called me a couple of times in the week before they arrived up here - to talk about logistics - and each time we spoke I had been in my hammock! I remember going out bush overnight, camping in the river bed, eating kangaroo tail cooked on the hot coals of the campfire - even Kirk the vegetarian bless him! I remember he and Kylie and I singing Closer to Fine and it being one of those moments where your voices connect and become more than the sum of their parts. I remember heading off to the Utopia Sports carnival on what should have been a school day and the boys from the city donning the Magpies jerseys and playing for the Mulga Bore Magpies. I remember Angela taking us to the caves and all of us stading on the top and taking a photo of our shadows all lined up. I still look at the picture and try to figure out which one is Kirk. I remember getting the kids to sing the Hunting Song for all my friends and Kirk loving it so much that he decided to write his own lyrics to the same tune offer the students the gift of a new song telling the story of his journey to Utopia.
And I remember asking Kirk to note down the chords for me so that I could learn to play the song on my guitar. He was only too happy to do it. I'm sorry now that i gave up on the concept so quickly.
The thing is that I could almost count on two hands the number of times I saw Kirk in the last few years - it really wasn't that often. But I think of him so often now.
There was a ceremony yesterday in Melbourne to scatter Kirk's ashes. I was sad that I couldn't be there for it but perhaps by being here I was in a way remembering Kirk for his fearless way of reaching out into distant places and embracing the world he found there.