Down Under

Rookwood Cemetery. Sacred ground. They have no bloody idea how sacred it is. It’s Koori land. I dunno the proper name for it and all that, but I know, like, if they were gunna have a ceremony here, like an open day or some shit like that then it’s real political and correct to say stuff like ‘we acknowledge the traditional owners, the blah-blah people’ and then everyone nods and claps coz that’s what you’re suppose to do these days if ya give a flyin’ fuck about Koori stuff. I mean, it’s great to do that, it’s a start, it’s respect, but I wonder just how many people really understand what’s happened to our people.  

I was startin’ to think about gettin’ more knowledge about our stuff but then I got a fuckin’ fist full of cancer in me cunt so I had to stop. And now I’m here, waitin’ with all the rest of the dead to see what happens. Uncle Jimmy said that they shoulda taken me back to the traditional place, ya know, where me mum’s mob comes from, to rest. Ya don’t rest down here, too busy thinkin’ about how ya stuffed up yer life, regrets rollin’ around in ya head like clinkin’ glass marbles. Should’na had kids with that bloody no-hoper Mick, should’na left school so early. And sometimes just frickin’ bad luck comes down on ya when ya don’t expect it like the diabetes and the bone density and cancer and then Mick beats me to death with a baseball bat and one of me eyes popped out onto the carpet. Detectives said it was one of the worst cases they’d ever seen. Least he’s in the big house now. Even me mum warned me about Mick. Loser bastard.

I know Aunty Pearl’s lookin’ after the kids all right. Last time they came Uncle Jimmy was smashed. I could smell ‘is breath even from down ‘ere, six feet under. He kept cryin’ and sayin’ I shoulda been taken back to me land, Biripi land, where me mum’s buried. Near the sea.  Biripi people, their totem is the shark, he told me kids. Joey pointed to his football jersey. He’s a Sharks supporter. Uncle Jimmy said, ‘That’s right, Joey, the sharks,’ and then he collapsed, and Aunty Pearl said, ‘Ya should be ashamed of yerself Jimmy. Git yerself up off the ground and show some respect. That’s not our way, doin’ what you’re doin.’ Givin’ us a bad name.’  

I don’t blame Uncle Jimmy. Or me mum. She was depressed and that. Got taken away when she was ten and put into that Cootamundra Girls’ Home. Some idea back then that Kooris couldn’t look after their children just coz they didn’t have fancy shit and ‘coz they weren’t white. Anyway, they sent them girls out to work on stations, treated ‘em like slaves. Some like me mum, she come back pregnant to the station owner. He sacked her so his wife wouldn’t find out.

Aunty Pearl’s me hero. She’s at university now. She never got an education, like me and she’s poor but she’s got pride. She went back later and got educated and then she just kept goin.’ She says it’s given ‘er power.  Us women, she says, black or white, doesn’ matter, we gotta stick up for one another. Self-respect, education an’ empowerment. She even got tee-shirts made up with them three words printed on ‘em when she ran the women’s workshops. She’ll whip me kids into shape, make em stay on at school. Maybe some of ‘em might go to university too. Pearl’s kids are at uni. I don’t reckon Uncle Jimmy’s gunna last that long. They’re gunna amputate his foot, Aunty Pearl said. Vascular somethin’ disease from diabetes and too many ciggies, three packs a day.

I reckon if Uncle Jimmy dies and ends up here, near me, he can talk to me about traditional things and I can learn some Koori stuff, some Biripi stories from the old country.  Maybe them stories can help me sleep at night instead of tossin’ and turnin’ down here, thinkin’ about what’s gunna happen next, when I’ll be called up. I dunno what I’m gunna do when that time comes or where ya go. If it’s God that’s waitin’ at the other end I’ll just have to say, ‘Listen Big Fella, I didn’t have much to work with, but I done the best I could.’  Anyway, I’m buggered, gettin’ all that off me chest.