Calypso Summer (6 page)

‘Is this Aunty Janet?' I asked.

‘Yes, who is this?' she asked, sounding pissed off or something.

‘Calypso, I mean Kyle,' I answered.

‘Who Kyle?'

‘Audrey's son Kyle.'

‘Which Audrey?'

‘Your cousin-sister Audrey.'

‘I know who you is bub. What you want?'

I kind of shit myself, how was I supposed to explain what I was after? Maybe it would be easier if I met Aunty Audrey, to tell her face-to-face. ‘Is it okay if I come visit, Aunty Janet? Mum's always talking about the place and I haven't been there since I was a little fella.'

‘Yes, of course dear. When can I expect you?'

I hadn't really thought it through or how I would get there, Port Germein is a couple of hundred kilometres from Adelaide, but I said, ‘What if I come up next weekend?'

‘That'll be good.'

I was glad Aunty Janet said I could come up so soon because Gary started giving me the shits during that week. When he wasn't at the café or sitting at the counter reading this book he'd bought called
Aboriginal people and their plants
, he'd point to pictures of plants in the book and ask if my tribe knew about them or if I'd talked to anyone about things. At least I could tell him that I was going to see some of the mob on the weekend but still he wouldn't cut it out.

On Wednesday morning Gary asked me if anyone of my tribesmen had been in contact and thank god this woman came in when she did or I reckon I would have told him to get fucked. I refused to move from sitting on the crate stacking vitamins or to speak to the woman, not just because I was pissed off but to see if Gary would notice.

The woman was pretty stylish, wearing loose white pants and a shirt with red beads and earrings. She had some deadly kind
of haircut, short around the back and sides with long bits on top and streaks of blonde through it. Then I watched Gary look at me, expecting me to bend over backwards. I just pointed my chin at the shelf and packets I was stocking.

Gary got up from behind the counter, sighed and walked towards the woman who put on a pair of glasses to read the labels on powders.

‘How may I help you today?' Gary asked.

‘I'm looking for something with a bit of a kick I guess,' said the woman.

‘For you?'

‘Oh, kind of for my husband.'

‘Is he feeling a bit flat?'

‘You could say that.'

‘Ah, I think we have just the thing,' said Gary with a smile of the Cheshire cat as he looked at me and winked.

‘Just wait a sec,' he said as he walked over to grab his corn cob that was now old and withered from behind the counter. He went back to the woman and directed her to the shelf of corn concentrate in the centre of the store. ‘You see,' he said pointing his finger to all the shelves in the store, ‘there are many pills and powders that we have that can provide energy but at the end of the day, nature, in its pure form, always provides the best results.' He held the shabby piece of corncob in front of the woman.

The woman was interested and held one of her gold rings between her thumb and index finger while asking, ‘Corn makes you energetic?'

‘Absolutely,' Gary said. ‘But it is best to eat it raw or dried and then ground to a powder. You can mix it with solids or liquid, lots of it.'

‘How much exactly?'

‘A packet a day will certainly give you a spark.'

‘Does it take more for men?'

Gary let the piece of corn dangle between his thumb and index finger. ‘Yes, it takes a bit more for men because we're generally bigger and therefore need to pump more blood through our veins to our appendages.' Gary slowly swivelled the piece of corn so that it pointed vertically to the roof.

‘Do you have many customers buying it?'

‘Yeah, especially this one bloke. He had quite the paunch when he first came in.'

‘He was fat?'

‘Yes, huge. The bloke wanted a boost to help him stay on track with his exercise program.'

‘Did it work?'

‘Every time he comes back into the shop he brags about how many more push-ups he can do.'

‘Really?'

‘He's bloody fit these days I tell ya.'

‘I'll take a dozen packets,' said the woman without hesitation.

Gary walked over to the counter with a dozen packets of the ground corn, winking at me again.

‘You know, I just work down the street, I own the hair salon.'

‘Oh yeah, I know it. What's it called again?'

‘Cleopatra's Mirror and I'm Steph,' the woman said holding out her hand for Gary to shake.

‘Nice to meet you,' Gary said as he shook her hand with a nod of his head and a smile on his face. ‘I'm Gary and this is Calypso.' I gave Steph a little wave.

‘When the corn works, make sure to come back again and tell your friends about our store'.

9

I jumped on the Greyhound bus at seven o'clock on Saturday morning to get to Aunty Janet's place. I didn't take much with me, just a small bag with a few bananas, a bottle of water, some garbage bags for collecting the herbs, a jumper and a sleeping bag, just in case. I threw in some shorts too.

Watching everything whiz by as I cruised through the suburbs on that bus was pretty deadly. All the secondhand car lots along Main North Road got me thinking about saving up for a car. If I got Run to move out and someone else to move in I could afford it. If things with Gary paid off, I could do it easily.

When I reached the fringes of the city, there were small market gardens everywhere and the greenhouses made me think about Run. People reckon market gardeners grow ganja too but I wondered about that because why would you risk a steady profit for a quick buck? Then again, there were some pretty flash houses among all the fields.

The horses and sheep in the paddocks reminded me of travelling out of town as a little fella. I wished I'd jumped on a bus and headed out bush earlier. The last time was on a year ten school trip.

Craning my neck to look up at the big blue sky through the window I felt glad that I wasn't smoking ganja. Little things like just looking around at the environment seemed much better when I wasn't stoned. Not being so paranoid was the best thing though. Sure, I still stressed about Run and paying the rent and things, but being straight, I felt like I could handle it all.

The whole landscape changed as the bus moved along. There were paddocks full of saltbush and malley shrubs and when I saw the Flinders Ranges in the distance, the soil started changing from brown to red. Approaching the Flinders Ranges is deadly. At first you just notice a few small rolling hills in the north-east and they gradually grow until they become like a giant swelling wave that stretches for hundreds of kilometres. The mountains look purple with bits of red and pink through them.

Mum was always telling me about her country when I was a little fella. She told me about going fishing, deadly snakes she had to watch out for, the lizards she played with, the roos cruising through the valleys and the emus on the plains. Most of all she liked telling me about going hunting with her family and how she and Aunty Elsie would swim and play in the creeks. The sun was shining on the ranges and I started to understand why Mum loved this place and how much she missed it.

I grabbed the notes I had scribbled down with directions to Aunty Janet's from my bag.
Take the Blanchetown Road just out of Port Germein and then take the third left. The house is at the end of the dirt track.

The other passengers must have thought I was a freak when I stepped off the bus at the Highway One and Port Germein intersection because there was no one waiting for me when the bus took off. I just stood there by the edge of the road for a while. I wasn't sure if the Blanchetown Road was to the north or south so I started to walk into Port Germein to ask for directions.

It was only a kilometre or something to the centre of town but as soon as I got walking, the sweat started dripping. It was still pretty much morning but the heat was dry and I could feel it
tearing into me. I heard a car coming up from behind so I turned to watch it approach. It was an old beat-up gold van. It backfired and sounded like shit.

The van slowed down and then pulled over to the side of the road in front of me. I started walking past it and this old blackfella stuck his head out the window. ‘Where you going?' he asked.

‘I'm looking for Aunty Janet …'

He looked at me for a while and then said, ‘Well, jump in and I'll take you to her. I've just got to grab a few things from the shop.'

I walked around and hopped into the van. The old fella had this huge rock hard gut that pushed up against the steering wheel.

As we drove along with the van making a racket, the bloke didn't bother striking up conversation. He kept looking at me kind of weird though and I wondered if I'd made a mistake getting in. I mean just 'cause we're both black doesn't mean we should trust each other does it?

The old fella pulled into the Port Germein service station and got out of the van without saying a word to me. So I just followed him. He grabbed a carton of milk, and eggs, went up to the attendant and paid for the things without the shopkeeper saying a word. I wished I could do business like that.

The old fella walked out of the shop as I grabbed a sandwich. He was revving the shit out of the van when I opened the door. As we started moving I took the sandwich from the plastic container and bit into it.

‘Shit sandwiches eh?' the old fella asked.

‘It's alright,' I said before taking another mouthful and the old fella went up through the gears as we travelled out of town.

‘So how do you know Aunty Janet?' I asked.

‘She's my niece.'

‘Really? She's my grandfather's sister's daughter,' I said, feeling good that I was meeting a relative.

‘I know,' said the old fella just chuckling a bit.

‘So that must make you my great uncle.'

‘Yeah, I know that too,' said the old fella, ‘Uncle Al.'

‘Good to meet you Uncle,' I said.

Then a moment later he turned onto a dirt track and said, ‘There's a meeting going on at Aunty Janet's. Just wait on the porch until it's over.'

The van rolled through an old farm gate, up the drive to Aunty Janet's house. The house was set on a large block, at least ten times bigger than a city block. Some geese crossed the dirt drive as the van came to a halt. There were plants everywhere in the yard. I didn't know what type of plants they were but I thought they must be important as they were set in rows. Al jumped out of the van and I watched him walk into Aunty Janet's house. I was glad for the lift but it would have been good if he'd told me what the meeting was about and how long it would take.

I walked over to Aunty Janet's porch where two really old Aboriginal men were sitting. They were like ninety years old or something. I'd never seen Aboriginal men that old before. I nodded as I went to sit down on the edge of the splintery wooden floorboard veranda and the old fellas nodded back. I sat there looking at the trees spread across the property. Some crows and magpies flew past. The crows wouldn't stop their squawking.

At the front of the property I could see an old tattered mattress near the fence. I wondered if it was a bed for the dogs barking
around the back of the house. Although the plants out the front of the house were set out neatly, Aunty Janet's house was just a fibro transportable, nothing too flash about it. There were kids' handprints smeared on the lemon paint.

After about ten minutes of waiting, I started to wonder why no one had come out to meet me. I repositioned myself so that I could look at the old men again. They kind of reminded me of pictures of King Haile Selassie I that I'd seen in books and and uniform and that. The old men looked royal like Selassie, even in old slippers, simple slacks and shirts. With their white documentaries about Bob Marley, with Selassie wearing his crown beards and walking sticks, they looked like they'd seen everything.

At last, someone stepped out of Aunty Janet's front door. It was a woman, maybe about Evelyn's age, she looked a bit like Evelyn too. She was thin with long black hair and dark skin. She was real stressed and hurriedly lit a cigarette. I waited for the woman to take a few drags and then I said, ‘Howdy, I'm Calypso.'

‘Calypso!' she shrieked, coming over to kiss me on the cheek. ‘I thought your name was Kyle, that's what Mum said it was!'

‘Yeah, that's my real name but everyone calls me Calypso.'

‘True? You don't look like a Kyle, you look like a Calypso.'

‘You're Aunty Janet's daughter then?'

‘Mel,' she said, giving me a hug. ‘Long time no see little cuz,' she said.

‘So what's going on in there?' I asked.

‘Big meeting,' Mel replied, ‘The Aboriginal Lands Trust want us to do some bloody thing.'

‘Lands Trust?'

‘Yeah, all about Baroota, over there,' Mel indicated with her chin, pointing toward the hills in the east.

‘What's Baroota?' I asked.

‘You don't know Baroota,' she said, raising an eyebrow.

‘It's where lots of the old people were born and lived, your Grandfather too I reckon. Baroota means place of good tucker you know?'

‘Oh yeah, Mum told me about it.'

‘Where you been anyways cuz?'

‘City,' I replied.

‘Yeah, you look like you come from the city too,' said Mel, reaching out to touch one of my dreads. I thought I heard the old men chuckling but when I turned to look at them they were only sipping tea.

‘When you reckon I can see Aunty Janet?'

‘When the meeting's over, shouldn't be long now,' she said and then walked back into the house.

I just stayed there sitting on the porch feeling like a dickhead. I was getting paranoid about the old men, thinking they could read my thoughts or something. I kept looking to the horizon, across the gulf and then back to the plants and trees on Aunty Janet's property. I wondered how far I'd have to search for the plants I was after. Then I heard chairs scraping across the floor and some people arguing, their voices getting rowdy. Talk about making me feel uncomfortable but I couldn't just get up and walk off.