Season of Hate (18 page)

Events of the following year seemed to move very quickly as I recall. Now in fourth class, we had a new lay teacher called Mr Carroll. He was the first male and the first non-church teacher at the school. It was all brought about by the death of one and the retirement of another of the teaching nuns, and a shortage of replacements within the order. Mr Carroll had red hair but with pale skin like mine and covered in freckles. He came from England and was a mad cricket fan. If an important match came up, he'd put on his bakelite radio and let us listen while we did our work.

If the number of Aborigines in the main streets of town of a day was more evident, they were tolerated, rather than accepted by the majority of white people. Ganan and his family from the Reserve we'd often see and talk to. Dad, always concerned for their health and welfare, often got supplies for them from the shops. He'd take them to them as they sat in a group along the creek bank or under the trees on the outskirts of town.

One Saturday around lunchtime, Dad, Doug, Johnny and I were on our way back from The Parthenon when we saw on the corner just outside the Exchange Hotel this Aboriginal woman sitting cross-legged on the dusty wooden verandah. Her young son, just short of two years of age and wearing a dirty nappy, played beside her. Dad stopped to talk to her as we passed.

"Hello Ruby. How's young Tommy there?" It was clear the woman had been drinking, but she smiled on recognising Dad.

"Hello Doctor McNally, sir. Him much better," she slurred. 'Cept he wasn't – he was malnourished and flies swarmed around his eyes and runny nose.

"How 'bout you come and see me tomorrow, and we'll examine you both."

"Oh I fine. Little one has cough." Dad eyed the boy from head to toe.

"I think it's very important that we take a good look at Tommy as soon as possible."

"Doctor McNally sir, could you spare a little change so I can get him something to eat and drink?" Dad looked her squarely in the eye.

"No I can't." Ruby was taken aback.

"Any smokes?"

"I don't smoke, Ruby. Now, you know where I live. If you want to come with us now, I'll give you both something to eat and drink and clean up young Tommy here. But I won't give you money to spend on grog or cigarettes. Understand?" She looked at him sheepishly before replying,

"No money then?"

"No money, no smokes." Dad began to move on. She started to get to her feet.

"Okay Doctor, we go."

Dad playfully placed his hat on Tommy's head before picking him up and carrying him on his hip. Doug and I looked around us. We were getting hostile looks from some of the drinkers standing on the pubs' verandahs. 'Abo lover' was shouted out from a couple of the men to our backs as we headed on home. But Dad walked tall and straight as usual. I kept an eye out in all directions just in case. Some people stopped and stood aghast, passing whispered comments of disapproval once we'd walked by. One was Gwen Grady and a friend.

"Ignore them, boys," Dad commented. "They're not worth worrying about." Yet there were others who'd call out 'Hey Doc' and wave and smile at us as we passed. Ruby kept her head down and stayed close to Dad's side. Johnny, particularly Johnny, as well as Doug and I, were so moved by Dad and his caring for this woman. Later Dad spoke to Doug and me.

"Always do unto others, as you would have them do unto you," followed by an explanation and the further comment after, "There but for the Grace of God, go you or I." He was good at quotes from the Bible and other sources, and equally good at explaining them in context to us, so that our young minds could understand.

Once home, after first feigning dismay by rolling her eyes at Dad over this latest act of kindness, Nan welcomed them both inside. Dad took them into the lounge room for a check up, closing the door after them. Nan cut up a towel for a nappy. While she did that, she instructed us to get out of the fridge the ingredients for a brawn salad.

We heard the boy scream and cry from within the lounge room and then after a while Ruby and a tear-stained, lolly-eating Tommy emerged. His nose and eyes were clean and clear. Nan took Tommy from Ruby and handed her another fresh towel before showing her to the bathroom. Throughout her visit, Ruby looked a little apprehensive, coupled with I guess a sense of disbelief that this was being done for her and Tommy – the fact they were not only allowed in to someone like the doctor's house to use the bathroom and wash, but to also have lunch.

At first the boy resisted being taken from his mother, but Ruby said something to him in her language that had a soothing tone. After that he was quite happy to go to the laundry, holding Nan and my hand down the back steps, while Ruby showered upstairs. Dad, Doug and Johnny stayed in the kitchen preparing lunch.

A freshly washed and diapered Tommy sat on Nan's lap at the table while Ruby ate her salad. He ended up having some fresh milk, orange segments and a small slice of Nan's date roll with butter. Dad made Ruby promise to visit his surgery in two days time, with Tommy.

"I can't pay you Doctor," she said at the end of the meal. Dad smiled.

"There's no charge. Just promise me you'll look after the both of you. And stay off the grog."

"I'll try. Thank you Doctor. God bless youse all" she struggled to get out. It was heartfelt and very moving.

The next day she was drunk and back outside the Exchange Hotel with Tommy, but she did keep her appointment with Dad as promised. Nan left a little bag of sandwiches and oranges and a bottle of milk with Dad to give them when they turned up. She did that for every appointment they kept, until Ruby moved on to somewhere else with Tommy in tow.

The Aboriginal population in town were still generally looked upon with suspicion, though I never witnessed or heard of any incident that would warrant such alarm. The majority caused no bother. Compared to the behaviour of the regular white drinkers at the two pubs, those like Wood and his drinking mates, they were saints. But being black, a lot of people were quick to criticise them to their face with terms like 'what would you expect from a dumb Abo' and worse, if their actions deviated slightly from 'acceptable' white man's dictates. So they had to always be on their best behaviour, keeping out of the way of white folk as much as possible. They'd keep their heads bowed to avoid eye contact and the invariable intimidating 'what are youse lookin' at?' from some of the whites that'd follow after them heckling, and just go about their business.

Two households on the other side of town had taken in a half-caste Aboriginal girl each. This and the setting aside of a number of houses for the Aborigines was all part of the Aboriginal Welfare Board's policy to disperse them into the white community.

The girls were both around thirteen years of age. One you never saw about much. The other girl could be seen around town following after her new mother, carrying her purchases for her from the various shops she'd visit. Whenever you saw either girls with their new white families about town or at Church, although they were always well turned out in freshly washed and ironed dresses, white gloves with matching socks and shoes, nothing could mask the emptiness in their eyes.

Work was still difficult to find. Jobs the Aboriginal men had successfully carried out on farms while the white men went off to war had been quickly taken back by the returned servicemen. Many blacks followed the crop seasons, hoping to pick up temporary work. Some farmers fed their Aboriginal workers well and paid them fairly. Others though were merely given food and shelter – if you could call it that, or cigarettes and grog in exchange for an actual wage.

Later another afternoon, long after Ruby and Tommy had left town, Raymond, Barry, Snotty, Shen, Doug and I were riding about on our bikes when we saw some of the regular white drinkers, including Bob Wood, outside the Exchange Hotel. They were buying one group of black men hanging around outside the hotel because they weren't allowed inside, free beer – not out of kindness but for sport. They'd get them drunk on just one or two schooners because they had lower tolerances to alcohol than the whites, then laugh at them as they staggered around or fell over.

Then Bob Wood and his mates, drunk themselves, but not as legless as the Aborigines started pushing them about and tripping them up. They formed a circle around one young man, no more than twenty, and started pushing him from one to the other of them like he was a side of lamb. Then the pushing got more violent and resentful. You could hear them calling out and taunting him.

"Come on, stand up ya black cunt," then chanting, "Abo, Abo, Abo …" As he fell to the ground Bob Wood laid the boot in.

"We gotta do something," I shouted at the other guys as I dropped my bike on its side and ran across the road. Doug and Shen came after me trying to pull me back but I broke free. "Stop that! I said stop that!" The men interrupted their game and looked in my direction.

"Well look who we have here eh, McNally's boys," slurred Bob Wood.

"You're hurting him."

"What's it to you?" I helped the young black man to stand by supporting his elbow as he made several attempts to struggle to his feet.

"Please, Mr Wood, he's done nothing to you."

"He's an Abo. That's reason enough. Isn't it fellas?" His mates mumbled some sort of agreement.

"Then you'll have to fight me," I threatened.

"Yeah," chorused my band of merry men, who had by now joined Doug, Shen and me on the pub's verandah. I took the pugilistic stance Dad had taught us.

"Hey fellas, looks like we got us a young Tommy Burns here."

I stood there grim-faced and determined with my fists raised but not really knowing what to do next as the men started laughing, all bar Mr Wood. He moved towards me rolling up his sleeves and with a menacing scowl on his face.

"It's about time someone put you McNallys in ya place." He reached out and held my head firmly with one hand as I took several wild air swings, all missing the mark, before he let me go. The men laughed even louder through all this which made my blood boil. While he wasn't looking I scored a weak punch to his abdomen and with that Mr Wood positioned his right arm high across his chest, about to follow through with a backhander to the side of my head. Then he stopped as if he had a change of mind as he looked up over our heads to across the road.

"Come on fellas, we're wastin' precious drinkin' time. The fourth race'll be on soon. If you'll excuse us Master McNally," offered Bob Wood with a sarcastic smirk.

"Well alright then," was all I could come up with. As the gang of thugs went back inside the pub, my fellas slapped me on the back. I went and checked the young man over – no blood. "There ya go mate, you'll be right." He thanked us then staggered off, assisted by his mates.

"What woulda ya done if he took ya up on the fight?" Snotty asked me as he wiped his nose on his arm.

"Well, we all woulda stayed and fought, wouldn't we?"

"Oh yeah. Sure," the group all replied, perhaps a little too immediate and strong to be totally convincing, but reassuring none the less.

"Well boys, what are you doing here? Bit young for drinking, aren't you?" The voice came from behind. We turned around. There was Sergeant Farrar coming toward us from his police car across the road.