Sister Therese she run the health clinic. She the young one from Spain, or Philippines, maybe. Nice little lady, bit hard to understand but. You see? There’s all sorts of language spoken in Karnama. Spanish, Spanish English, Philippine Spanish, Philippine English, Aboriginal languages, Aboriginal English, Australian English, Government English, Politician English. And more. Got them all nearly.
Sister used to stay over there all the time then, at that health clinic, maybe because it was air-conditioned, and all with new sinks and toilets and fridges and taps and that. Close for emergencies also.
One night Sister rang the mission. We only had phones in Karnama a little time then. She was frightened. Murray he could hear it in her voice as soon as she spoke.
‘Murray, please can you come? There’s drunken men outside the clinic. Shouting out and calling my name. They cannot even hardly stand up.’
Murray tell her: ‘You’ll be right Sister, they won’t come in, you’ve got good locks. Anyway, I make it policy to have nothing to do with drunken Aborigines.’
But Sister Therese was frightened. ‘It’s not Aborigines. It’s the builders.’
They were too drunk. This was not work day, see, and they been drinking long time. All the people were watching them, laughing. It was funny really. Kids copied them, staggering and talking lazy like. Father Paul and Murray went over there pretending they was just driving. They joked with the drunk men and got them over to mission with them.
It’s no good having people like that in Karnama. They stay over behind mission workshop away from the people. They came to build houses but don’t let the young men work with them. They look at the women, part laughing and part hungry. They bring too much beer with them.
Every night they drink until have to fall asleep. We know. Some of the women go over there. They say to them, ‘Hey, come over to our camp. We can play cards too. Have some tucker, maybe a little drink.’ Eva went over there, Araselli too, even with the baby in her. Milton’s wife, Annie, she went there too. And even some of the women who have lots of kids. We know, and people talked about it.
Everyone know they had drinks there. They sell beer to some of the men. Too much money. And then we had drunken people shouting and fighting and too much noise at night.
And two times some of the people—it was Raphael—sneak over there in the daytime when they were working and empty their freezers. Took all their beer, everything. They came back and opened the fridge, and saw nothing. Nothing. Just emptiness.
They got wild. They told Gerrard about it, and they tell Father Paul too. We were wild too, but not because they were. They shouldn’t have grog here, not if we don’t want them to. The council made a letter like this:
But who took any notice? Moses and some other councillors, they drink themselves. But they don’t go silly like these young blokes.
We don’t like the grog, really. It’s no good for us. We don’t like it. Them young ones, they get drunk, they want to fight. They get a car and think they’re like in a video. One day someone get killed, a kid maybe. They drunk they hit wives, fight with other blokes, go after their rumbud. They don’t listen.
One young bloke grab Fatima, he’s supposed to be her rumbud and not look at her even. He grabbed her and push her away when she tried to stop them fighting. One day maybe someone just lay her out, rumbud or no rumbud.
Some of the young ones, still at school even, some of them like that too. Drinking and that. Young Deslie, he was standing in the road turning around and around and yelling out. Sebastian sang out to him from down near the school. He didn’t hear, he didn’t listen. And Franny, that dreamy one, drunk and fall asleep, sleeping in his own vomit.
When Father Pujol was here it was better. We didn’t have so many Toyotas maybe, but now only chairman’s mob get them anyway. No one fight then, no drink anyway. He warned you once, twice, then he made you leave, throw you out of the place. Especially if it was a white bloke causing trouble. But there wasn’t so many white blokes then either. Just mission and couple of teachers.
Tell us, we learned anything from white man yet? Nowadays people make a mistake. Maybe tired. Little by little Aborigine going down. Drinking and dying. Making circles, littler and more little. We don’t like looking, and seeing it that way. We want to fly up again.
They can’t forget about our roots, they can’t leave behind and go to the whiteman roots. That no good.
Our time, we never see all these things. When early people was alive, in their own land, we never see such things. When we were little children, when we grow big, all our life we see things get all mixed. We see wrong things for our people, so far for the Aborigine the gardiya make trouble. Grog, money, everything.
So. What we gunna do? We can only do, we can only say. They can listen to us. They can believe us, what we say and what we tell them.
That’s all we say. That’s what we ask.