Darlene walked past my house today in full magnificence. She strutted with her/his head held high and spine straight wearing an African caftan in the brightest blues, greens and gold and a bright blue turban. A Tuesday afternoon stroll, I’m assuming she/he’s off to the club for a couple of mid-strength tinnies. An amazing outfit. I was super impressed, because it wasn’t an African influence, it wasn’t an accessory or item of clothing, it was the full kit and caboodle. This kind of effort is absolutely admirable, for the rest of we white women on the island, the heat has totally reduced our commitment to beauty and fashion.
First the eyeliner is dropped, then the lipgloss, then foundation I guess – am not quite there yet, still have the tinted sunscreen…we begin to have longer stints between hair removal and don’t bother doing our hair – just tie it back wet and ignore it. There is dirt under our nails constantly so we cut ‘em short and don’t bother with polish. We regress to our basic states while Darlene shines in transgender glory. She/he reminds us that to be a woman is something to be proud of, to not dissolve into androgeny, to not assume that living on a tropical island in the wet season should mean we lose our femininity. She’s got it going on and that is why we should curl our eyelashes and pluck our brows and pop on a glossy smile and get out of our Birkenstocks once in a while. Be a bit girly, revel in our curves and the fun of being female and put together an outfit. Make an effort and not take the joy of being a chick for granted. Because it’s not easy for just anyone to be a woman, Darlene has had to make some pretty difficult choices – on an island of indigenous, conservative people, the sister girls are not always accepted or respected. But she frocks up and struts her stuff and is proud to be leaning on the side of sisterhood.
She looks scary as shit but at least she took the time to do it.
Tuesday, February 1, 2011
Invasion Day
Australia Day 2011 was not in any way typical to previous years. Most of the last 10 or so have been spent on the beach, then a BBQ somewhere while listening to the JJJ hottest 100. Celebrating with as the knowledge that the holidays are almost over looms and drives us to frenzy of socializing, eating and drinking.
This year was a little different. It began with an awesome tropical storm – the thunder literally shook the house and the rain pelted. The toilet blocked up so a plumber had to be called. Noone was sure exactly where a plumber might be – for some reason the school maintenance man couldn’t call one, he had to go for a drive and see if any of the 3 island plumbers were on the island. Where else would the island plumbers be I wondered? I figured that with Tiwi time our toilet might get fixed by the following Wednesday. But no, the trusty plumber – who turned out to be Irish and a hottie – was far too prompt in coming to our rescue. So prompt I had just jumped into the shower and my house mates were out of the house. I had to yell through the bathroom window – conveniently located next to the wide open front door – and ask if he’d mind waiting 3 mins in the scorching heat- while I got out of the shower. Then I had to introduce myself to the hot Irish plumber in my crazy caftan that I use to cover up naked situations, wet and dripping ‘cause I’d forgotton to take my towel in. Lovely. At least he gave me a ride up to school to have Oz day lunch with the other newbie teachers. Once I was dressed that is.
So had lunch with the newbies and Wayne – Tamara had pulled over to say hello to him and he just jumped into her car and wouldn’t get out so there were 6 adults, a baby and Wayne for lunch. He was very happy, he ate a frozen Prima (or “Poppas” as they’re called here and apparently anywhere that’s not Victoria) for about an hour. Then we all went over to watch some of the Tiwi island of Origin game. The sun was out for the first time since we’ve arrived and it was HOT! Searing white heat and these big guys were running around while we did lizard impersonations and sweated our rings off out in the sun. There was absolutely no shade but the outside of the footy ground was dotted with big rainbow striped umbrellas – it’s what the local shop sells so everyone had them up for shade – it looked very pretty against the green of the island. It was fun to hang out with the locals and relax in the sun – you’re not really out in the sun that much here. Wayne cuddled up to me again – not necessary in the sauna we were already experiencing but he’s such a cool little fella. And totally silent – he gives you a nod or a stare and that’s it.
In the arvo we headed to The Club. It’s open for 3 hours, 4 days a week and only sells mid-strength tinnies. There’s an undercover area for when the rain pelts and tables and plastic chairs outside. The cement tables are stained and mouldy. It stinks of cigarette smoke and B.O inside and the toilets are unusable. It’s fenced off like a prison and kids peer through at the crowd looking forlorn as their parents smoke and guzzle their beer. It is shit ugly. The Club’s system is ridiculously convoluted – you have to show ID at the entrance (a security guard is there at all times, he has a Greek accent – and looks very uncomfortable) who gives you a card. Then you line up and get scanned and pay for up to 6 tickets (the maximum beers you can buy). You then line up again to buy your beer. Singular. You can only buy one at a time and you can’t buy anyone else one or give your ticket to anyone else or you’ll be banned. It’s hilarious because they belt out a siren for last chance of ticket purchasing then for last beer purchasing and you get this mad rush of people – who usually move so slowly they can be mistaken for one of those street theatre human statues you see around Melbourne- pushing and yelling and generally absolutely desperate to get their last drink in. It’s a beautiful sight.
I still can’t figure out exactly what the card is for and no one can tell me. It’s a Tiwi thing – there’s a few of them. Things in place for no apparent, useful no explainable reason. Or things that happen for no reason we can understand. An undercurrent of Tiwi-ness we whities just can’t grasp.
So, it was the perfect arvo to sit outside in a type of beer garden and I decided to throw gluten intolerance caution to the wind and have a tinny. A) Because it was Australia day and a sweating, mid-strength warm beer in a can sounded very patriotic, B) because I was so fucking desperate for alcohol and C) I wanted to support a culture where you have limited amounts of alcohol and hours it’ll be served which encourages the desperate need to drink the most you’re able to get in a restricted amount of time – ie binge drinking – my favorite kind of drinking.
So, sweating, tepid mid-strength in hand, I was enjoying a relaxing chat and de-brief of the game where a massive fight had erupted between some players and onlookers and were dragged away to continue it out of the ground, when the biggest, ugliest, scariest Tiwi I had ever seen walked into the club. And then came over to us because one of the new teachers, Tamara, knew the monster as she has been over to the island quite a few times and has connections with some of the Tiwis. So we got to meet - let’s call her/him Darlene. Darlene had once been a man and I’m not sure how far the process had gone in converting to the sisterhood but there sure is more work to be done. At least 6 feet tall, denim skirted over a massive gunt, striped pink singlet top with an AFL-er’s chest and no boobs spilling out, pony tail and bling for a queen she/he was hideous. And hilarious. “Happy Invasion Day!” she/he preened – the campest of the camp- to our table of whities. She/he is smart, caustic and her/his English is great. She/he has travelled the world, attending transgender conferences and the like. And she/he can smash the tinnies. So that is how I got to have a tinnie with a Tiwi tranny on Australia Day 2011.
It was a great day. I didn’t get to hear the JJJ 100, although we kept tabs on the countdown and I was the happiest I’ve ever been with the winner – a song that breaks my heart every time I hear it- and I didn’t have a BBQ with the people I love or get to swim in the beautiful cold Victorian ocean. But I did get to really experience a bit of the Tiwi culture. This is the island – AFL, sunshine and showers, frozen poppas, rainbow umbrellas at the footy, long, lazy chats with your (new) friends, hot tradies, people wandering and greeting and lounging and fighting, trusting kids ready to love you, a beer at the club, and Darlene.
I loved it. I didn’t miss home because not one bit of it was anything like home – no shadows of my lost life and hopes jumping out to terrify me, no empty empty echos, nothing familiar or expected. So I love my home and my friends and family there but this day was such a day to celebrate because I feel like I had a chance to stop feeling like the arse has fallen out of my world. It was all about living in the moment and appreciating every enjoyable and ridiculous moment that popped up. I don’t know if that’ll last but I’m so glad for this day. I’m glad for new friends and this new adventure. I’m glad I met a hot irish plumber. I’m glad the sun was out and I went to the footy. I’m glad I had a luke warm beer in an ugly club with an even uglier transgender person called Darlene.
And I’m glad I didn’t stay at the Club till stumps ‘cause Darlene got in a fight. The poor bastard on the other end of that would be having a very different type of adventure..
This year was a little different. It began with an awesome tropical storm – the thunder literally shook the house and the rain pelted. The toilet blocked up so a plumber had to be called. Noone was sure exactly where a plumber might be – for some reason the school maintenance man couldn’t call one, he had to go for a drive and see if any of the 3 island plumbers were on the island. Where else would the island plumbers be I wondered? I figured that with Tiwi time our toilet might get fixed by the following Wednesday. But no, the trusty plumber – who turned out to be Irish and a hottie – was far too prompt in coming to our rescue. So prompt I had just jumped into the shower and my house mates were out of the house. I had to yell through the bathroom window – conveniently located next to the wide open front door – and ask if he’d mind waiting 3 mins in the scorching heat- while I got out of the shower. Then I had to introduce myself to the hot Irish plumber in my crazy caftan that I use to cover up naked situations, wet and dripping ‘cause I’d forgotton to take my towel in. Lovely. At least he gave me a ride up to school to have Oz day lunch with the other newbie teachers. Once I was dressed that is.
So had lunch with the newbies and Wayne – Tamara had pulled over to say hello to him and he just jumped into her car and wouldn’t get out so there were 6 adults, a baby and Wayne for lunch. He was very happy, he ate a frozen Prima (or “Poppas” as they’re called here and apparently anywhere that’s not Victoria) for about an hour. Then we all went over to watch some of the Tiwi island of Origin game. The sun was out for the first time since we’ve arrived and it was HOT! Searing white heat and these big guys were running around while we did lizard impersonations and sweated our rings off out in the sun. There was absolutely no shade but the outside of the footy ground was dotted with big rainbow striped umbrellas – it’s what the local shop sells so everyone had them up for shade – it looked very pretty against the green of the island. It was fun to hang out with the locals and relax in the sun – you’re not really out in the sun that much here. Wayne cuddled up to me again – not necessary in the sauna we were already experiencing but he’s such a cool little fella. And totally silent – he gives you a nod or a stare and that’s it.
In the arvo we headed to The Club. It’s open for 3 hours, 4 days a week and only sells mid-strength tinnies. There’s an undercover area for when the rain pelts and tables and plastic chairs outside. The cement tables are stained and mouldy. It stinks of cigarette smoke and B.O inside and the toilets are unusable. It’s fenced off like a prison and kids peer through at the crowd looking forlorn as their parents smoke and guzzle their beer. It is shit ugly. The Club’s system is ridiculously convoluted – you have to show ID at the entrance (a security guard is there at all times, he has a Greek accent – and looks very uncomfortable) who gives you a card. Then you line up and get scanned and pay for up to 6 tickets (the maximum beers you can buy). You then line up again to buy your beer. Singular. You can only buy one at a time and you can’t buy anyone else one or give your ticket to anyone else or you’ll be banned. It’s hilarious because they belt out a siren for last chance of ticket purchasing then for last beer purchasing and you get this mad rush of people – who usually move so slowly they can be mistaken for one of those street theatre human statues you see around Melbourne- pushing and yelling and generally absolutely desperate to get their last drink in. It’s a beautiful sight.
I still can’t figure out exactly what the card is for and no one can tell me. It’s a Tiwi thing – there’s a few of them. Things in place for no apparent, useful no explainable reason. Or things that happen for no reason we can understand. An undercurrent of Tiwi-ness we whities just can’t grasp.
So, it was the perfect arvo to sit outside in a type of beer garden and I decided to throw gluten intolerance caution to the wind and have a tinny. A) Because it was Australia day and a sweating, mid-strength warm beer in a can sounded very patriotic, B) because I was so fucking desperate for alcohol and C) I wanted to support a culture where you have limited amounts of alcohol and hours it’ll be served which encourages the desperate need to drink the most you’re able to get in a restricted amount of time – ie binge drinking – my favorite kind of drinking.
So, sweating, tepid mid-strength in hand, I was enjoying a relaxing chat and de-brief of the game where a massive fight had erupted between some players and onlookers and were dragged away to continue it out of the ground, when the biggest, ugliest, scariest Tiwi I had ever seen walked into the club. And then came over to us because one of the new teachers, Tamara, knew the monster as she has been over to the island quite a few times and has connections with some of the Tiwis. So we got to meet - let’s call her/him Darlene. Darlene had once been a man and I’m not sure how far the process had gone in converting to the sisterhood but there sure is more work to be done. At least 6 feet tall, denim skirted over a massive gunt, striped pink singlet top with an AFL-er’s chest and no boobs spilling out, pony tail and bling for a queen she/he was hideous. And hilarious. “Happy Invasion Day!” she/he preened – the campest of the camp- to our table of whities. She/he is smart, caustic and her/his English is great. She/he has travelled the world, attending transgender conferences and the like. And she/he can smash the tinnies. So that is how I got to have a tinnie with a Tiwi tranny on Australia Day 2011.
It was a great day. I didn’t get to hear the JJJ 100, although we kept tabs on the countdown and I was the happiest I’ve ever been with the winner – a song that breaks my heart every time I hear it- and I didn’t have a BBQ with the people I love or get to swim in the beautiful cold Victorian ocean. But I did get to really experience a bit of the Tiwi culture. This is the island – AFL, sunshine and showers, frozen poppas, rainbow umbrellas at the footy, long, lazy chats with your (new) friends, hot tradies, people wandering and greeting and lounging and fighting, trusting kids ready to love you, a beer at the club, and Darlene.
I loved it. I didn’t miss home because not one bit of it was anything like home – no shadows of my lost life and hopes jumping out to terrify me, no empty empty echos, nothing familiar or expected. So I love my home and my friends and family there but this day was such a day to celebrate because I feel like I had a chance to stop feeling like the arse has fallen out of my world. It was all about living in the moment and appreciating every enjoyable and ridiculous moment that popped up. I don’t know if that’ll last but I’m so glad for this day. I’m glad for new friends and this new adventure. I’m glad I met a hot irish plumber. I’m glad the sun was out and I went to the footy. I’m glad I had a luke warm beer in an ugly club with an even uglier transgender person called Darlene.
And I’m glad I didn’t stay at the Club till stumps ‘cause Darlene got in a fight. The poor bastard on the other end of that would be having a very different type of adventure..
Saturday, January 29, 2011
Awana
Well, I finally feel like I am rightways up again. Or on the way there. It has been a bit of Alice falling through big, dense tropical clouds and not knowing what the fuck was going on.
I had three incredibly intense Orientation days in Darwin where they figured it wasn't hard enough to pack up your life and say goodbye to your friends. It had to be followed up by nonstop information (lots useless - as always with Orientations) from 8am to brainfucked O'clock. Run by people who no longer teach - for a reason, they forget all about we poor ADHD visual/kinesthetic learners who are ready to stab ourselves -or the presenters- in the eye with their "gift" of a flouro orange water bottle after being made sit and listen for hours and hours and hours.
A bit of a saving grace was a girl who was supposed to start remote teaching but was gracious enough to cause quite a scandal and bond everyone together very quickly passing on stories of her incredibly bizarre behavior. She was pissed from the moment she got to the Orientation– and perhaps stoned on something potent enough to give her a stare that suggested a family of mice had taken refuge in her brain and chewed though all the wires. When speaking at you she would stare at the empty space next to your ear and lean over as though she was going to kiss you, which she might have if you didn’t back away quick enough – she did ask all the males there if they were single – regardless of whether they were 24 or 64 years old. She was found asleep outside one night, tipped water all over herself while in the morning session of the Orientation (I was sitting next to her and was amazed and impressed, she didn’t even blink as the water missed her mouth and went all over her and her handbag on the ground– although she actually did everything without blinking) and fell over a Tiwi teacher in her effort to put her smoke out. I decided I wanted her to be my new bestie, I figured with her for a BFF no matter what I did I would always look like an angel. And that’s some pretty hard work! Unfortunately it was not to be, we would not be hanging out and I would not be able to use her for a scapegoat..she did not end up staying on past the 3rd day – whisked away into the oblivion…So I was back to trying to behave myself.
Anyway...
I developed a crawling creeping freak out over Thursday and Friday, which culminated in realising this was all a monumental mistake and I was super-retarded to ever want to leave my home and the people who have saved me from insanity and despair. There were again some of those moments that I’ve had over the last few months, where I have to actually tell myself to breathe, breathe, breathe – in and out – when I feel absolutely terrified because I know I can’t just go home, that the life I missed isn’t there anymore. I breathe and breathe because the moment when I feel there’s only an echo in my heart of what was and that I am going to shrivel up from loss and lacking – will go. It will. And it does. With a little help from some fellas o do not keep normal hours and are available for late night chats and texting freak outs. Love them!
And with lots of breathing I made it to the island. I flew through the most beautiful clouds, right through them, we fly so low there is nothing but cyclone clouds floating, spiraling and cushioning all fears. I know being in a tiny plane seeing nothing but clouds front, side and back of us could make some people anxious (one newbie was panting rather than breathing with concern) but they told me I was heading somewhere so new, I felt a little relieved, a little happy. But.
After making it to the island I was faced with the dirtiest ramshackle house on earth - I have seen better kept places in the slums of India. Old and so covered in mould and dust we couldn’t tell what colour anything really was. The furniture was damp and lumpy and ugly and covered in dust building it’s way up from the 70’s. Everything was dirty; the walls, the ceiling, the few bits of crockery, the cutlery, the inside of the cupboards, the bathroom. Dirty shelves and toilets and fridges and mattresses and floors….And in between the dirt were the absences; no drawers or couch or coathangers or bin or plates…it was a pretty nasty shock . But my new house buds - who are fab - and I sucked it up and cleaned and washed and cleaned and swept and cleaned and collapsed Saturday night (not my usual weekend activity, well not collapsing sober anyway). And the best thing: I was so knackered I didn’t care about the lumpy, damp mattress or the mouldy 1970’s Hawaiian curtains or the small bed on wheels that rolled around when I moved too quick on it (lucky I was in it alone I guess!) or the cobwebs or the fact that I had left everyone and thing familiar and loved and was alone so far North of anything. I didn’t think or feel sad or lonely one bit, I slept so hard.
Sunday was more cleaning and unpacking (difficult when there was actually nowhere to unpack my stuff into..) and to top off a crazy, confusing, exhausting, bewildering five days, I had to go to MASS! Fuk! I was seriously concerned that in this tropical wet season I might get struck by lightning if I stepped foot inside and take out all the locals with me. But I rocked up with the other newbies to six o'clock mass and the first lovely surprise was this gorgeous open air circular church full of Tiwis and whities sitting on the ground cross legged, comfy and relaxed. Tiwi art decorating the poles and altar and the Tiwi ladies sang and danced and clapped the hyms in their own language (Who knew "How Great Thou Art" could actually sound good?). Their versions were like islander Jack Johnson cruisey, sunny tunes. And the next unexpected joy; a little mini 5 year old tacker called "Wayne"-a traditional Tiwi name I guess- got up and started bustin' some moves in front of the priest. He wouldn't listen to any of the Tiwi ladies hissing for him to sit down, spinning in front of the altar in his own groovy world. So of course I fell in love with him. He ended up cuddled up on my lap like a little Tiwi hot water bottle and the tension in my gut and heart and brain eased. For the first time in weeks I felt it might be OK.
And so Wayne has helped me breathe a little easier. And then to work on Monday where I've been working on trying to get my head around what I'm doing this year - in the last two days I have been assigned Re Coordinator (I knocked that on the head so fast), Yr 9 coordinator, "You Can Do It" Coordinator (Seriously! I'm keeping that one..), Special Ed support ( the principal wasn't even sure what that one involved), teaching Drama, ESL, SOSE (Know nothing about it), RE, Sport (Can’t even follow the few rules I do know in games), "health and beauty" (?)..the timetables change quicker than I can keep up with. But the staff are awesome, the Tiwi support teachers are funny and so friendly and proud to show you there place. Although their information is not always reliable; “No! No crocodiles there. Oh, last week there was one but you'll be OK...Oh, I saw one there one time but he’s not there now..” The IT is useless – so that makes me feel right at home-people duck out for 5 minutes and come back an hour later, meetings don’t start or run they through recess or change to other meetings, Tiwi teachers just take off without telling anyone because someone has died and they all go to mourn them, noone knows how many students exactly will turn up or stay, and the keys don’t fit the locks and the school was broken into but all they took was the petty cash and Ben’s mentos lollies and my rice cakes and it is mad busy and confusing and noone really knows what's going on. So it's actually a bit of fun! I can barely remember my name I'm so tired and tomorrow is Australia day and I can't drink and apparently, even if I do find a hot tradey (I have spotted some on the rooves of the many buildings with their shirts off..) I'm not allowed to do anything about it - there's not a lot of privacy on this island – everyone, especially the Tiwis, knows what's going on... Shitballs...
I can't believe I'm here and not "home", I can't believe I don't have that "home" anymore. I can't believe there's only two TV channels. And they don’t work if it’s bad weather (and that’s a lot). And no alcohol. I can't believe someone saw a croc not far from my house two days ago. I can't believe I can't go for a swim. Or that, like uni days I'm using a cardboard box for a bedside table. And there's only the beanbag I brought to sit on. And I might be celibate for a while. I can't believe I accidently brought two hairdryers and I haven't used one once. That I have to meet a barge at 7am on Thursday mornings to pick up the food I've ordered online and there might be crocodiles there. And I have to run or walk with a stick in the mornings in case the local wildish dogs try to attack me. That it might take up to five weeks to get a liquor permit so I can order some wine.
It pisses down rain randomly and the frogs are on steroids and sound like they're in my actual eardrum they're so loud. The aircon is always too cold or not working. I can’t fucking swim anywhere in walking/riding distance and have to cover up in boardies and a rashie if I do manage to get to the waterhole. We have to walk through jungle-like tropical growth and mud to get to work and there's NO VODKA!
And I kinda like it. . Crazy mixed up mother fucking times boys and girls.
I had three incredibly intense Orientation days in Darwin where they figured it wasn't hard enough to pack up your life and say goodbye to your friends. It had to be followed up by nonstop information (lots useless - as always with Orientations) from 8am to brainfucked O'clock. Run by people who no longer teach - for a reason, they forget all about we poor ADHD visual/kinesthetic learners who are ready to stab ourselves -or the presenters- in the eye with their "gift" of a flouro orange water bottle after being made sit and listen for hours and hours and hours.
A bit of a saving grace was a girl who was supposed to start remote teaching but was gracious enough to cause quite a scandal and bond everyone together very quickly passing on stories of her incredibly bizarre behavior. She was pissed from the moment she got to the Orientation– and perhaps stoned on something potent enough to give her a stare that suggested a family of mice had taken refuge in her brain and chewed though all the wires. When speaking at you she would stare at the empty space next to your ear and lean over as though she was going to kiss you, which she might have if you didn’t back away quick enough – she did ask all the males there if they were single – regardless of whether they were 24 or 64 years old. She was found asleep outside one night, tipped water all over herself while in the morning session of the Orientation (I was sitting next to her and was amazed and impressed, she didn’t even blink as the water missed her mouth and went all over her and her handbag on the ground– although she actually did everything without blinking) and fell over a Tiwi teacher in her effort to put her smoke out. I decided I wanted her to be my new bestie, I figured with her for a BFF no matter what I did I would always look like an angel. And that’s some pretty hard work! Unfortunately it was not to be, we would not be hanging out and I would not be able to use her for a scapegoat..she did not end up staying on past the 3rd day – whisked away into the oblivion…So I was back to trying to behave myself.
Anyway...
I developed a crawling creeping freak out over Thursday and Friday, which culminated in realising this was all a monumental mistake and I was super-retarded to ever want to leave my home and the people who have saved me from insanity and despair. There were again some of those moments that I’ve had over the last few months, where I have to actually tell myself to breathe, breathe, breathe – in and out – when I feel absolutely terrified because I know I can’t just go home, that the life I missed isn’t there anymore. I breathe and breathe because the moment when I feel there’s only an echo in my heart of what was and that I am going to shrivel up from loss and lacking – will go. It will. And it does. With a little help from some fellas o do not keep normal hours and are available for late night chats and texting freak outs. Love them!
And with lots of breathing I made it to the island. I flew through the most beautiful clouds, right through them, we fly so low there is nothing but cyclone clouds floating, spiraling and cushioning all fears. I know being in a tiny plane seeing nothing but clouds front, side and back of us could make some people anxious (one newbie was panting rather than breathing with concern) but they told me I was heading somewhere so new, I felt a little relieved, a little happy. But.
After making it to the island I was faced with the dirtiest ramshackle house on earth - I have seen better kept places in the slums of India. Old and so covered in mould and dust we couldn’t tell what colour anything really was. The furniture was damp and lumpy and ugly and covered in dust building it’s way up from the 70’s. Everything was dirty; the walls, the ceiling, the few bits of crockery, the cutlery, the inside of the cupboards, the bathroom. Dirty shelves and toilets and fridges and mattresses and floors….And in between the dirt were the absences; no drawers or couch or coathangers or bin or plates…it was a pretty nasty shock . But my new house buds - who are fab - and I sucked it up and cleaned and washed and cleaned and swept and cleaned and collapsed Saturday night (not my usual weekend activity, well not collapsing sober anyway). And the best thing: I was so knackered I didn’t care about the lumpy, damp mattress or the mouldy 1970’s Hawaiian curtains or the small bed on wheels that rolled around when I moved too quick on it (lucky I was in it alone I guess!) or the cobwebs or the fact that I had left everyone and thing familiar and loved and was alone so far North of anything. I didn’t think or feel sad or lonely one bit, I slept so hard.
Sunday was more cleaning and unpacking (difficult when there was actually nowhere to unpack my stuff into..) and to top off a crazy, confusing, exhausting, bewildering five days, I had to go to MASS! Fuk! I was seriously concerned that in this tropical wet season I might get struck by lightning if I stepped foot inside and take out all the locals with me. But I rocked up with the other newbies to six o'clock mass and the first lovely surprise was this gorgeous open air circular church full of Tiwis and whities sitting on the ground cross legged, comfy and relaxed. Tiwi art decorating the poles and altar and the Tiwi ladies sang and danced and clapped the hyms in their own language (Who knew "How Great Thou Art" could actually sound good?). Their versions were like islander Jack Johnson cruisey, sunny tunes. And the next unexpected joy; a little mini 5 year old tacker called "Wayne"-a traditional Tiwi name I guess- got up and started bustin' some moves in front of the priest. He wouldn't listen to any of the Tiwi ladies hissing for him to sit down, spinning in front of the altar in his own groovy world. So of course I fell in love with him. He ended up cuddled up on my lap like a little Tiwi hot water bottle and the tension in my gut and heart and brain eased. For the first time in weeks I felt it might be OK.
And so Wayne has helped me breathe a little easier. And then to work on Monday where I've been working on trying to get my head around what I'm doing this year - in the last two days I have been assigned Re Coordinator (I knocked that on the head so fast), Yr 9 coordinator, "You Can Do It" Coordinator (Seriously! I'm keeping that one..), Special Ed support ( the principal wasn't even sure what that one involved), teaching Drama, ESL, SOSE (Know nothing about it), RE, Sport (Can’t even follow the few rules I do know in games), "health and beauty" (?)..the timetables change quicker than I can keep up with. But the staff are awesome, the Tiwi support teachers are funny and so friendly and proud to show you there place. Although their information is not always reliable; “No! No crocodiles there. Oh, last week there was one but you'll be OK...Oh, I saw one there one time but he’s not there now..” The IT is useless – so that makes me feel right at home-people duck out for 5 minutes and come back an hour later, meetings don’t start or run they through recess or change to other meetings, Tiwi teachers just take off without telling anyone because someone has died and they all go to mourn them, noone knows how many students exactly will turn up or stay, and the keys don’t fit the locks and the school was broken into but all they took was the petty cash and Ben’s mentos lollies and my rice cakes and it is mad busy and confusing and noone really knows what's going on. So it's actually a bit of fun! I can barely remember my name I'm so tired and tomorrow is Australia day and I can't drink and apparently, even if I do find a hot tradey (I have spotted some on the rooves of the many buildings with their shirts off..) I'm not allowed to do anything about it - there's not a lot of privacy on this island – everyone, especially the Tiwis, knows what's going on... Shitballs...
I can't believe I'm here and not "home", I can't believe I don't have that "home" anymore. I can't believe there's only two TV channels. And they don’t work if it’s bad weather (and that’s a lot). And no alcohol. I can't believe someone saw a croc not far from my house two days ago. I can't believe I can't go for a swim. Or that, like uni days I'm using a cardboard box for a bedside table. And there's only the beanbag I brought to sit on. And I might be celibate for a while. I can't believe I accidently brought two hairdryers and I haven't used one once. That I have to meet a barge at 7am on Thursday mornings to pick up the food I've ordered online and there might be crocodiles there. And I have to run or walk with a stick in the mornings in case the local wildish dogs try to attack me. That it might take up to five weeks to get a liquor permit so I can order some wine.
It pisses down rain randomly and the frogs are on steroids and sound like they're in my actual eardrum they're so loud. The aircon is always too cold or not working. I can’t fucking swim anywhere in walking/riding distance and have to cover up in boardies and a rashie if I do manage to get to the waterhole. We have to walk through jungle-like tropical growth and mud to get to work and there's NO VODKA!
And I kinda like it. . Crazy mixed up mother fucking times boys and girls.
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