Plains of Promise by Alexis Wright

Author:Alexis Wright
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: University of Queensland Press
Published: 2022-06-30T03:51:22+00:00

Part II

Glimpses of Distant Hills

12

Flowing crepe paper streamers oscillating in a kaleidoscope of vivid greens, yellows, pinks, reds and oranges, literally flew out of the windows overlooking the rose garden at Sycamore Heights.

Rows of large terracotta pots containing double red flowering geraniums, signalling midafternoon September, stood in perfect harmony with the billowing streamers. The fast rhythmical beat of Eastern music on the record player was being played full blast, filling the landscape of European sycamores and oaks surrounding the Sycamore Heights Mental Health and Research Institution. The founders of St Dominic’s Mission station a thousand miles to the North were of the same religious order responsible for the administration of Sycamore Heights.

On an improvised stage the assembled audience watched the jelly-like movements of variously shaped white bellies moving with tantalising speed. Some rippled folds of fat up and down like rolling waves. Others were either sunk deep in ribcages or disappeared within the pit of empty navels. Belly-button eyes stared at the silent audience. This was the first performance given by the nine patients – eight females and one male – who were students of Madame Sylvia Sadaan, a remarkable woman who had been a professional bellydancer over several decades.

Madame was in her mid-fifties, a handsome woman of Arabic origins. ‘Much too much of the good life’ were the words she used to describe her body. But she knew how to make a fat body fabulous. All year round she covered herself with flowing gowns, caftans and ponchos in vivid patterns, like large pieces of brightly coloured material carelessly draped around her. She walked on tapering high heels. An eye-catching behind so broad its wobbling was mesmerising to anyone walking behind. She was perfectly aware of this as she passed along the narrow corridors of Sycamore Heights. Wobble, wobble, wobble, almost bumping into the walls each side. What male could resist the temptation? It would take a very dull man, Madame Sylvia thought, not to feel an irresistible temptation for her magnificently pursed lips, painted to perfection in crimson red. To watch her dance was a feast par excellence. The grace of a swan gliding over still waters. The speed of a jaguar in full pounce. A phenomenon. And always wobbling. If she had been the size of an elephant she would have caused earthquakes. As it was, maintenance men had to nail down the floorboards after each performance. She used to say she became carried away by the mesmerising calls of some mythical Eastern prince who joined her body as she danced, pounding her heart with his hands as he faced her. Whenever this happened she needed to be resuscitated quickly when the music stopped. A portable respirator accompanied her whenever she performed … or whenever she went to bed with a man who was game.

Medical fashions and fads, including bellydancing, were considered by the progressive board as a foremost form of treatment in modern psychotherapy, its introduction at Sycamore Heights formed part of the ongoing research work. The

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