Whispering Wire by Rosamund Burton

Author:Rosamund Burton [Burton, Rosamund]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: book, BTP, BIO023000
ISBN: 9781743059845
Publisher: Wakefield Press
Published: 2022-12-01T00:00:00+00:00

CHAPTER 21

Precious Water

The task this morning is to find Reg Dodd. Steve and I go to the Arabunna Community Centre. Jan Whyte tells us that Reg said he’d be back shortly. We wait for a while, but there’s no sign of him, so we drive across the railway to the general store.

Lyle Oldfield, the owner, is behind the counter. I explain that we’re looking for Reg Dodd.

‘There he is,’ he says, pointing to a ute turning down the street beside the hotel on the other side of the railway. We leap into the Monstermobile and catch up with him outside the Marree Aboriginal School.

‘Go back to the community centre and I’ll be there shortly,’ he says.

I am standing outside the centre waiting for Reg when I notice, across the road, a man sitting on a white plastic chair outside the old butcher’s shop. Yesterday Jan told me this is where the Afghans sit soaking in the sun every morning. I walk over and introduce myself. He is Max Dahleh. His father, uncles and grandfather were all cameleers, he tells me.

‘I’m younger than Raymond,’ he says, ‘so I don’t remember much. The cameleering came to an end in the 1940s.’

While we’re talking, Raymond and Irene arrive and sit on chairs beside Max. Prompted by my interest in Marree’s history, they reminisce about the days of kerosene fridges. ‘There was no electricity until the standard gauge reached here in 1957,’ Raymond says. Conversation turns to working on the railway.

‘I started work at 14,’ Irene recounts, ‘and I cleaned the Ghan for 12 years. One Christmas Day we all got drunk and we still had to clean the train. It must have been okay, because no one complained.’

The Afghans are joined by Paulo, a man from the former Czecho­slovakia, who takes his place on the empty plastic chair next to the others.

‘I’ve been in Marree 52 years,’ he says. ‘I worked on the railway as a foreman, until I had an accident.’

‘Paulo’s a star now,’ Irene chips in. ‘He was in the film The Rover.’

‘I had two days filming on it,’ he explains in his thick Eastern European accent, ‘and I was invited to Adelaide for the premiere.’ I leave them enjoying the morning sun and head back to the community centre.

‘You missed him,’ says Jan.

‘What do you mean?’

‘He popped in, and now he’s gone off to Alberrie Creek.’

Steve pulls up outside, and I can’t hide my disappointment.

We drive back to the general store and buy bread, beer and fuel. I’m climbing into the passenger seat when Steve points out Reg Dodd, who is filling his truck at another bowser. I go over and he tells me he’s very busy because of NAIDOC Week and the Camel Cup. He doesn’t have time to meet. But he gives me his card and suggests we speak on the telephone. There is nothing else I can do, so Steve and I start down the Oodnadatta Track.

Steve enjoys driving. Only when he’s very tired or has had a few drinks can he be prised off the wheel.

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