Not Just Black and White by Lesley Williams

Author:Lesley Williams
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: University of Queensland Press
Published: 2015-07-20T04:00:00+00:00

Blackfullas have a habit of turning up on your doorstep unannounced, looking for a place to stay. There is some comfort knowing you can travel almost anywhere in Queensland and, if you’re stuck for a bed, a cousin or distant relative, even a friend of a friend, might take you in.

In the mid 1980s, when the boys were about nine and twelve, and Tammy seven, there was an unexpected knock on our door. Standing on the veranda was a relative I had not seen for years, along with his partner and teenage son, looking for somewhere to sleep. I let them stay, although reluctantly, because I was suspicious of what they did for money. Neither of them had a stable job yet somehow they managed to travel around.

The boys were shifted into one bedroom while Tammy and I continued to share the other, so that the visitors could use the other room. After a couple of nights, there was still no sign of them leaving. They didn’t cook or clean, or give me any money for food, and I was getting fed up. But I said nothing and didn’t kick them out, in case our mob thought I was turning my back on family. Who knows what they bloody did all day while the kids went to school and I worked? On about the third day, I returned home from work and was surprised to see them digging in the back garden.

‘What are you fullas doing?’ I questioned, as they sprinkled seeds in the soil. The teenage boy wouldn’t look me in the eye, leaving the explaining to his father instead.

‘Oh we’re just planting some pawpaw trees for you,’ the older relative replied, before reaching for the hose. ‘With a little water, soon you’ll be picking your very own fruit.’

I returned inside feeling slightly guilty for believing my visitors were freeloaders. Although it would’ve been nice to receive some money to help buy food, growing us some fruit seemed a thoughtful gesture.

Early the next day our visitors left, the same way as they’d arrived: without much warning. The boys moved back into their separate bedrooms and life returned to normal – except my weekly routine now included watering the back garden. I enjoyed the time outside in the yard, watching to see how much the plants had grown. I’d think of Christmases in Cherbourg with my family, eating the pawpaw and rockmelon Ma had bought.

Amazingly, in a matter of weeks, dozens of bright green seedlings started sprouting from the earth. I’d never been much of a gardener, but with just a bit of water and some sunshine my pawpaws were really taking off. ‘Soon we’ll be having fresh fruit to eat,’ I’d skite to Dan and Rodney, showing them the plants. They didn’t appear interested in my feats as a gardener, preferring instead to kick a soccer ball around.

On the following Saturday I arrived early to pick up the boys from Scouts. To pass the time Tammy climbed a tree with some other children, while they waited for their brothers to finish.

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