Bonzer Words!: My Uncle Gilbert Said . . .
Colleen McMillan tells with huge delight of her astonishing, tale-telling Uncle Gilbert.
My uncle Gilbert said many things, many of which my mother did not approve. 'Not in front of the children ilbert,' 'Remember where you are Gilbert.' 'You are not with your bawdy friends now Gilbert.'
My Uncle Gilbert was a sailor, and when he was in port he came to stay a day or two or three with his sister, my mother. During Uncle Gilbert's visits my father became noticeably busy. He had extra tutorials, faculty meetings or simply had to mark examination papers, in his locked study.
But, we children loved Uncle Gilbert's visits. He was never up when we left for school but we'd come home to find him sitting in the back porch whittling. 'Tell us about your adventures Uncle Gilbert,' we'd plead. He'd pull bags of sweets from his copious pockets, humbugs and the like and say, 'I thought you'd like these instead.' Eagerly we'd stuff several into our mouths before again taking up our cry.
Finally he'd smile, scratch his head and start, never the same story twice. They'd go something like this. 'Now, when I was in Africa I went to this village to have a bit of look around. I gave the kids there a few humbugs, just like I give you. Well everybody got real excited about them, even the adults. You'd think I'd given them lumps of gold. So they cooked up this special meal for me. It was some sort of meat stew, tasted alright too, so it wasn't until I got to the bottom of my bowl that I noticed this long thin thing. I pulled it out, and when I did, everyone stamped and cheered and urged me to eat it. So I did. There were a few hairs still attached but apart from that . . . '
'What was it Uncle? What was it?' By now we'd be totally enthralled.
'A monkey's tail, it was monkey stew. . . . Maybe if I could bring a small one home sometime your Mum would cook it for you.' And as expected we'd gasp in horror.
Sometimes he was the hero of his stories as when he bravely dived into the bubbling whirlpool to save the beautiful maiden, who was being sacrificed to the Gods of Water. Sometimes they told of heroic animals such as the sacred white elephant who turned on his evil owner when he was ordered to trample an innocent peasant boy.
Then one day, when I was about nine, we came home from school to find our mother red-eyed from weeping. Uncle Gilbert was dead.
'How? Why?' we asked, tears starting.
'He died from a gunshot wound,' was all our mother would answer.
Whether the gun was fired by a pirate, a diamond smuggler or just a jealous husband we never knew, but we did take comfort from the fact that Uncle Gilbert always said. 'It's better to go out with a bang than a whimper.'
© Colleen McMillan
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Colleen writes or Bonzer! magazine. Please visit www.bonzer.org.au
