Western Walkabout: Indigenous Australians
…The children all sat at the back and sang together happily but softly.
“Girls! Will you stop that singing,” said the mother.
“Why?” asked Julie. “We’re happy.”…
Richard Harris goes on a bus journey which leaves him feeling a whole lot happier.
I was travelling on a bus from Fremantle to Bull Creek via White Gum Valley recently when a large group of Aboriginal children boarded, accompanied by their mother.
She took a seat next to another Aboriginal woman, who held on to a stroller in which sat a small spastic boy, mouth open, dark eyes wide.
“Hold it, “the mother told the driver. “Please don’t drive off until I’ve checked they’re all aboard.
“Where’s Julie?”
“Here, Mum,” s small voice called from a corner seat.
The Mother carefully counted, pointing out each child, keeping tally with her fingers.
“Eight,” she said. “It’s okay,” she told the driver. “We’re all here. You can go now.”
The children all sat at the back and sang together happily but softly.
“Girls! Will you stop that singing,” said the mother.
“Why?” asked Julie. “We’re happy.”
On the wall behind the driver was a list of rules and regulations for the conduct of passengers. The Mother pointed forward to it “Look what it says up there: no singing.”
I looked at the notice. It didn’t say anything about singing but the kids weren’t great readers and believed their mum. Mum was clearly the big boss in this group.
A small girl came forward and gave a jelly baby to the spastic boy, pushing it into his mouth with a grubby finger. The boy’s face lit up with a 100 watt smile.
“She’s a good one, that,” the Mother told the boy’s mother. “Shares everything.”
The singing continued at the back. There were some good voices among them – clear, pure, sweet, innocent.
“Why are they so happy?’ said the second mother.
“Their dad gets out today – been inside three months.”
“Are you still with him?”
“No, darl. Got a pommie guy now. It’s a much better arrangement.”
When they left the bus, the mother asked the driver to wait a minute. The kids ran everywhere but mother tallied off eight on her fingers. “Okay, we’re all off. Thanks, mate, “she told the driver.
The children’s happiness and the close-knit style of the family were endearing. I found myself picking up their mood and left the bus at Bull Creek a happier person through my association with them.
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To feel a whole lot better yourself read more of Richard’s columns by clicking on http://www.openwriting.com/archives/western_walkabout/
