Hi Mrs Johannes,
Do you remember me? You were the one who believed me in me, who told me that I had “real talent.” And now, I believe in myself. Each time I thought about giving up, your words would resonate throughout my mind.
“You have such talent. You’re the only one who can read at a 4th grade level in the whole class. You have a big future ahead of you.”
I wasn’t always your favourite student, though. Remember on the 1st day of year 4, you told me that you were going to keep your eye on me for the rest of the year? And you did. During the first term, anyway. You picked on me, continually punishing me for the smallest mistakes; rocking on my chair, having my hair not tied up properly and not wearing matching socks, as though it was my fault that mum matched up the wrong pair, and during the dreariness of the morning I did not notice such a minor disparity. I tried explaining to mum that you were “bullying” me, but of course she disregarded my tears as a ploy not to go to school, and ordered me to do my homework.
I proved you wrong, though. I produced an outstanding literature assignment based on the novel we were studying, The Indian in the Cupboard. You told me this during our annual parent/teacher interview after term 1. Mum explained how I was unhappy, and you apologised. You also admitted to giving me a hard time on purpose, because you had made up your mind about me, convinced that I was the Devil’s spawn.
Because of this you had cast me into the background, as an orphan, for our rather large production of Oliver. I had never before felt so displaced. In every school production that I had done I was in the forefront. And then you called me into a meeting, telling me that I was going to take on the role as the narrator, one you had created just for me, because you wanted me to be in the spotlight. Mum was so happy. If I remember correctly, I think she sent you a box of chocolates.
You also taught me a beauty tip, which, 12 years later, comes in very handy. You recommended that I use cut up stockings rather than elastic bands to tie up my hair because it was (and still is) so thick and curly. You would watch me, as my eyes would tear up while I tried to undo the huge knot caused by the flimsy elastic band that was barely holding up bushy my hair.
I still look out for the non-existent mango tree that we planted outside of our year 4 classroom. Do you remember, Mrs Johannes, when you saw me stuffing my face with that huge mango, with all the juices flowing down my arm and smeared into my hair? You waited for me to approach the bin with the leftover seed, and as soon as I was about to drop it in, you stopped me, and accompanied me outside with a shovel. The seed never became a tree, but I was really excited to have shared that experience with you.
During our annual speech night, you awarded me with two certificates. I won the title for HSIE and Literature. Although I was nine years old, I remember that moment, standing upon the stage holding one more award than anyone else, as one of the proudest moments of my life. You taught me to believe in and stay true to myself, even if nobody else did, because your efforts are always bound to pay off.
Sunday 8 August 2010
Sunday 13 June 2010
The Autobiography of a Fucking Mental Patient
There was a knock at my door. It was unusually forceful. Whoever it
was, was really banging their knuckles hard on the wood. ‘Fuck it’. I
was not in the mood for company. I took another puff of my 100 length
Camels and continued ironing. I was listening to Jean Metcalfe’s
Woman’s Hour on the wireless, and I did not want to be disturbed. And then I
heard the knock again. Louder. I remained standing above the board, my
palm tightly gripping the iron handle. The shadows of three men
circled my house. I barely heard their footsteps over the resonance of
my heart pounding in my ears. The living room window was lifted open.
I always left it unlocked. It was the “emergency” window, in case Leon
was really drunk and could not figure out which key turns the lock.
Instead he would open the window and stumble in. When he did this he
would never make it to the bedroom. I would hear him stumbling up the
stairs and smirk, because I knew that I would sleep without having to
take in the horrid stench of cheap perfume and even cheaper scotch.
I took off the pearls from around my neck. Leon liked it when I wore
them, and he spontaneously came home for lunch so I always kept them
on during the day. I maintained my pretences. I don’t know why. I
think it was because I did not want the neighbours to see me looking
less than ordinary, and think that I was not a good wife. It makes me
nervous knowing that people could think things about you that you have
no control over. He bought me expensive ones when we were newlywed.
‘Wear them everyday for me, like the good wife you are.’ Not long
after he gave them to me I found cheap imitations at the markets. I
have been wearing them ever since. He has never known the difference.
I pawned the ones he gave me and bought a Chanel dress. I will never
wear it.
…
He gave me a Chinese burn on my wrist. Fucking bastard. The other
wanker grabbed my ankles and tied them together. Then they threw my
body onto a standing wheelbarrow. I remember smiling. I must have been
because I was bloody well turned on. Two men were touching me; being
rough with me. I fucking loved it! A third guy opened the door and
they wheeled me out of my own house. This was most arousing treatment
I had received in a long time. The three men were dressed the same, in
light blue and white. I hated those colours, especially when worn
together. They were too innocent. Too pure.
I was lying down in the back of the van, and all I could see were the
power lines and clouds through the windows. I wandered whether we were
moving or not because neither of these things seemed to change. It was
noisy though, and I could hear the traffic so I suppose we were. I
like the noise. The silence makes me anxious.
I thought of the children. I must have uttered this out loud because
the three men almost violently turned back and glared at me. I caught
the eyes of one of them. His nametag yelled at me. William. He had the
deepest blue eyes I had ever seen. I was drowning in them. I could not
breathe. I needed someone to pull me out... And then he looked away,
focused his eyes onto the road, and I felt like I could breathe again,
like I was safe on sturdy land.
I couldn’t remember where they were, the children. It was a Saturday
afternoon, I was sure of it, so they could not have been at school.
Leon had gone away on a business trip. Again.
“Excuse me.”
Only William turned around. I wish that I looked prettier so that when
he looked into my eyes he could drown.
“Where are my children? Their names are Thomas and Alva. Are they
coming with us, too? Are they riding another van?”
Nobody answered me.
“Gentlemen, you know that it is rude to ignore a lady whilst she is speaking!”
The van went over a pothole.
The van stopped.
Suddenly.
I could not hear them for a little while, William and his friends. I
thought that they had left me. Then the big van doors opened outwards
and there they were, standing before me. William climbed into the van
and detached the tray I was on. The other two wheeled me out. It was
fun.
…
“Where are my children, Thomas and Alva Sinclair?
The man seated before me did not answer. I looked around. I was in a
dark room, with only one swinging torch light above me. It felt like
the man sitting in front of me was far away, because the wooden table
between us was so big. I don’t know why he needed such an
extravagantly sized table; there was nothing on it.
“Where are they?”
I asked again. He must have known.
“Where are my children?”
He scribbled something on a pad. The scratching sound of the pencil
when it grazed the paper was really loud. I could not understand what
was happening, why I was in this room and why nobody would tell me
where my children were. I just wanted my children. I only wanted to
know where they were.
The huge steal doors opened. It made a lot of noise, which I liked.
William and his friends returned with a thick jacket. This time I got
a clear view at their names tags. Benjamin and Dick. I smiled because
I was happy to see their familiar faces, but I became perplexed
because they brought me a jacket in the middle of a heat wave. I was
not cold. William held out one of my arms and Dick the other, and they
dressed me in the jacket.
I began laughing hysterically. I could not help it.
“What is so funny?”
I thought the voice was coming from a distance, but it was from the
man seated all the way behind the unnecessarily big wooden desk.
“His name is Dick!”
William chuckled. I swear I heard him.
Then Benjamin and Dick grabbed my arms tightly and escorted me out of
the room with the large wooden desk. I did not fight it, though. The
boys had their way with me. I let them.
…
I was seated in a chair. Then they attached wires to my skin. I looked
at William. He was looking at me too. We held our glance for what felt
like years. Then a steal cap was placed on my skull. Suddenly, all I
could feel were electric pulses travelling through my veins. I loved
it. I had never felt such adrenaline, such exhilaration. I felt
animated and I loved it.
“Again! Will you please do that again?”
Everybody was staring at me. I am assuming shock was the reaction that
was smeared onto each of their faces.
“It is quiet thrilling, almost like being on a rollercoaster ride.
William walked towards me. He untied me and the other two dragged me
down a long corridor.
This time I listened. I heard screams. One woman’s shrieks were
drowned out by the sound of electricity. I guess she also had the same
exhilarating experience as me.
And then I noticed something. Everybody in this place was wearing blue
and white. Even me. My jacket was blue and white. And I began to
scream. I hated these colours. The boys held me firmly as I twisted
and turned violently, trying to take it off. I could not understand
why they were making me wear something I did not want to. I was not a
child.
My children.
I was seated again in the dark room, across the man who was far away
because there was an unnecessarily huge wooden table between us.
was, was really banging their knuckles hard on the wood. ‘Fuck it’. I
was not in the mood for company. I took another puff of my 100 length
Camels and continued ironing. I was listening to Jean Metcalfe’s
Woman’s Hour on the wireless, and I did not want to be disturbed. And then I
heard the knock again. Louder. I remained standing above the board, my
palm tightly gripping the iron handle. The shadows of three men
circled my house. I barely heard their footsteps over the resonance of
my heart pounding in my ears. The living room window was lifted open.
I always left it unlocked. It was the “emergency” window, in case Leon
was really drunk and could not figure out which key turns the lock.
Instead he would open the window and stumble in. When he did this he
would never make it to the bedroom. I would hear him stumbling up the
stairs and smirk, because I knew that I would sleep without having to
take in the horrid stench of cheap perfume and even cheaper scotch.
I took off the pearls from around my neck. Leon liked it when I wore
them, and he spontaneously came home for lunch so I always kept them
on during the day. I maintained my pretences. I don’t know why. I
think it was because I did not want the neighbours to see me looking
less than ordinary, and think that I was not a good wife. It makes me
nervous knowing that people could think things about you that you have
no control over. He bought me expensive ones when we were newlywed.
‘Wear them everyday for me, like the good wife you are.’ Not long
after he gave them to me I found cheap imitations at the markets. I
have been wearing them ever since. He has never known the difference.
I pawned the ones he gave me and bought a Chanel dress. I will never
wear it.
…
He gave me a Chinese burn on my wrist. Fucking bastard. The other
wanker grabbed my ankles and tied them together. Then they threw my
body onto a standing wheelbarrow. I remember smiling. I must have been
because I was bloody well turned on. Two men were touching me; being
rough with me. I fucking loved it! A third guy opened the door and
they wheeled me out of my own house. This was most arousing treatment
I had received in a long time. The three men were dressed the same, in
light blue and white. I hated those colours, especially when worn
together. They were too innocent. Too pure.
I was lying down in the back of the van, and all I could see were the
power lines and clouds through the windows. I wandered whether we were
moving or not because neither of these things seemed to change. It was
noisy though, and I could hear the traffic so I suppose we were. I
like the noise. The silence makes me anxious.
I thought of the children. I must have uttered this out loud because
the three men almost violently turned back and glared at me. I caught
the eyes of one of them. His nametag yelled at me. William. He had the
deepest blue eyes I had ever seen. I was drowning in them. I could not
breathe. I needed someone to pull me out... And then he looked away,
focused his eyes onto the road, and I felt like I could breathe again,
like I was safe on sturdy land.
I couldn’t remember where they were, the children. It was a Saturday
afternoon, I was sure of it, so they could not have been at school.
Leon had gone away on a business trip. Again.
“Excuse me.”
Only William turned around. I wish that I looked prettier so that when
he looked into my eyes he could drown.
“Where are my children? Their names are Thomas and Alva. Are they
coming with us, too? Are they riding another van?”
Nobody answered me.
“Gentlemen, you know that it is rude to ignore a lady whilst she is speaking!”
The van went over a pothole.
The van stopped.
Suddenly.
I could not hear them for a little while, William and his friends. I
thought that they had left me. Then the big van doors opened outwards
and there they were, standing before me. William climbed into the van
and detached the tray I was on. The other two wheeled me out. It was
fun.
…
“Where are my children, Thomas and Alva Sinclair?
The man seated before me did not answer. I looked around. I was in a
dark room, with only one swinging torch light above me. It felt like
the man sitting in front of me was far away, because the wooden table
between us was so big. I don’t know why he needed such an
extravagantly sized table; there was nothing on it.
“Where are they?”
I asked again. He must have known.
“Where are my children?”
He scribbled something on a pad. The scratching sound of the pencil
when it grazed the paper was really loud. I could not understand what
was happening, why I was in this room and why nobody would tell me
where my children were. I just wanted my children. I only wanted to
know where they were.
The huge steal doors opened. It made a lot of noise, which I liked.
William and his friends returned with a thick jacket. This time I got
a clear view at their names tags. Benjamin and Dick. I smiled because
I was happy to see their familiar faces, but I became perplexed
because they brought me a jacket in the middle of a heat wave. I was
not cold. William held out one of my arms and Dick the other, and they
dressed me in the jacket.
I began laughing hysterically. I could not help it.
“What is so funny?”
I thought the voice was coming from a distance, but it was from the
man seated all the way behind the unnecessarily big wooden desk.
“His name is Dick!”
William chuckled. I swear I heard him.
Then Benjamin and Dick grabbed my arms tightly and escorted me out of
the room with the large wooden desk. I did not fight it, though. The
boys had their way with me. I let them.
…
I was seated in a chair. Then they attached wires to my skin. I looked
at William. He was looking at me too. We held our glance for what felt
like years. Then a steal cap was placed on my skull. Suddenly, all I
could feel were electric pulses travelling through my veins. I loved
it. I had never felt such adrenaline, such exhilaration. I felt
animated and I loved it.
“Again! Will you please do that again?”
Everybody was staring at me. I am assuming shock was the reaction that
was smeared onto each of their faces.
“It is quiet thrilling, almost like being on a rollercoaster ride.
William walked towards me. He untied me and the other two dragged me
down a long corridor.
This time I listened. I heard screams. One woman’s shrieks were
drowned out by the sound of electricity. I guess she also had the same
exhilarating experience as me.
And then I noticed something. Everybody in this place was wearing blue
and white. Even me. My jacket was blue and white. And I began to
scream. I hated these colours. The boys held me firmly as I twisted
and turned violently, trying to take it off. I could not understand
why they were making me wear something I did not want to. I was not a
child.
My children.
I was seated again in the dark room, across the man who was far away
because there was an unnecessarily huge wooden table between us.
Sunday 11 April 2010
1976
Mummy and daddy told me that the presents were to be opened on Christmas morning only. I looked at the new digital clock dad just bought. It was 9:00pm. It also had other numbers and words on it. It said: Wednesday 24th December and then it small letters it said 1976.
Mummy said that Santa bought me all of the presents. That he came over last night and placed them under the tree because he was going to be really busy on Christmas Eve. But I knew that she was lying because I saw the receipts on the kitchen table. I may only be 7 years old, but I can still read!
That Christmas was the first we had spent in the new house. It was much smaller than our normal house, which is in Vaucluse. Dad is an engineer who deals with aeroplanes so we had to move here because it is close to his work. This place is called Newtown and the house we are in is much smaller than the Vaucluse house and smells funny. Kind of like chicken soup. When we first moved in, dad paid people to paint the walls so that the smell went away, but as soon as the paint stench disappeared the chicken soup smell came back.
One day we went to the neighbour’s house for afternoon tea. Their house was even smaller than ours! Mum always said, “no, thank you Claire, we have just had tea” or “we are going out for tea” when they invited us, even if it was not true. But today she said “sure,” so we went. They had a little girl my age and her name was Lindsay. Lindsay also had a brother called Johnny. I wish I had a brother. Lindsay and Johnny’s feet were really dirty, but I guess that was because the floor was dirty too. Mummy did not let me sit on the couch “because it is filthy,” so I followed Lindsay into her room. She did not have many toys, just one dolly, really old books, and one board game. It was a really old version of Monopoly. I had the 40th Anniversary edition. She asked me if I wanted to play. I shook my head because all the pieces seemed really dirty, and some of them were broken, and I knew mum wouldn’t like me playing with them.
“Mummy, did Santa get me everything on my Christmas list?”
“Yes Tammy, unless you thought of something that you haven’t written down.”
“Did he get me the Atari 2600 and 5 games?”
“Yes”
“Did he get me all the board games?”
“Yes.”
“All of them?? Stratego, Billionaire and Bionic Woman?”
“Yes Tammy.”
“What about the Crissy Doll?”
“Tammy, everything that you asked for, Santa got you, okay?”
“Connect Four?”
“Tammy!”
I woke up at 6:00am. The other digital clock that we had upstairs said that the date was Thursday 25th December and the small letters said 1976. I ran downstairs. I hurt my ankle hurt but I did not care. I just wanted to open my presents…
…But they weren’t there. I felt a funny feeling in my tummy but thought maybe dad was playing a joke. I ran back upstairs to mum and dad’s room. They were both asleep.
“Get up, get up. Tell me where they are! Where are my presents?”
“Tammy you know where they are. Wait for us to come downstairs and we will open them together.”
“But mummy, they are not there.”
Mummy and daddy both got up really fast, almost making me fall off the bed.
Daddy was downstairs before I was even out of his room.
“Tammy stay upstairs!”
“Jude, the back door is open.”
“Call the police Evelyn!”
“Hi yes, I am reporting a break in. Please hurry!”
The police came over. Mummy told me that it was because someone took the presents. A few nights ago I watched a detective movie where something like this happened. The detective carried a notepad and pencil all the time. He wrote down all of the clues and at the end of the movie figured out who the thief was. I decided that I was going to be a detective, collect clues and write them all down in my note pad with my pencil. I was going to find out who took my presents.
The next day was Boxing Day. Mummy took me to the park in the afternoon because we were both upset. Daddy had to go away on a business trip. Usually Lindsay and Johnny were at the park too, but not today. So I played on the seesaw by myself while mum had a coffee.
I spotted Mrs Shears. She lived across the road to me. I ran up to her to say Merry Christmas and to ask her if she had seen anything the morning earlier.
“No darling. That is horrible though. Who would do that during Christmas, during the time of giving?”
“Thank you Mrs Shears. If you find out anything please let me know. The police are saying that they have no leads.”
On our way home, while we were walking down King Road, I saw Benjamin. He is my neighbour, but he is 6, and I don’t usually talk to 6 year olds, but today I really wanted to ask him questions.
“Nice bike, Ben”
“Thanks, it was my Christmas present.”
“Oh, I didn’t get mine because they were stolen.”
“Yeah, my mum told me.
“But mummy said she is going to re-buy them for me and let me unwrap them on New Years Eve. I am getting an Atarai 2600 and 5 games, Stratego, Billionaire, Bionic Woman, a Crissy doll and Connect Four!”
“Cool. I do not care but because Lindsay and Johnny have all of those toys. They got them for Christmas too and I would prefer to play with them because they are nice and you are rotten!”
He rode away. Ben did not make me sad though because all of my real friends were in Vaucluse. I hated everyone here. I hated them because someone stole my gifts.
When I got home I had a shower, hopped into bed and wrote down everything that happened in my diary. I was sad because I had not collected any clues. Mum came in to kiss me good night.
“Are you writing in your diary, Tammy?”
“Yeah mum. Do you want to see?”
“Sure…”
She suddenly ran out of my room and called daddy.
“Hi Jude… how could they afford all of that? And how is it possible that the neighbour’s kids, who do not own ANY toys, suddenly have those that were stolen from our daughter…Okay, okay I will.”
Mummy called the police. They came straight away. They left really quickly too and knocked on Lindsay’s door. Her mum answered and the police went inside. Mummy followed them. I stayed at home with a policewoman.
When the house phone rang the police lady answered. When she hung up she told me to put on my robe and follow her to the neighbour’s house. When I got there I saw everything on my Christmas list scattered on the floor. Lindsay and Johnny looked really sad.
“We are going to have to press charges.”
I whispered into the policewoman’s ear. “What does that mean?”
“That means that they are going to get into trouble for stealing your toys.”
They police put Lindsay, Johnny and their mummy into the car. I also saw this in the detective movie I watched. They were going to the police station to be in trouble because their mummy broke into our house through the back door, took my presents and placed them under their tree.
As we walked back home I felt really sad. Lindsay and Johnny did not have any toys. I told mum this, and she said that they should not have stolen anything, that they should have asked me if they could play. I probably would have said “no”.
Two days later I saw Lindsay and Johnny playing at the park. They looked really sad and did not talk to me very much. I walked up to her and Johnny who were playing by themselves because nobody else would.
“Lindsay, you can have all of my presents. Mummy is buying me new ones and you don’t have many toys. I’ll tell my mummy to tell your mummy that I let you take them.”
She did not talk to me. She took her little brother’s hand and walked away.
I never saw them again because three days later we moved back to Vaucluse.
Mummy said that Santa bought me all of the presents. That he came over last night and placed them under the tree because he was going to be really busy on Christmas Eve. But I knew that she was lying because I saw the receipts on the kitchen table. I may only be 7 years old, but I can still read!
That Christmas was the first we had spent in the new house. It was much smaller than our normal house, which is in Vaucluse. Dad is an engineer who deals with aeroplanes so we had to move here because it is close to his work. This place is called Newtown and the house we are in is much smaller than the Vaucluse house and smells funny. Kind of like chicken soup. When we first moved in, dad paid people to paint the walls so that the smell went away, but as soon as the paint stench disappeared the chicken soup smell came back.
One day we went to the neighbour’s house for afternoon tea. Their house was even smaller than ours! Mum always said, “no, thank you Claire, we have just had tea” or “we are going out for tea” when they invited us, even if it was not true. But today she said “sure,” so we went. They had a little girl my age and her name was Lindsay. Lindsay also had a brother called Johnny. I wish I had a brother. Lindsay and Johnny’s feet were really dirty, but I guess that was because the floor was dirty too. Mummy did not let me sit on the couch “because it is filthy,” so I followed Lindsay into her room. She did not have many toys, just one dolly, really old books, and one board game. It was a really old version of Monopoly. I had the 40th Anniversary edition. She asked me if I wanted to play. I shook my head because all the pieces seemed really dirty, and some of them were broken, and I knew mum wouldn’t like me playing with them.
“Mummy, did Santa get me everything on my Christmas list?”
“Yes Tammy, unless you thought of something that you haven’t written down.”
“Did he get me the Atari 2600 and 5 games?”
“Yes”
“Did he get me all the board games?”
“Yes.”
“All of them?? Stratego, Billionaire and Bionic Woman?”
“Yes Tammy.”
“What about the Crissy Doll?”
“Tammy, everything that you asked for, Santa got you, okay?”
“Connect Four?”
“Tammy!”
I woke up at 6:00am. The other digital clock that we had upstairs said that the date was Thursday 25th December and the small letters said 1976. I ran downstairs. I hurt my ankle hurt but I did not care. I just wanted to open my presents…
…But they weren’t there. I felt a funny feeling in my tummy but thought maybe dad was playing a joke. I ran back upstairs to mum and dad’s room. They were both asleep.
“Get up, get up. Tell me where they are! Where are my presents?”
“Tammy you know where they are. Wait for us to come downstairs and we will open them together.”
“But mummy, they are not there.”
Mummy and daddy both got up really fast, almost making me fall off the bed.
Daddy was downstairs before I was even out of his room.
“Tammy stay upstairs!”
“Jude, the back door is open.”
“Call the police Evelyn!”
“Hi yes, I am reporting a break in. Please hurry!”
The police came over. Mummy told me that it was because someone took the presents. A few nights ago I watched a detective movie where something like this happened. The detective carried a notepad and pencil all the time. He wrote down all of the clues and at the end of the movie figured out who the thief was. I decided that I was going to be a detective, collect clues and write them all down in my note pad with my pencil. I was going to find out who took my presents.
The next day was Boxing Day. Mummy took me to the park in the afternoon because we were both upset. Daddy had to go away on a business trip. Usually Lindsay and Johnny were at the park too, but not today. So I played on the seesaw by myself while mum had a coffee.
I spotted Mrs Shears. She lived across the road to me. I ran up to her to say Merry Christmas and to ask her if she had seen anything the morning earlier.
“No darling. That is horrible though. Who would do that during Christmas, during the time of giving?”
“Thank you Mrs Shears. If you find out anything please let me know. The police are saying that they have no leads.”
On our way home, while we were walking down King Road, I saw Benjamin. He is my neighbour, but he is 6, and I don’t usually talk to 6 year olds, but today I really wanted to ask him questions.
“Nice bike, Ben”
“Thanks, it was my Christmas present.”
“Oh, I didn’t get mine because they were stolen.”
“Yeah, my mum told me.
“But mummy said she is going to re-buy them for me and let me unwrap them on New Years Eve. I am getting an Atarai 2600 and 5 games, Stratego, Billionaire, Bionic Woman, a Crissy doll and Connect Four!”
“Cool. I do not care but because Lindsay and Johnny have all of those toys. They got them for Christmas too and I would prefer to play with them because they are nice and you are rotten!”
He rode away. Ben did not make me sad though because all of my real friends were in Vaucluse. I hated everyone here. I hated them because someone stole my gifts.
When I got home I had a shower, hopped into bed and wrote down everything that happened in my diary. I was sad because I had not collected any clues. Mum came in to kiss me good night.
“Are you writing in your diary, Tammy?”
“Yeah mum. Do you want to see?”
“Sure…”
She suddenly ran out of my room and called daddy.
“Hi Jude… how could they afford all of that? And how is it possible that the neighbour’s kids, who do not own ANY toys, suddenly have those that were stolen from our daughter…Okay, okay I will.”
Mummy called the police. They came straight away. They left really quickly too and knocked on Lindsay’s door. Her mum answered and the police went inside. Mummy followed them. I stayed at home with a policewoman.
When the house phone rang the police lady answered. When she hung up she told me to put on my robe and follow her to the neighbour’s house. When I got there I saw everything on my Christmas list scattered on the floor. Lindsay and Johnny looked really sad.
“We are going to have to press charges.”
I whispered into the policewoman’s ear. “What does that mean?”
“That means that they are going to get into trouble for stealing your toys.”
They police put Lindsay, Johnny and their mummy into the car. I also saw this in the detective movie I watched. They were going to the police station to be in trouble because their mummy broke into our house through the back door, took my presents and placed them under their tree.
As we walked back home I felt really sad. Lindsay and Johnny did not have any toys. I told mum this, and she said that they should not have stolen anything, that they should have asked me if they could play. I probably would have said “no”.
Two days later I saw Lindsay and Johnny playing at the park. They looked really sad and did not talk to me very much. I walked up to her and Johnny who were playing by themselves because nobody else would.
“Lindsay, you can have all of my presents. Mummy is buying me new ones and you don’t have many toys. I’ll tell my mummy to tell your mummy that I let you take them.”
She did not talk to me. She took her little brother’s hand and walked away.
I never saw them again because three days later we moved back to Vaucluse.
Tuesday 6 April 2010
Late Night Phone Calls are Inexcusable
Goooooooooooooooooooooooooood morning baby.
It's strange that i had about a thousand thoughts to message last night, but no one left their phone out last night. They all took their phones to bed :P
anyway.
Lets become one of those couples that discuss the weather and taxes. It could be fun :D
Terribly wet today darling, wouldn't you say so? The forecast for the next few days predicts rain... we should get a few umbrellas get on that will you honey.
Also, tonight, i doubt i have training the grounds will be closed. So i thought we could have a romantic evening just me and you, only there is a dress code.
Anything old and dress warmly.
You, me and couple of bums, plastic spoons, meals on wheels :) I've rented a cardboard box for the evening, fresh! never been used!
At the moment I'm listening to a couple of ethnics discussing World politics, using the movie "the green zone" as a irrefutable source and reference to support their case, i think i just heard one of them say "Sudamm was good....", their case being.... America is attacking the world without actual just cause under the cover of just cause. The Green Zone supports this, therefore it is fact.
Now its gone to police, their involvement in drugs and Columbian drug lords.
Prison is the next step in our conversational analysis, how prisoners run their illegal business from prison.
anyway..
Did i mention that i Love you and miss you and seriously wish it was your face i saw this morning instead of Kurt Cobain.... not saying Mr. Cobain isn't attractive... just saying....
how is your morning panning out?
It's strange that i had about a thousand thoughts to message last night, but no one left their phone out last night. They all took their phones to bed :P
anyway.
Lets become one of those couples that discuss the weather and taxes. It could be fun :D
Terribly wet today darling, wouldn't you say so? The forecast for the next few days predicts rain... we should get a few umbrellas get on that will you honey.
Also, tonight, i doubt i have training the grounds will be closed. So i thought we could have a romantic evening just me and you, only there is a dress code.
Anything old and dress warmly.
You, me and couple of bums, plastic spoons, meals on wheels :) I've rented a cardboard box for the evening, fresh! never been used!
At the moment I'm listening to a couple of ethnics discussing World politics, using the movie "the green zone" as a irrefutable source and reference to support their case, i think i just heard one of them say "Sudamm was good....", their case being.... America is attacking the world without actual just cause under the cover of just cause. The Green Zone supports this, therefore it is fact.
Now its gone to police, their involvement in drugs and Columbian drug lords.
Prison is the next step in our conversational analysis, how prisoners run their illegal business from prison.
anyway..
Did i mention that i Love you and miss you and seriously wish it was your face i saw this morning instead of Kurt Cobain.... not saying Mr. Cobain isn't attractive... just saying....
how is your morning panning out?
Wednesday 24 March 2010
Dziadziu and Babcia
They worked on a farm. The sheep were their only friends, and their enemies were the dingos. It was Australia during the 60’s and “they” were my dziadziu and my babcia
Dziadziu and babcia migrated to the “land girt by sea” in 1945, during the off set of the Nazi regime. Of course at that time they were anyobody’s dziadziu and babcia, they were Jack and Josephine. Josephine’s sister, Lydia, had been killed two weeks before they were set to board ship, and every day she talked about her.
“Caroline, she was so smart, so beautiful. More beautiful than all of the girls who think they are beautiful in this country. The girls here are skinny and no colour in their cheeks. Lydee was tall, with skin the colour of olive and hair like chocolate!”
When dziadziu and babcia came to this country they had nothing but 20 Polish zloty. The Germans took their home, all their belongings and whatever money they had left was spent on escaping. They did not care where they went, as long as they were gone! And despite all of this, dziadziu felt sorry for “the black people with flat noses”. He would tell me how loud girlish screams often woke him in the middle of the night.
“…But of course Caroline, everybody minded their business because everybody had a shot gun.”
He would sit on his favourite rocking chair on the porch, cigarette in one hand and a glass of Jack in the other.
“…and I would watch, every night, the same man walk out of the house where the lady she would scream from, his hat covering his eyes. I think this is so that people do not look into them. Very bad man, Caroline, very bad.”
Dziadziu always ordered babcia to stay inside at nights. But everybody knew that the “very bad man” was only after “women with flat noses.”
Babcia felt really ill. It was a warm winter day. She spotted a gypsy walking by selling tarots and other mystical accessories. In the old country this was common, but here, in the heat of the Australian outback it was a novelty.
“Please, please gypsy, please come to me. Look at me. Why do my stomach pain, and my head spin and my skin sweat? What is happening to me? Please gypsy, tell me.”
The gypsy looked at her.
“My darling, you are a carrying a child and she is a girl.”
“No ! Pregnant I cannot be"
“Yes. She will be a girl with blue eyes and porcelain skin. She will look like a doll”
“No.”
“Yes, and if I am right, and a girl with blue eyes and white skin is born to you in 9 months you will name her my name, Maja.”
Aunt Maja was born 9 months later.
She attended the local Christian missionary school, and would arrive home every day with a new story about an Aboriginal student being abused or bashed by their teacher.
“Mamma, today Shelley was beaten by the teacher because she sneezed loudly. Mamma he punched her and kicked her but she did not cry. When she got up she had blood on her face, and the black skin around her eyes had turned blue! "
Babcia hated the schooling system here. She always told me that they taught “rubbish”, that the children there could never become more than farmers and barmen, even if they wanted to. But more so because of the violence and abuse that the kids were exposed to.
“If we wanted violence, we would have stayed in Polska!”
One-day aunt Maja came home crying. Babcia was pregnant with mum, so it would have been around 1964.
“What is the matter, Maja?”
“Mumma mumma today Felicity called out in class. Mr Woodcroft grabbed her by the ears, threw her to the door. He broke her nose. And then he made us cane her for one hour. One hour, mumma! We all had to take turns. “Teach the black peoples to stay quiet”, he was saying. She was crying mumma. I was saying “sorry Felicity, sorry” while I was hurting her. She is my friend.”
Babcia began to cry. She always told me that when her children were sad so did she because they were a part of her. This time though, I think it was because she was thinking of “Polska”, and the abuse that she and her sister endured.
“Bloody hell! When we were in the old country the Germans dragged us out. They killed us, they tortured us, and they took away our homes. Now, we are in this desert, and the white people do the same to the blacks! Why did we come here? Here, where the same thing happens?”
Dziadziu was yelling at babcia about what Maja had endured. He suggested returning to Polska, now that the war was over, perhaps start a new life in Warsaw, but babcia would not be able to travel such a long distance while pregnant.
After dinner Dziadziu walked away from the wooden table that he had built, washed his hands, filled his glass and went to sit on the front porch. As he exhaled his first breath he heard the screams again. He ignored them, filling himself a second round. The screams became louder. This time there were two women. After a long time of staring at the millions of stars in the sky, the flimsy screen door opening interrupted him. A girl ran out, crying. He just watched. About 5 seconds later the man swung the flimsy screen door open, running after the girl, breaking it as it crashed behind him. The girl was out of sight, and so he turned around and started walked
He was not wearing his hat tonight.
He noticed dziadziu on the front porch. Dziadziu recognised him straight away.
That night Dziadziu couldn’t sleep. He got up, put on his robe and crept down the stairs. He placed his palm on the doorknob, ready to turn it. He stopped, realising that bad things would happen if he twisted it open and stepped outside. He did it anyway.
He opened the neighbour’s door. Babcia told me that nobody locked their homes in the Australian outback in the 60’s, because they all owned a shotgun or a rifle, and would place it at the head of their bed while they slept.
Dziadziu crept up the stairs. He saw the thin, almost lifeless body of a “flat nosed person” lying on the landing. He crept over her and opened the door of the master bedroom. There was Mr Woodcroft, his gun leaning on the post of his bed. Dziadziu told me that he slept in that shape of a star, with his legs and arms spread really wide. He flinched just as dziadziu approached him, but then continued sleeping.
Babcia recalls hearing a loud sound, which caused the pigs to screech and the cows to grunt. The “flat nosed person” ran to Mr Woodcroft’s side, and began to clean the blood splattered across the walls and the wooden floorboards with her white apron. Dziadziu walked away slowly.
When he opened the front door, Aunt Maja was downstairs with babcia, who had their suitcases waiting. They all scurried into the ute, slamming the doors loudly.
Nobody uttered a word while dziadziu drove. His only stop was at a hospital when babcia fell into labour.
Until hearing this story I always wandered why mum was born was born in Goondiwindi.
Dziadziu and babcia migrated to the “land girt by sea” in 1945, during the off set of the Nazi regime. Of course at that time they were anyobody’s dziadziu and babcia, they were Jack and Josephine. Josephine’s sister, Lydia, had been killed two weeks before they were set to board ship, and every day she talked about her.
“Caroline, she was so smart, so beautiful. More beautiful than all of the girls who think they are beautiful in this country. The girls here are skinny and no colour in their cheeks. Lydee was tall, with skin the colour of olive and hair like chocolate!”
When dziadziu and babcia came to this country they had nothing but 20 Polish zloty. The Germans took their home, all their belongings and whatever money they had left was spent on escaping. They did not care where they went, as long as they were gone! And despite all of this, dziadziu felt sorry for “the black people with flat noses”. He would tell me how loud girlish screams often woke him in the middle of the night.
“…But of course Caroline, everybody minded their business because everybody had a shot gun.”
He would sit on his favourite rocking chair on the porch, cigarette in one hand and a glass of Jack in the other.
“…and I would watch, every night, the same man walk out of the house where the lady she would scream from, his hat covering his eyes. I think this is so that people do not look into them. Very bad man, Caroline, very bad.”
Dziadziu always ordered babcia to stay inside at nights. But everybody knew that the “very bad man” was only after “women with flat noses.”
Babcia felt really ill. It was a warm winter day. She spotted a gypsy walking by selling tarots and other mystical accessories. In the old country this was common, but here, in the heat of the Australian outback it was a novelty.
“Please, please gypsy, please come to me. Look at me. Why do my stomach pain, and my head spin and my skin sweat? What is happening to me? Please gypsy, tell me.”
The gypsy looked at her.
“My darling, you are a carrying a child and she is a girl.”
“No ! Pregnant I cannot be"
“Yes. She will be a girl with blue eyes and porcelain skin. She will look like a doll”
“No.”
“Yes, and if I am right, and a girl with blue eyes and white skin is born to you in 9 months you will name her my name, Maja.”
Aunt Maja was born 9 months later.
She attended the local Christian missionary school, and would arrive home every day with a new story about an Aboriginal student being abused or bashed by their teacher.
“Mamma, today Shelley was beaten by the teacher because she sneezed loudly. Mamma he punched her and kicked her but she did not cry. When she got up she had blood on her face, and the black skin around her eyes had turned blue! "
Babcia hated the schooling system here. She always told me that they taught “rubbish”, that the children there could never become more than farmers and barmen, even if they wanted to. But more so because of the violence and abuse that the kids were exposed to.
“If we wanted violence, we would have stayed in Polska!”
One-day aunt Maja came home crying. Babcia was pregnant with mum, so it would have been around 1964.
“What is the matter, Maja?”
“Mumma mumma today Felicity called out in class. Mr Woodcroft grabbed her by the ears, threw her to the door. He broke her nose. And then he made us cane her for one hour. One hour, mumma! We all had to take turns. “Teach the black peoples to stay quiet”, he was saying. She was crying mumma. I was saying “sorry Felicity, sorry” while I was hurting her. She is my friend.”
Babcia began to cry. She always told me that when her children were sad so did she because they were a part of her. This time though, I think it was because she was thinking of “Polska”, and the abuse that she and her sister endured.
“Bloody hell! When we were in the old country the Germans dragged us out. They killed us, they tortured us, and they took away our homes. Now, we are in this desert, and the white people do the same to the blacks! Why did we come here? Here, where the same thing happens?”
Dziadziu was yelling at babcia about what Maja had endured. He suggested returning to Polska, now that the war was over, perhaps start a new life in Warsaw, but babcia would not be able to travel such a long distance while pregnant.
After dinner Dziadziu walked away from the wooden table that he had built, washed his hands, filled his glass and went to sit on the front porch. As he exhaled his first breath he heard the screams again. He ignored them, filling himself a second round. The screams became louder. This time there were two women. After a long time of staring at the millions of stars in the sky, the flimsy screen door opening interrupted him. A girl ran out, crying. He just watched. About 5 seconds later the man swung the flimsy screen door open, running after the girl, breaking it as it crashed behind him. The girl was out of sight, and so he turned around and started walked
He was not wearing his hat tonight.
He noticed dziadziu on the front porch. Dziadziu recognised him straight away.
That night Dziadziu couldn’t sleep. He got up, put on his robe and crept down the stairs. He placed his palm on the doorknob, ready to turn it. He stopped, realising that bad things would happen if he twisted it open and stepped outside. He did it anyway.
He opened the neighbour’s door. Babcia told me that nobody locked their homes in the Australian outback in the 60’s, because they all owned a shotgun or a rifle, and would place it at the head of their bed while they slept.
Dziadziu crept up the stairs. He saw the thin, almost lifeless body of a “flat nosed person” lying on the landing. He crept over her and opened the door of the master bedroom. There was Mr Woodcroft, his gun leaning on the post of his bed. Dziadziu told me that he slept in that shape of a star, with his legs and arms spread really wide. He flinched just as dziadziu approached him, but then continued sleeping.
Babcia recalls hearing a loud sound, which caused the pigs to screech and the cows to grunt. The “flat nosed person” ran to Mr Woodcroft’s side, and began to clean the blood splattered across the walls and the wooden floorboards with her white apron. Dziadziu walked away slowly.
When he opened the front door, Aunt Maja was downstairs with babcia, who had their suitcases waiting. They all scurried into the ute, slamming the doors loudly.
Nobody uttered a word while dziadziu drove. His only stop was at a hospital when babcia fell into labour.
Until hearing this story I always wandered why mum was born was born in Goondiwindi.
Monday 1 February 2010
One Night in Beyonce (well not really)
You see as I was going home last night a limousine pulled up beside me and the "lady" inside and asked if I needed a lift. I accepted the offer.
As I entered I saw long black legs and heard the devils music... R and or B.
She smiled and offered me drugs. I declined, but accepted the whiskey.
After a while I realised that she looked very familiar and asked her name.
She asked me to call her Miss.Knowles or however its spelt.
ANYWAY, after alot of flirting (FROM HER)she opened her legs and stated "you know Manoug, its the surprises and mysteries in life that keep the spice in my life and my penis leaning to the left..."
Awe struck and I stared at her member for quite some time. It wasnt a particularly impressive member, but it was between the legs of Miss. Knowles.
She leaped upon me, humped my arm and attempted to cock slap me, but I threw her off and jumped out of the moving vehicle and hung out with the Ermington Aborigines for protection.
By Manoug Mouradjallian
As I entered I saw long black legs and heard the devils music... R and or B.
She smiled and offered me drugs. I declined, but accepted the whiskey.
After a while I realised that she looked very familiar and asked her name.
She asked me to call her Miss.Knowles or however its spelt.
ANYWAY, after alot of flirting (FROM HER)she opened her legs and stated "you know Manoug, its the surprises and mysteries in life that keep the spice in my life and my penis leaning to the left..."
Awe struck and I stared at her member for quite some time. It wasnt a particularly impressive member, but it was between the legs of Miss. Knowles.
She leaped upon me, humped my arm and attempted to cock slap me, but I threw her off and jumped out of the moving vehicle and hung out with the Ermington Aborigines for protection.
By Manoug Mouradjallian
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