The Silent Country (30 page)

‘Of course. Eddie is picking us both up in the morning.’

‘Good. He has a decent four-wheel drive. It’ll do the trick as it’s geared for water and bogs and just about anything that comes along. We’ll share the driving.’

‘You know Eddie?’ asked Veronica.

‘Oh, he’s been the cameraman on a few jobs I’ve done. He’s very professional. And pretty creative, not like some of the news guys.’

‘Yes, I know. I worked with Eddie in Sydney,’ said Veronica.

‘Did you? Well, that makes it easier when you know how someone works.’

She was tempted to discuss the job with Jamie but figured they’d work it out as they went along. He was coming as a field advisor with local knowledge, able to arrange permits and deal with the elders if needed. Yet he also had front-of-camera experience, which would be good. He could do a lot of the talking so that she didn’t have to be on camera too much.

‘We’ll pick you up outside your hotel about six tomorrow morning.’

‘Thank you, Jamie. And thanks for helping us on this,’ said Veronica.

‘You’re welcome. It’s my job.’

Later Veronica walked along the Esplanade and noticed an elegant restaurant in an old colonial building where people were eating in its garden. She decided she might treat herself when they came back from the bush
trip. Meanwhile, she ordered a meal in a small Asian restaurant and rang her mother.

‘Vee, hello dear. Where are you again?’

‘I’m in Darwin, Mum. But I’m heading out to the wilds tomorrow morning. An old station that’s now some big tourist venture.’

‘Whatever for? Are you on holidays?’

‘No, it’s the story I told you about. About those people who went outback filming in the fifties. I’m trying to retrace some of their adventure.’

‘Really? That sounds interesting. Is it far away?’

‘Actually, yes. It’s in the middle of nowhere, we have to stay out there.’

‘Goodness me, Vee, do be careful.’

‘I’ll be fine. We have a special guide and official person with us.’ She decided not to mention Eddie. Her parents had never really liked him. Too flash by half, her mother had sniffed.

‘I thought you had a promotion and didn’t have to go rushing about the country like some junior reporter,’ said her mother.

‘Mother, people pay hundreds of dollars a night, and more, to stay at this place. It’s very luxurious.’

‘Doesn’t sound like my idea of a holiday. Well, do be careful. Oh, your father wants a word.’

‘Where are you? What’s all this about Darwin?’

‘We’re heading for the outback, Dad. Going to a fancy tourist cattle station.’

‘I see. When are you coming back? Your sister has found a place in Melbourne and hopes you can go down.’

‘And help her unpack? Dad, I have no idea when I’ll be back and I’m really busy at work for the next few weeks. Tell Sue I’ll call her and will go down as soon as I’m free.’

‘All right, dear. Are you having a good time up there? Not too rugged?’

‘No, Dad, though I might be about to have a bit of an adventurous time. Makes a change from Sydney.’

‘Sorry you can’t come over for Sunday lunch. Your mother has some new friends. They bore me rigid. All right, all right. Take care, Vee. Bye.’

She could imagine her mother digging her father in the ribs for criticising her new friends. Poor Dad, he hated having to be charming to women he didn’t know and hoped he’d never see again. Gazing around the tropical scene, taking in the smells and feeling the soft air, her family and her sister’s suburban dramas suddenly seemed far away. Tomorrow a whole new landscape beckoned. It was going to be a lot of togetherness for the next week. She hoped Jamie McIntosh would be easy to get on with and would share a beer and a joke.

Veronica felt a bit silly in her new outfit as she waited in the lobby the next morning. She’d gone a bit crazy in the enormous camping and disposal store and had taken a liking to a range of clothing designed for tropical wear, a non-pretentious but stylish safari look. She wore greyish green shorts that were loose and comfortable, a jacket shirt with plenty of pockets, a singlet top underneath and tough canvas boots and carried a bush hat that she’d scrunched up a few times so that it didn’t look brand new.

She watched as the dusty four-wheel drive came into the driveway. It had gear roped on top and ‘Australian National Network’ written on the side. The man in the passenger seat jumped out as she struggled with her bag and the glass door of the lobby.

‘Let me.’ He scooped up her bag and held out his hand. ‘I’m Jamie.’ Before she could answer he opened the front door of the car and helped her step up into the seat next to Eddie.

‘Morning. My, you’re looking the part,’ commented Eddie with an approving grin as Jamie put her bag in the crowded rear and got into the back seat next to the camera. Eddie, like the good cameraman he was, always kept a camera handy in case he drove past something worth a shot.

Veronica turned to Jamie. ‘Sorry, would you prefer to sit here in front?’ It was her first good look at him and she was momentarily silenced by how handsome he was – brown skin, dark thick hair, finely sculptured nose and mouth, high cheek bones and vivid hazel-flecked eyes. She knew Eddie was watching her, gauging her reaction with slight amusement.

If Jamie noticed her staring he didn’t react. He was probably used to it, she thought. He was around the same age as Eddie, though slimmer and looked a lot fitter.

‘You’re the tourist, take in the sights,’ he said pleasantly. ‘I’m going to get a bit more shut-eye. Let me know when you want to trade places, Eddie.’

‘I’ll be right for a couple of hours. Maybe switch at the roadhouse.’

‘Right.’ Jamie pulled his worn, well-shaped bush hat over his face and leaned his head back on the seat.

‘So what did you make of Bonza?’ asked Eddie.

‘Colourful. But I think Reg is the more interesting character. He fits in better with our story.’

‘Your group wouldn’t have come across an Aborigine like him back in the fifties,’ said Eddie.

‘No. Which, based on the descriptions that Colin gave, makes the comparison interesting.’

‘So have you filmed this Colin person, relating all this?’ asked Eddie.

‘Not yet,’ said Veronica shortly. ‘There’s also an interesting woman who was in the expedition who’s still alive. She was an actress. I think she lives overseas, we just have to find her.’

‘This trip to Brolga Springs sounds a bit of a wild goose chase, but what the heck. Does me good to get outta town,’ said Eddie.

‘Do you miss Sydney?’ asked Veronica.

‘Nah.’

He didn’t elaborate so she didn’t ask about friends, girlfriends or his trips to Bali. None of her business now anyway.

When Eddie pulled into a roadhouse that served as a pub, petrol station and fast food outlet, Veronica found that she had dozed off. They ate egg and bacon rolls washed down with unpleasant coffee. Jamie handed her a large bottle of water.

‘It’s a good idea to drink plenty of water in this climate.’

It was now Eddie’s turn to doze in the back seat. Jamie took the wheel, pushed a CD into the player and turned back onto the highway. The powerful sounds of the Aboriginal group Yothu Yindi drifted through the car.

‘Their voices are wonderful. I love listening to them in Sydney, but here it seems more appropriate,’ said Veronica as the red earth and stands of acacias and mulga trees swept past against a background of distant ranges stark under the blue sky.

‘That’s because they’re singing about their country,’ said Jamie quietly. ‘East Arnhem Land. You been there?’

‘No, but I want to . . . It sounds magic.’

‘You can’t miss Kakadu,’ he said. ‘Lot of tourists prefer Litchfield Park, which is great, well planned and set up for visitors. But I prefer the wild country. Can I ask what the story is that you’re chasing in the Territory?’

‘Well, I found out that a group of people came to the Northern Territory in the mid-fifties to make a film and I’m trying to find out what happened to them and to film some of the places that I know they saw. The film group
were headed to Arnhem Land, but I don’t know if they ever got there. The whole expedition fell apart in Darwin.’

‘Do you know what happened?’

‘That I don’t know. I’m still unravelling the story.’

‘What are you hoping to find here at Brolga Springs?’ he asked.

Veronica couldn’t make out Jamie’s expression behind his dark glasses. While he was polite and friendly there was a reserve about him like a sheet of glass mounted between them.

‘I know that the party stayed at Brolga Springs and filmed a corroboree there, according to Colin, my main contact. Anyway, I found out what’s become of Brolga Springs today and so the contrast is valuable. Colin said it was pretty basic and isolated when they called in, but it was very beautiful country.’

‘That it is. So they stayed at Brolga Springs? Well, it certainly would’ve changed, you’re quite right. It’s taken a while for the tourists to get out there. And even now it’s for the more adventurous.’

‘Do you know Brolga Springs, then?’

‘Yes, I certainly do. As a matter of fact I know the Hodges well and I go there quite often. They’ve done a terrific job.’

‘It sounds like it. I suppose other properties will start copying them.’

‘A few have,’ said Jamie. ‘But they haven’t been as successful. Rick and Vicki Hodge are born and bred Territorians. Their hearts and souls are here and the local people, including the traditional people, respect them.’

‘What’s happened to the other stations that haven’t been successful?’ asked Veronica.

‘Ah, it goes back a long time. Once the Aboriginal people were dispossessed, kids taken away and tribal people lost the right to their land to do ceremonies, hunt,
care for it, as they always had, the whole system broke down. Places where they’d been born and worked and lived with their families were taken over, leased by big corporations from down south or overseas as tax write-offs. White managers were put in, none of them local or necessarily experienced, so often the places were mismanaged. A lot of the cattle stations were run down, went bankrupt, but the big bosses in the cities down south didn’t care as it was a tax loss.

‘Then came change. There was a push for Aborigines to control and run stations and some have been very successful. Local indigenous people were hired to run them and training for the young people was introduced and often there was sophisticated tourism marketing and promotion. In a way some of them have been too successful, or else they’ve taken their eye off the ball.’

He paused and Veronica waited. ‘The neighbouring place, three hundred Ks to the west of Brolga Springs, was doing well, so well that the corporation sold its lease a few months ago to one of the biggest hotel chains in the world. It fired the indigenous trainees, but kept a couple of token traditional people as “cultural guides”, added a health and wellness spa and it’s now losing everything that made it the special place that people wanted to see.’

Veronica heard the tension in his voice and realised this was a subject he felt strongly about. ‘What made it special? What did it lose?’

‘You mean apart from its spirit, its dreaming, its heart?’ He gave a wry smile. ‘You can’t create five-star-plus luxury accommodation for spoiled, old, rich tourists without carving into the landscape. Wheelchair access to art sites that now have cement steps built and wire fences around them for security.’

‘Is it true that Aboriginal rock art paintings and carvings have been vandalised, chopped up and stolen?’

‘Yep.’

‘It’s catch twenty-two, isn’t it,’ said Veronica thoughtfully. ‘When something is precious, interesting, of great cultural significance, everyone wants a piece of it but as a result, its original importance is lost.’

‘Y’know these people you’re following, when they came through in the fifties, they might have seen examples of an almost pristine Aboriginal culture.’

‘They may not have realised that,’ said Veronica.

‘Exactly.’ Jamie waved a hand out of the window towards the expanse of seemingly empty landscape. ‘Isn’t it nice to think that out there are untouched landmarks, ancient tools, totems, art that depicts life and history and Dreaming along with sacred sites, significant places that are meaningful and spiritual. A living cultural heritage that’s been unchanged for thousands of years.’

‘But it’s like the pyramids and tombs, the Sistine Chapel, the Roman roads, Pompeii – you have to be able to see tangible evidence of the past to appreciate how it was.’

‘Was
!’ Jamie reacted. ‘This isn’t a culture that
was
, it’s a culture that’s still with us now, despite all the attacks, the despoiling, the dismissal of it as an inferior civilisation, it still survives.’

‘And will it continue to survive?’ asked Veronica.

He gave a slight smile and didn’t answer.

‘Can you say all that again, on camera?’ she asked.

‘You need to talk to my mother,’ he said finally. ‘She’s knowledgeable and also something of an activist. She’s a teacher but she sits on a couple of boards dealing with these issues.’