FRIDAY 13 SEPTEMBER DOOMADGEE TO KINGFISHER CAMP
At the best of times, I do not like days with this date. Good things do not happen on them!
The community atmosphere was still tense and strained, after yet another rowdy night. The raided truck had obviously been the source of significant alcohol supplies.
I took my usual classes in the morning, without incident.
The little girl’s parents came to the school to meet with the DP and John – arranged through the DP – to discuss what had happened. There was, of course, no acceptance by them of her bad behaviour, but they went away, presumably happy that they had been heard about how sweet and innocent and well behaved she was – and how it was all the teacher’s fault. The mother was a really strange lady – she arrived all dolled up with heavy makeup, itself most unusual amongst aboriginal women there, and wearing a red hat. “Swept in” would best describe her. Well, that child was going to bring her lots of grief in future years, for sure.
I was teaching and really did not know much of what was going on.
At lunchtime, with John still feeling shaken, and unsupported, we decided that he would go home for the afternoon. He could pack our van with most of our belongings, just in case we felt it wise to leave the community. Given how little we had in the house, that would not take long.
I took my VET class in the afternoon. Trying to get them to comprehend the rules for refrigerating various foodstuffs, keeping things like raw chicken separate, was hard going. It really was too far beyond most of their real life experiences.
After I got home, packed some foodstuffs – again, there was not a great deal to pack – and we left for Kingfisher Camp, on nearby Bowthorn Station. We only had about 70kms to go and got there just as the caretakers were about to close up for the day. It was still daylight, though.
We paid $16 for a powered site, and booked for two nights.
The caretakers had their own residence provided, by the track that went on to the camping area, by the Nicholson River. It was some 30kms from the Bowthorn Homestead itself.
We set up on a very pleasant grassed area in an almost empty campground. The tourist season was tailing down in these parts. The amenities were in an atco style building, but clean and good. Being in a green, grassy area was so pleasant, after the dry dustiness of Doom.
John was very quiet and depressed. At least, we enjoyed a good night’s sleep.