Maxine

Maxine xxx and Fred Tietjen

The aerial-scape from Darwin to Katherine was enthralling in dawn's light. Scarlet land-forms were animated and morphing into the evocative patterns rendered by Aboriginal artists. Perhaps, I had spent too much time in the art galleries. I closed my eyes and eidetic imagery skirted across my retinas drawing me deeper.

Landing in Katherine, the twin-prop plane taxied into the new Katherine Airport terminal. The recently erected shell was furnished with one small counter. No telephones. No baggage carousels, No Air-North Stewardesses. I stepped into my awaiting taxi.

My cab driver says "Are you here for the show"? "No," I replied.

The Katherine Show was on this weekend, a rodeo/carnival event. Aboriginal ringers (stockmen) skilled in rodeo events competed and, I was later told, took home prizes for the major events. I wasn't going to attend the Katherine show. I was in town to meet an Aboriginal friend whom I had corresponded with for years. We were going to meet face to face for the first time. I had another meeting set up, as well, to meet a "kingpin" of the didjeridu industry.

I asked my cabdriver, Jenny, a pleasant woman who appeared to be in her 40's, how things were with the Aboriginals in Katherine. It was a standard question I asked when I was in Australia to explore local and national sentiment.

"Things were all right up until about ten years ago, when all the trouble started." she replied.

"What trouble is that?," I inquired.

"You know," she said adamantly, "the Land grab that was started by the Northern Land Council and ATSIC (Aboriginal and Torres Straits Islander Commission), that whole mob... That Mabo decision mucked things up, if you ask me...I work hard to make my living. These Aboriginal people want to sit on their bums under a shade tree and have everything handed to them."

"I guess you don't hear about such things over there in America." she said.

"Yeah, not much. A bit through the traps occasionally....."

"These Aboriginals think they own everything," she said derisively.

She slowed the taxi down. Her eyes became beady... Carcasses of Kangaroo were in the track. The temperature was soaring. Steam was rising from the fresh-road kill. Hordes of crows or vultures or some other forms of carrion-eaters were gathering in my mind's eye. Jenny preened.

"Have you ever eaten Kangaroo?", she asks, changing the subject.

I snap out of my mental abyss.

"No," I said. "However, I'm looking forward to tasting it. I understand it's good tucker when prepared properly with Aboriginal family recipes and bush herbs." She looks at me sideways and drops me off at my hotel.

As I pay her... "Oh, by the way", I ask "Where do the Aboriginal people congregate in town?"

"Oh, you'll see them everywhere lying about."

"Is there an establishment in particular that they frequent".

" Well, yes," she clears her throat and stammers,"...th-there's Kirby's... Back Bar, but YOU wouldn't want to go there, if you get my meaning....."

"Yes, of course not...."

After I showered and rested, evening set in and I called a cab.

"Where you going mate?" The charming Australian bonhomie that I enjoy makes way for easy conversation.

"Kirby's Back-Bar," I say. "Oh, you don't want to go there, mate. Just a bunch of drunk Aboriginals fighting and carrying on." "Yes, so I've heard. I think I'd like to go there anyway If that's all right with you." "I'm doing research on perception, pattern recognition and evolution. Kirby's is on my map.

"Sure, No worries mate.

I walked in through the gated alley-way entrance to Kirby's. Attenuated for signs of trouble, my radar was deployed to probe for the hidden dangers that were intimated. Music and laughter filled the air. The friendly crowd of 200 Aboriginal people were chatting one-another up, dancing, and enjoying themselves in this rickety barn-like structure. The only threatening signals came from the steroidal doormen. I made my way to the bar and ordered a VB. [Victoria Bitters beer]

As I moved into the middle of the crowd someone tapped me on the shoulder. I turned around to see a striking woman in her mid-twenties with almond shaped eyes and skin the color of warm cocoa. "

Hello, who are you?", she says.

"Well, here in Australia my friends call me Freddy."

"Hi Freddy, My name's Maxine. Where are you from ?"

"Well, I'm from America via NE Arnhem Land." I told her my story. We moved into new territory and talked of things of interest to both of us.

"Where are you from Maxine?"

"My people come from S. Australia I'm one of those Aboriginal people with Chinese ancestry. Have you heard about us?"

"Yes, a pleasure to meet you."

"Let me introduce you to my mates , Freddy, those two over there are Yolngu. I reckon they know some of the Yirrkala mob. Come and meet some of the rellies."

At closing time I was invited to join Maxine's entourage to go to another after-hours dance club down the street that was popular with Aboriginal people. I had Maxine on one arm and Susanna, a spirited Native New Guinean with stovepipe hat, cigar and full facial tatoos, on the other.

As we were walking, Maxine appeared to be agitated , all the while, looking over her shoulder.

"What's wrong?", I say.

"That girl over there is giving me dirty looks all night long!"

"Do you know her?", I ask.

"Yeah, She thinks I slept with her boyfriend."

Susanna laughs uproariously, "Maxyyyyy!"

"Ah...Did You?" I deadpan, then laugh and tease her in a friendly way.

"Nah, I don't even fancy him!" The tension subsides momentarily as

Maxine laughs.

Then she pulls a heavy cocktail glass out of her pocket and says "Freddy, Will you keep this for me? They might search me going into the club."

"What's this for?", I ask her.

"I think that girl and her mob may come after me and I'll use this for protection (as a weapon)."

"Well, I'll put it in my pocket for safe keeping, but maybe you can avoid her."

Maxine replies, matter-of-factly, "I'm not looking to fight her, I just want her to bugger off."

The crowd surges toward the club-door. Susanna is swept away. Maxine steers me away from the door. "Freddy, lets go across the street, over-there."

Everything is moving quickly. As we cross the boulevard and the grass median strip, I walk ahead a few paces. I hear the sound of running feet and turn around. Maxine is attacked by her tormentor who is hitting her and pulling her long leonine hair.

Maxine had read the situation accurately. Flailing and kicking, she parries in a tired ballet. The two young women are really having a go at one another.

Moments later, a police-truck with an open cage in its bed pulls up. Officers jump out to break up the fight. Fifteen people are involved in trying to arbitrate the dispute. I ditch the glass and approach the police-woman who is about to cuff Maxine and say, "I saw what happened. This woman was attacked and was defending herself." Some business goes down about Maxine not carrying identity papers. I tell the copper that she's with me, and that I'll get her off the street and send her home in a taxi.

"Get HER off the street, NOW!", she shouts.

"Yes, I will officer and thank you." We walk away.

We walk to a taxi stand a few blocks away off the main boulevard and wait. Twenty minutes go by. Maxine lights a cigarette. Winfield-greens. She is visibly shaken.

"Are you OK?"

"Yeah I'll be fine, Don't worry about me...and Thanks for back there.

Under her hardened bravado I see a fragility.

A police van passes by, makes an abrupt U-turn, tires squealing and pulls up short. The copper gets out. "I thought I told you to get off the street. "You're under arrest!" she yells at Maxine.

Maxine looks at me with somber eyes. I say to the copper, "We're still waiting for a cab to pick us up. I try my hand at the disarming local lingo... "No worries, officer...everything is peaceful around here."

"I'm talking to her", she replies with authority.

"Yes, officer." I say, smiling my best entitled smile, "and she's with me. I'm not letting her out of my sight until she's safe at home. As you recall she was attacked...."

It's the copper's call. ... "Almighty then, the two of yous' can go in the back."

Maxine and I are caged in the back of the van. The coppers take us for a joy ride starting and stopping and speeding and skidding and turning, like an amusement ride without the fun...It's rough and tumble. Maxine shrugs her shoulders.

"Have you been in one of these paddy-wagons, before?", I say.

Maxine laughs, "Yes, plenty times, I've been in the backs of these." She winks in a conspiratorial way, "You're really in my country now, Freddy."

I nod in assent, "Do you feel like telling me about it?"

She sizes me up and sighs," You really want to know, don't you?"

"Yes, Maxine that's why I'm here. I really want to know."

"Yeah, fuck all," she snickers and coughs. "You're an all-right bloke and it looks like we'll be here awhile." She pulls out a cigarette.

"Can I have a light, Freddy?"

"Sure." I light her cigarette . She inhales deeply as she closes her eyes. Overhead thru the wire mesh the constellation of the Seven Sisters swooped across the charcoal sky and Maxine began to chant.

"Nobody knows what it's like to be Aboriginal Freddy.......

"I grew up in Port Augusta. My mother was born in the bush. Her father was from England. I'm Pitjantjatjara, Chinese, and English. My father left when I was young and my mother raised all of her daughters, 7 of us, and sent two of her sons off to homes. Mum used to dress me up and take me out on the town. She always told me that my (intelligence) and speaking abilities would take me far or get me in trouble. She was right."

"My grandmother passed away when I was 10. I was sleeping with her one night and when I woke up in the morning she was dead, right there next to me. She was about 50. She was a lovely painter. She used to take me for walks in the hills and she'd just watch over all the things around us pointing this and that out to me ...and then we'd come back and I'd watch her paint the prettiest designs."

When I finished (high school) I said to my mum "I want to go back home to see the family out-bush." I went to visit them to learn to talk properly in the Ooldea language. Most of us Aboriginals' don't like to talk about the dead, but for me, I think it keeps their spirit alive. Sometimes it feels like that's all I've got."

"My mother had three husbands. The last one, Christopher, shot himself. I remember the night. "Go on out and play cards with your mum, enjoy yourself," he said. I went out with me mum and I won $500. I got tired and decided to go back home early. Me mum stayed at the casino."

"When I arrived back home, I decided to surprise my mother by putting my winnings into her dresser drawer (as a gift). My sisters and cousins were outside our home playing , and they said, "Don't go in there. Christopher doesn't want to be bothered." So time went by and I finally got tired of waiting so I decided to go into the house and leave my mother her present. I knocked on the bedroom door and there was no answer. I looked in and there he was lying back on the bed here.... and the shotgun was lying on the ground there.... and he'd blown his head off."

"We ran to the neighbors, they rang the police and then rang for a taxi to take me back to the casino. I found mum and told her "Christopher, killed himself". We went home and Mum blamed herself for Christopher's' death, because we went out and left him alone. She took all our winnings, it must have been $1000, and she burned it because she felt guilty".

The police leave us in the cage, answer more calls and basically ignore us. 45 minutes go by. Maxine starts to cry softly. I put my arm around her and I comfort her.

"I'm tired of all this, Freddy. I was looking forward to a better life for myself. I feel things are running amok around here, now. When I was ten (14 years ago) my mother told me things were going to be getting worse for Aboriginal people."

"I've worked in the communities, I've been to the cities...I don't understand why people don't treat each other better so the world would be a better place... it's good to sit back and talk about things with you, Freddy."

I nod.

I feel the crows and vultures gathering. I want to get out of this cage. I don't want to leave Maxine behind. I hear the gnashing of beaks. It's shivering cold and 1:00 am.

"Hey, are they going to take us to the police station?", I say.

Maxine, shrugs her shoulders again. "Don't know. Sometimes we just ride in the back and they let us out. Sometimes they beat us and sometimes they take us to jail."

Later the paddy-wagon stops and hails a taxi for us. We get lucky tonight.

Maxine and I climb into the taxi. I drop Maxine at her place.

"Are You going to be here tomorrow, Freddy?"

"Yeah, I'll be here tomorrow Maxy...

Can you meet me at Meet me at Kirby's?

Sure, I'll see you there.

I return to my hotel. Though the pool-side bar is officially closed,

I get waved to come in by the bartender. Rick, a well known patron, whom I had met earlier in the day shouts me a beer.

"So how was your night out in Downtown Katherine? All six blocks of it!", he says mischievously.

"Do you mind if I turn on my tape recorder? I'm not sure about what happened tonight and I think I need to talk it out."

"No worries, mate."

After recounting my experience and observations, he looks at me squarely. "I lived with an Aboriginal woman for twelve years and raised her two sons as my own. I loved them and I loved their mother who is Yolngu. Over the years I came to love Yolngu people. I find they are the gentlest and most lovely people there are. What they have to put up with in THEIR own bloody country makes me sick and ashamed." He pauses and lights a cigarette, then takes a sip of his drink, and continues...

"Do you know who the most destructive animal on the planet is?

It's Balanda (White), people. If there is money to be made, anything that stands in the path of profit will be destroyed. Economic (growth) without respect to social, cultural and environmental impact can't truly be progress."

"I can't live in Sydney or Melbourne or Adelaide...I'm sick and tired of the politicians and city people who are anti-Aboriginal and who criticize Aboriginal people as being a drunken lot, as if that's all there is to their Culture. There is more to Aboriginal people than that sad story. I just don't know...I think about what the future holds for my sons and I just don't know..."

I return to my room and take a long shower thinking about crows and Maxine in Katherine, caged.

Tomorrow I would meet a "king-pin" of the didjeridu industry.

ftietjen@didjeridu.com