Sunday, January 23, 2022

Apollo (and Aphrodite)

 

Near noon at the Viet by the market the pale old guard with Vans Off the Wall tees for their teens were rather out of place. Spot the Aussie indeed thereabouts lately, as the displaced old crowd complained. Opposite a squatting Viet and standing Ethiopian shared one foot of noonday shade hard against the wall of the shop at the tram & bus stops, the lady needing to keep her shopping bags too behind the line. Meats and even veg would quickly spoil in this heat, especially in the plastic. Record breaking Perth had just clocked five consecutive days above 40, with today another scorcher expected a touch below. Further North in the Pilbara a national record was reached of 50.7. Yesterday in Dudley Street wheeling back from the market the old Singaporean trick was shared with a young, flushed Asian guy holding to the thin shadow of the traffic light. Mecca might exceed low 50s at its peaks. Would the record in the West be broken by the end of the summer? We were only just past the halfway mark after all. And the aircon hold out in Perth & the Pilbara? (Greatest of human inventions, according to Mr LKY in the late 60s, when he was struggling with the bleeding hearts over the Vietnam War in the Harvard Club House.) Nothing but mid-30s thus far in Melbourne, the ceiling fan and open roof windows making sleep still possible. (We were in the midst of a second consecutive La Nina.) In Nicholson Street the Africans protested it was a different heat back home, something to do no doubt with the absorption of tar and concrete. Sleek thighs and calves of young women failed to allure in these conditions, the pandemic no doubt partly responsible. In Perth where there was as little virus as anywhere on the planet the torch alone might have done for the distraction of sex. 


Friday, January 21, 2022

Camel & Straw


The Khartoum uncle from the place a few doors up taken away again by ambulance, the fifth or sixth time according to Faisal, who never exaggerated. A second vehicle needed to be called when the trolley couldn't be fitted in the back of the first, for some reason. When the second arrived and the job was sized up again it was eventually managed in the rear of the first, perhaps because of the added manpower. Faisal remarked on the size of the old uncle and the man's son who was following the same form. Look just neck, said Faisal, as the later stood by his father on the trolley. While waiting for the second ambulance the uncle had been rolled over to the shade of a tree, something like the treatment patients would receive back in Sudan. The duty of seeing them off was continuing. You needed to remind yourself sometimes you were no longer the young, junior observer now. Even folk like the Greek Jasna lookalike across at the Oromo place was in fact 10-15 years younger, and possibly even 20. You had begun with this vocation in earliest years, in another era altogether. Dear me! the crucial matters in Jasna’s case herself  fetched back to the early 50s; then the subsequent mid ‘70s for the final break with Miso. (What had been Kum’s christened name actually, Milorad, Miodrag, Milan? From the root Dear.) No doubt the chain-smoking, foul-mouthed Greek had suffered something similar to her forerunner, disaster in love fair chance. Little was required to end up on the skids. The busker with the dog, wheeling a bike today, who had been king hit a few weeks before on Paisley Street, may actually have been the father of at least one of the young kids he had attempted to shoo away from here. The kids had congregated at the entry to the hub and kept hanging, one boyish girl, a leaner long haired brother possibly and a stick-thin African boy, probably Sudanese. Go home. Go home. How old are you? Fourteen, the lass answered. So go home. From where it escalated to unpleasantries and eventually the finger. Every chance his kids, the girl at least. At one point through the course she may have said, Come to see you.





Tuesday, January 18, 2022

Chomsky & Herta Mueller (Viewing & Reading)

 




Beggars Belief


Lads in the bank confirmed it was three casualties on the weekend, two others with Linda. No details were known to them, not even that of Linda. The tall chap with the guitar and dog who was king hit a few weeks ago and often busked in Yarraville (not Footscray) immediately bowed his head at the mention and improvised a gesture on his chest. Rest her soul. Chap knew of the African pair, but not their identity. Ken Betts hadn't heard, instead he told of another Sudanese opposite there inside the hub a couple months before who had not been able to be revived. Predictably, the soft-hearted accountant Adib with plenty to mourn currently on the Horn, felt the hurt. Like all the regular Africans, Adib always spoke respectfully to Linda. (One immediately relayed such happenings precisely like others in like circs, seeking communion.) It was news to big Barak the Sudanese too. After he had been told initially, he came up twenty minutes later to reconfirm both Linda and the two Africans. Between times, and not for the first time on that Nicholson street, there came an example of that strangest of beggary one encountered thereabouts. Barak again was the case in point. In this instance the scale of the ask was noteworthy. Barak, or Brek, as some called the man, always carried a leather briefcase. There had been a year or two of studies at Deakin, which may have been responsible for his tortuous lockjaw verbalisation of formal English. Barak commonly spoke of Balkan history and remarked on differences among the various component peoples. Judging by his references, there was regular BBC listening at home. Mid last year he had been confined for a couple of months, during which time he had been missed by many. Once or twice a week at most Barak approached asking for coin, almost invariably a particular denomination. This morning for his purchase at the bottle shop adjacent Faisal’s cafe it had been ten cents needed. Only ten cents, Barak repeated as the coin was being fished out of the bag. Twenty and fifty had been requested earlier by various people, recently departed Linda among them, along with of course the usual dollar or two. It was a measured, honourable matter here amongst the various street guys, who always thought in terms of the immediate fix and nothing beyond.





Monday, January 17, 2022

Prime Corner Location

 


Immediately adjacent is the bank on the corner, the supermarket diagonally opposite and bus stops on the other side of the street. The planned new shopping precinct where Forges had been sited since before Federation had stalled well before Covid. Despite the locks and hoardings the street people found access somewhere from the rear. Faisal said Linda had been found up in the laneway, but later the Tamil Fijian maintained it had been in that large space with the earthen floor behind the locked front doors. Faisal said an OD, while the Fijian had heard a fire had been lit and perhaps smoke inhalation. Thinking further the latter agreed smoke was unlikely there with the wide opening behind. Though no one on the street corroborated, the Fijian was adamant two Sudanese had died together with Linda. Faisal re-enacted Linda’s attempted snatch of a fifty at his front counter a few months before, his rapid clasp of her wrist and his warning, Linda’s disclaiming and then her dance steps with the undulating arms both sides like the Hindu goddesses. That was Linda alright.


Saturday, January 8, 2022

Sword Swallowing


Almost certainly the lonely, pained look flashed just then from the Kuma Jasna lookalike opposite—Greek apparently—conveyed her wonder at a fellow able to sit so contentedly like that day after day with his books and pens. How in the heck does he do that, like a circus performer? During her sits at the Oromo place the lady smoked over a dozen cigarettes, always throwing the butts over her shoulder, her raspy voice betraying the habit. What was nice to see was the evident affection of her young Asian worker in their regular meetings at the table. Recall here too the young chap sitting nights with Rohim and his wife at G. Serai, not long outta the pen and attempting to stay clean, theatrically remarking more than once at encounters, The man who likes to be alone. In the last couple months before the departure the chap had back-slid a little, Rohim revealed, without sounding too judgemental about it. Though the lad had managed solitariness more than enough himself, someone who liked it was a whole other kettle of fish.


Thursday, January 6, 2022

Square 1 (Pandemic) April24


Serviceable again was the old laconic greeting favoured by the earlier generation, those tall, spare Russell Drysdale figures that had endured into the postwar years, with their Gladstone bags hanging from their arms, or carried between upturned bicycle handlebars. Wordless and minuscule, without the hats the little acknowledgements might not have been discernible at all. Back then they had their own reasons for that particular form of exchange, just as we now found it fit for purpose again. What was there to say after all, in that earlier time and now too? There were no words. Putting pen to paper was similar, a little metaphorical doffing of cap about as far as one could reasonably stretch it. After the lockdowns and separation deployed in passing on the bike was understandable, but it was also more and more common on footpaths too, from behind the masks and even naked. Earlier what acknowledgement of any kind had there been on these streets.


Tuesday, January 4, 2022

Tenterfield (updated Nov23)


While negotiating the tenancy Alison had said Pippa would not be allowed upstairs. The little terrier was well trained and obedient. Come Christmas, however, when the boy Ari was away with dad, the dog was nowhere to be seen. Disappeared. Left alone when the pair went out, it sat on the front porch eyes peeled for the first sign of the blue streak on the street. Ears immediately pricked at any possibility. The Mazda’s appearance pulling up out front instantly had her outta the chair and over to the gate, wagging her tail furiously. Once the slow, careful entrance was made, the almost inaudible reversing begun, Pippa's strangled whine started up, a cry like tyres angling for a park on slick bitumen—squealing, scraping, squeezing out the moisture beneath. Ari was very sweet with the dog too; his mum more understated.