Tears of the Moon - Di Morrissey [139]
The courtesies of greeting over, he then began telling them a story from the scriptures, parts of which were embellished and explained by relatives. Then he led them in a song about his God, enthusiastically backed up by resident Christian converts. The bush people understood nothing of this hymn but joined in rhythmic clapping and burst into a chorus of appreciative noises and laughter when it ended. They knew these expressions of joy pleased the white man enormously.
While the rations were handed out and the talk under the trees continued, the children ran off to explore and play.
From the moment she walked into the mission, Maya had been fascinated by the big white building with the little tower and bell. It brought back images of another time, another place, images that were vague but which she knew. were related to her past. She slipped away from the other children and made her way to the open door and peeped inside. It was dimly lit and cool. Cautiously, she stepped inside, and as her eyes adjusted she saw that much of the interior was decorated with mother-of-pearl shell. The sight of it made her gasp with astonishment and excitement.
‘So pretty,’ she said aloud, in English.
‘Yes, very pretty,’ echoed a soft voice in the shadows to her left.
Maya jumped with surprise and turned to run.
‘Please, don’t be frightened. Stay. Have a good look,’ urged Brother Frederick with warmth, holding out his hand to her.
Maya paused, then tentatively took the outstretched hand.
Together, they walked slowly around the church, Maya sometimes running her fingers over the shells, the priest occasionally asking a question, sometimes pointing out a religious feature of the decorations. He suppressed his surprise at her knowledge of English, even though she often had to think hard before finding the right words. But there was no doubt in his mind that God had delivered this child to him for salvation.
Some days later a small party of Aborigines from the mission came down to the bush camp. The women in the group sought out women in Maya’s family and there were long discussions, all conducted away from the men. It was ‘women’s business’, and it concerned Maya. The next day the women trooped back to the mission for more talk, then a meeting with the priest.
Weeks passed, idyllic days for Maya, who romped in the sand and the sea with the other children, fished and gathered mussels and crabs. At night she would fall asleep around campfires against a background of singing and dancing.
Soon it was time for the clan to move on. One morning Maya had to go with some of her aunties to the mission. She was disappointed that no other children came along but she planned to try and get some of the hard sweet lollies from the man in robes to take back to her friends.
When they had settled under the trees at the mission with relatives and friends, the women explained to Maya that she was not going back to the camp. They told her she was going to stay at the mission for awhile. The white man was going to look after her, give her special food and clothes and teach her important things.
Maya was stunned. Her lip trembled, then she began to cry softly.
As the women gathered up the sacks of flour and sugar, they waved to Maya, who was now standing forlornly outside the church, her hand held by Brother Frederick. Maya half-lifted her free hand in response and fought back more tears as her family disappeared down the track.
The man squeezed her hand and she looked up at him. He smiled and reached into his cassock and pulled out a brightly wrapped sweet. ‘Here, Maya, have a lollie. I know you like them,’ he added brightly.
She took the rock-hard gift and slowly unwrapped it. Popping the multicoloured