Tears of the Moon - Di Morrissey [184]
So what began as a distraction became an absorbing occupation for Olivia. She plunged into gardening and became absolutely fascinated by the wildflowers of the west.
‘Gilbert, just look at this extraordinary bush orchid. It’s such a lovely blue and this one, it’s just like a leopard’s coat. Stan has collected some kangaroo paw plants and so many others that I’ve yet to learn about. Some of them are like little daisies, growing in a carpet over the ground in the spring. They harmonise with the land, Gilbert. Have to if they’re to survive in such inhospitable circumstances. They seem to thrive in the worst possible soil. Mollie doesn’t think I can cultivate these bush flowers, but so far we are doing well, don’t you think, dear?’ She stood beside his bathchair as they looked out at the informal garden beds and terraces Olivia had designed. Arbours sheltered plants and other flowers encircled the base of the shady trees. There were also splashes of colour from beds of English flowers, for Olivia loved her memories of English gardens in the spring. Cut and arranged indoors, they made the house seem so much brighter.
Crossing from the laundry, Minnie watched Georgie sitting in the garden playing with the wooden pegs, pushing them into the ground, lining them up in rows and addressing her troops with a frown and a shaking finger.
‘Giving back some of the medicine she gets herself,’ thought Minnie.
She found Maya in the kitchen, put her pile of clean linen to one side, and announced, ‘Maya, time you went to your mob. You gotta take that girlie, too. Yep, it’s time you saw your people. They know you is found, they be very anxious, wondering why you not go t’see them.’
‘My mob? You mean my mother’s people?’
‘Our people. We is all one mob, one way and t’other.’
Maya pulled out a chair and sat at the kitchen table looking thoughtful. Minnie began making a pot of tea, realising a talk was coming. ‘Don’ you ever think about your people? Your real people, eh love?’
Maya didn’t answer for a moment. She found she was struggling with years of mission education, white culture and lifestyle that forbade this ruminating. She had been trained to forget so much—her language, her culture, her beliefs, even her people, her family. Layers of another life had been papered over her, concealing who she really was. When she spoke, her voice was a whisper. ‘I’ve never been allowed to talk about this. And I trained myself not to, it made it easier to deal with things that way. But since I’ve been back here there’s been a lot to deal with—my father, Olivia and Hamish, all of you, trying to help Georgie understand and settle. I’ve been feeling confused and, while I’m so happy to have found my way back, something has been worrying me.’ She drew a breath, her voice stronger. ‘I suppose it’s having to come to terms with who I really am. The Barstows hid the fact I was part Aboriginal and I only have vague memories of my early years here and of my mother.’
Minnie plonked the teapot on the table with a thump and leaned across and looked into Maya’s face. ‘You ashamed of being black, eh girl?’ Minnie demanded.
Maya recoiled slightly at the outburst but didn’t turn away from being confronted. ‘To be honest, Minnie, I don’t know. I don’t think so. But it’s hard when you’ve been brought up one way … ’
‘Meaning bein’ black is inferior … ’ interjected Minnie.
‘Yes, that’s how a lot of people thought and I couldn’t understand my feelings. At times I felt different to other people the Barstows mixed with, and girls at school. Yet I didn’t have any contact with Aboriginal people. Never really thought about it. Whenever memories came up—like dreams—I pushed them away. And now being here and knowing my story, I feel I never knew who I was. And I regret that, and resent the people who took it away from me. But to answer your question, no Minnie, I’m not ashamed of being part of “your mob” as you say.’
‘But you gotta learn to be proud. That’s the